[ shirou's brows furrow, that unconvinced and unconditional care obvious in every line of his face. the fact that his ribs hurt, and that he's got these cuts, and feels like he ran twelve miles uphill, none of that matters if yukari (and he's remembering now, summers in town and popsicles on the back porch, walking to school even through the rain) was ever in even the slightest bit of danger. even though it's clearly passed, and she's clearly fine (right? she's fine), the fear that gripped his heart has only barely loosened its grip, even if he doesn't know how to express it to her. ]
no subject
If you say so...