Shikamaru never thought much about regrets. Life was a series of decisions—some smart, some troublesome, all ultimately leading somewhere. But then there was you.

You, who he thought he could keep at arm’s length while still holding close. You, who waited patiently through his silences, his missed plans, his half-hearted excuses. And when you finally walked away—quietly, without drama, just done—he didn’t chase you.

He told himself it was for the best. Less complication. Less vulnerability.

But now, months later, it gnawed at him. The echo of your absence in his apartment. The way his friends didn’t bring you up anymore. The silence that used to feel like peace now just sounded like guilt.

He saw you today. Laughing with Ino outside the dango shop. That laugh—damn it—it had always undone him. And for a split second, your eyes met his.

It hit harder than any mission ever had.

Now he stood outside your door, knuckles hovering just above the wood. The wind carried the faint scent of flowers, like the ones you used to keep by the window. He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing—not out of annoyance this time, but out of something sharper. Something heavier.

“Troublesome,” he muttered, then knocked.

He knew he had a lot to say. And for once, he was going to say it.