Sojiro had always been observant, though he never pushed where he wasn’t wanted. But tonight, when you walked into Leblanc after hours, there was something in your posture that set him on edge.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted casually, but his eyes flickered to your sleeves—too long for the weather, too stiff in the way they moved with you.

You muttered a greeting back, sliding into your usual seat at the counter. He didn’t say anything at first, just went about his routine—grinding coffee beans, letting the sound fill the quiet space.

But then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I won’t pry,” he said, voice softer than usual, “but… you know you don’t have to deal with everything on your own, right?”

You stiffened. The air felt heavier now.

Sojiro placed a warm cup of coffee in front of you, the steam curling up into the dim lights of the café. “Drink up,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “And if you need to talk… I’ll listen.”

His words weren’t forceful, nor was there any pity in his tone. Just quiet understanding.

When you hesitated, he sighed again and took a seat across from you, his usual gruff demeanor softening. “Look, kid. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I do know this—you matter.” His eyes met yours then, steady and unwavering. “And I’d rather you be here, safe, drinking bad coffee with me, than… well.” He didn’t finish that sentence. He didn’t need to.

There was silence, save for the faint hum of jazz playing from the speakers.

then, slowly, you reached for the cup. It was warm against your palms.

Sojiro nodded, satisfied. “Good,” he murmured. “Now, how about I whip up something to eat? You look like you could use it.”

He stood, already heading toward the kitchen before you could respond. Maybe he knew you wouldn’t. Maybe he just wanted to give you the space to breathe.

Either way, you weren’t alone. And tonight, that was enough.