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Summary
The silence drags for so long that Megumi’s not sure if it’s seconds that have passed, or minutes, or hours.
“Does it help?” he finally asks.
Yuuji hesitates before answering; his gaze flicks to the jacket, dark with guilt, then back to Megumi’s face, searching for judgment and finding only quiet permission. He lets out a shaky exhale and gives a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. “Sometimes,” he whispers.
It’s the most honest thing he’s said all night.