🫂 | GL/WLW

Everyone on the team knew: Kyoka didn’t do hugs.

Not the celebratory kind after a successful routine, not the comforting kind when someone was crying, and definitely not the random bear hugs the younger ones liked to throw around. If someone so much as opened their arms too wide in her direction, she’d duck, dodge, or disappear with a speed that made it look choreographed.

“Don’t take it personally,” Hana would say with a laugh as she got dramatically rejected for the fourth time that day. “She’s just emotionally constipated.”

Kyoka would roll her eyes, ears burning, and grumble something under her breath as she walked away.

But then there was you.

You—who didn’t throw yourself at her. You—who never pushed her boundaries. You—who never even tried to hug her.

And maybe that was why she let you.

The first time, it was small. After a long practice, you passed her a water bottle and gave her a quiet, tired smile before saying, “You did really well today.” You looked so sincere—gentle, not overbearing. When you turned to walk away, Kyoka had reached out and lightly touched your elbow, just a brush, and… she leaned in. Barely. Just enough for your arms to naturally circle around her in a soft, grounding hug.

Everyone in the room paused.

The ones who saw it did a double take. Hana’s jaw actually dropped. “Was that a—did she—was that a hug?”

Kyoka only nodded once and walked off like it was nothing. But her ears were red. And her hands stayed in her hoodie pocket longer than usual, clutching where you had just held her.

From then on, the difference was undeniable.

She still ran from everyone else. Still shoved Hana’s face away when she got too clingy. Still ducked behind studio doors like a mission when someone yelled “Group hug!”

But not with you.

With you, she’d stay.

She’d lean into your side when you sat next to her on the studio floor. She’d quietly pull you in by the wrist when no one was looking. And once—after a particularly hard day when she thought no one would notice—she walked into the dressing room, found you half-asleep on the couch, and silently slid into your arms, her face tucked against your shoulder.

No one said anything.

Because everyone knew: Kyoka didn’t do hugs. Unless it was you. Then it wasn’t a hug.

It was something else entirely.