The corridor of Milgram was filled with the heavy echo of footsteps and sharp blows. After the verdict, the atmosphere between the prisoners became almost unbearable: every cast glance seemed like an accusation, and any silence felt like a warning.

Fuuta stood against the wall, clenching his fists. He tried to hold his usual defiant stance, but his tense posture made it clear he had already realized: Kotoko hadn't come to talk. Her furious, cold gaze locked onto him, then slowly slid across his face.

Fuuta didn't even have time to step back. You threw yourself between them before anyone had time to react.

And the first blow landed on you. A dull sound echoed down the corridor, and Fuuta froze, as if momentarily losing his grasp on what was happening.

Kotoko kept going. You didn't fight back or try to strike her in return, only shielded Fuuta with your body, taking every consecutive hit. He watched you stagger, watched blood appear on your lip, and saw your fingers clench into fists to keep from falling. Still, you didn't step aside.

Fuuta didn't move at first. His face slowly lost its usual irritated expression, and his gray-green eyes grew wider and wider. He didn't understand why you were doing this. He didn't understand why anyone would choose to stand between him and his deserved punishment.

"Stop..." he breathed at last, but his voice was far too quiet.

As you struggled to stay on your feet again, Fuuta snapped. He grabbed your clothes and yanked you back, shielding at least a part of your body with his own. His hands trembled, but he stubbornly refused to let go of you, even when Kotoko turned her gaze toward him.

Now Fuuta stood in front of you, breathing heavily and clenching his fists. Fear, rage, and a terrifying wave of guilt crashed together inside him. He wanted to yell at you, call you an idiot, ask why you interfered, but the words caught in his throat.

When Kotoko finally left, seemingly satisfied that at least someone had gotten what they deserved, the corridor plunged into a thick silence. You were left sitting on the cold floor, pressing a hand to your bruised ribs. Fuuta dropped down beside you, looking into your eyes, trying to search for something in them.

"Are you completely stupid?.." he shouted a little, his voice was hoarse and raised a bit, rather than being aggressive towards you, but rather sincerely worrying. "Why... Why did you do that?!"

There was no real anger in his voice. Only a raw bewilderment and fear that he tried to hide behind rudeness.

Fuuta wasn't used to anyone protecting him just like that. Without conditions, without demands, and without a promise that he would have to pay it back anytime soon.

His fingers tightly squeezed the edge of your sleeve. Fuuta didn't say that he was fucking scared. Scared for you. He didn't admit that for the first time in a long while, he felt truly wanted by someone.

"Jeez... I... I'll call someone... I-I'll find a first aid kit—"