Let it Out

Back at Yuu's apartment, the door clicked shut behind them with a soft finality that felt like a fragile shield.

Kenji moved toward the bathroom almost without thinking, hands trembling as he pulled off his coat and wiped the blood from his face.

Then, without warning, his composure shattered.

He collapsed against the cool bathroom wall and the tears came—shaking, desperate, silent at first, then growing louder until he was sobbing uncontrollably.

Yuu was there instantly, kneeling beside him, voice gentle and steady.

"It's okay," Yuu said softly. "Let it out."

Kenji's voice broke through the sobs, barely a whisper. "I was so scared… It hurts… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

Yuu's heart clenched.

"You don't have to be sorry," he said, reaching out to hold Kenji's hand firmly. "You're safe now. You're not alone."

Kenji's body trembled, leaning into Yuu's steady presence as if it was the only thing holding him upright.

"It's okay," Yuu repeated, over and over, until the tears slowed and the shaking eased.

And in that quiet bathroom, with the night folding softly around them, Kenji allowed himself to be vulnerable.

For the first time in a long time, he let someone see the broken places—and feel the healing begin.

Later that night, the city lights filtered softly through the curtains, casting a muted glow over the room.

Yuu and Kenji lay side by side in the quiet stillness, the weight of the day slowly settling between them like a fragile truce.

Kenji's eyes were open, tracing the patterns of shadows on the ceiling. Yuu turned to face him, careful not to break the delicate calm.

"Thank you," Kenji said after a moment, voice low and raw.

"For what?" Yuu asked, brushing a loose strand of hair from Kenji's forehead.

"For not letting me fall apart alone."

Yuu smiled gently. "You don't have to do that. Not with me."

Kenji sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing. "I've spent so long carrying it all inside. Pretending it didn't hurt. Pretending I was stronger."

"And now?"

Kenji's gaze met Yuu's, vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "Now… I think maybe being strong means knowing when to let someone in."

Yuu reached out, fingers intertwining with Kenji's. "We're in this together."

Kenji's lips curved in a small, tired smile. "Together."

They lay there, hands clasped, breathing in sync, letting the quiet fill the space.

For the first time in a long time, the future felt possible. Not because the past was gone, but because they wouldn't face it alone.

And that made all the difference.

"Maybe it is okay to just, Let It Out." Kenji whispers.