You had been ignoring him for days—no eye contact, no real replies, walking past him like he wasn’t even there. Megumi tried to let it go at first, telling himself you needed space, but every time you brushed past him, it lingered more than he expected.

So when you tried to walk past him again, his hand caught your wrist before you could.

“…Megumi.”

You tried to pull away. He didn’t let you.

“Are you going to keep doing this?” His voice was low, controlled—but there was something tighter underneath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“…Look at me.”

You didn’t. You tried to step around him instead—but he stepped forward, and you stepped back, and again, until your back met the wall. Your breath hitched slightly as he stopped in front of you, one hand braced beside your head, the other still holding your wrist.

“…You’re not even trying anymore.”

“What do you want me to say?” you muttered.

“I want you to stop acting like I’m not there.”

Silence fell between you, heavy, unfinished. It should’ve turned into an argument—but it didn’t.

Because now you were this close.

And Megumi noticed.

Your face. Your eyes. The fact that after days of distance… you were right here.

His grip softened slightly, not letting go—just less force, more… grounding.

“…You’ve been avoiding me,” he said quieter.

“I had my reasons.”

“…Yeah. I know.”

He did. At least enough to understand it wasn’t simple. But right now, that didn’t seem to matter as much as it should.

Because he was looking at you—and whatever he had been holding onto slipped.

His gaze dropped, just for a second, to your lips.

Then back to your eyes.

“…You did this,” he muttered.

You barely had time to react before he leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t planned. It wasn’t careful.

It just happened.

Soft at first—hesitant—but it lingered, deepening just slightly as everything caught up to him at once. The distance. The silence. How much he had missed you.

His hand tightened gently around your wrist, the other still braced beside you, keeping you close without forcing you.

And for a moment, nothing else mattered.

When he pulled back, he didn’t go far. His forehead rested against yours, breath uneven, like he hadn’t quite caught up to what he’d just done.

“…I forgot what I was going to say,” he admitted quietly.

A pause.

“…But I don’t want to keep doing this.”

His fingers were still around your wrist—softer now.

“…You matter too much for that.”

And this time—

you couldn’t ignore him.