After that conversation, avoiding Kairo became impossible.
Not because he followed me.
Not because he cornered me.
Not because he demanded anything.
It was because every time I looked at him, I remembered.
You love me.
Three words.
Three devastating words.
Three words that had completely ruined my ability to function like a normal person.
Unfortunately, Kairo seemed perfectly fine.
Which was deeply unfair.
I, meanwhile, spent the next two days actively losing a battle against my own thoughts.
The worst part?
He heard all of them.
Every single one.
I was sitting in the library when I remembered that fact.
Immediately, I closed the book in front of me.
"No."
Across the room, Kairo looked up.
"What?"
I pointed at him.
"You."
He blinked once.
"Me."
"Yes."
Silence.
Then—
I need compensation.
For the first time, genuine confusion crossed his face.
"Compensation."
"Yes."
"For what?"
"For existing inside my head without permission."
A pause.
Then—
"I had permission."
I stared.
"You absolutely did not."
"You knew."
"That's not permission."
"It is awareness."
"Those are different words."
"They have similar outcomes."
I dropped my head onto the table.
The library suddenly felt too small.
Kairo returned to his paperwork.
Traitor.
The silence stretched.
Then I heard pages turning.
Pens moving.
The calm rhythm of someone completely unaffected by the emotional destruction they had caused.
I looked up.
"...You're handling this suspiciously well."
His eyes lifted from the documents.
"Handling what?"
I pointed dramatically.
"This."
He considered that.
Then answered honestly.
"I've known for weeks."
I froze.
Right.
That.
Again.
Weeks.
The number continued to haunt me.
"You couldn't have said something?"
"You weren't ready."
"I wasn't given the opportunity."
"You were."
I narrowed my eyes.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
I hated these arguments.
Mostly because he always believed he was right.
More annoyingly—
he usually was.
The silence returned.
Then I sighed.
"...When did you figure it out?"
Kairo didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he seemed to actually think about it.
Finally—
"The day you tried to leave."
I blinked.
"What?"
"The first time."
The memory hit me instantly.
The early days.
The escape plans.
The constant insistence that I was only staying temporarily.
Back when I thought I could leave without consequences.
Back when I thought Kairo was just an obstacle.
"...That's impossible."
"It isn't."
"That was forever ago."
"Yes."
I stared at him.
Then stared harder.
"You knew that long ago?"
"Not completely."
The answer relieved me slightly.
Then he continued.
"But enough."
The relief vanished.
Immediately.
I buried my face in my hands again.
This was becoming a habit.
A terrible habit.
"You watched me embarrass myself for months."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
I looked up.
"Explain."
Kairo set down his pen.
"You were figuring it out."
"While making terrible decisions."
"Yes."
"While having emotional breakdowns."
"Yes."
"While being jealous."
A pause.
Then—
"Especially then."
I wanted the floor to collapse.
Immediately.
The memory of the silver-haired omega returned with horrifying clarity.
Every jealous thought.
Every irrational reaction.
Every moment of panic.
Kairo had heard all of it.
And somehow survived.
I wasn't sure I would have.
"You should've stopped me."
"Why?"
"Because I looked ridiculous."
"You were honest."
I froze.
The answer hit differently than I expected.
Not because it was romantic.
Because it was true.
Painfully true.
All those embarrassing moments?
They weren't fake.
They weren't misunderstandings.
They were honest.
And maybe that was why they mattered.
The realization left me strangely quiet.
Kairo noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
"What are you thinking?"
"Nothing."
"You are."
I sighed.
"...I'm thinking you're annoying."
"Not that."
I hated that he was right.
Again.
The silence stretched.
Then I answered.
"I'm thinking maybe I spent too much time trying not to feel things."
The words came out softer than expected.
The library grew quiet.
Not tense.
Just attentive.
"I kept trying to rationalize everything," I continued. "Every feeling had to make sense. Every decision needed a reason."
"And?"
I looked out the window.
The gardens below were peaceful.
Unchanged.
Stable.
"And some things don't work like that."
"No."
The answer was immediate.
Certain.
Simple.
I smiled slightly.
"You're surprisingly helpful sometimes."
"I know."
"There it is."
A faint hint of amusement appeared.
Tiny.
Dangerous.
The kind that made me forget entire conversations.
I looked away immediately.
Mistake.
Huge mistake.
Because the bond carried the thought before I could stop it.
Kairo went very still.
I froze.
Oh no.
No.
Absolutely not.
The silence that followed was horrible.
Not because of what happened.
Because of what didn't happen.
Kairo didn't tease me.
Didn't comment.
Didn't react.
Which somehow made it a hundred times worse.
"...Say something."
"No."
I looked at him suspiciously.
"Why not?"
"You're embarrassed."
"That's never stopped you before."
"It should."
I blinked.
Then blinked again.
Because that answer felt unexpectedly gentle.
The realization caught me off guard.
Kairo noticed.
Of course.
The silence softened.
Neither of us spoke.
Neither of us needed to.
For a while, it was just the sound of pages turning and sunlight filtering through the windows.
Peaceful.
Comfortable.
Normal.
Strangely normal.
Then, eventually, I broke the silence.
"Kairo."
"Yes."
I hesitated.
Not because I didn't know what to say.
Because once I said it—
I couldn't take it back.
The realization made my heart beat faster.
The bond carried enough of it that Kairo looked up immediately.
Waiting.
Patient.
Certain.
Always certain.
I exhaled slowly.
Then laughed once at myself.
Because maybe there really wasn't any point hiding anymore.
Not from him.
Not from myself.
Not now.
So I met his gaze.
And for the first time—
I chose the words instead of accidentally thinking them.
"I love you."
The room went completely silent.
Not dramatic.
Not explosive.
Just still.
As if the entire world paused to listen.
Kairo didn't look surprised.
Of course he didn't.
He'd known for weeks.
Maybe months.
But something changed in his expression anyway.
Something small.
Something real.
Something that looked suspiciously like happiness.
And somehow—
that made saying it worth every moment of embarrassment.
Every misunderstanding.
Every fear.
Every step that brought me here.
Because for the first time—
those words belonged to me.
And unlike everything else in my life—
they were something I never wanted to take back.