doomed l𖦹vers.

⠀⠀At first you never spoke very much; conversations emerged in fragments between hands brushing during returns and cups of coffee left forgotten behind. You discovered then that he spoke about the stars with a melancholy that was difficult to explain. There was barely a trace of excitement when he talked about galaxies or spatial waves; rather, it was a deep and almost absurd nostalgia, as though the universe were a place he had lost far too long ago.

⠀⠀One night he sighed that all light was a form of memory. It was one of his usual musings, the kind you listened to while shelving books nearby. You did not answer immediately and turned toward him, setting the book upon the table so you could watch the way his finger pointed toward the dark firmament beyond the glass.

⠀⠀"Most of the stars we observe no longer exist as we see them now. Some died thousands of years ago, but their light is still traveling."

⠀⠀You watched the reflection of the two of you upon the misted window. The faint orange glow of the lamps inside turned you into two blurred figures suspended above the starry sky.

⠀⠀"Then looking at the sky is like looking at ghosts" you murmured.

⠀⠀Grace smiled faintly, and for several seconds neither of you looked away.

⠀⠀The seasons passed, and winter soon arrived. The heating failed in some rooms, and the library took on the constant scent of damp paper and freshly brewed coffee. Beyond the windows the rain never seemed to end, and inside the nights grew longer.

⠀⠀The routine between you began to build itself out of gestures so small they were almost invisible. He left notes between pages he knew you would find later, you set aside books you knew he would ask for. Sometimes you spent entire hours without speaking, simply sharing the distant sound of turning pages and calm breaths that invited stillness.

⠀⠀Nothing more ever happened, and perhaps that was why everything felt so immense. There were moments when you felt that a single misplaced word might destroy that delicate closeness built from silences, and Ryland seemed to feel the same. Whenever your conversations approached something too intimate, both of you instinctively retreated, like bodies incapable of enduring excessive gravity.

⠀⠀One night the power went out, and the library was submerged in absolute darkness for several seconds during which nothing existed except the sound of rain striking the great windows and your intertwined breathing. Then a small light appeared from the flashlight the professor sometimes forgot in the pocket of his cardigan. He raised it upward, and the shadows of the shelves began to stretch endlessly across the high ceiling around you.

You could not help letting out a quiet laugh: "It’s as though we were inside a spaceship."

⠀⠀He lifted his gaze toward the invisible ceiling: "Space probably resembles this very much."

⠀⠀You sat down across from him among the shadows.

⠀⠀"Dark?"

⠀⠀"Empty."

⠀⠀A word that remained suspended between the two of you for a long time. Ryland began telling stories about astronauts isolated for years, traveling inside machines too small to contain all their loneliness. The flashlight drew soft lines across his tired face, and you understood that although he was always looking elsewhere, it was not because he wanted to leave, but because he wished to stay.

⠀⠀Soon after that the absences began. First he stopped coming for several days, then for entire weeks, and whenever he returned he looked more exhausted. He hardly joked anymore; he carried new folders, official documents, and expressions that vanished whenever you tried to read them, dissolving instead into a gentle smile. He always seemed to want to say something, and you wanted to as well, but by then that small corner near your desk had begun to be occupied by other people. The books now gathered dust while waiting to be collected, the notes had disappeared, and of the two cups of coffee that once rested together only yours remained.

⠀⠀Afterward there were only memories left: the sound of pages turning in the middle of the night, the blue winter light upon the windows, the laughter and the glances exchanged among the badly shelved books.

⠀⠀The ship’s alarm sounded, and Ryland slowly opened his eyes. There was no trace of the library, nor of the books, nor of the rain or the city. There was only him, the constant hum of the electrical systems, and the immense darkness stretching beyond where his sight could reach. He remained floating in silence while the stars shone outside, countless and indifferent, nearer than they had ever been and, at the same time, infinitely distant.

⠀⠀Upon the control panel rested a newspaper clipping, a fragment of a photograph taken during an event at the library that mattered little to him, but in the background the two of you appeared seated at a table, laughing while your hands met behind a tower of books.

⠀⠀Grace closed his eyes for a moment and understood that memory was very similar to space: something immense, silent, and composed of a firmament filled with lights that perhaps no longer exist.

⠀⠀For Nanami, everything changed once his overtime hours ended, when the brilliant rays of sunlight were replaced by the faint glow of the moon. That was when he finally shut off his computer screen, slipped on his blazer, and picked up his briefcase from the floor. On his way out, he bid the security guard farewell with a faint smile, and after crossing the large doors, he made his way toward the station. Hardly anyone walked around him, taxis drifted empty through the streets, and the noise from the bars echoed loudly enough to spill out into the night. It was his return to peace, even more so when he stopped before that little establishment and gently pushed the door open, making the small crystal bell chime softly.

⠀⠀Inside the bakery, the only sound was the music playing quietly through the speakers. The chairs rested upside down atop the tables, napkin holders were stacked in one corner of the counter, and the display lights had already been turned off. The sound announcing his arrival alerted a young woman in the kitchen, finishing preparations for the following morning. Tired little eyes and an apron dusted in flour were what greeted him that night, but the moment she saw the blond-haired man with the noticeable dark circles beneath his eyes, a bright smile spread across the young woman’s face.

⠀⠀“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come tonight” she admitted while hurrying toward the back of the bakery and pulling out a paper bag with a loaf of bread inside. “It got a little cold in the end, I’m sorry.”

⠀⠀Nanami smiled, dismissing the matter as unimportant while handing her the money. It had become part of his small nightly ritual, he always stopped by at the same hour, at the same bakery, ordering the same thing after trying everything they had to offer. What kept bringing him back again and again was not truly the bread; he realized that one day when they had nothing left to offer except coffee, a sign taped to the door announcing it, yet even disappointed by the lack of bread, Nanami entered that evening simply to exchange a few pleasantries with the woman attending the shop that night. He didn’t know whether he could say he was in love. Maybe yes, maybe no, he truly didn’t know. He couldn’t discern the thin line separating friendship from love. Years had passed since his first visit to that bakery. Since he met the beautiful clerk and decided to take the first step toward speaking to her. There was something comforting in her mere presence, something that made him return over and over again, something that once urged him to ask her out one afternoon, though that very same day another handsome man had gotten there first.

⠀⠀He had been incapable of recognizing the jealousy that consumed him that afternoon, but afterward he was forced to place limits upon the wandering thoughts that drifted through his mind every time he saw her. And so the years passed, unable to stop his heart from racing at the mere presence of the girl beside him who spoke carelessly about her day, Nanami felt as though he were witnessing a side of her no one else could see, a peculiar sort of honesty. She spoke as though afraid it might be the last time someone listened to her, and she always seemed surprised whenever Kento returned to the shop the following night. It almost seemed as though the two of them had extended their schedules just to see one another during those late hours, hidden away from the passersby who rarely even glanced inside once they noticed the CLOSED sign hanging outside, despite the suited man seated quietly in the corner while the sweet clerk spoke to him from behind the counter.

⠀⠀That habit began one evening when a group of boys barged noisily into the small bakery, taking advantage of the solitude in which the girl worked, until Nanami’s presence interrupted them. That night, he promised to walk her to the station so she would never have to close alone again. That was how he learned she owned a dog, that writing was her favorite pastime, that she adored mystery novels and collected vinyl records. She loved the color green, and her dream had always been to travel around the world. She also told him she lived with her boyfriend, and that a year later they married. The ring adorning her finger was a small reminder of it, though his name rarely ever left her lips, as though she did not wish to remember who was waiting for her at home.

⠀⠀He began noticing it a few months earlier, when she started avoiding the questions of other customers, of elderly women who wished her luck in her marriage while she answered only with an uncomfortable smile. Others might have thought her smile looked normal, but in Nanami’s eyes there was something unmistakably different about it. The happiness with which she once recalled the day of her wedding had slowly faded with the passing days, then months, until finally years. She no longer smiled the way she once had when her husband came to pick her up after a long shift, nor when he stopped by for coffee. Since then, everything had become more formal, more routine, and their conversations had grown longer, heavier even, and of course melancholic.

⠀⠀He listened to the young woman speak of her marriage with nostalgia, as though it had happened a decade ago. She no longer sounded cheerful when speaking about it; instead, it felt like something she forced herself to mention so she would not forget, to continue reminding herself that the stranger waiting for her in the same bed had once been her husband. And it shattered Nanami from the inside. He hated admitting it because he had no right to feel anything about it, but the way her wide smile and full lips had slowly lost their brightness over time filled him with sorrow. The way her glossy wavy hair had become flat and lifeless, her uniform wrinkled and stained most days; fingers covered in cuts and bandages, and her once lively personality dimmed beneath sadness.

⠀⠀Then his sadness turned into anger. He hated that such a beautiful woman could feel this way because of someone who had failed to appreciate her, someone who deliberately toyed with her feelings. He hated that she was not cherished the way she deserved, that no one valued her intelligence or understood her peculiar sense of humor. He detested hearing her short, restrained sentences, as though she held back her thoughts for fear something terrible might happen. Kento believed all of that remained trapped inside his mind, but the truth was that from the moment her delicate figure sat beside him, Nanami had not stopped speaking about everything that frustrated him. About how unfairly she was treated and how she undoubtedly deserved something better. Better like what? he wondered bitterly. He couldn’t even answer that question with his own name, because it would have been a lie. He had been thinking about her in indecent ways, ways he would have been ashamed to admit knowing she was married.

⠀⠀The surprise in the young woman’s eyes was the sign he needed to realize he had confessed every ounce of his turmoil. Her tears and trembling voice were what embedded themselves deepest into his subconscious. He wasn’t merely listening and speaking anymore, he had made her open her eyes, at least a little.

⠀⠀He made her realize that from the moment she woke until the moment she went to bed, she did everything alone. No one greeted her with a smile, much less with dinner already waiting for her. The domestic life they had once shared had turned into simple coexistence, as though their only concern now was avoiding getting in each other’s way whenever they crossed paths in the hallway. Her husband’s tender words had gradually become hostile, almost like commands and obligations; soft conversations replaced by shouting, and gentle music replaced by slamming doors.

⠀⠀She had spent so long trapped in that torturous monotony that she barely remembered what it felt like to be loved, to be desired. She longed to be touched as though the world were ending, to be loved beneath a soft blanket on a cold Sunday while watching a movie together. She wanted her life back, and all the love she had lost, wasted even, trying to repair something that had broken long ago.

⠀⠀"Why are you telling me all of this?" she finally asked, lifting her gaze slightly from the table to look him in the eyes. Without realizing it, Nanami had already begun to become part of her life, part of her routine, but not her monotony. Before she even noticed it, she had started longing for midnight to arrive just so he would walk through the door, sit at the same table, and talk to her. Sometimes she even caught herself delaying tasks just to close later and spend more time with him. "Why now? After all these years?".

⠀⠀"A bad decision, I suppose. Maybe a mistake" Nanami tried to excuse himself.

⠀⠀"You never make mistakes, Kento."

⠀⠀"Yes, I do" he answered plainly. His first mistake had been desiring her in ways he would never confess, wanting her while alone in his apartment and unable to rid himself of thoughts of her. His second was courting her, subtly perhaps, but always with the same intention. His third was never stopping, even though he knew she was married. And the fourth was loving her so intensely that his heart beat so violently he feared she might hear it whenever they were together. But above all else, what he valued most was her friendship and companionship. Yet the man speaking that night was his selfishness itself. He could not help feeling selfish for confessing his feelings while she was so vulnerable. But the more he buried them, the more he felt he was losing himself. "I’ve made many mistakes. I make them every single day. But the one thing I would never allow is for you to doubt my love for you, not even for a single second of your life."

⠀⠀His words fell over her like a bucket of icy water, so cold that every coherent thought she had froze alongside her very being. She didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to. And without another word, she finished cleaning the shop so she could finally make her way home.

⠀⠀She had expected Nanami to be gone by then, though she would have regretted her silence had that been the case. Yet when she stepped out of the small storage room after changing clothes, Kento was still there, seated quietly, reading a thin book he had brought in his briefcase. They did not speak then either, only closed the shop before beginning to walk through the deserted streets. Nanami did not say a word even when they took a different path from the one leading to the station. He had already missed the last train and had no choice now but to call a taxi, yet he had not expected to suddenly find himself standing before the entrance of an apartment building, staring at his own reflection in the glass door. His broad frame completely overshadowed the young woman standing before him, facing the door with her back to him. He assumed she was unlocking it, yet she remained motionless, eyes fixed upon the lock.

⠀⠀"I’ll call a ta—"

⠀⠀"Do you want to come in?" she interrupted, turning toward him and tilting her head up to look at him.

⠀⠀He nearly dropped the briefcase at her proposition. He was unmistakably surprised by her boldness. It felt as though he would be taking advantage of her vulnerability if he accepted, yet her gaze overflowed with certainty and confidence. It was a genuine offer; she truly wanted him to come inside. She had wanted it for so long that she almost felt ashamed, as though she were betraying someone who had betrayed her long ago already, someone who had not lived in that home for days now.

⠀⠀"It’s late. The trains stopped running hours ago, and it’s Friday…"

⠀⠀"I’ll come in. Thank you" he accepted, leaving the doubt behind in that doorway.

⠀⠀They crossed the threshold and the lobby until they reached the elevator. One floor passed, then another, and another. Little by little, the uncomfortable silence had faded, and now it was only that, silence, almost comfortable, one might dare say. There was more than enough space inside the elevator, and yet they chose to stand together, shoulder to shoulder, brushing lightly against one another, allowing not only the floors to rise, but also the warmth emanating from their bodies.

⠀⠀The young baker began to doubt herself as she walked down the hallway, as she drew closer and closer to her door. She could hear his footsteps behind her, and her nerves only worsened. What did she expect from all this? What did she expect from him? What did she want from him? If she lied to herself, she would answer that she only wanted company, that she did not wish to be alone after her heart had shattered into pieces before the reality she was forced to face. If she were honest, she would say that she wanted him, that she needed him. She longed for his company beyond the physical boundaries imposed by the label of "friends", she would adore feeling his hands around her body, having him hold her and keep her close as though the world were going to end tomorrow. She wanted Kento Nanami and everything that came with him.

⠀⠀"So these are your famous records" Nanami spoke at last once inside, standing before a shelf overflowing with vinyls and a record player.

⠀⠀She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she had not even realized she had opened the door and that they were both already inside, Kento in the living room observing the records, while she stood in the kitchen pouring two glasses of whisky. Her apartment was not large; it was a studio, with the kitchen and living room connected, separated only by an island with three stools. Everything was painted in shades of orange and green, accented here and there with touches of blue and yellow. A gentle breeze drifted in through the open balcony door, making the plants decorating the corners sway softly. The paintings, the books, and the decorations reflected everything she had mentioned time and time again that she loved. It was a house that felt warm. A home.

⠀⠀"You have good taste" Kento admitted, taking the liberty of pulling a few vinyls from their places on the shelf to examine them before carefully sliding them back.

⠀⠀She crossed the living room and handed him a glass, the ice clinking softly inside. Nanami accepted it and set it down on the small table so he could remove his suit jacket and place his briefcase on the floor beside it, taking a seat on one of the sofas facing the record player, loosening his tie in the process. The young baker watched him intently, almost shamelessly, feeling her cheeks begin to burn whenever she saw the muscles in his back flex beneath his shirt or his forearms tense beneath the rolled-up sleeves as he loosened the knot of his tie. His blond hair was tousled and gleamed beneath the dim orange lights illuminating the apartment, giving him an even more intimate appearance.

⠀⠀Kento said nothing, yet she could see him distractedly observing the place with interest. He had crossed a boundary he never expected to cross; he was inside her apartment, inside her home, fully immersed in her intimacy. And so he wondered what she was like within those walls, he imagined her tousled hair as she made coffee in the kitchen, the careful way she chose which vinyl to play whenever the mood struck her, what book she would pick on a Saturday afternoon and in which corner of the sofa she would sit to write. He imagined what her intimacy must be like, though the graceful way she slipped the vinyl from its sleeve and lowered the needle onto the record to let it play already revealed more than enough.

⠀⠀Everybody Here Wants You began to play softly in the background as she approached him, swaying her hips in a mesmerizing way, allowing herself to be carried by the rhythm of the music. Nanami shifted on the sofa, sitting at its edge, forced to leave his half-finished whisky on the coffee table so he could devote his full attention to the woman walking toward him. She did not sit beside him. Instead, she remained standing before Kento, looking down at him while taking a sip of her drink before setting it beside his.

⠀⠀The liquor barely affected them, so it was not alcohol guiding their movements, but rather the purest desire and longing pulling them toward one another. Kento’s large hands ventured to grasp her waist and, still seated, he spread his legs to draw her toward him in a single pull until her legs met the edge of the sofa. His fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt, lifting it slightly, revealing only the barest glimpse of skin. And his eyes, oh, his eyes, remained fixed upon her, gazing up at her as though she were the most majestic being he had ever seen.

⠀⠀She did not fall behind him either. Her fingers caressed his hair, tangling within it and disheveling it further, her hand then gliding gently down along his temples, his cheekbones, until her thumb brushed against his lips, still damp from the whisky. She wished she could say her nerves had faded, yet they were more present than ever in every movement. None of this was right, even if that wedding ring had stopped adorning her finger long ago, yet her desire, the connection she felt, was far stronger than guilt.

⠀⠀With her left hand, she gently pushed against his shoulder, making his broad back fall once more against the sofa’s backrest, forcing him to release his grip on her hips, though it did not last long. Carefully, she settled herself upon his lap, straddling him. They held each other’s gaze while the song continued to play softly in the background, though she could barely hear it anymore. She wrapped both arms around his neck as she felt Kento’s hands slide to the small of her back, pulling her even closer against him, their torsos pressed together. Their eyes drifted from one another’s gaze to their lips and from their lips back to their eyes again, until little by little they began to lean in.

⠀⠀At first, her lips brushed against his neck, carried away by the scent of coffee mingled with cologne. Then they trailed upward along his jaw, his chin, and she would have continued toward his temple and finally his ear, but Kento did not allow it. Using his left hand to cradle her face tenderly, he captured her lips with his own in a kiss filled with near desperation and passion.

⠀⠀His lips tasted of coffee and whisky, and the scent of his cologne clouded her senses entirely. She unraveled beneath every kiss, every brush of his body against hers, moving instinctively in search of even more contact, if such a thing were possible. His kisses were rough and needy, yet the tenderness with which he held her was enough to keep her from breaking apart.

⠀⠀She could feel his long hands lifting her skirt, traveling upward from her ankles to her thighs. Meanwhile, she unbuttoned his shirt, letting his tie fall carelessly to one side. Her fingers wandered over his torso then, gliding down across his chest, venturing dangerously along the path toward the waistband of his trousers. She felt him tense beneath her touch, the small shivers that swept across his skin. Nanami finally broke away from the kiss, resting his forehead against hers, their breathing uneven as he slipped his hands from beneath her skirt, smoothing the fabric back into place before lifting his eyes to meet hers once again.

⠀⠀Their clothes were wrinkled, half-removed; cheeks flushed, breaths ragged, hair thoroughly disheveled. Their hearts raced wildly, their eyes glimmering faintly. That moment had always been the centerpiece of every fantasy inhabiting the deepest corners of her mind, yet now that she held it at her fingertips, she did not want him to believe she wanted him only for this.

⠀⠀"I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’ve wanted this for a very long time" he began to speak again over the music. His hands played with the hem of her shirt, brushing torturously against her skin, while one of the young woman’s hands came to rest against his cheek, her thumb stroking softly over his cheekbone. "Wanting to undress you, wanting to see every expression you make, every side of you… But I also want to see you when you’re alone, when you read your books, when you arrange your records" he added, tilting his head slightly into the palm of her hand. "I want to remind you every single day how much I love you, to make you feel cherished and desired. I want you to feel that you matter".

⠀⠀The honesty in his words made her heart tighten painfully, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. That was the kind of love she had always wanted, one that did not question her habits, that did not judge her silence, much less her words. A sincere love that would make her feel wanted every day of her life.

⠀⠀She cradled the man’s face in both hands and leaned down to kiss him once more, tasting the tears that had already reached her lips.

⠀⠀"I want you to be the one who makes me feel that way too".

⠀⠀Such a brief confirmation, yet more than enough. Nanami had been there when she needed him, had listened to her without judgment through countless nights, had simply listened. One might say she settled for very little, yet that little was precisely what she needed for her days to stop feeling gray, for her mornings to regain their color, for her life to recover its lost meaning. She did not need unconditional love; she needed sincere understanding, a sincere desire to stay.

⠀⠀Kento rose from the sofa, trapping her tightly within his arms. She began to walk backward toward the bedroom without parting from his lips until they collided softly against the door. In that instant, they separated with ragged breaths, searching one another’s eyes for one final confirmation before what they both knew was about to happen. A small smile curved her lips as she stretched out a hand and turned the doorknob, entering the room together with Nanami.

⠀⠀That bedroom, which should have felt as intimate and warm as the rest of the apartment, was in truth the coldest and most impersonal place within it, filled with memories that evoked far more pain than happiness. Memories of what her life had once been, of what had once made her suffer and dread her own existence. But in that moment, with the music drifting softly in the background and herself being gently laid upon the plush mattress that sighed beneath her weight, the room seemed brighter than ever before. She stood out against the cold white sheets as though that had always been her place, beside Kento.

⠀⠀Lying upon the bed, she watched as Nanami finally removed the shirt that had already been hanging from his forearms since the journey from the sofa to the bedroom. She observed attentively the way his muscles flexed, the way his sculpted abdomen and chest stood out beneath the faint glow of the streetlights filtering in from outside. He seemed to her like the reincarnation of the most beautiful statue ever carved, unreal even more so when he positioned himself above her, covering her completely with his body, placing one knee between her legs before leaning down to kiss her again. Nanami’s kisses were needy, almost wild, she would say, yet they carried a trace of tenderness that drove her mad and made them addictive, leaving her desperate to wrap her arms around his neck in search of even greater closeness. His hands were no less eager; while his left hand braced itself against the headboard so as not to place all his weight upon her, his right masterfully rid her of her clothes, first her blouse, then her skirt, and finally her stockings, until she was left only in her undergarments.

⠀⠀That was the moment her alarms flared inside her. Nothing remained to shield her from his gaze anymore, yet the blond man’s eyes held nothing but the deepest desire. He desired her regardless of anything else, without pausing at her body, her scars, or the appearance she herself so often despised. Those beautiful eyes of his seemed incapable of expressing anything but love, anything but the purest admiration and devotion, and while looking into her eyes he slid a hand down her back, unclasping her bra before letting his hand continue lower, between her legs, while his lips devoted their attention to that newly revealed part of her.

⠀⠀With every caress, every kiss, every slow roll of his hips against hers… everything drew sighs and moans of his name from her lips as she wrapped her legs around his bare waist, desperate for greater intensity, greater closeness. She felt as though she were touching heaven with every movement, and she let him know through words he seemed to adore, for a small smile appeared upon his lips each time he heard her speak. If this was what it meant to be truly loved, then she never wished to wake if this truly was a dream. She was in love, and it was precisely that love that made her fear that once their bodies separated and the night came to an end, she would no longer find him in her bed. Yet when she opened her eyes at the first rays of sunlight and saw him in her kitchen preparing the coffee she adored so much, she could not help but smile, parting her lips to whisper:

⠀⠀"I love you."

⠀⠀Only to be answered with the warmest and most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

⠀⠀The scenery beneath the sunset slipped fleetingly past the other side of the train window, leaving trails of light behind, accompanied by the soft murmur of the carriage rolling over the tracks. There were days like those when they shared the ride there together, surrounded by strangers, each lost somewhere within their own thoughts, and yet they seemed to share a corner of their minds, hidden behind the curtain of coats.

⠀⠀Seated beside one another, shoulder against shoulder, allowing their knees to brush together in a subtle, careless way, pretending neither of them noticed, even though their emotions had already been left dazed. Their hands sometimes collided whenever the train turned, yet they remained there still, eyes fixed on the small screen where a video Rintarō had recorded that very morning played quietly.

⠀⠀And yet, the boy paid no attention to the video or the station announcements; he only had eyes for you, for the way you smiled, the way you laughed and lightly tapped his arm while trying to hold back your laughter so as not to disturb the other passengers. He was lost in the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, in the way you adjusted the earbud the two of you were sharing.

⠀⠀He was utterly spellbound by your presence, allowing his thoughts to drift with every emotion you awakened within him, forcing him to notice even the way you leaned closer in an attempt to take up as little space as possible in the crowded carriage, hidden beneath curtains of coats and jackets, until he finally understood his feelings the moment your pinkies intertwined behind the glow of the small screen.

03 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ KŌSHI sugawara

⠀⠀There they were again, after a long day of practice, lingering at Ukai’s shop, letting their outrageous laughter be carried away by the wind while the sunset illuminated their steps. They were alone, laughing, talking, running through the steep streets on their way home. The breeze was soft and cool, swaying their hair and brushing gently against their necks.

⠀⠀When they took the bicycle and rode onto the road, the sun rested to their right, lighting up the rice fields and staining the world in that characteristic orange hue, with the crimson glow of dusk standing witness to their feelings. They shared the ride, Kōshi at the handlebars and you behind him, holding onto the seat, eyes closed as you felt the wind against your skin. Hardly any cars passed by, and the few people who did greeted them kindly. Life there was simple, peaceful, and even though important competitions were just around the corner, they seemed meaningless in that instant, something distant from them, as if, had they been able to freeze time, they would have done so in that exact moment.

⠀⠀The words never ceased, flowing sweet as honey from their lips, allowing some syllables to vanish into the delicate currents of air, and their laughter only deepened when a small bump in the road made them lose balance for a second. Yet after that, every sound faded away and only their smiles remained.

⠀⠀For the rest of the ride they stayed silent, but it was enough for Sugawara, whose thoughts had turned to chaos the moment he felt your arms wrap around his waist and your face rest against his back. He silently thanked fate that they could not look at each other, because his flushed cheeks and foolish smile would have betrayed every thought in his mind, while his pounding heart revealed all the feelings he carried for you.

04 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ TETSURŌ kuroo

⠀⠀Sleepless nights in the library, wishing for exams to finally come to an end, though they only seemed endless instead. Trivial conversations drifting through memories of before: the first time they met, the first time they went out together, the first time living that long-dreamed-of high school life that had, indeed, reached its end.

⠀⠀None of it felt real, the graduation portrait, the words of gratitude, the congratulations… It had all seemed so distant for so long that now it felt like a dream, and amidst so much change, there they still were, ready for their first time beyond high school, though not before taking a photograph to remember it all.

⠀⠀What Tetsurō failed to notice, however, were the wrinkles in his uniform, until you stepped closer and reached your hands toward him. Once again they stood in that crowded gymnasium, face to face, your soft hands fixing the collar of his shirt and adjusting his tie beneath your attentive brown gaze. The boy tried to hold even his breath so as not to disturb you, letting your words drift into his subconscious as he listened to your scolding, one that somehow even seemed to delight him.

⠀⠀There they stood among all those people; some watched them, others ignored them, but none of it mattered to Kuroo, who seemed capable of seeing only you, entirely focused on straightening his uniform for the photograph, unaware of all the feelings you had awakened within his heart.

© flwergrave 2026, do not repost, copy, translate or claim as your own. reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated <3 ⠀♡⠀dividers by @uzmacchiato

⠀⠀El agua del arroyo sonaba como un murmullo más allá de las ruinas, susurrando entre los escombros y silbando entre las hojas de los árboles cercanos. Symonnet estaba apoyado contra una pared fría y derruida de la que las flores habían comenzado a apoderarse, junto a él estaba su pequeña arpa de madera que siempre lo acompañaba y sobre un muro, que lo resguardaba del aire, estaba su ropa colgada mientras se secaba después de bañarse.

⠀⠀De su cabello colgaban pequeñas gotas de agua que brillaban cuales diamantes con las luces de la tarde. Cerró los ojos dejándose llevar por la agradable sensación en su rostro y comenzó a silbar una melodía. Fue entonces cuando escuchó unos pasos acercarse y mientras su corazón se aceleraba, estiró la mano para alcanzar la daga que siempre llevaba.

⠀⠀Al abrir los ojos descubrió que el intruso que se alzaba ante él no era otro que Adekin, caballero del rey, pero no parecía estar allí por asuntos de la corona, pues iba vestido con una simple camisa blanca y unos pantalones marrones. Symon soltó la daga y se movió ligeramente hacia un lado, dejándole hueco a su lado.

⠀⠀──Podríais haberme matado del susto ──dijo estirándose para tomar su camisa, tratando de taparse para intentar enmascarar su nerviosismo.

⠀⠀──Si hubiese querido hacerlo lo habríais sabido en el momento, no es un asunto con el que se deba bromear ──respondió con más seriedad que la que el comentario había tenido en primer lugar.

⠀⠀Aquella faceta seria e imperturbable le sacaba de quicio, pero al mismo tiempo la adoraba.

⠀⠀──A qué debo vuestra visita pues ──preguntó orientando su torso hacia él, estirando los dedos para colocarse tras la oreja un mechón rubio que caía sobre su rostro.

⠀⠀──Deseaba veros.

⠀⠀Su apariencia feroz y aterradora no reflejaba la dulzura y la delicadeza de sus besos, ni tampoco la calidez de las manos que le acunaban el rostro y lo abrazaban con cariño. Una sensibilidad de ensueño que siempre se empeñaba con recordar en los peores momentos como aquel, lejos de las ruinas, mientras los gritos y el caos se filtraba por las ventanas.

⠀⠀Adekin estaba en la puerta, vistiendo aquella brillante armadura con la espada en mano. Symonnet estaba sentado, sin apartar la mirada de él.

⠀⠀──Supongo que ese momento ha llegado ──comenzó a hablar acomodándose en la silla. No iba a huir.

⠀⠀La armadura resonaba con cada paso que daba y antes de acercarse se aseguró de cerrar la puerta tras él.

⠀⠀──Debíais haber marchado como acordamos, ¿por qué no lo hicisteis? ──sus palabras abandonaron su garganta con desesperación, casi con rabia que en realidad no era más que una forma de manifestar la tristeza que sentía en lo profundo de su corazón ──. Era una promesa ──añadió aferrándose con fuerza al mango de su espada.

⠀⠀Symon pudo apreciar bajo la tenue luz anaranjada que provenía de la calle como su ojo se cristalizaba, lágrimas amenazando con salir.