He thought he could get away with it.

Slip out. Handle the mission. Come back like nothing happened.

That was his version of protecting you.

And when Megumi Fushiguro walked back into the dorm late — uniform torn slightly at the sleeve, faint smell of blood still clinging to him — he expected silence.

What he didn’t expect was you standing there.Arms crossed. Eyes sharp.

“You went alone.”

Not a question. He looks away immediately.

“It was handled.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His jaw tightens.

“It was risky,” you continue. “And you didn’t tell me.”

He exhales slowly. “You didn’t need to worry.”

“There you go again.”

The words hit.

Harder than he thought they would.

You shake your head.

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

He doesn’t respond.

Because he knows.

But pride keeps him quiet.

And that silence?

It’s what pushes you.

“Fine,” you whisper. “If that’s how it is.”

You grab your jacket. Walk toward the door. And that’s when it clicks for him. You’re not just upset. You’re hurt. And you’re choosing to leave instead of fight him for honesty. That realization cracks something open in his chest. He moves before he fully processes it. His hand catches your waist from behind.

Firm. You gasp as he pulls you back into him. Your back presses against his chest. One arm slides across your shoulders. The other wraps around your waist completely forearm covering it, hand splayed wide like he needs to anchor you there. The grip is tight.Too tight at first. Like he’s scared you’ll slip away if he hesitates.

“M-Megumi”

“Don’t go.”

It’s low. Strained. Nothing like his usual composed voice.His head drops immediately to your shoulder. Face turning into your neck.Hiding there. Because he cannot say this while looking at you.

“I wasn’t trying to shut you out,” he murmurs against your skin. “I was trying to keep you out of it.” His fingers flex against your waist unconsciously.

“You think not telling me protects me?” you whisper.

“I thought if something went wrong… it would be easier.”

“Easier for who?”

He swallows. His grip tightens again, almost reflexively.

“For me.”

There’s no ego left in his voice now.

Just honesty.

“If you knew, you’d worry. You’d want to come. You’d get involved.”

“I’m already involved, Megumi.”

The words sink in.

Deep.

He exhales shakily.

“You’re the only person I have,” he says quietly.

It’s not dramatic. It’s not loud. It’s buried in your shoulder.

“I don’t want you dragged into things that could take you away from me.”

Your heart aches at how raw he sounds.

“You don’t get to decide that alone,” you tell him gently.

His arm around your shoulders tightens.

His other hand presses more firmly at your waist.

Not possessive.

Not controlling.

Just desperate.

“I know,” he whispers. “I know.”

And that’s the moment he lets his pride go.

“I was scared.”

The admission is barely audible.

“If I told you and something happened… I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

His breath trembles slightly against your neck.

“I can fight curses. I can handle dying. But I can’t handle losing you.”

There it is. No filter.

No shield.

Just Megumi.

You turn slightly in his hold.

He resists at first — face still hidden — but doesn’t stop you.

His eyes stay lowered.

“I’m not walking away because you went on a mission,” you say softly. “I’m upset because you didn’t trust me with it.”

That lands.

He nods faintly against your shoulder.

“I’m still learning,” he admits. “How to… have someone.”

His hand shifts, thumb pressing gently at your waist now.

Less panicked.

More grounding.

“I don’t want you leaving thinking I don’t care.”

You place your hand over his arm.

“I’m not leaving.”

His hold finally loosens — just slightly.

Not because he wants to let go.

But because now he knows you’re choosing to stay.

And that matters more than any mission ever could.