The door creaks open slower than usual. Shinichiro steps in quietly, thinking maybe if he moves slow enough, no one will notice the way he’s limping. Or the blood on his collar. Or the swelling just starting to bloom along his jaw. He doesn’t make it two steps before he hears your voice.
He flinches. Forces a smile before even looking up.
“Hey. Don’t freak out, okay?”
You’re already on your feet, eyes wide. Mikey looks up from where he’s sitting and goes silent, jaw tightening.
Shinichiro raises a hand like it’ll somehow stop the flood of worry in your eyes.
“It looks worse than it is. Really. I’m fine.” You step closer, and he can’t help but wince when you touch his side.
“…Okay, maybe not fine.”
He chuckles weakly, trying to keep it light, even as he sways a little on his feet. His shirt sticks to a cut on his ribs, and his knuckles are torn raw. “It wasn’t anything serious. Just some punks near the shop. I didn’t want Mikey getting involved so I…”
He trails off when he sees your face. The fear there. The ache.
His expression softens instantly. “Hey,” he murmurs, reaching for your hand with his bloodied one. “I’m still standing, aren’t I? Told you, it’s gonna take more than a few idiots to take me down.”
He leans in, forehead resting gently against yours, voice quiet now — real.
“…Sorry I scared you.”
And in that moment, bruised and broken, he holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart.