That evening, as dusk painted the sky in melancholy hues of violet and grey, Bunny stood leaning against his car, watching Raha from a distance.
She sat on a bench outside the vipers lounge — her posture stiff, hands clenched around the edges of the blanket, her face streaked with tears long dried. The nurse had insisted she stay longer, but Raha had refused. She didn't want pity. She didn't want stares. She just wanted to disappear.
But Bunny couldn't look away.
He didn't understand what was happening inside him. He had seen pain before — in fights, in betrayal, in heartbreak. But never like this. Never so personal.
Why did his chest ache the way it did when he saw her sitting there, broken?
Before he could stop himself, he walked over. Raha barely registered his presence until his shadow fell across her lap. Startled, she looked up.
He said nothing. He simply removed his coat and gently placed it around her shoulders.
"You'll catch a cold," he murmured.
Raha blinked. "I'm fine... you don't have to—"
But he wasn't listening.
Without warning, he bent down, slipped one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, and lifted her effortlessly.
"B-Bunny! What the hell are you doing?!" she gasped, flailing slightly.
"You need to breathe," he said softly, walking toward his car. "And you're not doing it here."
"Put me down! This is crazy!"
He didn't answer. He opened the passenger door, gently set her down on the seat, and buckled her seatbelt. Raha was too stunned to protest further. Her heart was racing — not from fear, but confusion. And something else she couldn't name.
Bunny got into the driver's seat and started the car.
Minutes passed in silence. The hum of the engine, the rhythmic flick of passing streetlights.
Raha stared out the window, trying to process everything. The assault, the rescue, the crowd, the whispers, and now — this.
The tears came back, uninvited.
She turned her face away, hoping he wouldn't notice. But of course, he did.
He glanced at her, jaw clenched, then reached over and gently took her hand in his.
"Don't cry," he whispered.
Raha looked at him, startled.
"I know you don't know me well. Hell, we've barely talked before today. But… seeing you like that… hearing you cry — it did something to me, Raha. I don't know what it is, but it hurts. It actually hurts."
She didn't respond.
He pulled over on a quiet stretch by the lakeside, where the moonlight shimmered like spilled silver on the water.
Turning off the engine, he faced her fully. "You don't have to pretend with me. Not now. Not after everything."
Raha's voice trembled. "I don't know why this is so hard. I've always been the one who kept going. Who ignored the stares, the whispers. But today… they made me feel worthless. Like I didn't belong anywhere."
Her lip quivered, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
"You do belong," Bunny said firmly. "You belong more than half the people in that college. You're smart, kind, brave — braver than most. You didn't deserve what happened. And you sure as hell don't have to deal with it alone."
Raha turned toward him, his words chipping away at the wall she had built around herself.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, voice barely audible. "You're the cool guy. The Viper. You don't even know me."
"I don't need to know everything about you to know you matter," Bunny said. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't plan this. I didn't plan to feel this much. But when I saw you crying in that lab, something in me snapped. I wanted to hurt them. Because they hurt you. And I've never felt that way about anyone before."
Raha looked down at their intertwined hands.
"It's strange," she said. "I always noticed you. From afar. You had this aura, this 'untouchable' thing going on. And now… you're the only person who's making me feel like I'm not broken."
Bunny smiled softly. "Maybe we're both a little broken. And maybe that's okay. Maybe we can be unbroken… together."
She laughed faintly, tears still falling.
"You're ridiculously cheesy for a guy with a leather jacket."
"Only when it's you," he said with a wink.
Silence settled again. Comfortable this time.
Raha shifted in her seat, turning more toward him. "Why does this feel… safe? With you?"
"Because it is," Bunny replied. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You're safe with me. Always."
Their eyes locked.
It wasn't planned. It wasn't dramatic. It just… happened.
Slowly, hesitantly, Bunny leaned in. Raha met him halfway.
Their lips met — soft, uncertain at first. Then deeper. Like two people finding pieces of themselves they didn't know were missing.
When they finally pulled away, Raha rested her forehead against his.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."
And in that quiet car, under the watchful gaze of stars, something real began — not forced, not rushed. Just real.
Something worth holding on to.
Something that, for the first time in both their lives, felt like home.