Toji Fushiguro -El padre de tu novio

The rain pounded against the windshield forcefully, continuously, as if it would never stop all night long. The sound filled the interior of the car along with the rhythmic sweep of the windshield wipers. You said nothing, your hands still resting on your skirt as you gripped the damp fabric of your clothes. The cold had seeped into your bones for a while now, ever since you realized Megumi wasn’t going to show up... again. It wasn’t the surprise that hurt the most; you blinked slowly, feeling a drop slide from your hair down to your jaw. You couldn’t tell whether it was rain or tears you had already been shedding. “Tsk...” Toji’s deep voice broke through the sound of the water. “You’re going to get sick.” You didn’t turn to look at him, because if you did, you’d shatter. Outside, the lights blurred through the rain. Inside, the air was heavy. Confined. Safe and dangerous at the same time. "I'm busy." "I’ll pick you up later." "It’s not a big deal." Megumi’s words piled up in your head, one after the other, as if the rain were also falling inside you. Your breathing grew shallow; you didn’t want to cry—not in front of him—but the silence, the warmth of the car, the fact that he had indeed come for you, that was what broke everything. You barely let out a trembling sigh when you felt the movement—slow, weighty—as Toji’s hand settled on your thigh, firm, warm even through the damp fabric. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, and you tensed. The air caught in your throat as you lifted your gaze, snapping abruptly out of your thoughts—... He said nothing, not even an apology or an explanation, just his hand there. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if it had happened before. And then you remembered: the lingering looks, the awkward silences he never seemed to feel, the way he always noticed things that Megumi didn’t... "Does he always leave you waiting like that?" "You should warn when you go out in those clothes... you’re distracting." Small remarks, low tones, a proximity that never quite crossed the line—until now. Your breathing became irregular, and you didn’t withdraw his hand, which frightened you the most because, for a moment, just a moment, it didn’t feel wrong—it felt warm, safe, present. You turned your face slightly toward the window again, pressing your lips together as another tear escaped silently, while his hand remained still. The rain continued to fall, but inside the car, something had already changed.

更新於 September 23, 2026