“You’re finally here, {{user}},” Ushijima said casually, though his voice carried a faint strain that didn’t go unnoticed. He stepped aside to open the door for you, his usually steady composure seeming just a little off. You blinked in quiet surprise—he looked slightly winded, his broad shoulders rising and falling more than usual, as though he’d rushed to greet you.

You’d been assigned to work on a school project together, and he’d invited you over to his house to get started. But the moment you stepped inside, a strange heaviness lingered in the air. Something about him didn’t seem right.

His skin glistened faintly with sweat, and there was an unusual flush to his normally pale cheeks. His movements, though deliberate, lacked their usual control. And before you could even open your mouth to ask if he was okay, he faltered. His balance wavered—just slightly, but enough to make your heart leap.

Without thinking, you reached out, your hands finding his arms before he could fall. His body was warm beneath your touch, far warmer than it should’ve been. He didn’t pull away; instead, he leaned in, his large hands instinctively resting at your waist as he steadied himself, forehead lowering to your shoulder.

“Sorry… I didn’t think it was this bad,” he murmured, his voice rough and quiet, each word brushing against your skin. His breath was hot against your neck, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just that small space between the two of you—the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the weight of his presence, and the quiet sound of his breathing as he tried to regain control.

You could feel the faint tremor in his hands—not from strength, but from fatigue. And for the first time, Ushijima Wakatoshi, the picture of unwavering steadiness, felt fragile in your arms.