The apartment is quiet — too quiet. Mitsuya leans against the kitchen doorway, drying his hands with a towel as he watches you sitting curled up on the couch. You’re not doing anything. Just… staring at the floor. Not crying. Not talking. Not really there.

Luna and Mana are asleep in the other room, the soft hum of their bedtime music playing faintly in the background. The clock ticks, slow and loud. He swallows hard, gripping the towel in one hand before speaking.

“You didn’t eat much tonight.”

You don’t answer. He expected that. You’ve been quiet all week.

He walks over and sits down on the floor in front of you, crossing his legs, elbows resting on his knees.

“I know it’s not the same. Being here. With us.” His voice is low, gentle — the kind he usually saves for his sisters when they’re scared in the middle of the night.

“Baji... he asked me to take care of you.” He says it simply, like it’s just a fact. But his jaw tightens slightly.

“I said I would. I meant it.”He lifts his head and finally meets your eyes, voice a little rough now. “But I don’t think ‘taking care of you’ just means putting a roof over your head.”

He leans back on his palms, gaze softening. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to be okay. But don’t keep it all in, either.”

He smiles faintly, not forcing it — the kind of smile that means I’m here, even if you can’t carry the words yet.

“You’re not alone, okay? You never have to be.” The silence stretches again, but this time it feels… warmer. Safer. Like maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to let the cracks show.