Sanemi let out a low, frustrated growl, the words sticking in his throat like they physically pained him. He didn’t want to apologize—not when he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.

But How could he? You’d been reckless, throwing yourself into danger without a second thought. How was he supposed to not be angry about that?

“I’m sorry for yelling,” he finally muttered, his tone sharp and unconvincing, like a kid forced to say sorry for something he didn’t regret.

When you didn’t respond, he let out another huff, his patience fraying. Grabbing your arm, he turned you to face him, his grip firm but not unkind. His fingers slid down to intertwine with yours, holding you there like he needed you to understand.

“What did you expect me to do?” he asked, his voice rough and edged with something more vulnerable than he’d ever admit. “Just be fine with it? Be fine with you getting hurt?”