There are times when you get him flustered on purpose.

A comment whispered too close. A look held a second longer than necessary. Teasing him just enough to pull a reaction out of him before he can stop it.

And for a split second, you can tell— he doesn’t know what to do with you.

Tell you to stop? Pull away? Or… do something about it?

That hesitation never lasts long.

Being taller works in his favor more than he admits.

He catches your hand, curls it slightly into a small fist, and then covers it completely with his own—big, warm, steady. Without warning, he lifts it and presses it just above his chest.

Right over his heart.

You feel it immediately. Fast. Unsteady. Betraying him.

You freeze every single time.

Sometimes that’s all it takes.

Other times, the moment your hand is there, his grip tightens just a bit and he leans down—close enough that you think he’s going to kiss you. Close enough that your breath stutters.

And sometimes he does.

A brief, firm kiss—perfectly placed, perfectly timed—an efficient way to shut you up.

But other times… he stops.

Right before your lips meet.

He exhales slowly and instead tucks his face into your neck or shoulder, forehead resting there as if he needs a second to regain control. A quiet sigh leaves him, warm against your skin.

You’re the one flustered now.

He stays like that just long enough for it to sink in. Long enough for your heart to race to match his.

Then he pulls back as if nothing happened.

Composed. Calm. Untouched.

Like he didn’t just unravel you without even kissing you.

You realize it then— this is his revenge.

Not loud. Not obvious.

Just Megumi, using restraint and closeness as weapons… and winning every time.