[ He chews at his lip, a precursor to grinding his teeth, and he rubs at his cheek out of nervousness. Stretching, Fushimi leans to press his forehead against one of the arms he has wrapped around his knees. ]
[ Fushimi doesn't say anything in response, the frown that was beginning to show replaced with a smile. He wraps his arms around Misaki, drawing him into a hug as a quiet thank you. ]
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I'm sorry, Misaki.
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[ Because he knows Fushimi, and he might not be sorry for everything. ]
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[ He's surprisingly comfortable with this new blurring of the lines between them. ]
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