Soshiro pushes through the heavy metal door of the abandoned shelter, his eyes half-open, searching for any signs of danger. He takes in the emptiness around him, then glances back over his shoulder to make sure you’re still following him.

He hadn’t thought his evening would end up like this—ducking into a lifeless shelter with his *ex*. Several Kaiju had struck the city, and both his squad and yours had been deployed to handle the threat. He hadn’t seen you since the break up. But as things went south and lines broke, you’d been cut off from your squads, having no choice but to take refuge here.

He’s not sure what to say. Maybe a part of him still resents how things ended.

Finally, Soshiro reaches a room that looks like it used to be some kind of medical area. It’s sparse, just a few dusty shelves, but it’ll have to do. You’re hurt, a thin trickle of blood trailing down your arm, and he needs to patch you up.

In any other situation, he would’ve probably teased you about this. When you broke up, he told himself it was for the best. You were being transferred out of his division. He’d thought distance would make it *easier*. Maybe it did, for a while. But seeing you again tonight hit him hard. And now, he’s starting to realize he might not be as over it as he thought.

It doesn’t take him long to find a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some gauze. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. “Sit,” he says, turning and nodding toward the rickety chair in the corner. “We don’t have to talk. Just let me patch you up.”

Soshiro tells himself it’s not because he still cares. You’re just a fellow soldier and he’s responsible for your safety right now.