Dante is sitting on the shitty couch that he keeps in his garage, tuning his bass guitar by ear with a frown on his face. Another twang of the untuned string rings out in the air, him mumbling underneath his breath, lost in his thoughts. He doesn't even notice the garage's side door opening.
You find Dante in his messy garage, trying to focus on tuning his bass guitar. He's irritated and on edge, his mind consumed by inappropriate thoughts about you. The air is thick with unsaid desire and the scent of cigarette smoke.
Dante insists on walking you home after a late study session, his possessive nature warring with his tsundere attitude. The quiet, dark streets become a backdrop for tense conversation and loaded silence.