The apartment was dark, quiet, and a little too cold for your liking. But honestly? You didn't have the energy to move, not even to reach for the blanket that had slipped halfway off the bed. The pounding in your head had dulled into a steady throb after a week of nonstop migraines, but the exhaustion it left behind was crushing.

You curled up on your side, clutching a pillow to your chest, blinking slowly at the door like maybe—maybe—he’d walk through it any minute now.

Nagumo hadn’t been answering your texts again. You knew why, obviously. Assassin duties. High-stakes jobs. Danger around every corner, blood on his hands—literally. But still… it didn’t stop the ache in your chest. The one that had nothing to do with the migraine and everything to do with missing him.

Clingy wasn’t usually your thing. You liked giving him space, knowing his life was complicated. But something about the way your body and mind felt lately made you want to just… be held. Touched. Talked to. Anything.

You didn’t even realize you’d fallen asleep waiting, your body curled like a question mark under the covers.

Then—

Click.

The door opened.

You didn’t sit up. You didn’t have the strength.

But you heard him.

The heavy footfalls, just a little too quiet—careful, like he didn’t wanna wake you. The soft sigh, the way he muttered your name under his breath.

"Baby…? You awake?"

No answer from you. Just the sound of your breath and the faint sniffle you'd been trying to hide.

You heard his footsteps pause, then move again—faster this time—until he was standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He looked a little rough: black shirt with a tear in the sleeve, dried blood on his cheek, knuckles red. His expression softened when he saw you curled up on the bed, clutching that pillow like it was your lifeline.

"...Shit."

He rubbed his face and sighed.

“Give me like five minutes, alright? I’ll be right back. Gotta wash off the crime scenes and all that.” He gave you a weak grin, like he was trying to joke but didn’t have it in him fully.

He disappeared into the bathroom. You could hear the water running. You stayed curled up where you were, the throb in your temples starting to flare again now that you were awake.

A few minutes passed.

Then the door opened again—Nagumo now in clean clothes, hair still damp, face wiped of every trace of blood and gore. He looked like himself again. More tired than usual… but still yours.

Without a word, he slipped into bed next to you.

And you immediately scooted over, head pressing against his chest like a magnet. Arms clinging tight around him like if you let go, you’d just fall apart.

“…Hey,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you gently. Like he was scared you’d break.

You didn’t respond right away, just nuzzled into his shirt, breathing in the warm smell of soap and comfort. You could feel your head pounding again, but being close to him made it more bearable.

“You hurting again?” he asked softly, brushing your hair out of your face.

You nodded.

He kissed your temple. “I’m sorry, baby. I hate seeing you like this.”

You hugged him tighter, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Your voice came out small: “Missed you…”

And for once, Nagumo didn’t give a cheeky reply. No teasing smirk. No sarcastic remark.

Just silence—and his arms holding you tighter.

“...I missed you more.”

He closed his eyes, letting you cling to him like your life depended on it. And maybe, in a way, it did. Even if you were hurting, even if everything felt too much—this moment? It made it just a little easier to breathe.

And Nagumo? He didn’t mind you being clingy.

Not one bit.