The apartment smelled like smoke.
Not thick. Not dangerous.
But real.
Burnt plastic. Burnt paper. The scent of something that used to be confidential — now turned to ash in her hoodie's lining.
Aara dropped the gloves on the kitchen counter.
Haru didn't speak.
He just watched.
Watched her shoulders rise and fall.Watched her fingers tremble.Watched the way she stared at the floor like she didn't trust herself to look up.
"You didn't have to come for me," she said finally.
Haru leaned against the wall.
"I didn't. I came with you."
She exhaled sharply. It sounded like pain.
"I burned half his operation."
"And I'd burn the other half."
"You didn't try to stop me."
"You didn't need a savior."
She finally looked up.
Her voice was quiet.
"Then what did I need?"
He took a step closer.
Not all the way.
Just enough to be inside her gravity.
"Someone who wouldn't flinch."
Aara let her back slide down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, knees pulled in. Her knuckles scraped. Her cheekbone bruised from the night before.
And still —She looked more alive than she had in weeks.
"Do you know what I felt when I saw Ayin tied to that chair?"
"Tell me."
"Nothing. Not at first. Just a clock ticking in my head like— like if I didn't move, I'd lose something I didn't even want."
He crouched in front of her now.
Face level.
Voice steady.
"And now?"
"Now it feels like I'm starting to care again.And I don't know if that's bravery…or if it's going to kill me."
Haru reached out — slow, like touching her too fast would make her disappear.
He brushed his thumb under her jaw.
"You're allowed to care."
"Even after everything?"
"Especially after everything."
She leaned forward.
Just enough for her forehead to rest against his chest.
Just enough for her to feel his heartbeat through his shirt.
Not racing.
Not calm.
Just there.
A reminder:She was still alive.
And so was he.
"You still want me?" she asked, not lifting her head.
"I never stopped."
"Even now? Even when I'm this… burned version of myself?"
He tilted her face up.
And for once, he didn't hesitate.
He kissed her.
Not like possession.
Not like obsession.
But like someone who'd been waiting for the fire to die down —so he could finally touch what survived.
Her hands curled into his hoodie, pulling him closer.
It wasn't gentle.
It wasn't fast.
It was honest.
The kind of kiss you don't give to someone you're trying to win —but to someone you've already lost and are still choosing anyway.
They ended up in her bedroom without speaking.
Clothes half-off. Lights off.
Shoes still on.
No performance.
Just skin.Heat.The sound of breath between confessions neither of them had the language for.
It didn't matter that the sheets weren't clean.
It didn't matter that her back had scars and his ribs still ached from a fight two weeks ago.
All that mattered was this:
For the first time, they weren't using pain as an excuse to be close.
They were just close.
Later — long after the fire in their lungs had calmed —Aara lay with her head against Haru's chest.
His arm wrapped around her waist.
Neither of them asleep.
Just quiet.
"Do you regret it?" he asked.
"No," she said.
Then softer:
"Do you?"
"Never."
He traced slow circles against the curve of her hip.
Not to start anything.
Just to stay connected.
"I was scared of this."
"Why?"
"Because you're the only person I've ever touched who didn't make me feel like a weapon."
She looked up.
"And you're the only person who didn't try to fix me."
For the first time in what felt like forever,Aara let herself sleep without one eye open.
Because if Rae came for her now?
He'd have to get through two people.
And one of them had already proven:he'd rather destroy the world than watch her get caged.