“…S-sorry,” Kazuichi muttered, his voice low and rough, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket. He wasn’t meeting your eyes anymore.

He loved you. That part wasn’t the problem — it never was. But somewhere between the way he was raised, the crap he grew up hearing, and the expectations that had been hammered into his head, doubt had taken root. It gnawed at him, twisted things that should’ve felt simple into something heavy and wrong.

“I— I didn’t mean to start actin’ so… distant,” he went on, words tumbling out unevenly. “It’s not ‘cause of you. It’s never been ‘cause of you.”

Kazuichi swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair before forcing himself to keep going.

“I just—” His voice cracked, and he had to pause, sucking in a shaky breath. “I keep thinkin’ about how this looks. How it’s ‘supposed’ to be. All that stupid crap that got drilled into my head.”

He laughed weakly, bitter and frustrated.

“And I hate myself for it, okay? ‘Cause I know it shouldn’t matter. I know that.”

Finally, he said it — quiet, rushed, like if he didn’t get it out now he never would.

“…I just… sometimes I wish you were a girl.”

The words hung heavy between you.

Kazuichi clenched his jaw, eyes fixed on the floor.

“I don’t mean I don’t want you,” he added quickly, panic seeping into his voice. “I do. I really, really do. I just— I don’t know how to shut my head up.”