The door creaked open, and you glanced up from your desk. Megumi stood in the doorway, his usual stoic expression marred by something different—pain. A faint trail of dried blood ran from his nose, staining the edge of his shirt sleeve where he’d obviously tried to wipe it away. His knuckles were red, split in places, and there was a faint limp in his step as he walked in.

He said nothing, dropping his bag to the floor and heading straight for his bed.

“Megumi,” you called, your voice sharp enough to make him pause. He turned his head slightly, avoiding your eyes.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, sitting down and starting to pull off his shoes.

Your stomach churned. Nothing? A broken nose, bruised knuckles, and a limp definitely weren’t nothing. You pushed your chair back and stood, walking over to him with a determined stride.

“I said it’s fine,” he snapped, leaning away from your hand.

But you weren’t having it.

For a moment, Megumi just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, with a quiet sigh, he relented, letting you sit beside him.

You grabbed the first aid kit from the closet, your hands moving with practiced care as you cleaned the blood and inspected the swelling. He flinched when you touched the bridge of his nose, but he didn’t pull away.