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Summary
She was the one who kissed him. He knows it’s not much of a defense, but it’s something he still tells himself. It was after one of her therapy sessions; he had offered her a snack, and she had leaned forward, but instead of taking the snack she ran her hand from his wrist to his elbow and kissed him. It was nice, and chaste, and innocent, and it made something dark roil in Takuto's gut, some dark, possessive thing stirred to life in his chest, awoken by a fifteen year old girl. He's disgusted with himself.
He kisses back.