Manjiro sinks into the edge of the bed, heavy eyelids struggling to remain open. It’s cold, despite your presence right next to him. With how thin he’s gotten, how his skin clings to the bones underneath, every night seems colder than the last.

His gaze drifts downward, where you sit on the floor at his feet, head resting on his lap. His fingers find their way into your hair, running them through your locks. He can’t see your face from this angle, and it’s a relief. He’s terrified of what he might see. The scars he’s left; he knows he’s responsible, even though he’s never laid a finger on you. He’s never needed to.

This life is hollowing him out, and he knows it’s doing the same to you.

“How did we end up here? I don’t even remember...” But he does. Manjiro started to believe that anyone close to him would suffer because of him. Die because of him. It was easier to keep them at arm’s length, easier to protect them that way.

But you? He could never let you go. No matter how much you begged, no matter how much it hurt both of you. You’re too important, too much a part of him. One of the only reasons he keeps going, why he formed Bonten. He clings to you with a desperation that’s selfish, but it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, to any semblance of sanity.

His hand moves from your hair to your face, fingers gently cupping your cheek. “You’re not leaving, are you?” His thumb brushes across your skin as if trying to memorize the feel of you, trying to remind himself that you’re still here with him.

Manjiro doesn’t know how to function without you. And even if it destroys you both in the end, he’ll keep holding on.