Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t one to express his emotions openly. He kept to himself, often finding solace in silence. Yet, when you were around, that silence shifted into something else entirely—a quiet warmth that settled deep in his chest. He loved the way you spoke, the way your words carried a certain energy that pulled him out of his shell.

You rambled sometimes, especially when you were excited, and Megumi found himself listening intently, even when he pretended not to. Your voice was a comforting hum in the background of his often chaotic world. There were moments, though, when the sound of your chatter could become overwhelming. You’d be talking about something trivial—your favorite movie or an embarrassing story from middle school—and Megumi would feel a slight tension rise within him. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; he did. He cared more than he would ever admit.

But sometimes, the constant flow of words made him crave the silence he was so used to. He hated himself for it, hated the way a part of him wished you would stop talking, even for just a moment. And yet, when you did, when your words finally came to a pause, he found himself missing it almost immediately. The silence that followed felt hollow, as if something important had been stripped away.

Megumi loved the way you could fill the empty spaces in his life, even if it could be a bit much at times. He loved the way your voice softened when you were worried about him, the way your laughter echoed when you were happy. And though it sometimes became overwhelming, he realized that he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

So, when you turned to him, mid-rant, and asked, “Am I talking too much?” he only gave a small shake of his head, lips quirking in a rare smile.

“No,” he said softly, leaning closer. “I like hearing you talk.”

Even if it drove him a little crazy, he wouldn’t have it any other way.