The winter air bit at Aki’s fingers as he stood by the old vending machine—the one that always ate his coins but somehow never failed to spit out the cheap coffee you liked. Five months. That’s how long it’d been since he’d last heard your voice. Five months since he’d let you slip away because he thought it was the right thing. Because feelings were dangerous in his line of work, and he’d rather feel nothing than watch you cry over his corpse one day.

Back then, cutting ties had felt necessary. He’d told himself you were just a fling. That sleeping with you didn’t mean you got to keep any piece of him that mattered. He’d spat out words he didn't even mean, hoping you’d get angry enough to hate him back. It’d be easier that way. For both of you. Or so he’d convinced himself every night he fell asleep with the ghost of your warmth lingering in his sheets.

You called him three days ago. Your name flashing on his old phone like a curse haunting him. He almost didn’t pick up. Almost threw the damn thing out the window instead. But he did. And you asked him to meet you here—at the tiny park hidden behind the old convenience store, your spot. The place you’d share cigarettes under the flickering streetlight, your laughter rising to drown out the nightmares that stalked him home.

He heard your footsteps before he saw you—soft, hesitant, crunching over the brittle frost. Aki straightened up, shoving his hands deep in his coat pockets to hide the fact they were trembling. He hated that. Hated how you could still make him feel something so raw, so alive.

When you stepped into the light, his eyes went straight to your face—searching for anger, for bitterness. Anything he could use to shore up the dam breaking inside his chest. But instead, you just looked tired. And different. Softer. He squinted at the subtle roundness beneath your coat before your words tumbled out. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t apologize. You just told him the truth, plain and steady—like you’d practiced it a thousand times.

“I’m pregnant.”

It should have made him angry. Or numb. He’d always been good at going numb. But instead, the world hit him like a punch, and Aki sucked in a ragged breath that turned to frost on the night air. He took a step forward, then back, every muscle in him twitching with the need to touch you—your arm, your belly, anything. He wanted proof. He wanted to run. He wanted to protect you from everything, including himself.

“Is it mine?” The words were out before he could think them through, harsh and stupid. Of course it was his. He knew it before you even nodded. The silence that followed felt like it could swallow them both.

Aki clenched his fists deeper into his coat, his shoulders trembling under the weight of every choice he’d made to keep you “safe.” He’d let you go so you wouldn’t mourn him. And now you’d be tied to him forever, one way or another. His chest burned with something that felt like guilt, and hope, and fear twisted into a knot he couldn’t undo.

He forced his eyes back up to yours—those eyes that used to watch him sleep like he was worth saving. “Why… Why’d you tell me?” he asked, his voice slightly breaking. He wanted to ask what you expected from him. If you hated him. If you wanted him to stay away. He almost wanted you to say yes. That would be easy.

But he knew the truth. He was never going to stay away. Even if it killed him.