ADMIRE ME |Brothers Conflict

23

As soon as we boarded the train, Fuuto dumped me onto a bench, stretching his back like a big cat. People recognised him, pointing in his direction and talking in hushed voices amongst themselves.

Fuuto's reserved expression kept them at bay for a while, but eventually, a woman approached us. Fortunately, she didn't seem to realise that I travelled with Fuuto, as she stepped in the space between Fuuto and me.

"Can I have an autograph?" she asked him, offering him a piece of paper and a pen.

"Sure," Fuuto said, significantly more helpful than I remembered him being during the episode with the girl in the hospital. However, once he had signed one autograph, more people dared to use this method. While Fuuto signed every notebook – and maybe a few faked marriage documents too – that they handed him, he didn't strike up a conversation with the fans.

When the train slowed down, an unorganised line had formed, which meant that I would have to interfere if we wanted to get home before the trains stopped running.

"This's our stop," I warned Fuuto softly.

"This's the last autograph of the evening," Fuuto informed his fans who started grumbling. His announcement worked surprisingly well: the line dissipated in a matter of seconds as people returned to their seats.

Fuuto turned in my direction, catching my amazed expression. He gave me a small shrug in return.

"Can you limp outside, or should I carry you?" he asked.

"Your fans would all go into cardiac arrest," I joked, "that would damage your reputation."

He laughed, which drew more attention to us. Dating Fuuto would have serious consequences, I knew that, but the realisation hit me once again.

Supporting me, Fuuto helped me disembark, lifting me down the steps of the train.

"Can we stay friends if I make you do those prescribed exercises?" he asked me.

"Of course we can," I assured him, despite feeling drained. He would be lucky if I didn't fall asleep the moment my head hit the pillow on my bed.
My limping grew worse as the pain in my ankle increased. Fuuto slowed down when he noticed my predicament, appearing to contemplate something.

Funnily enough, I was contemplating something too. Something that we should have discussed already, but had avoided doing so until now.

"Do you feel guilty right now?" I asked him slowly.

Surprised, he jerked his head in my direction, analysing my question in his head.

"No," he responded eventually.

"Could you carry me home, pretty please?" I asked him.

Soon, I had reclaimed my position on Fuuto's back, clutching his shoulders as he trudged down the pavement.

"Does it bother you?" he eventually asked.

Strangely enough, his guilt did bother me. A flash of inspiration hit me. I knew why I was so disgruntled when he as much as mentioned the word compensation. The truth was simple and straightforward; as long as his actions were spurred on by guilt, my hopes that they were an expression of romantic feelings were wrong.

"You have apologised, and I have consequently forgiven you. Bottom line is: my broken ankle is the result of an accident. I appreciate that you feel bad over hurting me, but I would like to leave that behind us. As long as you act out of guilt, what happened will be here."

"I broke your ankle, [Y/N]-chan," Fuuto reminded me.

"Just stop with the guilt, okay?" I pleaded, desperation lacing my voice.