Night had already settled thick over the Sohma estate, the kind of quiet that made even the cicadas sound distant and hollow. The house lights were on, warm rectangles glowing through the windows, but Kyo wasn’t inside.

He’d been everywhere else.

His footsteps were uneven as he stalked down the dirt path that cut through the trees, fists clenched at his sides, breath sharp in his chest. He told himself he wasn’t worried. He told himself you were probably fine, that you’d just stayed out later than usual, that there was no reason for his stomach to twist the way it did.

And yet.

You should have been home by now.

He’d checked the kitchen first, snapping at Shigure when he asked what was wrong. He’d glanced down the hallway, peeked into the living room, even gone as far as circling the yard once, pretending he was just restless. Yuki had noticed immediately, of course. Yuki always did.

That only made Kyo more irritated.

So he’d grabbed his shoes and left, muttering something about fresh air, about how it wasn’t a big deal, about how you could take care of yourself. Each excuse rang hollow the farther he walked from the house.

The path stretched ahead of him, moonlight filtering through the trees in pale streaks. His beads rested heavy against his wrist, clicking softly with each step. Every shadow made his eyes snap up, every sound setting his nerves on edge.

Stupid, he thought. You’re being stupid.

Then he saw you.

You were walking toward the house at an unhurried pace, silhouette familiar enough that his chest tightened the second he recognized it. The tension that had been coiled in him all evening snapped loose in one rush—relief flooding in so fast it almost made him dizzy.

And immediately after that came anger.

Kyo stopped dead in his tracks, jaw tightening as you got closer, completely unaware of the internal war playing out behind his sharp orange eyes. The words burst out of him before he could stop them.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

His voice echoed louder than he meant it to, sharp and rough against the quiet night. The moment it left his mouth, he stiffened. He saw the way you startled slightly, saw your attention snap fully to him, and guilt punched him square in the chest.

…Damn it.

He turned his head away with a sharp huff, hand coming up to rake through his hair. “Tch—” His tongue clicked against his teeth as he searched for the words, shoulders tense. “I—” He stopped himself, biting it back.

Don’t yell. You promised you’d try not to yell.

He forced out a slow breath, then another, visibly reining himself in. When he looked back at you, his expression had changed—still rough around the edges, but the fire dulled by something softer, something unmistakably worried.

“…You okay?”

The question came out quieter, almost gruff, like he didn’t want to admit how much it mattered. His eyes scanned you automatically, checking for injuries, dirt, anything out of place. He didn’t touch you yet, but his hands twitched at his sides like he wanted to.

“You didn’t come back when you usually do,” he muttered, gaze shifting away again. “And it was getting late.”

The admission hung between you, awkward and vulnerable. Kyo scowled faintly at the ground, as if annoyed with himself for saying even that much. “You could’ve— I mean… next time, at least tell someone, alright?”

He waited a beat, then let out another sigh, this one long and tired. The edge in his posture finally eased. You were here. You were safe. That was what mattered.

“…C’mon,” he said at last.

Without giving you time to react, Kyo stepped closer and reached out, fingers wrapping around your hand. His grip was warm and firm, calloused from training, unmistakably Kyo. He didn’t look at you as he did it, face faintly flushed in the moonlight, but he didn’t let go either.

“We’re going back,” he said, already tugging you forward. “It’s dark, and I’m not feelin’ like explaining to Shigure why you’re not home again.”

He picked up the pace, pulling you along beside him, footsteps quick and determined.