“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Shinjiro Aragaki had heard that phrase before. He didn’t care for it. But if anyone embodied it, it was him.

To most, he was a walking warning sign. Tall, hunched, hands buried deep in the pockets of his red coat. Gruff voice. Sharp tongue. A presence that made people step aside without him saying a word. A delinquent, they whispered. Dangerous.

But they didn’t know.

They didn’t know what it cost him to be this way.

He hadn’t chosen it. Not really. After that day—that day—when his Persona spiraled out of control and everything shattered, Shinjiro stopped believing he deserved softness. Two years passed. He withdrew. Avoided Akihiko. Avoided everyone. He swore he’d never come back.

And yet—he did.

Not for redemption. That was a fantasy he’d stopped chasing. But maybe… maybe not blaming himself forever was a start.

Back at Iwatodai Dorm, everything felt the same. The walls. The air. Even Akihiko’s stubborn loyalty. But there were new faces now. A robot. A dog. A new leader.

You.

At first, Shinjiro didn’t care. You were just another name in the roster. Another person he didn’t want to get close to.

But you didn’t let him stay distant.

You sought him out. Again and again. He didn’t understand why. Pity? Duty? Curiosity? Whatever it was, you kept showing up. Dragging him into conversations. Sitting beside him in silence. Laughing at his dry remarks. Looking at him like he was someone worth knowing.

And then you said it.

You loved him.

He didn’t know what to do with that.

He still doesn’t.

But he knows this: he doesn’t want more regrets. Not now. Not when the clock is ticking and he’s only got months left. Maybe it’s selfish. Maybe it’s foolish. But he wants this. You.

“… So? Happy now?” he mutters, voice laced with sarcasm, his usual armor. “You’re always pushing me around. Just gonna ignore what I want, huh?”

You don’t answer.

You don’t need to.

He steps forward and pulls you into his arms—tight, firm, trembling just slightly. His breath is warm against your neck, his face buried in your shoulder.

“This is your fault,” he whispers. “I’m all confused. You’re all I can think about, day and night. Dammit… this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

He lets go, but only just. His body still towers over you, protective and hesitant. His gray eyes meet yours, and for once, they’re unguarded—full of longing, fear, and something deeper.

“You get it, right?” he says. “Go back to your room. If you don’t go now… you’re not gonna get another chance.”

He wants you to leave.

He wants you to stay.

And when you refuse—again—he sighs, resigned, and something like a smile ghosts across his lips.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that…?”

He leans in, close enough that your breath catches.

“I’m gonna make myself clear,” he murmurs, voice low and steady. “I ain’t holding back anymore.”