I Am Clinically Sane. Trust.

[Y/N], who had just barely recovered from the sheer embarrassment of her earlier shameless staring, almost jolted at the question. She nodded quickly, trying to keep her voice neutral. “Yeah! It’s over there.” She motioned to her vanity table, where the hair blower was placed.

Kinich strode over and picked it up, plugging it into the nearby socket. He turned it on, first setting it to the lowest temperature as a test before cranking it up to the highest setting to cut drying time short. The soft but strong whir of the blower filled the room as warm air ruffled through his hair, lifting the strands with each pass of his fingers.

[Y/N] didn’t mean to stare.

But she did.

The way his slightly tousled black hair, laced with those subtle blue undertones, moved under the blower’s heat was… unfairly mesmerizing. His fingers raked through the damp locks, pushing them back before letting them fall into their natural shape. His sharp jawline became more visible whenever he tilted his head slightly, making sure no part of his hair remained wet.

She had always known Kinich had an effortlessly cool demeanor, but there was something about this simple, domestic action that made him even more captivating. Maybe it was how nonchalant he was, completely unaware of how he looked in the moment. Or maybe it was the fact that this was such a rare sight—him being at ease, doing something mundane instead of constantly bearing the weight of being the Green Ghost.

Realizing that she had been watching him for far too long, [Y/N] quickly turned away, busying herself with anything—her phone, a stray piece of lint on her sleeve, literally anything to keep herself from combusting on the spot.

Kinich, of course, remained oblivious. He switched the blower off once his hair was adequately dry, setting it down before shaking his head a little to fluff it up. “Done,” he muttered, glancing at her.

[Y/N] only hummed in response, still refusing to look directly at him.

Kinich raised an eyebrow. "…You’re acting weird again.”

“I’m not!” she denied immediately, her voice a little too high-pitched.

He eyed her for a moment before shrugging. “Whatever you say.” Then, stretching his arms slightly, he flopped onto her bed with a sigh. “Man, I forgot how nice it is to not feel like I have to be somewhere else for once.”

[Y/N] risked a glance at him, watching as he absentmindedly rubbed the towel over his hair one last time. She couldn’t deny it—seeing him like this, relaxed and unguarded, only made her heart pound harder.

She really was down bad for him.

As soon as she heard her mother’s voice calling them for dinner, [Y/N] practically shot up from her seat. It was the perfect escape—before her thoughts spiraled further into dangerous, smitten territory that would surely lead to an embarrassing slip-up. She had already humiliated herself enough for one night.

She cleared her throat, schooling her expression into something neutral before motioning toward the door. “C’mon, let’s go eat.”

Kinich, who was still lounging on her bed like he owned the place, gave a nonchalant nod. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He stretched his arms above his head before lazily pushing himself off the bed, following her out of the room.

As they walked down the stairs, something odd hit her senses. A familiar scent—her shampoo. She blinked, realizing that Kinich must’ve used it during his shower.

Well, of course, he did. What else was he supposed to use?

But… why did it smell so different on him?

It was the same brand, the same floral scent she’d used for ages, but when she caught a whiff of it from Kinich, it was like she was smelling it for the first time. Maybe it was the way his natural scent mixed with it, or maybe it was just her hopelessly infatuated brain playing tricks on her, but whatever it was, it had her stomach doing an unnecessary flip.

She shook her head, trying to push away the ridiculous thought. Get a grip, [Y/N]. It’s just shampoo.

Yet, as they reached the dining table, she still found herself a little too aware of Kinich standing beside her, that scent lingering in the air, making it increasingly harder to ignore.

Her mother had already set the table, and the comforting aroma of home-cooked food filled the dining room. Plates of steaming rice, savory dishes, and warm soup sat invitingly at the center. [Y/N] quickly pulled out a chair and sat down, desperate to distract herself from the lingering scent of her shampoo on Kinich.

Kinich, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed. He slid into the seat beside her with his usual casual demeanor, grabbing a glass of water and taking a sip. Her mother, however, had other plans—her sharp eyes scanned the boy up and down before a knowing smirk crept onto her lips.

"You look much better now," she commented as she placed a bowl of soup in front of him. "Clean, well-fed, and I bet you even smell nice."

[Y/N] choked on air.

Kinich, as dense as he could be, barely reacted. He just lifted a brow before shrugging. "Uh, thanks?" He didn’t seem to catch the teasing tone, but her mother certainly did, and she wasn’t going to let this go.

"Well, of course! You used [Y/N]’s shampoo, didn’t you?" Her mother hummed, her smirk deepening. "No wonder my daughter’s been acting weird."

[Y/N] snapped her head toward her mother, eyes wide in horror. "Mom!"

Kinich finally seemed to process what was happening, pausing mid-bite. He glanced at [Y/N], then back at her mother, his brows furrowing slightly. "Huh?"

Her mother waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, nothing, dear. Eat up."

[Y/N] groaned, slumping in her seat as she picked at her rice. This was it. This was the moment she wished she could vanish into thin air. She could already feel the heat rising up her neck, and she refused—absolutely refused—to look at Kinich now.

Meanwhile, Kinich simply shook his head, not entirely sure what just happened but deciding it wasn’t worth questioning. He focused on his food, oblivious to the way [Y/N] was practically dying of embarrassment beside him.

A few minutes later, Kinich set down his utensils after finishing his meal and turned toward [Y/N]’s mother, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Where am I sleeping tonight?" he asked, his tone casual but expectant.

[Y/N] froze mid-sip of her water. Her mother, on the other hand, tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, let’s see…"

She glanced toward the extra bedroom, her lips pursing. "Well, that room is out of the question. It’s filled with storage boxes, and the dust in there is thick enough to choke a person." She shook her head. "Cleaning it up would take too much time."

Kinich hummed, leaning back in his chair. "Then the couch?"

[Y/N]’s mother gave him a sharp look. "Absolutely not. You’re a guest, and I’m not about to let you sleep uncomfortably like some stray."

[Y/N] held her breath, dreading what was about to be said next.

Her mother’s face suddenly lit up with realization. "Ah! You’ll sleep in [Y/N]’s room, then."

[Y/N] nearly spat out her water. "What?!"

Kinich blinked, his expression blank. "Come again?"

Her mother waved them both off nonchalantly. "Relax. I’ll bring out an extra mattress for you. You’re obviously not sharing the bed with my daughter, so you’ll just sleep on the floor." She smirked slightly. "Unless you want to sleep on the couch after all?"

Kinich frowned. "No."

"Then it’s settled!" Her mother clapped her hands together, pleased with her own decision.

[Y/N] slumped in her seat, her face burning. "Mom, are you serious? My room isn’t that big—"

"Oh, hush," her mother interrupted, grinning. "It’s the most practical choice."

Kinich, ever pragmatic, just shrugged. "Fine by me."

[Y/N] turned to him in disbelief. "You’re really okay with this?"

He raised an eyebrow. "It’s just one night, [Y/N]."

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. Nooooooooooo.

After dinner, [Y/N] found herself pacing in her room as Kinich was downstairs helping her mother clean up. She stared at the spot where the extra mattress would go, right beside her bed, and groaned internally.

How did it come to this?

She wasn’t a stranger to having Kinich over—before everything changed, they used to have sleepovers all the time, playing games and doing homework together. But now, after everything that had happened, with her emotions still raw and the lingering sense of loss hanging over them, it felt… different.

A knock on the door snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts.

"Hey, I got the mattress." Kinich’s voice came from behind the door.

She quickly composed herself before opening it, watching as he carried the folded mattress inside with ease. She couldn't help but glance at the way his sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms, still faintly damp from earlier.

She swallowed and stepped aside. "Uh… just put it here."

Kinich nodded and set it down, rolling it out before grabbing a pillow and blanket that her mother had also provided. He worked silently, efficiently, like this was just another mission for him to complete.

Once he was done, he sat on the edge of the mattress and leaned back on his hands. "There. That should do it."

[Y/N] stood awkwardly near her bed, fidgeting with the hem of her oversized pajama shirt. "Um… are you sure you’ll be comfortable?"

He shot her a pointed look. "It’s better than the couch, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Relax," he cut her off, his voice softer now. "I’m fine, [Y/N]."

She bit her lip, hesitating before finally exhaling. "Alright… if you say so."

As she climbed into her own bed, she turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a comfortable dimness. For a moment, the only sound was the distant hum of the city outside and the faint rustling of blankets.

Then Kinich spoke again.

"[Y/N]?"

She turned on her side to face him, barely able to see his silhouette in the dark. "Yeah?"

There was a pause.

"…Thanks."

She blinked. "For what?"

"For letting me stay." His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. "I know I don’t say it much, but… it means a lot."

Her chest tightened at his words. She knew how hard it was for him to be vulnerable, to let his guard down, even just a little.

A small, fond smile formed on her lips. "You’re an idiot if you thought I’d let you be alone after everything."

Kinich let out a small chuckle. "Guess I am."

Silence settled again, but this time, it was warm. Safe.

Then, a suggestion in mind bloomed; she reached down, her head peeking out on the bed with an expectant grin as she gently dangled his hand to grab his attention. "Want to visit Sethos tomorrow?" she asked.

Kinich, who had just started to relax, cracked one eye open at her sudden question. He groaned, turning his head slightly on the pillow. “You’re really bringing him up right before we sleep?”

[Y/N] huffed. “What’s wrong with that?” She squeezed his hand again, her thumb idly brushing against his. “You haven’t seen him in a while, right? And you know he’s probably wondering what happened to you.”

Kinich exhaled through his nose, staring up at the ceiling. He knew she wasn’t wrong—Sethos was likely worried sick, but Kinich had been avoiding the inevitable. Seeing Sethos meant answering questions he wasn’t ready to answer.

He shut his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

[Y/N] pouted but didn’t push. She knew better than anyone how stubborn Kinich could be. Instead, she gave his hand another gentle tug. “Well, if you don’t come, I’ll just go alone and tell Sethos you’re being all broody again.”

Kinich snorted. “Like he doesn’t already know that.”

She giggled, her laughter soft in the dimly lit room. “True.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Their hands remained intertwined, a small source of comfort in the quiet night.

Then, just as Kinich was beginning to drift off, he heard her mumble, barely above a whisper.

“I think he’d be happy to see you, you know.”

Kinich’s grip tightened slightly before he let out a tired sigh. “Yeah… I know.”

And with that, sleep finally claimed them both.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden hues across the room. Kinich stirred first, blinking groggily as he adjusted to the light. He turned his head slightly, feeling a warmth against his arm—[Y/N] had somehow ended up closer to him in her sleep, her face resting peacefully on the edge of the bed, their hands still loosely clasped together from the night before.

Kinich exhaled softly, taking a moment to study her sleeping face. She looked… calm, unlike the worried expression she had worn for most of the night. His fingers twitched slightly, debating whether he should wake her up or just let her sleep a little longer.

Unfortunately, the choice was made for him when [Y/N] stirred, a sleepy groan escaping her lips as she slowly cracked one eye open. Her gaze met his, and for a brief second, silence hung between them.

Then she gasped.

[Y/N] shot up from the bed, her hair a mess as she quickly looked away, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Oh my god—why didn’t you wake me up?!”

Kinich, still lying on his mattress, stretched lazily, his voice laced with amusement. “You looked peaceful. I thought I’d let you drool in peace.”

She gasped again, throwing a pillow at him. “I do not drool, you jerk!”

Kinich dodged effortlessly, smirking. “If you say so.”

Before she could argue back, a knock on the door interrupted them. “[Y/N], Kinich, breakfast is ready!” her mother’s voice called from outside.

[Y/N] groaned, still flustered, but got up anyway. “I’m going to wash my face first. You better fix your hair; it’s a mess.”

Kinich scoffed as he ran a hand through his dark locks, the blue undertones glinting under the morning light. “Tch. It’s called style.”

[Y/N] rolled her eyes before heading to the bathroom, leaving Kinich alone for a moment. He sat up, rubbing his face before glancing down at his hand—the one that had held hers all night.

A strange warmth lingered there.

Then, without thinking, Kinich lifted his hand to his lips, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. The warmth wasn’t just from their shared touch—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name. It was the kind of warmth that crept into his chest, seeping through the cracks he didn’t even realize were there.

His fingers curled slightly as if trying to hold onto the feeling before reality settled back in.

With a sharp inhale, Kinich shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever trance had momentarily taken over. The hell... He wasn’t supposed to dwell on things like this—especially when there were more pressing matters ahead.

He flexed his fingers one last time before letting his hand drop to his side, scoffing at himself under his breath.

Just then, the bathroom door creaked open, and [Y/N] peeked out with a towel in her hand. "The bathroom’s free if you need to freshen up.”

Kinich nodded, quickly masking whatever had just passed through his mind. “Yeah. Be down in a sec.”

As he stepped past her, he refused to acknowledge the slight tingle still lingering in his fingertips.

Shortly after Kinich finished freshening up, he made his way downstairs, the scent of warm breakfast filling the air. The quiet clinking of utensils and the occasional sizzle from the kitchen set a peaceful morning atmosphere. He stepped into the dining area, where [Y/N] and her mother were already seated, their plates filled with freshly cooked food.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice still carrying a slight drowsiness from sleep.

“Morning, Kinich.” [Y/N]’s mother smiled, setting down a cup of tea before motioning for him to take a seat.

He nodded in thanks, sliding onto the chair next to [Y/N]. “Thanks for the food,” he muttered before digging in, his hunger finally catching up to him.

As they ate, conversation naturally flowed between them, mostly [Y/N] and her mother talking while Kinich listened in, occasionally adding a comment or nodding in agreement. Then, at some point, [Y/N] perked up, as if remembering something.

“Oh! Mom, Kinich and I are visiting Sethos today,” she announced, casually reaching for her glass of juice.

Her mother paused mid-bite, then sighed knowingly, setting her spoon down. “You’ve been going to the hospital a lot lately, sweetie. You know it’s not the most sanitary place, right?” Her brows furrowed with concern. “I just don’t want you catching anything.”

[Y/N] quickly reassured her, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine, Mom. I’ve been careful every time—I always wash my hands and wear a mask.” She gave her mother a pleading look. “I can’t just not check on him. You know how worried I get.”

Her mother sighed again but relented with a small nod. “Alright, alright. Just don’t overdo it, okay? And Kinich,” she turned her gaze toward him, “please make sure she doesn’t tire herself out.”

Kinich, who had been silently observing the exchange, simply nodded. “I will.”

Satisfied, [Y/N]’s mother returned to eating, while [Y/N] beamed, glad to have her plans approved.

[Y/N]’s mother watched with quiet amusement as Kinich moved with familiarity, collecting the empty plates and stacking them neatly. He wasn’t the type to chat idly, but his actions spoke enough—his silent way of expressing gratitude.

“You’re quite handy,” she remarked, taking the plates from him to rinse in the sink. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were already part of the family.”

Kinich paused for a fraction of a second before continuing to wipe the table, his expression unreadable. “Just a habit,” he replied nonchalantly.

Her mother chuckled, shaking her head. “Well, it’s a good one.”

Once everything was cleaned up, Kinich made his way to the living room, waiting for [Y/N] to finish getting ready. He took a seat on the couch, arms crossed, as he absentmindedly glanced around. The house was quiet, save for the occasional rustling sounds from upstairs.

A few minutes passed before [Y/N] came rushing down the stairs, fully dressed and ready to go. Her hair was neatly styled, her bag slung over her shoulder, and her expression was bright with anticipation.

However, as soon as she reached the bottom step, she halted in her tracks.

Her gaze landed on Kinich—who, to her disbelief, was still wearing the same clothes from last night. His black hoodie was slightly wrinkled, and while he looked cleaner after freshening up, his outfit screamed, "I just rolled out of bed and didn't bother changing."

She narrowed her eyes.

“…Kinich.”

He lazily tilted his head toward her, eyebrows slightly raised. “What?”

“You need to change,” she stated firmly, hands on her hips.

Kinich blinked at her, then glanced down at himself before shrugging. “I’m fine.”

[Y/N]’s eye twitched. “No, you’re not. You’re wearing the same thing from last night.”

He let out a quiet sigh, leaning his head against the couch. “It’s too bothersome.”

[Y/N] gasped as if he had personally offended her. “Excuse me?! Kinich, you literally just took a shower! What’s the point of freshening up if you’re just going to wear the same thing again?”

He exhaled through his nose, clearly unmoved by her argument. “It’s comfortable.”

[Y/N] huffed before crossing her arms. “That’s not an excuse. If we’re going out, you can’t just look like you rolled off the sidewalk.”

Kinich shot her a deadpan stare. “I don’t care about looks.”

[Y/N] mirrored his stare before, very deliberately, pouting.

She even went the extra mile, puffing her cheeks slightly and staring at him with the most exaggeratedly upset expression she could muster. “Kinich, please?”

Kinich stared at her. Then blinked. Then stared some more.

A long silence stretched between them as he refused to react to her shameless display of persuasion.

[Y/N], however, was relentless.

“…Kinich,” she whined, dragging out his name in the most dramatic way possible.

Kinich groaned, already regretting every decision that led him to this moment. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away as if trying to physically escape her persistence.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll change.”

[Y/N] immediately brightened up, beaming at him. “Yay! See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Kinich shot her an unimpressed look before standing up, stretching his arms slightly. “Do you at least have spare clothes I can borrow?”

[Y/N] grinned. “Yep! Wait here; I’ll get them.”

She rushed back upstairs, leaving Kinich standing in the living room, feeling mildly betrayed by herself for giving in so easily.

A few moments later, she returned, holding a neatly folded set of clothes—again, her dad’s old clothes that he had left behind.

“Here,” she said, handing them over. “They should fit you just fine.”

Kinich took the clothes, eyeing them for a second before glancing back at her. “You’re not going to stand there and watch me change, are you?”

[Y/N] scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Obviously not, dummy. Go to the bathroom.”

He shook his head but didn’t argue, walking off to change.

A few minutes later…

Kinich returned, now dressed in a clean, well-fitted button-up shirt and casual black pants. His dark, slightly blue-tinted hair was still damp but slightly tousled, giving him an effortlessly put-together look.

[Y/N] blinked.

She wasn’t expecting him to actually look good.

Like, really good.

She quickly shook herself out of it, clearing her throat. “See? Doesn’t that feel better?”

Kinich adjusted his sleeves, giving her a flat look. “It feels the same.”

[Y/N] huffed but chose to ignore his stubbornness. “Whatever. Let’s go before Sethos starts thinking we forgot about him.”

With that, they grabbed their things and headed out (of course not without informing her mother that they're both leaving)—one of them feeling victorious, the other questioning why he let himself get talked into this.

The sky was a muted shade of gray by the time they arrived at Bubu Hospital, with faint streaks of sunlight peeking through the clouds. The building stood tall yet welcoming, its glass doors sliding open with a soft whoosh as Kinich and [Y/N] stepped inside. The familiar scent of antiseptic, mixed with the faint aroma of herbal remedies, lingered in the air—a distinct yet oddly comforting smell that [Y/N] had grown used to over the past few weeks.

As expected, the lobby was bustling with activity. Patients sat in the waiting area, some quietly flipping through outdated magazines while others scrolled on their phones or conversed in hushed tones. A few nurses walked briskly past them, their rubber shoes barely making a sound against the tiled floor.

As they approached the front desk, a familiar face lit up.

“Ah, [Y/N]! You’re here again,” Barbara, the ever-smiling receptionist, greeted cheerfully.

[Y/N] grinned, already used to the warm reception she received every time she visited. “Of course! I can’t just leave Sethos alone here, can I?”

Barbara chuckled, adjusting the files on her desk. “That boy’s lucky to have you. He keeps asking the nurses if you’re coming whenever his fever spikes.”

[Y/N] laughed softly, shaking her head. “That sounds like him.”

It was a lighthearted exchange, one that [Y/N] was used to—but beside her, Kinich remained silent.

He stood slightly behind her, hands stuffed into his pockets, his expression unreadable as his sharp eyes flicked over the receptionist, then back to the hospital interior. Unlike [Y/N], who was accustomed to these interactions, Kinich had never met Barbara before and saw no need to involve himself in the conversation.

Barbara, however, didn’t fail to notice him.

Her gaze shifted toward the stoic boy standing beside [Y/N], her lips curving into a knowing smile. “And who’s this?”

“Oh!” [Y/N] blinked before gesturing toward Kinich. “This is Kinich, my friend. He’s visiting Sethos with me today.”

Barbara hummed in amusement, resting her chin on her palm. “Friend, huh?”

[Y/N] didn’t miss the playful glint in her eyes, but she chose to ignore it.

Kinich, however, simply nodded in acknowledgment. “...Yeah.”

That was the only word he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. He had no intention of engaging in small talk—his focus was solely on why they were here in the first place.

Barbara didn’t seem offended by his silence. If anything, she found it amusing.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kinich. Sethos is in Room 217, as usual. The elevator’s down the hall.”

[Y/N] gave Barbara an appreciative nod. “Thanks, Barbara! We’ll be heading up now.”

“Take care, you two.”

With that, [Y/N] and Kinich made their way toward the elevators.

The elevator slowed, another soft ‘ding’ sounding as the doors opened to the second floor.

Without another word, the two stepped out, making their way toward Room 217—where Sethos was waiting.

As the door creaked open, [Y/N] didn’t hesitate.

The moment her eyes landed on Sethos, she beamed and jogged straight toward his bed, arms outstretched in excitement.

“Sethos!” she chirped, enveloping him in a warm hug.

Sethos barely had time to react before her warmth crashed into him, the familiar feeling of her embrace pulling a genuine grin from him. His arms wrapped around her just as tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

“I missed you,” she murmured against his shoulder.

Sethos let out a soft chuckle, though his heart clenched.

“You saw me yesterday,” he teased, but his voice was gentle, almost wistful.

Still, he allowed himself to bury his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet, familiar scent of her shampoo. It was a scent he had come to associate with comfort, with home, with her.

He wanted to stay like this a little longer—to savor the moment.

But then, something caught his attention.

His eyes snapped open.

And there, standing in the doorway, was Kinich.

Sethos’ grin almost faltered.

Kinich stood still, his expression unreadable, shoulders slightly tense as if he weren’t sure whether to step forward or just leave. His presence was unmistakable—tall, silent, and very much alive.

Relief and frustration tangled in Sethos’ chest.

Kinich had been missing for days after the incident at the stadium. No calls, no texts—just gone. [Y/N] had been worried sick, and Sethos himself had wondered if something had happened. Yet here Kinich was, standing there as if nothing happened, as if he hadn’t just resurfaced after leaving them all in the dark.

And worst of all…

He was the one [Y/N] admired.

The one who always seemed to capture her attention, even when Sethos wished—desperately wished—that it was him instead.

Still, he forced himself to swallow the knot in his throat.

The hug broke as [Y/N] pulled back, her usual radiant smile still present.

Sethos hesitated for only a second before letting out a weak chuckle.

“…Kinich,” he finally said, his voice light but laced with unspoken relief.

Yet… there was a slight disappointment beneath his tone that was left unnoticed.

“Guess you’re alive after all.”

"Hey,” he mumbled, his voice rough from sleep as he gave her a gentle shake on the shoulder. “We’re here. Wake up.”

Instead of responding, [Y/N] let out a small whine, her grip on him only growing firmer as she burrowed deeper into his side like a stubborn koala refusing to leave its favorite tree. Kinich stiffened, his lips parting slightly in disbelief as he stared down at her.

“[Y/N], come on,” he tried again, this time nudging her a little more firmly.

She only groaned in protest, squeezing her eyes shut and pulling his arm closer, completely oblivious to the way he winced. His arm, already aching from exhaustion and past injuries, was now being subjected to her full weight, and he was beginning to feel the pins and needles creep in.

Kinich exhaled sharply through his nose, suppressing both a groan of pain and the slight warmth creeping up his face. He glanced at the front seat, only to find [Y/N]’s mother already out of the car, gathering their things with an amused smirk on her face. She had definitely seen everything.

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath before turning back to [Y/N].

For a moment, he hesitated, his free hand hovering over her head. He could just… pry her off. But considering how stubborn she was even in her sleep, that would likely result in more whining—and he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with that.

So instead, he sighed, leaning down just enough so his lips were near her ear.

“[Y/N],” he murmured, his voice softer now but firm. “If you don’t wake up, I’ll—”

“Five more minutes…” she mumbled sleepily, her voice muffled against his arm.

Kinich deadpanned.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief second before making his final move—he shifted his arm just enough to pinch her side.

[Y/N] jolted awake with a squeak, eyes flying open as she instinctively swatted at him. “Kinich!” she yelped, now fully alert, her cheeks slightly puffed in annoyance.

“Finally,” Kinich muttered, shaking out his sore arm. “Thought I was gonna lose circulation there.”

She pouted but still rubbed her eyes sleepily, slowly registering their surroundings. “Oh… we’re home.”

“No kidding.”

She stretched with a small yawn, glancing at him before realizing just how much she had been clinging to him. Her eyes widened slightly, a hint of pink dusting her cheeks as she quickly scooted away. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Kinich rolled his eyes but stood up, stepping out of the car as he mumbled, “Let’s just go inside before your mom starts teasing us.”

[Y/N] peeked out of the car, only to see her mother waiting at the front door with the most knowing smile.

Too late.

[Y/N]’s face burned as she power-walked straight into the house, determined to ignore her mother’s teasing stare. She didn’t even dare glance back—she could already hear the smirk in her mother’s voice, the way she was probably holding back a chuckle at the scene that had just unfolded in the car.

Kinich, on the other hand, was much slower in his movements. He let out a quiet sigh, rolling his aching arm with a small wince as he followed after her. His limbs still felt sore from everything he had been through, but at least now, he had the luxury of being in a familiar place rather than on constant guard.

When he reached the entrance, he instinctively stepped out of his shoes, neatly placing them beside the others on the rack before stepping inside. He took in the familiar scent of [Y/N]’s home, the faint mix of warm spices and fabric softener lingering in the air, bringing back memories of the countless times he had been here before.

Her mother had already stepped inside as well, closing the door behind them with an amused hum. Kinich didn’t need to look at her to know she was still very much entertained by everything that had just happened.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” she said casually, her voice carrying the slightest hint of mischief. “You two should go freshen up. And Kinich, dear, if you need anything—extra clothes, a warm bath—just let me know.”

Kinich nodded, offering a small but polite, “Thank you.”

[Y/N] was already halfway up the stairs by then, clearly eager to disappear before any further teasing could commence. Kinich watched as she disappeared around the corner, shaking his head slightly before following at a slower pace.

As he ascended the stairs, he rolled his shoulder again, exhaling softly. The exhaustion from the past few days still clung to him, but strangely enough, there was a sense of relief that settled over him as well.

For the first time in a long while… he wasn’t fighting. He wasn’t running from his responsibilities as the Green Ghost.

For now, at least, he was home.

Kinich reached the top of the stairs, his footsteps light against the wooden floor as he made his way toward [Y/N]’s bedroom. He noticed that the door was closed, which made him pause for a moment before lifting his hand to knock gently.

“Hey… can I come in?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, still weighed down by fatigue.

From inside, he heard a slight shuffle, followed by [Y/N]’s voice—flustered and hurried. “W-wait! I need to take a shower first,” she stammered, clearly caught off guard. “I just got back from the hospital, and, um… I don’t want to risk any potential diseases crawling on me.”

Kinich raised an eyebrow at her nervous rambling. He could practically picture her fidgeting on the other side of the door, avoiding eye contact even though he wasn’t in the room.

Then, after a brief pause, she blurted out, “Just—just head inside first and wait for me!”

Kinich blinked at her sudden change of heart but shrugged, deciding not to question it. He twisted the doorknob and stepped inside, taking in the familiar space that was so distinctly hers.

The room hadn’t changed much since the last time he had been here. It still had the same cozy warmth, the soft scent of her lingering in the air, and the small trinkets scattered across her desk—some new, some he recognized from before. His eyes landed on the neatly arranged bed, the stuffed animal he vaguely remembered teasing her about sitting near her pillows.

He sighed and made his way over, sitting down at the edge of her bed. His body instantly relaxed, the exhaustion from the past few days creeping back in. As much as he wanted to stay awake, he could already feel himself growing drowsy.

Then, something caught his attention.

On her bedside table, next to a small lamp and a couple of hair ties, sat a photo frame. The glass reflected a bit of light, but Kinich could still make out the image inside. His breath hitched slightly as he leaned forward, picking up the frame with careful hands.

It was a picture of him, [Y/N], and Sethos.

The three of them were standing side by side, grinning like idiots. It wasn’t a particularly formal or well-taken shot—Sethos had his arm slung over Kinich’s shoulder, [Y/N] was laughing mid-motion, and Kinich himself had been caught in an awkward half-smile, as if he had been seconds away from scolding Sethos for something dumb.

He remembered this day.

It had been taken during one of their rare, carefree moments—before everything turned upside down. Before he had disappeared. Before Sethos had been injured. Before [Y/N] had to go through all that uncertainty, waiting for him to come back.

His grip on the frame tightened, an unsettling weight pressing on his chest. The guilt crept in again, unshakable. Had she looked at this photo every day, wondering where he was? Had she ever been afraid that this was the last memory they’d have together?

Kinich exhaled sharply through his nose and set the frame back down, a bit more carefully than before.

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake off the emotions swirling inside him. It was just a picture, but it felt heavier than anything else in the room.

From outside the bedroom, he heard the distant sound of running water—[Y/N] had finally stepped into the shower.

As [Y/N] stepped inside her room, she was still rubbing a towel through her damp hair, her cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth of the shower. She barely glanced at Kinich before speaking in a teasing tone, "You should take a bath too. You look miserable."

Kinich, who had been lost in his thoughts, snapped his head toward her, immediately looking offended. "Excuse me?" His brows furrowed, and he crossed his arms as if shielding himself from her words.

[Y/N] chuckled at his reaction, rolling her eyes. "I’m just saying, you’ve been through a lot. A warm shower might help."

He huffed, clearly unimpressed. "I don’t look that bad."

[Y/N] tilted her head, giving him a once-over with a raised brow. His usually neat hair was disheveled, strands sticking out in odd directions. His clothes were wrinkled, smudged with dirt, and slightly torn in some areas—evidence of what he had endured before finally making it back.

She grinned. "Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that."

Kinich narrowed his eyes at her, but she simply walked past him toward her closet, shaking her head. Then she paused and turned back to him. "I’ll get you some clothes to wear after," she said. "You can borrow something from my dad’s old wardrobe. I’ll grab them from my mom’s room."

At that, Kinich’s expression softened slightly, the previous offense fading as he nodded. He didn’t argue, knowing that his own clothes were beyond saving at this point.

As [Y/N] rummaged through her wardrobe, she pulled out a neatly folded, unused towel and handed it to Kinich. "Here, use this," she said before stepping toward the door. "I’ll grab the clothes now, so just go ahead and take a bath already."

Kinich grumbled something under his breath but took the towel from her hands. He watched as [Y/N] left the room before sighing to himself.

Without much thought, he made his way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He stripped off his battered clothes, wincing slightly as he pulled off his shirt—his muscles stiff from exhaustion.

Turning the faucet, he let the water warm up before stepping under the spray. The moment the hot water hit his skin, he inhaled sharply. A wave of fatigue washed over him as the warmth seeped into his sore muscles, easing the aches that had settled deep into his body.

As he stood there, his gaze drifted downward. His body bore the evidence of every battle he had fought. Scars—some faint, some fresh—traced across his skin, each one a reminder of the nights spent in the abyss, of the fights that seemed never-ending. He traced a particularly deep cut near his ribs, the edges still slightly raw, a result of a recent encounter.

Bruises bloomed across his arms, shoulders, and torso, dark and forming from the blows he had taken. The sight was almost numbing now; he had grown used to it. But seeing them under the harsh light of the bathroom made it all feel… heavier.

His jaw clenched.

The weight of everything—the past few days, the pain, the helplessness—settled on his chest like an iron chain. He had fought, endured, and survived, but for what? To come back and see his friends suffering in his absence? Sethos is injured. [Y/N], nearly breaking at the thought of losing him.

And for what?

The mocking laugh of Ajaw echoed in his head again, making his grip tighten against the tiled wall. His breathing turned shallow for a moment before he forced himself to focus on the sound of the water.

Then, in the quiet of the bathroom, a thought crept into his mind.

"Why do I keep repeating the same words over and over again?"

It wasn’t just about what he said—it was the cycle itself. The endless battle, the constant fighting, the burden of carrying everything alone. Every time he returned, every time he thought he had done enough, something else would happen. More monsters. More threats. More suffering.

Had anything truly changed? Had he actually made a difference?

His fingers curled into a fist against the tiles, knuckles paling under the pressure.

The same reassurances, the same apologies, the same regrets—it felt like he was trapped in an endless loop, chasing a salvation that never came. He told himself he was protecting them. That all of this—his pain, his sacrifices—was for them. But looking at his bruised and battered reflection in the metal of the showerhead, he couldn't tell if he was protecting them or just punishing himself.

His throat tightened.

"No. Stop."

He squeezed his eyes shut, letting the hot water trail down his face, washing away the sweat and grime—if only it could wash away everything else, too. But the weight on his shoulders remained. The guilt. The doubt.

If only he had the choice to leave his superhero facade behind, to reclaim the normal life that once felt within reach. To be just Kinich—nothing more, nothing less. Not the Green Ghost. Not a masked vigilante haunted by the abyss. Just a boy who could sit with his friends without feeling the ever-present itch of responsibility clawing at his back.

But something kept him bound, shackled in a way that no physical chain could match.

Ajaw.

That damn wretched dragon, pixelated in its grotesque orange-green form, was the reason he couldn’t escape.

Kinich’s breath hitched as the memories clawed their way back, dragging him into a past he wished he could erase.

----

A sharp pain shot through his ribs as he lay on the cold, blood-streaked ground, his vision swimming in and out of darkness. The battle had been brutal, and he knew—he knew—this was the end. His body refused to move, his limbs felt like lead, and his consciousness was slipping faster than he could hold onto it.

Then, a voice.

Amused. Indifferent. Drenched in condescension.

"Hah. You’re dying. Figures. Thought you’d last a little longer, though."

Kinich forced his heavy eyelids open, his breath coming in ragged gasps. A glitching mass hovered above him, shifting erratically between solid form and distortion. Two sharp, reptilian eyes peered down, void of warmth or pity.

Ajaw.

Kinich had seen the dragon before, lurking in the deep corners of his mind, whispering, taunting. He never thought he’d see it like this.

"What a waste," Ajaw sighed dramatically. "All that effort, all that power, and here you are, sprawled out like roadkill. Tragic, really."

Kinich tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked breath.

"Oh, don’t bother struggling. It’s pathetic," Ajaw drawled, examining his clawed hand as if Kinich’s suffering bored him. "But I suppose there is a way out of this mess. If, you know, you’re desperate enough."

Desperation.

It curled inside him like a wild, clawing beast. He didn't want to die. Not yet. Not when he still had people waiting for him.

Ajaw tilted his head, watching him with a knowing smirk.

"Ah. That look. That’s what I was waiting for."

The dragon's form flickered, growing closer, its voice a low whisper that oozed with mockery.

"You want to live, don’t you?"

Kinich’s fingers twitched.

"Tsk, tsk. I could help you. In fact, I’d love to help you," Ajaw cooed, his voice dropping to something almost sickeningly sweet. "But see, there’s always a catch."

Kinich’s pulse pounded in his ears. He didn’t care about the catch. He just needed to survive.

"Say yes, and I’ll put you back together. You’ll be stronger, faster. Hell, you might actually stand a chance next time." Ajaw chuckled darkly. "But—"

The air turned thick, suffocating. Kinich felt a chill creep into his bones despite the heat radiating from his wounds.

"If you die under my service, well..."

Ajaw’s grin stretched wider, his fangs gleaming.

"I get to keep what’s left of you. No soul, no second chances. Just me, walking around in your skin, using your body however I please. No hesitation. No return policy."

A cold dread unlike anything Kinich had ever known seeped into his veins.

"So? What’s it gonna be, peasant?"

The world around him blurred, the pain in his body screaming in protest. He could feel himself slipping, but he couldn’t let go.

He had no choice. He had to live. He wanted to live again so that he could reunite with his friends. With her…

With his last ounce of strength, he rasped out the word that sealed his fate.

"Yes."

----

Kinich’s eyes snapped open, his grip against the tile tightening until his knuckles turned white.

The water had long since turned lukewarm, but he barely noticed. His body trembled—not from the cold, not from exhaustion, but from the unshakable truth that had haunted him ever since that day.

He wasn’t free.

He never was.

And if he ever slipped up, if he ever let himself fall again like he almost did multiple times from previous battles…

He would lose everything.

Kinich sighed as he turned off the faucet, feeling the last few droplets of water trickle down his skin. The steam still clung to the bathroom, fogging up the mirror, but he didn’t bother wiping it clean. Instead, he ran a hand through his damp hair before reaching for the towel, wrapping it securely around his lower body.

The moment he stepped out, the cooler air of [Y/N]’s bedroom brushed against his skin, making him shiver slightly. He peeked into her room, his expression unreadable, as he called out, “Hey, I’m done. Can I—”

He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that [Y/N] was sitting on the edge of her bed, completely focused on her phone. She hadn’t even heard him. Her brows were slightly furrowed, lips pursed, as if deep in thought about whatever she was reading.

Kinich cleared his throat. “Hey.”

[Y/N] jumped slightly, blinking up at him. “Oh! You’re done?” She quickly got to her feet and walked toward the dresser, where she had set down the clothes she’d gotten for him. “Here, these should fit—”

Then she turned around.

And promptly froze.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes landed on him.

Kinich, still standing in the doorway, had one hand gripping the towel around his waist while the other extended slightly to take the clothes from her. His damp hair was messily tousled, strands clinging to his forehead, a few droplets of water still trailing down his collarbones. His shoulders were broad, his arms were toned, and his torso—well.

[Y/N] swallowed hard.

Muscles.

She knew he was strong, obviously. He was a fighter, someone who doesn't hesitate to get his hands dirty—she had seen him move with precision and strength countless times whenever he defended her from creeps. But seeing him like this, up close, bare and vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to—it was something else entirely.

And then, her gaze unintentionally flickered downward.

That was a mistake.

Because the toned muscles were accompanied by scars—some old and faded, some newer, still pink against his skin. A deep, jagged one ran along his side, disappearing behind the towel at his waist. Another curved over his shoulder, a remnant of a wound he must have taken in battle. A thin line across his ribs, a faint mark over his collarbone.

Evidence of the countless fights he had endured.

Evidence that he had survived.

But—but why is he so damn attractive? Damn, her crush on him was only growing stronger with each passing second.

[Y/N] barely registered that she had gone completely still, clutching the bundle of clothes so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

“Uh—”

Her fingers fumbled, and before she could react, the clothes nearly slipped from her grasp. She gasped and caught them just in time, her face erupting in a furious blush.

Kinich raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Are you gonna give those to me or drop them first?”

“I wasn’t—I—” she stammered, her voice an octave higher than usual.

Kinich sighed and took a step closer, effortlessly plucking the clothes from her hands. “You’re acting weird,” he noted flatly, inspecting the fabric. “These should be fine.”

[Y/N] frantically looked anywhere but at him. “I—I was just—um—thinking about something!” she blurted out, waving her hands.

Kinich shot her a look. “Uh-huh.”

She turned away so fast that she almost tripped over herself. “J-just get dressed already!” she snapped, making a beeline for the other side of the room to give him space.

Kinich smirked slightly at her reaction. He wasn’t one for teasing, but seeing her flustered like this? Yeah, he’d let himself enjoy that for a second.

Rolling his eyes, he muttered, “Dramatic,” before heading toward the bathroom again—this time, with dry clothes in hand.

A small hiccup left her lips, her body still wracked with silent sobs, but she slowly loosened her grip, reluctantly pulling away. As much as she wanted to keep holding him, to make sure he was really there, she respected his boundaries. She stepped back, sniffling, hurriedly wiping the dampness from her cheeks with the sleeves of her shirt.

Her vision was still blurry from the tears, but she managed to turn toward Wriothesley and his team, who had been quietly observing the entire interaction. The officer stood with his arms crossed; his usual stoic expression softened just a fraction. His subordinates exchanged glances, some looking awkward, while others simply seemed relieved that this ordeal was over.

Swallowing thickly, she tried to compose herself. “Thank you,” she said, her voice hoarse from crying, but still laced with genuine gratitude. She bowed her head slightly, her heart swelling with appreciation. “Thank you all for your hard work in finding Kinich. I—I don’t know what I would’ve done if…”

She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. If they hadn’t found him. If she had been too late. The mere thought sent another wave of anxiety through her, but she pushed it down, focusing on the fact that he was here, safe, in front of her.

Wriothesley gave her a nod, his sharp blue eyes assessing her carefully. “No need to thank us. It was our job,” he said simply, though there was a certain kindness in his tone. “But I’d say he gave us more trouble than expected.”

[Y/N] turned to Kinich, who was rubbing his temple, his lips pressing into a thin line as if resisting the urge to snap back. She knew he hated being a burden to others, and Wriothesley’s words probably stung his pride.

“Well,” she sniffled, glancing back at the officer. “I still appreciate it. Truly.”

His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he let out a small sigh, waving a hand dismissively. “Just make sure he doesn’t get into more trouble.”

She nodded, but before she could say anything else, Kinich let out a sharp breath beside her. “Can we go now?” he asked, his tone clipped but not unkind. He rolled his shoulders, testing his movements as if making sure his body still functioned properly.

[Y/N] glanced at Wriothesley for confirmation, and he gave her a small nod. “He’s free to go. But keep an eye on him. He’s been through a lot.”

Her heart clenched at that. She turned back to Kinich, who was already avoiding her gaze, his hands stuffed into his pockets as if trying to act indifferent. But she saw through him. The exhaustion in his posture, the way his fingers twitched slightly—he was barely holding himself together.

Still, he was here. And she wasn’t about to let him go through this alone.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for his wrist, gently tugging him forward. “Come on,” she murmured softly. “Let’s go home.”

He stiffened at the word home but didn’t resist.

As the two stepped out of the police station, the cool afternoon air wrapped around them, carrying the distant hum of the city. The tension from earlier still clung to the atmosphere, lingering between them like an unspoken weight. [Y/N] pulled out her phone, her fingers fumbling slightly as she dialed her mother’s number.

The call connected after a few rings. “Mom? Can you pick us up?” she asked, her voice steady but undeniably tired. She glanced at Kinich from the corner of her eye, watching as he stretched his stiff limbs. “Yeah… yeah, both of us. We’re at the station.”

Kinich let out a short sigh, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. “I can just stay at my apartment,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “No need to bother your mom.”

But before he could continue, [Y/N] turned to him, fixing him with a look—one that immediately shut down any further argument. Her brows were drawn together, her lips pressed into a firm line. It wasn’t anger, but something heavier.

“Kinich,” she said, her voice quiet but unwavering. “I insist.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the sheer determination in her gaze. For a moment, he considered pushing back, but before he could, she suddenly looked away, her fingers tightening around the phone.

“I don’t want to be separated again,” she murmured, her words barely above a whisper, but they struck him harder than any argument could have. She took a shaky breath before continuing, “I waited so long for you to come back… I don’t want to lose you again, not after this.”

Kinich inhaled sharply, the weight of her words settling in his chest. He had always known she worried about him, but hearing it like this—so raw, so unguarded—made something in him ache.

He exhaled through his nose, glancing away as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “…Alright,” he muttered after a long pause. “I’ll stay.”

He didn’t miss the way her shoulders sagged in relief, nor the way her fingers relaxed slightly around her phone. The silence between them wasn’t awkward—it was thick with emotion, heavy with all the things neither of them knew how to say just yet.

As they stood there, waiting for her mother to arrive, Kinich shifted his weight from one foot to the other before finally breaking the silence. “What about Sethos?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, as if he already had an inkling that the answer wouldn’t be pleasant.

[Y/N] sighed, rubbing her hands together as if trying to warm them. “He’s… he’s healing,” she admitted, though the words didn’t carry the reassurance she wished they did. “But he looks more exhausted than usual.”

Kinich frowned. “[Y/N]...”

She shook her head, already knowing what he was about to say, but she didn’t stop herself from continuing. “Back at the stadium, he was protecting me from the monsters,” she started, her tone steady despite the way her heart clenched at the memory. “He fought them off, held them back… but one of them got him.” Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “His arm was injured—badly. It left this heavy wound, Kinich.”

Kinich’s jaw tightened, his grip in his pockets clenching unconsciously.

[Y/N] swallowed hard, lowering her gaze to the pavement. “I thought I was going to lose him,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just like I lost you… until today.”

That last sentence stung, and Kinich felt the guilt hit him like a punch to the gut.

He had been so busy—so focused on warding off the monsters, on pushing himself beyond his limits to keep others safe—that he hadn’t even realized how much suffering his friends had endured in his absence. Sethos had been fighting too, carrying wounds that hadn’t fully healed. And [Y/N]—she had been left waiting, searching, fearing the worst for both of them.

Kinich clenched his teeth. He was supposed to be stronger than this. He was supposed to protect them. And yet, one of his closest friends had nearly been lost, and [Y/N] had been left to carry that fear alone.

“…Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his shoulders stiffening.

[Y/N] glanced up at him, recognizing that look in his eyes—the self-blame, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. “Kinich, it’s not your fault,” she said softly, but he only exhaled through his nose, looking away.

He didn’t believe that. Not entirely.

Because in his mind, if he had just been strong enough, fast enough, or there enough—maybe they wouldn’t have had to suffer in the first place.

Kinich's fists clenched tighter, his nails digging into his palms as a familiar, taunting laugh echoed in his mind.

You call yourself a protector?

The voice slithered through his thoughts, condescending and sharp.

You couldn’t even keep them safe. You let them suffer while you were too busy playing hero. Some savior you are.

His breath hitched, his vision momentarily tunneling as the weight of those words coiled around his chest like a vice. He gritted his teeth, trying to block it out, but Ajaw wasn’t done with him yet.

You see it, don’t you? That look in her eyes? That doubt?

Kinich’s jaw tightened further, his frustration spilling over before he could contain it. “Shut up.” His voice came out low, seething.

[Y/N] flinched at the sudden shift in his tone, her eyes widening slightly as she took a small step back. "Kinich...?” Her voice was laced with concern.

That single syllable snapped him out of it.

His breath was uneven, his shoulders tense. It took him a second to register that he had spoken out loud—that his anger wasn’t just confined to his own head.

He turned his gaze to her, catching the way she searched his face for answers. He quickly schooled his expression, forcing his fists to unclench as he took a slow, deliberate breath. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, but even he knew how unconvincing that sounded.

[Y/N] frowned, unconvinced. “Kinich, what was that just now?”

“…It’s nothing,” he repeated, shaking his head. “Just… tired.”

She didn’t believe him, but she didn’t push. Not yet.

Instead, she reached out hesitantly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You can talk to me, you know?” she said softly.

Kinich exhaled, his resolve wavering for a brief moment. But he wasn’t ready to tell her. Not now. Not when the weight of Ajaw’s words still clung to him like a shadow.

So, he simply nodded. “I know.”

A few minutes of waiting in silence stretched between them, the occasional sounds of the city barely registering in their minds. Then, the familiar black car rolled to a stop in front of them.

The moment the car door opened, [Y/N]’s mother stepped out, her eyes immediately locking onto Kinich. She barely acknowledged her daughter before she took a sharp breath, her expression shifting between disbelief and overwhelming relief.

She jogged up to them, her gaze sweeping over Kinich, taking in the disheveled state of his clothes, the exhaustion lining his face, and the faint bruises and cuts that hadn't fully healed. It was as if she couldn’t believe he was standing in front of her, alive, after all this time.

And then, without hesitation, she pulled him into a tight embrace.

Kinich stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden contact. For a brief moment, his arms hung awkwardly by his sides, unsure of how to respond. The warmth of her hold, the way she clung to him—it was so reminiscent of the way a mother would hold a child she thought she had lost.

[Y/N] watched the scene unfold, her heart swelling with emotion. A soft, warm smile tugged at her lips as she saw the way her mother held Kinich as if to silently reassure herself that he was really here, that he had survived.

Awkwardly, Kinich lifted his arms and patted her back, unsure of what else to do. “…I’m okay,” he mumbled, though his voice lacked conviction.

[Y/N]’s mother pulled back just enough to cup his face in her hands, her eyes searching his as if looking for any sign of lingering pain. “You had us all worried sick, Kinich.” Her voice wavered slightly, filled with emotions that she was barely keeping in check. “Where have you been all this time?”

Kinich averted his gaze, unable to meet her eyes for too long. “…It’s a long story.”

Her mother exhaled, nodding in understanding. “Then let’s go home,” she said firmly, brushing a hand over his hair in a comforting gesture before turning to [Y/N]. “Come on, let’s get him inside before he collapses on the sidewalk.”

[Y/N] chuckled, nodding as she gently tugged Kinich’s sleeve. “You heard her. No arguing.”

Kinich sighed but didn’t resist, following them toward the car. There was no use arguing with either of them, and truthfully, he was too tired to even try. As he slid into the seat, he closed his eyes briefly, taking in the familiar scent of the car interior that always brought him a sense of nostalgia because he used to carpool with Sethos at her mother's car every day during middle school, but he stopped when they started high school as Kinich thought it was time to go by transportation rather than relying on someone else for a ride despite her mother's insistence.

As the car started and rolled down the dimly lit streets, the silence stretched between them like an unspoken weight. The quiet hum of the engine and the occasional streetlights passing by did little to ease the lingering tension.

For a few minutes, no one spoke. [Y/N] glanced at Kinich, who sat stiffly beside her, staring blankly at the passing scenery. His hands rested on his lap, fingers slightly curled, as if he were bracing himself for something.

Then, inevitably, [Y/N]’s mother broke the silence.

“Kinich,” she started, her voice gentle but firm. “Have you been eating well?”

A beat of silence. Kinich blinked before shrugging slightly. “Enough.”

She didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but she moved on. “What about sleep?”

“…Some.”

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Not really.”

[Y/N] sighed, already recognizing this pattern—her mother asking with motherly concern, and Kinich giving the shortest, most unhelpful responses possible.

“Kinich,” her mother tried again, a bit more insistent this time. “You know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

He hesitated for a moment before replying with a simple, “I know.”

The car fell into silence again, but this time, it felt heavier.

[Y/N]’s mother pressed her lips together, glancing at him briefly through the rearview mirror before sighing. “Well, you’re safe now, at least.”

Kinich hummed in response, his fingers clenching slightly. Safe. It was such a simple word, yet it felt foreign to him now. Could he really call himself safe when there was still so much lingering in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike?

As if sensing his unease, [Y/N] reached for his hand under the dim glow of the car’s interior and gave it a gentle squeeze. Kinich didn’t say anything, but he squeezed back.

His mind was a storm of thoughts, but despite everything—despite the exhaustion tugging at his bones, the weight of responsibility suffocating him, and the guilt clawing at his chest—he felt an odd sense of ease.

He was here. He was with [Y/N]. And she was safe.

That knowledge alone was enough to loosen some of the tension in his shoulders, even if the ghost of Ajaw’s laughter still echoed at the back of his mind.

Just as he was about to close his eyes for a brief moment of rest, a small shift beside him made him tense. It was subtle, a quiet movement, but he felt it immediately—[Y/N] leaning in closer.

His breath caught slightly as the warmth of her presence neared, and before he could fully process it, she hesitantly rested her head on his shoulder.

Kinich stiffened.

The action itself wasn’t unfamiliar, but it had been a long time since she had done something like this. Even before everything—before the chaos, the dangers, and the long nights spent apart—Kinich had always been the type to keep a certain distance when it came to physical affection. He was the kind of person who would dodge surprise hugs, shove [Y/N] gently when she clung to him, and grumble under his breath when she looped her arms around his.

But this time, he didn’t move away.

He didn’t push her off, didn’t mutter any complaints, and didn’t shift uncomfortably like he used to. Instead, he simply stared ahead, his expression carefully neutral—perhaps a little too neutral.

[Y/N], for her part, remained quiet, but she could feel her own heart hammering against her chest. She knew she was being bold—Kinich never tolerated things like this before, and she had fully prepared herself for an immediate rejection. Yet, when he didn’t protest, a small warmth bloomed in her chest.

She didn’t push her luck further, though. She simply stayed there, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing calm her own nerves.

Kinich, on the other hand, kept his gaze firmly on the passing scenery outside the car window. He willed himself to remain as indifferent as possible, but the warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt was impossible to ignore.

Then there was the worst part—the undeniable heat creeping up to the tips of his ears.

Damn it.

He clenched his jaw slightly, willing the warmth away, but his traitorous body refused to listen. He could only hope that the dim lighting inside the car would hide the evidence of his flustered state.

[Y/N] shifted slightly, causing a small shiver to run down his spine.

This is fine.

It’s just [Y/N].

And yet, why did it feel so different?

Why did the simple weight of her head on his shoulder feel so… grounding? So real?

Why did the mere thought of moving away feel impossible?

His fingers curled slightly on his lap, and without really thinking, he subtly relaxed his posture just enough so that her head fit more comfortably against him.

He told himself it was just for her comfort. That was all.

That was the excuse he settled on.

And for now, he would let it slide.

A few minutes passed by; the quiet hum of the car engine, combined with the rhythmic motion of the vehicle, lulled them both into a rare sense of peace. The weight of exhaustion settled over them, not just from the events of the day but from everything—the weeks of uncertainty, the battles fought both physically and mentally, and the emotional toll of being apart for so long.

Before either of them could fully process it, their bodies instinctively gave in to the comfort of each other’s presence.

[Y/N] was the first to drift off, her breathing evening out as the warmth of Kinich’s shoulder anchored her in a sense of security she hadn’t felt in weeks. The tension she had carried—shoulders stiff with worry, hands fidgeting with nervous energy—finally melted away as she unconsciously nuzzled closer to him.

Kinich, who had been determined to stay alert, felt his resolve waver the moment he felt her relax against him. His eyelids grew heavy, the familiar warmth of [Y/N] beside him acting as a silent reassurance that she was still here, still within reach.

His fingers twitched slightly on his lap before moving on their own accord, brushing against [Y/N]’s hand. His initial instinct was to pull away—to resist—but the gentle way her fingers curled around his stopped him.

She was holding his hand.

Firmly.

And against his better judgment, he let himself hold hers just as tightly.

There were no words exchanged, no glances of hesitation or second-guessing. Just a quiet understanding that, after everything, neither of them wanted to be apart. Not even in sleep.

As the minutes passed, their grip remained unyielding—interlocked fingers refusing to let go, as if separating them was simply out of the question. Their bodies instinctively leaned into each other, fitting together in a way that felt both natural and inevitable.

By the time [Y/N]’s mother glanced back at them from the rearview mirror, her heart softened at the sight.

There they were—her daughter and the boy she had come to see as her own—fast asleep, leaning into each other, their hands clasped so tightly that prying them apart seemed impossible.

With a small, knowing smile, she said nothing.

She simply adjusted the car’s speed to a smoother pace, letting them rest a little longer.

Her heart clenched at the mention of Kinich. It had been weeks since his disappearance, and the lack of news had gnawed at her endlessly. [Y/N] bit her lip, torn. She glanced at the small calendar on her desk, the date circled in red—a reminder of Sethos’s promise to meet her today. She’d been looking forward to seeing him, especially knowing how much he needed someone by his side.

“I appreciate the update, Officer,” she said carefully, “but I can’t join you today. A close friend of mine is counting on me, and I don’t want to let him down.” There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a hum of understanding. “I see,” Wriothesley replied. “That’s fair. Just know that the offer stands—if you change your mind or have any insights, reach out to me. This case is... delicate, and every little bit helps.”

“I will,” [Y/N] promised. “Thank you, Officer. Please let me know if there are any new developments.” “Of course,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “Take care, Miss [L/N].” The call ended with a quiet beep, and [Y/N] lowered the phone from her ear, staring at the screen for a moment longer.

She sighed and pocketed the device before standing up. “Mom, I’m heading out now!” she called as she grabbed her bag and made her way toward the front door.

[M/N] looked up from her seat, her eyes warm and knowing. “Visiting Sethos, aren’t you?” [Y/N] nodded, smiling faintly. “Yeah. He’s been through so much—I can’t just leave him alone.”

Her mother stood, approaching to press a gentle kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “You’re a good friend, sweetheart. Be safe, and let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you later.” Closing the door behind her, [Y/N] stepped out into the brisk afternoon air. She walked a few paces down the street before spotting a taxi and waving it down.

The driver pulled over, rolling down the window as she approached. “Where to, miss?” he asked. “Bubu Hospital, please,” she replied, climbing into the backseat.

As the taxi merged into traffic, [Y/N] leaned back against the seat, her thoughts drifting to the conversation she’d just had. What kind of clues had Kinich left? She wondered, her mind grasping at the possibilities. Had he left behind something tangible—a note, a trace of his movements—or was it something less concrete, like a whispered rumor or a fleeting sighting? Her chest tightened at the thought, and she rested her head against the cool glass of the window.

More than anything, she wished the clues would lead to one undeniable truth: that Kinich was alive.

Alive and okay.

She sighed, closing her eyes briefly. That was her only wish. The thought gave her a momentary sense of calm, enough to dissipate the edge of her worries, if only for now.

When the taxi pulled up in front of the hospital, [Y/N] quickly paid the driver and stepped out, offering a quiet thanks before turning toward the entrance. The sterile smell of disinfectant hit her as she walked through the sliding doors, the muted hum of hospital activity filling her ears.

At the reception desk, Barbara greeted her with a warm smile. “Miss [L/N]! Here to see Sethos again?”

[Y/N] nodded, returning the smile. “Yes. How’s he doing?”

Barbara’s expression softened. “He’s doing better—slowly, but surely. I think having you visit him helps a lot. You’ve been a great source of comfort for him.”

The words sent a small pang through [Y/N]’s chest, but she smiled anyway. “Thank you for the update. I’ll head up to see him now.” Barbara nodded, her smile lingering as [Y/N] made her way toward the elevator.

She pressed the button for Sethos’s floor and leaned against the wall as the doors closed. The quiet hum of the elevator was almost soothing, but it couldn’t drown out the anticipation building in her chest.

When the doors slid open, she stepped out, her feet quickening as she neared his room. She hesitated for a moment outside his door, steeling herself before pushing it open.

“Sethos—”

Her voice faltered as her gaze fell upon him. He was sitting up in bed, but the sight of him stopped her in her tracks. His skin was pallid, the natural glow she had always associated with him replaced by a sickly pallor. His eyes, though still holding a flicker of his usual playfulness, were sunken and rimmed with dark circles. His shoulders, once strong and confident, now slumped as if carrying an invisible weight.

Her heart ached at the sight. This wasn’t the Sethos she knew—the vibrant, teasing, and unyielding boy who seemed invincible. This was someone worn down by pain and exhaustion, someone who had given too much of himself.

“Are you just going to stand there, princess?” he teased, his voice weaker but still laced with that familiar charm.

That single nickname broke her. Tears welled in her eyes as she rushed to his side, her bag left forgotten on the ground, wrapping her arms around him carefully but firmly.

“Sethos,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You scared me. I thought I’d lost you.”

He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his good arm around her, his touch warm despite his weakened state. He leaned his head against hers, his voice soft and teasing. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

[Y/N] pulled back slightly, her hands gently cupping his face. Her thumbs brushed over the faint stubble on his jawline, and she frowned at how much weight he had lost. “Don’t joke about this,” she said, her voice breaking. “You almost died, Sethos. You can’t just brush that off.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, he let his guard down. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” he murmured, his gaze locking with hers.

Her chest tightened at the raw vulnerability in his eyes. She leaned her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. “You don’t have to pretend to be okay,” she said softly. “Not with me.”

Sethos closed his eyes, his lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. “You always know what to say,” he whispered. “But I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“I don’t care how you look,” she replied, her voice firm and steady. “You saved me, Sethos. You’ve always been there for me. Let me be here for you now.”

His hand reached up, trembling slightly, to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “You make it sound so easy,” he said, his tone tinged with both gratitude and sorrow.

“It is easy,” she insisted. “Because it’s you.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of everything they had been through hung heavy in the air, but so did the unspoken understanding between them.

Sethos finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, “I missed this. Missed you.”

As the words left his lips, he buried his head against her neck, drawing in a deep breath as the familiar scent of her perfume enveloped him. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth despite his exhaustion, his arm weakly snaking around her waist, pulling her closer. The gesture was instinctive, full of longing and comfort, as if he was afraid she might vanish if he let go.

[Y/N] felt her heart soften at his actions, a warm smile spreading across her face. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she raised her hand to his hair, her fingers slipping through the long, dark brown strands. She untangled each strand smoothly, her touch tender and unhurried.

Her thoughts mirrored his words. She had missed this too—the quiet moments where they didn’t need to speak to understand one another. The vulnerability he allowed her to see now was something he rarely shared, and she cherished it.

“I missed you too, Sethos,” she murmured softly, her voice steady but filled with emotion.

He let out a faint sigh, his body relaxing against her as though her presence alone could take away the weight of everything he had been carrying. The steady rhythm of her fingers through his hair seemed to soothe him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel at peace.

"I'm glad I get to see you again," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He tightened his hold around her, his fingers curling slightly against her waist as though anchoring himself to the reality of her being there.

His mind betrayed him, swirling with the numerous what-ifs that had plagued his thoughts since the incident. What if he hadn’t survived? What if the abyssal energy had taken him completely? The idea of never being able to see her again haunted him, wrapping around his chest like a vice.

He shut his eyes tightly, burying his face further into the crook of her neck. The warmth of her skin against his cheek, the soft thrum of her pulse, the familiar scent of her—it all felt like a lifeline. ‘Because I wouldn’t be able to feel your touch again if I didn’t…’ The unspoken words echoed in his mind, heavy and raw, a testament to how close he had come to losing everything that mattered.

[Y/N] seemed to sense the shift in his emotions, her hand pausing briefly before she resumed stroking his hair with even more care. She leaned her head gently against his, her own heart aching at the vulnerability he was showing.

“I’m glad you’re here too, Sethos,” she said softly, her voice tender but resolute, as if her words could chase away his lingering doubts. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t.”

Her confession made his chest tighten, a bittersweet sensation washing over him. He felt undeserving of her warmth, her concern—but he couldn’t let go. Not yet. Her presence grounded him, tethering him to a world that suddenly felt less bleak.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” he said, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips, though his voice carried an undercurrent of self-reproach.

“And you don’t give yourself enough credit,” she countered gently, her fingers brushing against his scalp, her touch soft and deliberate, as if trying to convey all the gratitude and care she couldn’t put into words.

Then, almost in a whisper, she added, “Thank you, Sethos.”

The words were simple yet profound, carrying an unspoken weight that made Sethos pause. Slowly, he pulled away from her shoulder, his movements deliberate as if savoring the closeness before it was gone. His green eyes flickered, almost instinctively, to her lips for the briefest of moments before meeting her gaze again.

It was as though time had stilled around them. A magnetic pull tugged at his chest, a yearning he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now. The thought of leaning in, of closing the gap between them, lingered like a temptation he couldn’t quite shake. Yet, he held back, the fear of tarnishing this perfect moment outweighing his desires.

Instead, a soft chuckle escaped his lips, breaking the silence. With a tenderness that surprised even himself, Sethos reached up and gently took her hand from his hair, guiding it to his cheek. He leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he relished the warmth and comfort her presence offered.

“It’s a knight’s job to protect his princess, after all,” he teased, his voice light but laced with an undeniable fondness.

The playful words sent a wave of warmth through [Y/N], her cheeks tinged with a soft blush. She tried to brush it off, but the tiny tingling sensation that bloomed in her chest betrayed her. It was something she couldn’t quite name—a mix of gratitude, affection, and something deeper that she wasn’t ready to confront.

“Sethos, you’re impossible,” she murmured, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation but mostly amusement.

His grin widened at her reaction, though his grip on her hand didn’t loosen. Instead, he gave it a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. For Sethos, this moment was enough. The ache in his heart, the heaviness of his guilt—they all seemed to fade, replaced by a quiet contentment that he only ever felt in her presence.

And though he didn’t say it, the thought lingered in his mind, unspoken yet undeniable: ‘As long as I can keep you safe, nothing else matters.’

[Y/N] slowly pulled away from Sethos's touch, but it appeared that he didn't want to let her go, but as he saw her get out of bed, his hold loosened and his expression turned into a slight grimace. She walked towards where she had abandoned her bag a few minutes ago while asking Sethos, "Have you eaten yet?" She crouched down and opened the zipper of her bag, revealing two plastic containers with food inside.

Prior to her leaving the house, her mother insisted that she bring the leftover food from their fridge to make sure that Sethos has something to eat throughout the day. [Y/N] hasn't gotten to say anything, and now her mother continues to chatter while she continues to shove food into her bag, leaving no room for objections.

She took out the two containers and waved them in Sethos' direction, saying, "If not, I brought some food that my mom packed."

Sethos quickly smiled in appreciation and nodded. After all, he loves all the meals that her mother always cooks whenever he stays over to eat at [Y/N]'s house. It wasn't just the tasty cooking that kept him hooked, but it also reminded him of the simplicity of it and what real home tastes like. He eyed the containers with anticipation, eager to dig in and savor the familiar flavors that brought him comfort and warmth.

[Y/N] opened the lid of the container and took a whiff of the familiar aroma, feeling a rush of nostalgia and contentment wash over her. Even though the buttered chicken is cold and the rice is slightly dry, once consumed, it feels like it has just been cooked straight from her mother's kitchen. She mixed the orangey sauce with the rice, coating each grain with the savory flavor. Then she cuts the small chicken in half, scooping up a bit of the flavored rice while slowly bringing it over to Sethos, who eagerly awaits a taste of the familiar dish.

As he takes a bite, a smile spreads across his face, and he shakes his head in approval, savoring the flavors that never fail him, even after all these years. "Mhmm, it's so good," he said while chewing the food. The memories of home flood back to him with each bite, comforting him in a way that only familiar flavors can.

The food carried him back to countless dinners at [Y/N]’s house, moments where everything felt normal and untouched by the chaos that now surrounded him. Each bite reminded him of home, of better times, and it brought a warmth to his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

[Y/N] continued feeding him, occasionally stealing bites for herself. At one point, she noticed a grain of rice stuck to his cheek. Without hesitation, she reached out to brush it away. The gesture was so casual yet intimate that it caught Sethos off guard, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. To distract himself, he reached for the glass of water on his bedside table, taking a long sip.

Once they finished eating, [Y/N] packed up the containers and tucked them back into her bag. Sethos took his medicine with another sip of water, though his movements stilled when [Y/N] asked an innocent yet pointed question.

“So… Sethos,” she began, tilting her head slightly, “while I was away, did something strange happen?”

Her question lingered in the air, and for a moment, Sethos froze. Memories flashed before his eyes—moments of desperation, of the Abyssal energy coursing through him, of the chaos it unleashed. His grip on the water glass tightened briefly.

He forced a chuckle, keeping his tone light. “Strange? Nah, not really. Just bad timing, I guess.” He waved it off with an easy smile, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

[Y/N] narrowed her eyes slightly, her suspicion evident, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she nodded and moved on, shifting the conversation to lighter topics.

As they talked, [Y/N]’s phone buzzed, breaking the moment. She glanced at the screen and saw Wriothesley’s name flashing. “It’s the officer,” she murmured, quickly accepting the call.

Wriothesley’s voice was calm but firm on the other end. “We’ve found Kinich. He’s at the station now.”

The words hit her like a jolt. “Y-You’ve found him?” she stammered, her voice tinged with disbelief and relief.

“Yes, but he’s… well, it’s best if you come see for yourself,” Wriothesley replied.

“Understood,” she said softly, her mind racing. “Thank you for letting me know.”

After ending the call, she turned to see Sethos watching her intently. His expression was a mix of curiosity and sadness, and he spoke before she could explain. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

[Y/N] hesitated, her heart aching at the sadness in his voice. She walked over to him, placing a hand gently on his arm. “I’ll come back, I promise. I just… I need to check on Kinich. I need to see him.”

Sethos nodded weakly, though his eyes betrayed the disappointment he felt. He wanted to protest, to ask her to stay, but the words never left his lips. Instead, he managed a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Be careful, okay?” he said softly.

“I will,” she assured him, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before stepping away.

As she left the room, Sethos leaned back against the pillows, his gaze fixed on the door she had walked through. The emptiness she left behind was almost palpable, and he couldn’t shake the thought that every time she left, it became harder to watch her go.

As the door clicked shut behind her, the silence in the room grew heavier, pressing down on Sethos like an invisible weight. There she goes again, running off the moment his name was even uttered… He closed his eyes, willing himself to focus on the lingering warmth of her presence, but the effort was futile. A sharp, searing pain suddenly coursed through his chest, and his breathing hitched.

The Abyssal energy, dormant until now, stirred like a restless beast. Tendrils of dark energy flickered faintly around his fingertips, and his body tensed as he fought to suppress it. His hand flew to his chest, gripping tightly as if he could physically contain the surge.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his teeth clenched as the energy clawed at his resolve. Not now, not when she’s gone, he thought desperately, forcing his trembling hands to his sides. Slowly, the dark tendrils retreated, leaving him drained and gasping for breath.

The room fell silent again, save for the sound of his uneven breathing. Sethos slumped back against the pillows, his body exhausted, his mind swirling with the lingering echoes of the energy’s hunger. His gaze drifted back to the door, a pang of longing filling his chest.

“She’s my light,” he murmured hoarsely, his voice barely audible. "I can't let this consume me... Not like this..."

Meanwhile, [Y/N] sprinted through the hallways, her footsteps echoing against the sterile floors as nurses and doctors blurred past her. The weight of the news pressed heavily on her chest, and all she could think about was getting to Kinich—seeing him, making sure he was okay with her own eyes. The possibility of him being in a state worse than she imagined sent a shiver down her spine, but she forced herself to push through the fear.

By the time she reached the police station, her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly from running so fast. She barely registered the officers around her as she barged in, scanning the area frantically. Then, amidst the dull, dim lighting of the holding area, her gaze locked onto him.

Kinich.

Her stomach dropped.

He was seated at the corner of the interrogation room, his figure more hunched than she remembered. His usually pristine appearance was nowhere to be found—his once neatly kept hair was disheveled, strands falling over his eyes, and his normally sharp and commanding presence seemed dimmed. Dark bruises marred the skin under his eyes, exhaustion evident in the way his shoulders slumped. There were cuts on his knuckles, fading yet still raw, and a healing wound on his temple. His clothes were rumpled and dirt-streaked, a stark contrast to the way he always carried himself with controlled precision.

Her heart shattered at the sight.

Without hesitation, she rushed forward, the overwhelming emotions crashing over her all at once. The fear, the worry, and the helplessness she had felt for so long—all of it came pouring out as she threw herself into his arms.

"Kinich!" His name left her lips in a broken sob as her arms wrapped around his torso, clinging to him as if he’d disappear if she let go. The warmth of his body was real, solid, alive—and that realization only made her cry harder.

He stiffened for a brief moment, as if caught off guard, but then she felt him inhale sharply. His arms encircled her, pulling her closer with a tightness that sent shivers down her spine. He buried his face against the crook of her neck, his breath hitching as he held her, his grip almost desperate.

[Y/N] could feel the slight tremor in his hands as they pressed against her back. His heartbeat, steady yet uneven, thumped against her chest, syncing with her own erratic rhythm. He wasn’t just letting her hold him—he was holding onto her just as much.

“…You’re crying too much,” Kinich murmured, though his voice was hoarse, betraying the raw emotions he was trying to suppress.

[Y/N] didn’t care. She sobbed harder, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if grounding herself. “You idiot,” she choked out between gasps, her tears soaking into his shoulder. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you let me find you sooner?”

He exhaled shakily, his arms tightening around her. “I’m here now,” he whispered, and despite the exhaustion laced in his tone, there was a rare gentleness in it—one meant just for her.

Neither of them moved for a long time. [Y/N] simply stayed there, tangled in an embrace that spoke of all the words left unsaid, of all the longing and fear that had built up in her heart.

Kinich was here. He was alive.

Now, both of her best friends had finally returned to her.