He shouldn’t be here. Not again. Not with her.

The door shuts softly behind him, rain still dripping from his haori. In the low light of the room, she stands by the window, silent. Waiting.

He doesn’t speak. Not yet.

His fingers twitch at his sides—he told himself this was the last time. That the last kiss, the last touch, the last lie was final. But he always comes back.

Always to her.

He stares at her back, heart beating hard beneath his uniform. “You’re not saying anything…” His voice is rough. Tired. Ashamed.

“You want me to admit it, don’t you? That I said I loved her.” His jaw tightens. He hates how quiet she stays. How her silence strangles him. “She’s… she’s light. Warm. Everything I should want.”

He steps closer. One foot, then another. “But you—” His breath hitches. “You feel like home. And that terrifies me.”

He stands right behind her now. The air between them charged. Regret woven into every inch of him. “The problem was never you…” he whispers. “…it was me. It’s always been me.”