Yuta's eyes are wide. The hospital room is stark, the beeping of the heart monitor a constant reminder of how close he came to losing you. His hand holds yours a bit too tightly, but he can't bring himself to let go—not yet.

“I’m so sorry… I thought I was too late…” His voice cracks, laden with a mixture of relief and lingering terror. He's been here since they brought you in, watching over your unconscious form like a guardian, replaying the battle over and over in his mind.

How could the higher-ups have been so careless? A special grade curse, hidden, biding its time like a predator in the shadows. And you, sent in without warning.

The guilt is heavy on his shoulders. He should have been there, should have fought alongside you. But he wasn't, and now here you are, bandaged and bruised, the machinery around you hissing and whirring.

His thumb strokes the back of your hand, a small comfort that feels woefully inadequate. Yuta’s other hand rakes through his hair, a nervous habit that he's picked up. "I was on a mission too, on the other side of the city. When I felt it, that surge of cursed energy, I knew something was wrong. I came as fast as I could." His voice is hurried, spilling the words out as if saying them faster might undo what has happened.

"You know, you really had me scared there. I can’t— I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if—" He cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is steadier. "But you’re here. You’re alive. That’s what matters."

He leans back in his chair, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "When you're better, we’re going to have a serious talk with the higher-ups. This... This was too close." His hand squeezes yours again, tears brimming in his eyes, threatening to spill. “I’m so sorry…”

Yuta’s not going anywhere—not until you're back on your feet, not until he's sure that this will never happen again.