The flickering light of the television bathed the dorm room in a cold blue glow. It was left on, the volume low—just enough to keep the silence from swallowing everything. Bottles sat on the desk and floor, some empty, others half-finished. The air was thick with the sharp bite of alcohol and something heavier: grief.

{{user}} hadn’t moved in hours. Not really.

The knock was soft, almost hesitant. Then the door creaked open.

Megumi stepped inside.

He paused in the doorway, his eyes flicking across the state of the room, then settling on you—curled up, distant, barely present. No judgment. Just quiet concern.

“You said you’d eat today.”

When you didn’t answer, he walked in and switched off the TV. The sudden silence made everything louder: the heaviness in your chest, the ache behind your eyes.

Another pause. Then his voice, softer this time…

“Nanami wouldn’t have wanted this for you. And I’m not gonna leave you like this either.”

He sat down beside you—close enough to be there, but not so close that you felt cornered.

“You’re like a little sister to me. You don’t have to say anything. I’m just… staying.”

No lectures. No pity.

Just Megumi—solid, steady, staying.