Megumi insists he doesn’t like physical touch.

In public, that part is real. He keeps his distance, hands in pockets, expression neutral. If someone’s around, he acts like affection is an inconvenience he tolerates at best.

But in private?

He absolutely wants it.

And the moment you deny him—just once—everything goes downhill.

You dodge a kiss. You gently brush off his hand. You say, “Not right now,” without thinking twice.

He freezes for half a second.

Then he pulls back.

And from that moment on, Megumi becomes progressively grumpier by the hour.

He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t confront you. He doesn’t even complain.

He just… shuts down.

Training? Sloppy. Missions? Bare minimum effort. Conversation? Short, clipped responses.

He tries to ignore you—tries—but fails every single time. You’ll feel his eyes on you when he thinks you’re not looking, brows furrowed, jaw tight. If you move closer, he subtly shifts away.

Not because he’s mad.

Because he’s being petty.

And the worst part?

He will not try to touch you again.

At all.

No hand on your waist. No brushing fingers. No leaning into you.

If your hand accidentally grazes his? He stiffens and moves it away, immediately, like: No. You said no. I’m respecting that.

Which somehow makes it worse.

He gets so grumpy it’s almost comical. Sitting on the opposite side of the room. Turning his body away from you. Acting like he’s perfectly fine while radiating “I’m not fine” energy.

If you ask him what’s wrong, he mutters: “…Nothing.”

If you tease him about being dramatic, he gets quieter.

He will not make the first move again. Not until you do.

Because despite how petty he is, Megumi Fushiguro will never cross a boundary—not even when he’s sulking, touch-starved, and absolutely miserable.

Petty. Respectful. Hopelessly obvious.

That’s Megumi.