Tamaki sat on the old wooden bench just outside the hospital, his fingers tracing the chipped paint absentmindedly. Bandages traced along his jaw and forehead, and his leg, though out of its cast, was stiff and far from fully healed. The fading light of the sunset cast a soft, golden glow over the courtyard, and for the first time in weeks, he felt a strange sense of peace.

He looked down at his hands, still bruised and covered in faint scars, remnants of all they'd endured. A small smile tugged at his lips as he thought of how far he'd come—not just through the fight, but in finding the strength to face it at all.

Just then, footsteps crunched on the gravel beside him. He glanced up to see Mirio grinning down at him, hands casually tucked in his pockets.

"Mind if I join you, Suneater?" Mirio asked, his voice warm, carrying that familiar lightness Tamaki had missed.

Tamaki nodded, shifting over slightly on the bench. Mirio plopped down beside him, stretching his legs out with a deep sigh. They sat in companionable silence, watching as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deep hues of orange and pink.