He can’t imagine it, a life without Mikoto. She has become as necessary as breathing. He can’t imagine not feeling her weight against his shoulder, the wisps of hair drifting against his cheek, the feel of her temple against his lips, the soft feel of her ears brushing against his fingertips.
He can’t imagine it because it wouldn’t be life at all. She’s always been there, and she’ll always stay.
It’s as simple as that. Like breathing.