It's what you think when he holds you for the first time; striking at the door of your existence, claiming your attention. The sensation is fresh to your seven year-old mind, as you glance up at him through bangs of yielding lavender. The ache is strong in your tiny heart. The boy not much younger than you presses a gentle hand to your shoulder and hugs you for all that you're worth. You feel his smooth skin alongside your cheek and a slight smile crosses your face.
"It will all be ok Yuki," he whispers against your hair. "I'm here."
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Disclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket.
AN: Word count 100, prompt trust.