Arms Like a Safety Net

Instead of knocking on Amaya’s door, Akio drifted to the kitchen and quietly adjusted the window curtain, tugging it shut to block out the rain

He turned down the hallway to head to his room, socked feet barely making a sound on the floor, just as he was about to go into his room, Amaya’s door swung open.

She emerged wearing an oversized Miracle Land T-shirt that practically ate her whole frame, and what looked like frilly pyjama shorts that were mostly swallowed by the hem, hair damp and loose around her shoulders. She looked surprised to see Akio still up.

“Oh… hey,” she whispered, blinking. Her voice was hoarse, her eyes a bit puffy, crying, probably, but she still managed a small, sheepish smile. “Thought you’d be asleep.”

“I was just… closing the windows,” Akio said, keeping his voice low. “Rain’s blowing in.”

Her gaze wandered toward the living room. Her smile faded, and her brows pinched with guilt. “I feel awful,” she murmured. “He came all this way and I… I blew up at him.”

Akio shook his head. “He’ll be alright. You two will be alright. Just talk in the morning. Maybe without the yelling part.”

She nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah. I will. I know he cares. I just… ugh, I hate being treated like a little kid.” She pouted like a little kid, then looked at Akio almost hesitantly. “You… you’re not mad, right?”

He blinked. “Why would I be mad?”

She gave a half shrug. “I don’t know. For causing a scene. I know you hate drama. You’ve already done so much letting him stay and… I’m sorry if I ruined the night.”

Was he mad?

Maybe for a split second, back when things were spiralling, and he didn’t know if he’d have to mediate an emotional wrestling match or physically restrain Amaya before she could kick Declan in the ribs.

But as she was standing there in a T-shirt four sizes too big, her voice small and eyes rimmed red. Instead of frustration, all he felt was a strange mix of protectiveness and something warm and inconvenient curling around his ribs.

She looked so small and guilty it made his chest ache.

So no, he wasn’t mad. Not even close.

Without overthinking it, he reached out and gently ruffled her damp hair. “Baka,” he said softly, not unkindly. “You didn’t ruin anything. I had fun tonight, despite it all. And… I’m glad I met your friend. He’s a good guy. Cares about you.”

Amaya looked up at him, eyes a little wide at his touch. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then just nodded slowly. “He is.” A pause, then she added quietly, “And… thanks. For, you know, stepping in.”

Amaya fiddled with the hem of her big T-shirt, her brows drawn, lips pressed thin. Then, all at once, like something inside her cracked, she surged forward and collapsed into Akio’s chest.

It wasn’t a careful, polite hug. It was messy, sudden, and a little clumsy. Amaya’s whole weight leaned into him, like she was afraid she might fall apart. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, arms tightening around his waist with the desperation of someone trying not to cry again.

Akio stiffened for a half-second out of pure habit, then relaxed, closing his eyes.

He carefully wrapped his arms around her. One hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading into her damp hair. The other settled protectively at her waist, pulling her closer.

She was warm and shaking, just a little.

For someone so bold, so loud, Amaya felt impossibly small in his arms.

She was always trying to fly without looking down. Sprinting headfirst into everything like stopping to think for even a second might kill her. No backup plan. No safety net.

And Akio, who built his life on predictability, who avoided chaos like it was contagious, found himself thinking something unfamiliar and kind of terrifying.

Maybe I want to be that net.

The one who catches her when she falls.
So she can leap without fear.

“Thank you,” she whispered, so softly he barely caught it. It sent a pleasant shiver through him.

Akio’s mind raced and stilled all at once. He was hyper-aware of everything: the rain outside, the scent of her cotton candy shampoo, the way his own heart was thudding in double-time. He wanted to say ‘you’re welcome’, or ‘I’ve got you’, or something, but the words were lodged in his throat.

Akio wasn’t sure how long they stood there like that, just the two of them, wrapped up in a safe silence. He didn’t count the seconds. He only noticed the way her breathing evened out and how the trembling in her arms stilled.

Eventually, Amaya pulled back, just a little. Her hands sliding down his arms as she did so, fingertips grazing his like she was reluctant to let go. She looked up at him with glassy eyes, her lashes clumped from the earlier tears. She looked tired.

He lifted a hand and gently cupped her face. His thumb traced along her cheekbone, brushing just under her eye where a tear might’ve been. “You should get some rest,” he said softly. “You’re exhausted.”

Amaya gave a small nod. She took a step back, then another, her arms curling around herself like she didn’t quite know what to do with them anymore. Then, with a small smile she turned and tiptoed toward her room.

Just before her door clicked shut, Akio called out gently, “Goodnight, Amaya.”

She paused, hand still on the doorknob. “Goodnight, Akio,” she murmured.

He watched until her door closed. The hallway felt colder now. The warmth she'd left in his arms was already slipping away, like steam rising off a teacup and vanishing into the air.

With a low sigh, he ran a hand down his face. “What a mess of a day,” he muttered.

He turned towards his room and for a second, he wished he could’ve kept her in his arms a little longer.