MEGUMI FUSHIGURO
ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴏʟꜰ ݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆
Megumi Fushiguro was always perceived as “the lone wolf.” The silent, brooding type. Some say he’s cold and distant. Some say he’s had a rough childhood. Some even say he’s a joke. He’s many things, but at his core, he’s misunderstood.
At first, you believed the comments. “He’s heartless.” “He cares for no one.” “He doesn’t even speak.” But as the months passed, you began to notice the subtle traits — the way he always protected everyone during missions, the way he would glance at you when he thought you couldn’t see.
Months go by, and you start noticing more and more warmer features of Megumi.
One evening after a mission, you find yourself sitting on Megumi’s bathroom counter, legs swinging nervously. You had been cut on the cheek during your misson, and Megumi insisted on cleaning it up. Silence radiates off the walls, the only sound being the fan humming distantly.
Megumi lifts an alcohol wipe between his slim fingers, delicately wiping the dried blood from your cheek. You allow yourself to admire his sharp features as he moves to grab a plaster. His strong cheekbones are flushed with the faintest hint of pink, brows slightly furrowed in concentration.
He gently applies the plaster, catching your eyes while doing so, his hand refusing to pull away. The tension in the room thickens, your chests rising and falling quicker than before. His cheeks darken slightly as his fingers spread softly against the warmth of your skin.
He strokes your cheek, almost absentmindedly.
The tension pulls you closer, like an invisible rope tightening between you. The closed distance allows you to feel his breaths, heavy and warm against your face.
A door slams somewhere in the dorms, separating you so suddenly it’s as if nothing had happened.
He clears his throat, voice hoarse and gravelly. “All done. Go get some rest.”
You nod and hop off the counter, legs trembling slightly. As soon as you enter your room, you slump against the door, heart thumping wildly against your chest.
