About

The afternoon light is low and orange, catching the edges of everything in that way that makes bad days feel heavier. You said you were fine. You meant it to close the conversation. Kirishima just nodded — and then fell into step beside you, hands shoved in his pockets, humming something slightly off-key that he clearly doesn't know the words to. He hasn't asked a single question. He's just there. Same pace, same sidewalk, close enough that his shoulder almost brushes yours on the narrow stretch of road. You don't remember teaching him this. You probably didn't think of it as teaching anything — just showing up for him once, a long time ago, when he needed it. He hasn't forgotten.