The infirmary felt smaller now.
Haru stood near the door, watching Akira carefully, his brows drawn in concern. The softness in his eyes hadn’t changed—but something else lingered beneath it now. Something heavier.
Haru (gentle):
“Akira… talk to me. What happened?”
Akira didn’t answer right away.
His fingers tightened around the bedsheet, knuckles pale. His breathing was uneven again, not as frantic as before—but not calm either.
Daiki’s voice still echoed in his head.
“Safety never lasts.”
Akira swallowed hard. Then finally—
Akira (quiet, but strained):
“…You said I’d be safe.”
Haru froze. Just for a second.
Akira (looking up, eyes tired, searching):
“Then why does it feel like I’m still trapped?”
The words hung in the air like something fragile—and dangerous.
Haru stepped closer slowly, careful, like approaching something that might shatter.
Haru:
“You’re not trapped. You’re here. With me.”
Akira shook his head immediately.
Akira (voice rising slightly):
“No… that’s not it.”
He pushed himself up from the bed, the blanket slipping off his shoulders.
Akira:
“When you hold me… it feels safe. But when you let go—”
His voice broke.
Akira (whispering):
“It feels like I’m just being passed from one cage to another.”
Silence.
Haru’s expression shifted. The warmth didn’t disappear—but it tightened, like something being held back.
Haru (soft, but different now):
“…You think I’m the same as them?”
Akira hesitated.
That hesitation was answer enough.
Haru let out a quiet breath, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, he looked… conflicted.
Haru:
“I’m trying to protect you.”
Akira (immediately):
“From them… or for yourself?”
That landed.
Haru’s eyes darkened—not with anger, but with something deeper. Something honest.
He stepped closer again, closing the space between them. Not forceful. But not distant either.
Haru (low, steady):
“Both.”
Akira’s breath caught.
Haru lifted a hand, hesitating for a moment before gently resting it on Akira’s shoulder. This time, the touch felt different. Still warm—but heavier.
Haru:
“I won’t lie to you, Akira. I don’t want them near you.”
A pause.
Haru (quieter):
“And I don’t want you walking away from me either.”
Akira’s chest tightened.
There it was.
Not just kindness.
Not just protection.
Possession—wrapped in something softer.
Akira (barely a whisper):
“…So I’m not free with you either.”
Haru didn’t answer immediately.
His hand tightened just slightly on Akira’s shoulder—not enough to hurt, but enough to be felt.
Haru (soft, almost sad):
“Free?”
He gave a small, faint smile.
Haru:
“You were never free the moment all of us noticed you.”
Akira’s eyes widened.
The room felt smaller again.
Haru leaned in just slightly, his voice gentle—but unavoidably real.
Haru:
“But with me… you won’t break.”
Akira’s breath trembled.
Because that was the difference.
Not freedom.
Not escape.
Just… survival.
A sudden sound broke the moment.
Footsteps.
Outside the infirmary door.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Haru’s eyes flicked toward the door instantly, his expression sharpening.
Akira felt it too—his body tensing before his mind could catch up.
The handle turned.
