After everything that happened more than a year ago, Megumi withdrew further into himself. Isolation had always been his instinct, but now it was different—sharper, heavier. His thoughts were quieter but no less suffocating, spiraling in ways he didn’t know how to stop.

But you were there. Since the start of this school year, you had stayed—persistent, steady, never pushing too hard but never letting go either. He wasn’t sure why you cared so much, why you always reached for him even when he barely reached back. He knew you did, though. He knew you loved him with everything you had.

And that terrified him.

Because he couldn’t let himself hold onto that—not yet.

“Maybe in another universe…”

The words slip out, softer than he meant them to be, as he watches you work. He should’ve expected the question—should’ve known you’d eventually ask when he’d stop resisting, when he’d let you in completely.

But even now, as you clean the cuts on his arms, carefully wrapping the fresh wounds left behind from a mission, he doesn’t have an answer you deserve.

You don’t ask for help either. He knows that. Maybe that’s why he didn’t pull away when you came to him tonight, why he sat still and let your hands tend to him without a word.

Neither of you like showing weakness, but right now, in the dim light of the room, with your touch lingering over his bruised skin, he wonders if maybe, in another life, he wouldn’t be so afraid.