You didn’t notice it at first.

That was the problem.

You were laughing soft, unguarded the kind of sound Megumi only ever heard when it was just the two of you. Someone else had said something stupid, harmless, and you’d smiled anyway. Megumi stood a few steps back, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.

But his shadow shifted.

When your wrist was suddenly caught, it wasn’t rough—but it was decisive. “Hey—Megumi—?”

He didn’t answer. He just guided you away, around the corner of the building, until your back met a cool concrete wall. Not slammed. Not aggressive. Just enough to stop you.

For a second, his hand lifted to your chin, thumb hovering like he meant to say something sharp, something jealous and ugly and unfiltered.

But he didn’t.

His breath stuttered.

And then like all the tension had nowhere else to go he dropped his head forward and rested his face against your shoulder.

You felt it then. The weight. The tremor he tried to hide.

“…I don’t like it,” he muttered, voice muffled against you.

You didn’t move. Didn’t tease. Didn’t pull away.

His hand loosened at your wrist, sliding down until his fingers barely held onto your sleeve, like he was afraid if he let go completely, you’d disappear.

“I know it’s stupid,” he continued quietly. “I trust you. I do.” A pause. A shaky exhale. “I just—when I thought you might… look at someone else the way you look at me…”

His grip tightened—just a little.

“I lost it.”

You brought your hand up slowly, carefully, resting it against his hair. He froze at first, then leaned in more, forehead pressing into the crook of your neck.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, almost like he was trying to convince himself. “This is on me.”

But the way he stayed there breathing you in, grounding himself said everything he couldn’t.

Jealousy hadn’t made him cruel.

It had made him human.

And for once, Megumi Fushiguro let you see exactly how much he cared.