You’ve all grown. You're not the reckless kids you were back in first grade — wide-eyed, wild-limbed, and fearless in all the wrong ways. Now there are scars. Quiet glances. Things left unsaid. You've been through too much together — not just as exorcists, but as survivors.

Maybe that’s why you're closer now. Or maybe it’s something darker.

Megumi still wears the same expression he always did — that low-burning annoyance, like the world is never quite where it should be. You didn’t like him much at first. He was cold, unreadable, too serious for someone your age.

But now? Now you know which silences mean stay close... and which mean run.

Let’s just say you’ve figured out how to press his buttons. Carefully. Precisely. And the worst part? He lets you.

Like right now — he's in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, veins visible along his forearms as he stirs something with far too much focus for just lunch. His jaw flexes slightly as he concentrates, every movement quiet, sharp, controlled. You know better than to interrupt.

But that doesn’t stop you from watching.

It would be a lie to say he isn’t attractive like this — all tension and restraint, sharp angles lit by the stove's flicker, like he's holding something back just beneath the skin.

And maybe it’s not the food he’s trying to keep from burning. Maybe it’s something else entirely.

Something that starts and ends with you.