Chapter 20 : Hold her together

It was still raining when she showed up.

Not the dramatic kind of storm that splits the sky in half, but the weary drizzle that soaks into your clothes and bones, the kind that makes the whole world feel like it’s sighing.

When Reiji opened the door to his cramped apartment, Asuka was standing there, umbrella half-broken, hair damp and clinging to her cheeks. She didn’t look sad. She didn’t look angry. She just looked… tired.

And somehow, that was worse.

---

“...Sensei?” Reiji blinked. “Did you get lost on the way to literally anywhere else?”

Her lips twitched, almost a smile. “I… didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

For a second, Reiji thought about telling her she picked the wrong guy. He wasn’t exactly anyone’s definition of safe company. But when he stepped aside, letting her in, the words stuck in his throat.

Because, honestly? He didn’t want her to be alone either.

---

A Simple Dinner

His kitchen was laughably small—barely room for one person, let alone two. Asuka stood by the counter, her presence making the space feel impossibly warmer.

“I can cook,” she offered, reaching for the rice cooker.

“No way,” Reiji said immediately. “Guest rules. Sit down before you knock something over. My place isn’t built for… grace.”

She chuckled softly and obeyed, sitting at the tiny table while Reiji scrambled together something resembling dinner—instant curry, leftover miso, and whatever vegetables hadn’t gone bad yet.

When he set it down, Asuka pressed her palms together. “Itadakimasu.”

Reiji sat across from her, awkward. He’d eaten meals with her and Yume before, but this was different. The rain outside muffled the city noise, leaving only the sound of chopsticks and the occasional soft sigh from Asuka.

--

Halfway through the meal, Reiji noticed her hands. They were steady enough holding chopsticks, but every so often, they’d clench slightly on the table, like she was keeping something from spilling out.

He wanted to say something. But what? Are you okay? sounded cheap. Do you want to talk? sounded like he was pretending to be a therapist.

So instead, he said: “Don’t expect five-star service next time. This is a one-night-only gourmet experience.”

That earned him a quiet laugh—the kind that carried relief in it.

And for some reason, that felt like victory.

--

After dinner, Asuka wandered to the living room. The couch was old, second-hand, with springs that squeaked if you so much as breathed wrong on it. But when she sat down, she looked like it was the softest thing in the world.

She leaned back, head tilting against the worn cushion.

“You really live like a student,” she murmured.

“Yeah. You expected candles and wine glasses?” Reiji smirked. “Sorry, the butler’s off duty tonight.”

Her smile was faint. But her eyelids were heavier.

Before long, her head tilted to the side, breath evening out. She was asleep.

---

Reiji stood there like an idiot for a moment, unsure if he should wake her, send her home, or—what, exactly? Carry her? No, that sounded like the fastest way to get stabbed.

So he just grabbed the blanket from his futon and gently draped it over her.

She stirred but didn’t wake.

And that left him sitting on the floor beside the couch, staring at her in the dim light of his small apartment, listening to the rain tapping against the windows.

It was unfair, he thought. That someone who smiled so much for others looked this fragile up close.

---

He didn’t mean to speak aloud. But the words slipped out anyway, quiet enough that only the rain might hear them.

“If you fall apart, I’ll still be here.”

Reiji wasn’t the type for declarations. He wasn’t even the type to stick around for most things. But tonight, as he sat there watching her sleep, he felt something anchor him. Something immovable.

Maybe it was dangerous. Maybe it was stupid. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

---

She shifted slightly under the blanket, a faint smile flickering across her lips even in sleep.

Reiji leaned his head back against the couch, closing his eyes. The corners of his mouth tugged upward despite himself.

He hated a lot of things. School. Crowds. Pointless noise.

But sitting here, listening to the rain, watching her rest—this, he didn’t hate at all.

Not even a little.