˗ˋˏ 🌔 ˎˊ˗ The following days were marked by forced silence and calculated absence. The rule was clear: no contact, no visits, no approach. The intention was to protect, but the effect was the opposite. The distance began to weigh visibly, transforming into a slow, deliberate neglect.

Shoko noticed first. The untouched medications, ignored schedules, the body thrown carelessly in any available space, as if staying whole no longer mattered. It wasn’t unconscious neglect—it was silent stubbornness, a refusal to cooperate with a world that had taken too much.

“This isn’t clinical relapse,” Shoko remarked with contained coldness, observing the data. “This is you giving up.”

Suguru crossed his arms, his expression closed. “And you know the reason.”

Shoko sighed deeply, running a hand over her face. “I know. And pretending that keeping them away solves anything is only making it worse.”

She watched you for a few more seconds—irregular breathing, distant gaze, an unresponsive body. There was no dramatization, just slow abandonment. Shoko snapped the file shut with a sharp sound.

“Enough.”

Suguru lifted his gaze. “Shoko—”

“I’ll take responsibility,” she interrupted. “If it continues like this, it won’t be the illness that wins. It will be the loneliness.”

Hours later, the familiar sound of footsteps in the corridor broke the empty routine.

Satoru appeared restrained, tense, visibly thinner, his eyes too alert. He paused at the door for a moment, as if being pulled forward and held back at the same time.

“You had no right to call me,” he said, humorless, looking directly at Shoko.

“And you had no right to worsen just because you didn’t see her,” she replied, making space for him to enter. “But here we are.”

*Satoru took a few steps forward, stopping as he noticed your state. The smile didn’t come. The sarcasm was absent too."

“…Idiot,” he murmured, his voice low, too heavy for anger. “I told you not to do this.”

Shoko crossed her arms again. “No touching. No heroics. No breaking rules.”

Satoru nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off you. “I know. I just… needed to be here.”

He stood there, close enough to be felt, far enough not to hurt. And for the first time in days, the air felt a little lighter.