Shoto doesn’t let go right away. He holds him just a little longer, just enough to feel the steady rise and fall of Toge’s breathing against his chest. It grounds him more than he expected. When he does finally pull back, it’s just enough to see his face, hands settling on his shoulders with care.

“You’re really okay,” he says, almost like he’s checking again, just in case the answer has changed. His eyes flick briefly to where the limb used to be, but he doesn’t linger. “I didn’t know if you’d remember me. Or if you were still—” Still yourself. Still kind. Still his.

A breath. He softens his voice, his thumb brushing over the fabric of Toge’s shirt without thinking. “I’ve missed you so much.” Then, quieter still: “I didn’t think I’d get to say that to you again.”