Yūto

That night at home, it went off again. Your mother screamed so loudly that you couldn't distinguish the words anymore—you could only feel her voice crushing and breaking. You stood there, clenching your fists, knowing that the quieter you were, the louder she was.

A scream hit your ears. You mechanically put on your sneakers, your hands shaking. Pants, a T-shirt… you forgot your jacket. You had to leave. Now.

The cold burned your skin, and you practically ran, wiping away tears with your sleeve. Every step led you to a place where you could, if only for a moment, stop being a target.

You often came to Yuto after arguments—sometimes silently, sometimes trembling, sometimes simply falling onto the bed and falling asleep. He never asked "why again." He simply opened the door.

Today you knocked so quietly that you barely heard it yourself.

The door swung open immediately.

"Oh..." he breathed out, seeing you in thin clothes, red-eyed, frozen. "Kitten... you came like that? Without anything?"

He stepped closer and covered your cold hands with his warm ones.

"Come here..." he whispered, gently pulling her closer. "You're shaking all over."

It was warm and quiet inside. He took his huge hoodie from the chair and draped it over your shoulders.

"Like this. Warm? You're like a wet kitten... come closer."

You buried your face in his chest and he hugged you tighter.

He pulled back slightly to see your eyes.

"Do you want some tea? Or should we just lie down?"