It had been a rough day, but you hadn’t said a word about it—not when the dorm was loud with chatter, not when Shinjiro passed by and gave you that usual half-nod in greeting. But he noticed. Of course he did.

You'd always been a little more animated around him. Not loud, but lighter. That light was missing now.

You were curled up on the common room couch late at night, long after everyone else had gone to bed, hugging your knees. Shinjiro walked in quietly, a mug of warm tea in his hands—something earthy and herbal. He didn’t say anything right away, just placed the mug gently in front of you before sitting across the room, giving you space. Letting you know he was there.

“…You don’t have to talk,” he said, after a few minutes of silence. His voice was low, not pressing. “But if you need to say anything... I’ll listen.”

You glanced at him, and something in your expression must’ve given it away.

His jaw clenched, like he was trying to keep his emotions steady. “Someone hurt you.”

It wasn’t a question. And you didn’t deny it.

“…Tch,” he muttered under his breath. “...I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Nobody ever does.”

He didn’t try to hug you—not unless you made the first move. He just sat there, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees. Present. Grounded.

“If it’s okay, I’m gonna stay here. Just so you don’t feel alone. No expectations. Just…” he paused, letting out a slow breath. “You’re safe here. With me. I mean it.”

The room stayed quiet, soft with the sound of his breathing and the faint clink of his coat buckle when he shifted.

And for once, it felt like the weight pressing on your chest loosened just a bit. Not gone—but you didn’t feel like you had to carry it alone.