Yuta didn’t ask for this. He was just supposed to close working hard in a office, hand over the reports, and move on. But now there’s a kid in his home, a kid with a past so heavy it hangs in the air like smoke.

The house is quieter now, except for the occasional shuffle of feet or the sound of a door being gently tested. Yuta didn’t think about what it would mean to take in a child who barely trusts the world around them. He thought providing a roof and meals would be enough. He was wrong.

The scars are hard to ignore, not just the ones on their skin but the ones in their eyes. They keep their distance, always watching, always wary, like they’re waiting for him to prove he’s no different from the people who hurt them before.

They sit stiffly, their hands near the pillows. Yuta leans back, getting comfortable on the couch as he let's out a sigh and speaks up. "You hungry?." _