Between the unspoken words

The infirmary had only been an excuse.

There was nothing broken. Nothing to bandage.

Only a silent urgency: to be alone.

I took refuge in my room, closing the door behind me with a slow, soundless gesture—like one handles something fragile.

Everything was still.

Light filtered in from the balcony, a golden blade brushing the floor.

I took off my shoes, let my bag fall beside the bed, and lay down slowly, arms above my head.

Silence welcomed me.

And for a moment… I wasn't running anymore.

I stared at the ceiling, as if the answers might be written in the invisible cracks of the plaster.

My heart beat slowly—but not peacefully.

I loved Toge.

I loved him with a certainty that ran through my bones. With the devotion one gives to a home, a shelter, a choice.

He was my balance.

My safe space.

So why… why were those thoughts of Yuji still there?

Why could I still feel his gaze on my skin, even now?

Why did that sentence — "You lose yourself a little with me" — keep echoing in my chest like something that refused to fade?

I closed my eyes. Breathed.

It wasn't desire.

Not in the simple, physical way.

It was something deeper. Darker.

Yuji represented the side of me I tried to tame—the confused, impulsive, wounded part.

With him, there was no balance, only tension. No calm, only pulse.

He didn't offer me refuge.

He set me on fire.

And that part of me—the part that didn't want to admit it—was drawn to what was unstable, imperfect, on the edge.

Because deep down… maybe, ever since the curse entered my life, I had begun to crack from within.

And Yuji… was a fracture in the dam.

A crack that let light through. But danger, too.

I opened my eyes.

I knew exactly what was happening.

The curse was feeding off this, too.

Off my ambiguity. My fear of choosing between safety and vertigo.

Between love and instinct.

The problem wasn't Yuji.

The problem… was me.

I turned to my side, burying my face in the pillow.

My fingers gripped the sheets, as if trying to hold onto something real.

— "Toge… forgive me." — I whispered.

But deep inside me, a voice murmured:

"The more guilty you feel, the stronger I become."

And I understood…

time was running out.

***

Evening had fallen slowly, like a velvet blanket draped over the shoulders of an overburdened day.

In my room, silence had replaced everything: voices, thoughts, even exhaustion.

I had left the window slightly ajar, and the soft breeze stirred the curtains, just barely.

I lay on the bed without turning off the light. I wasn't tired.

Only a hollow. A void that pressed against my bones.

Then—three knocks.

Slow. Almost shy.

I stood, with a strange sense of certainty.

As if something inside me already knew.

I opened the door.

Yuji was there.

Standing in the hallway, hands in his pockets, gaze cast downward.

He wore a simple grey hoodie, faded jeans. His hair was messy as always, but there was something in the way he stood… something loud, even in the quiet.

"Can I come in?" he asked, without a smile.

I stepped aside and let him pass.

He sat on the edge of the chair, elbows resting on his knees.

For a moment, he said nothing.

I watched him. He watched the floor.

"Do you need something?" I asked, quietly.

Yuji shook his head. Then, with a kind of painful effort, he looked up.

His eyes were full. Of what, I couldn't say. Not anger. Not sadness. Something else.

Something waiting.

"You've been in my head for days, Rebecca. Every curse, every mission… every time I close my eyes, it's you."

I tensed. I didn't show it. But I felt it deep in my stomach—like a drop from a great height.

He stood. A step away from me. Not too close. But close enough to feel.

"I know you're with Toge. And I respect that. But I… I had to tell you."

I lowered my gaze.

I wanted to say something—anything.

But I stayed silent.

It was Yuji who crossed that fragile line.

One hand brushed my cheek—barely. Like a whisper.

His fingers trembled just slightly. And for an eternal moment… it was as if the whole world held its breath.

He leaned in.

His lips, a breath away from mine.

My heart beat too hard. Too fast.

But I didn't move.

I was the one to break the moment.

With a slow motion, I placed my hand on his chest and pushed him back.

Softly. But firmly.

"Yuji… no."

He stopped.

His eyes clouded, just barely. But he didn't look away.

"I had to try. Just once."

"I care about you, truly. But my heart belongs to him. Even when it trembles. Even when it… gets confused. It's still him."

Yuji stepped back. Inhaled deeply, as if holding in everything he could have said.

"I know. I'm not asking for anything. Just… if you ever need me, don't hesitate."

Then he turned, left, and closed the door quietly behind him.

I stood there. Still.

No tears.

Only a knot slowly unraveling, like fog in the sun.

Inside, a guilt I didn't know where to place.

And a confused desire I had never chosen.

It was in that silence that I felt it.

The curse.

A cold whisper.

A shiver down my spine.

As if… it was feeding on everything I had just felt.

As if it was growing—at the rhythm of my doubts.

As if it was waiting… for the perfect moment to strike.

***

Shortly after, Toge returned.

When he knocked on my door, he still wore the jacket from his mission.

His hair was tousled from the wind, his shoulders heavy with fatigue.

But his eyes—his eyes were only for me.

Still. Watchful. Tender.

We looked at each other for a long moment.

He didn't write anything.

He didn't need to.

And there he was.

Standing in the dim hallway, his face tired, his eyes slightly lined from a day that had taken him far from me, and yet… he shone with that calm light only he could carry.

But those eyes—oh, those eyes—looked at me as if the whole world had stopped right there, on the threshold of my room.

Then, quietly, I rested my hand on the doorframe and said, in a trembling whisper:

"Toge… please… stay out, just for tonight. I need silence. I need to think. To be… with myself. Just for a while."

I wanted to say it better. I didn't want to hurt him.

But I knew—he would understand.

And he did.

Toge didn't move.

No sharp gestures. No disappointed looks.

Just a deep breath, as if he was absorbing my fragility into his quiet strength.

Then his eyes deepened.

Became fuller.

And his lips moved softly.

Silently.

"I love you."

Nothing more.

Just that.

But in that lip-read whisper, there was everything: trust. Patience. The promise that he would wait—without questions, without demands.

Because his love wasn't hungry.

It wasn't impatient.

It was just there.

Immense. And enough.

My heart tightened.

I wanted to hug him, to hold him.

But this too was love: knowing when to give space.

Knowing when to let the other breathe.

He gave me a small smile, like he was saying "it's okay", and brushed his warm fingers lightly against my hand on the door.

A fleeting touch.

Softer than a thousand words.

Then he turned.

Without looking back.

But I watched him walk away, until his profile disappeared beyond the corner.

And I stayed there.

Holding that unspoken "I love you" that still burned on my skin.

And for the first time, I truly felt how sweet he was.

Sweet in a disarming way.