The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside the window. You sat on the couch, still in half of your own hero gear, arms crossed as you watched Keigo peel off his compression shirt. His easy grin only made the knot in your chest tighter.

“You’re reckless, Keigo. Way too reckless.” Your voice was sharper than you intended, but you didn’t take it back.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, one brow raised. “Love, it’s kind of the job. You’d know—you’re a hero too.”

“That’s exactly why I’m saying it!” you snapped, standing now, your hands balled into fists. “We both see what happens when people push too far. You’re not invincible, Keigo. And—” your throat tightened, “I can’t stand coming home from my own shift and wondering if you won’t make it back from yours.”

The grin faded from his face, replaced by something softer, almost guilty. “So what are you saying? That heroes shouldn’t date? That we shouldn’t be this close?”

The words left before you could stop them. “Sometimes, yeah. Maybe we shouldn’t.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you. His amber eyes searched yours, and you hated the flicker of hurt there. His voice was hoarse when he spoke.

“You think I don’t know it’s reckless? That I don’t replay it in my head every time I nearly don’t make it back?” His hand hovered near your arm but didn’t touch. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s selfish. But I’d rather be selfish than spend one day pretending I don’t need you.”

A hint of guilt flickering in his golden eyes. “…I hate it when you talk like that,” he said softly. “Like you regret us.”