Megumi sat beside you, his shoulder pressed against yours. His hand rested on his thigh, fingers curled loosely. He hadn't reached for you since you'd gotten on.

It had been three weeks since the last time—not just sex. Since the last time he'd held you without that flicker of something else crossing his face.

The silence between you wasn't uncomfortable. It was worse. It was careful.

You turned to him, took his jaw gently between your fingers, and kissed him.

He stiffened—just for a moment—before something in him gave way. His hand found your waist, pulling you into his lap. The kiss deepened, and for a few precious seconds, it was the two of you, just like before. His fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, anchored, desperate.

You pulled back to breathe. His eyes were still closed. When they opened, they were full of turmoil.