Jay learned early that distance was safer than honesty.
It wasn't something he practiced consciously. It had become instinct—like pulling his hand away from heat before the burn registered. When people came too close, he created space. When emotions deepened, he lightened his tone. When affection lingered, he turned cold.
Miku noticed.
She always did.
But she didn't question him. She adjusted herself instead, standing half a step back, letting him decide how close was close enough. That quiet consideration unsettled him more than confrontation ever could.
Most people demanded clarity.Miku offered patience.
And patience felt dangerous.
They spent time together in small, ordinary ways—shared coffee breaks, brief walks, conversations that drifted without destination. Jay spoke carefully, choosing words that revealed nothing important, while Miku listened as if even his silences carried meaning.
"You're hard to read," she said once, not accusing, just curious.
Jay smiled faintly. "Good."
It wasn't meant to be cruel.
It was survival.
Some days, he was warm without meaning to be. He laughed easily. He stayed longer than planned. He forgot to keep his guard up.
On those days, Miku felt hopeful.
On the days that followed, Jay pulled away twice as hard.
His replies became shorter. His tone cooled. His presence felt distant, even when he was right beside her.
"Did I do something?" Miku finally asked one evening.
Jay shook his head. "No. I just need space."
Space from what?From her?From himself?
Miku didn't ask.
She nodded. She always nodded.
Jay told himself he was doing the right thing.
If he didn't let her in, he couldn't hurt her. If he stayed detached, he wouldn't lose control. If he pushed her away now, it would hurt less than losing her later.
That was the lie he lived with.
Because every time Miku walked away, a quiet panic settled in his chest.
Not the dramatic kind.
The slow, suffocating realization that distance only worked when it didn't cost you the one person who made staying feel bearable.
One evening, as they parted, Jay said it again.
"Don't wait for me."
Miku looked at him for a long moment.
"I'm not waiting," she said softly."I'm choosing."
Jay didn't know how to respond to that.
So he turned away before she could see the fear in his eyes.