Huskyy

KAKUCHO

—you and kakucho definitely don't argue a lot, and you definitely don't complain. if you both ever do, said arguments usually go down smoothly.

—usually.

—that was one of many things you both were grateful for when you’d agreed to move into his penthouse, or when you finally eloped. you knew of the things that were in store for you when you decided to marry kakucho hitto, the love of your life; the apple of your eye. he too knew, and besides the shortcomings and hardships along the way, you both made it work in the quaint yet charmingly chaotic life.

—but you couldn't help but also worry.

—he’d been coming home later than he normally would, which is typically to be expected considering his line of work within bonten. you always worry about him, but it embedded itself in you more and more prominently by his disarrayed appearance whenever he’d slip past the front door hours after sunset. dark bags heavy under his eyes, back more hunched over, and tired, worn out murmurs of “i’m home” which slowly filtered into the early evening.

—you were used to the blood by now.

—you know he can handle himself, but you have your limits. after another half-hearted greeting from him and a small peck on the cheek, kakucho went straight to his office without a word as the routine has been for the past week.

—he comes home. he hardly talks to you. he doesn't come out of his office until after midnight. that’s how it went. so, being the caring and worrisome spouse you are, you decide to do something about it.

—no response comes from your husband as you knock on his door lightly before carefully creaking it open. this was a typical sight: back hunched and turned away on the desk sitting on the other side of the once tidy room scribbling away with his eighth pen of the week, stacks on stacks of paper piled up wherever there was space, and the crumpled wads that never made it to the mini trash bin kakucho never bothered to pick up when he clearly had more pressing matters to attend to.

—your slippers press softly on the floor as you approach from behind and rest your hands gently on his tense shoulders.

—”dinner’s almost ready, hun,” you tell him in your most comforting voice possible to temporarily help ease the stress that had already built into him.

—”sorry, eat without me. i’ll be here for a while.” he doesn't stop to look up at you nor stop his mad etching with his pen when he speaks.

—”are you sure? it’s been a week since you’ve been at this, and i can tell you’re stressed.”

—”i’m fine, dear.” his answer is immediate, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

—you bite your lip. the weariness had laced into his voice, raspy and low.

—”you aren't,” you say firmly. “you’ve been working too hard, love… you should take a break, relax a bit.”

—when he doesn't respond, you try again and squeeze one of his shoulders.

—”kaku? love?”

—you can feel him tense up even more under your palms before he abruptly gets up from his chair and spins around which makes you recoil in an instant with that unorthodox look of hostility in his eyes contrasting his typical gentle looks he gives you daily.

—”i told you i’m fine! you don't need to worry about me all the damn time!”

—you’ve heard that tone many a time before… but it was never, ever directed at you. you still hate that voice of venom either way. kakucho was always levelheaded and stoic, so it always hurt hearing him so riled up with that face you kiss everyday twisting into a scowl.

—shit, you don't even know when you started crying.

—”[name]? fuck… i-i’m sorry. i…”

—”’s fine,” you choke out, cringing at how weak your trembling voice is but you continue, avoiding meeting his gaze. “i’ll… i’ll give you some space, kakucho.”

—before he can protest, you leave his office in quick strides and quietly shut the door behind you before he can witness you begin to sob.

—kakucho curses under his breath. he didn't mean to snap at you, he didn't—fuck. he slides back down into his desk chair and mentally cursing himself out while he rests his elbows on the paper-scattered surface, hanging his head low.

—he swore he would never lash out at you, even if he was angry. even if he was stressed. you never deserved that treatment.

—he clenches his fist tightly around his pen until it snaps in half, ink pooling out all over his documents mixed in with the salt of his own tears.

SHINICHIRO

—shinichiro sano disliked nothing more than nothingness itself.

—it’s a void, and it can decimate so many things with the sheer vastness of it.

—he’d always build something from the ground up out of that same nothingness: a new era of delinquents, the black dragons, the others around him, himself, and even you.

—but overtime, nothingness was a tide that was waiting for a newly built sandcastle on the brink of its shore to wash it all away.

—you and him; that was the one thing he considers to value the most—more than just a knot with two rings on two different hands—and he absolutely does not want nothingness to wash that strong foundation that was your shared castle away in the sand.

—at this point, neither of you know what the hell you’re both arguing about, but you also know that the both of you hate arguing. especially when it spawned from the notorious nothingness that ironically filled up the entirety of the room with its tension. all he knows is that the both of you are crying, and it would only go one of two ways: horribly wrong or horribly right.

—unfortunately, it was the former.

—”i agreed with you, so why are you yelling at me?!” he runs a trembling hand through his own locks, on the edge of pulling them out if this—whatever this is—continues any longer in your upstairs apartment.

—”listen, i can't—i can’t fucking do this right now, shin,” you bristle between grit teeth.

—”i hope you don't mean what you mean.”

—”i said right now, shinichiro,” you retort, turning your back to him in an effort to avoid his pleading eyes, eyes fixated on the worn out carpet floor instead and blinking back tears.

—”baby, you said we can work this out!” he exclaims, heart clenching at the use of his full first name.

—”we’re clearly getting nowhere like this.”

—and then came the words he so dreaded to hear one day, even painful for you, as you had punctuated it with a crack in your voice.

—”...maybe we should take a break.”

—and that's how he ended up alone in your once shared bed, wide awake and watching the ceiling like it would give him all the answers he needed to know, like why this was happening. why the tide had suddenly washed away what you two had built.

—and you, unbeknownst to him, crying silent tears on the pullout couch in the living room lulling yourself to sleep. you took it with no hesitation, no room for shin to take it himself with no voice in the back of his throat to argue further, defeated.

—shinichiro sano dislikes nothing more than nothingness itself—no added extra weight dipped into the mattress and only the cold space that you would normally occupy every night and every morning before the both of you would get ready for the day ahead. no you, wrapped in the plush blanket of his arms as you’re pressed to his chest, safe and content.

—he hates how empty it makes him feel.

RAN

—having a husband like ran haitani is no easy feat.

—your schedules do not go hand-in-hand whatsoever, what with him typically arriving home late in the evening while you're sound asleep and him waking up before you to go get ready for whatever bonten shenanigans “business” he’d get up to for the day.

—you miss him dearly because of that, always savouring the lingering touches he left; the ghost of his hands caressing your face and warmth of his kisses he peppered on your half-asleep form reaching to encase your arms around him so he couldn't leave.

—but this evening, he was home earlier and you couldn't be more jovial.

—he leans down and places a chaste kiss on your forehead and you look up from your book to give him a smile, “hi, love.”

—”how’s my favourite housespouse doing tonight?”

—you giggle at the nickname. “i’m excited for my date tomorrow night with my favourite husband.”

—you’d booked a table at your favourite restaurant a week prior and had been eagerly awaiting to go. it was always tough to get a seat since the place was always jam-packed so when you managed to snag a table, you couldn't help but bounce around a bit with knees shaking with giddiness. you hadn't been there in months, and you also haven't had a nice outing with your partner in a good while, so maybe this would be a good way to spend some time with him. he’d made sure to leave some room in his schedule for that night, too.

—”ah,” ran’s voice interrupts your daydreams of enjoying a conversation and sharing a meal with him. “about that… i’m sorry, love, mikey’s been swamping us with work and he wants me to work late tomorrow night. it’s important.”

—ice forms in your chest. this isn't the first time ran has done this.

—”then... now what? we can't keep cancelling and rebooking forever.” it was hard to ignore the desperation in your voice as you looked up at him. “it took me so long to get a table.”

—”there’s just been a lot, angel,” ran finally says, although with a slight edge in his upon hearing yours when he turns away and undoes his tie. “so bear with me, alright?”

—”bear with you? that's what you said last week, and the week before.” you rise from the couch.

—”when are you actually going to… commit?! i know you're so busy all the time but it seems like you never make time for me.” you sound so selfish, you know, but now there's no way you can back yourself out of what the hell you just got yourself into.

—your voice raises. ”i can’t keep up with you doing this, ran.”

—”then maybe we shouldn't have married each other!”

—he snaps. that’s the boiling point for him. and of course, you as well.

—like an overflowing, overboiling kettle, hot tears begin to flood your vision and pour down your face as you clench your teeth and fists feebly by your side in an effort to not make a noise that could slip out of you.

—shouldn't… have married you?

—he doesn't… love you? he doesn't love you.

—he doesn't love you.

—then is it… your fault? your fault… because you’re so fucking selfish, that’s why, a nasty voice in your head snarls. if only you were patient to wait for him. ran is a busy man; he can't just throw his work over his shoulder to frolic with you so carelessly. that’s why he doesn't love you.

—a sob shakes out of you and you rush to clamp your mouth shut. fuck.

—ran hates seeing you cry—fuck that, he hates even seeing, or hearing you sad, because that means that something had hurt you.

—it was always the worst when he himself hurt you. he spins around at the realization of his words and how much hurt those could deal with only a few, anger quickly melting as he scans over your knitted brows and tears pricking your eyes.

—”sweetheart, i didn't mean…”

—too late. as soon as he reaches out a tentative hand your way, you bolt towards the door and slam it shut behind you, waterfall spilling from your eyes down to your cheeks.

—he doesn't have the strength to pace in time with his thoughts as he stands still, stunned in stupidity and deep, pitiful regret.

—fuck. ran haitani knows he isn't perfect man, knows he isn't the best in terms of being married to a heaven sent angel like you, but god, he thinks as he buries his face in his hands, crouching down to the hardwood flooring.

—he really fucked up.

KAKUCHO

—watching the rise and fall of the stars in the endless sky was more boring without company.

—on warmer nights, you and kakucho would hop on over to your balcony to gaze at the sky’s rise and fall; the slow transition, dipping to nightfall and sunrise if he woke you up early enough before you both would get ready for the day.

—his presence was always comforting under the blanket of stars as he had you lean back on him with his arms hugged around you in silence, occasionally whispering sweet nothings in the breeze or leaving kisses on the top of your head.

—you never did it alone. until now, that is. the absence of your spouse’s presence near you, touching you—made it all the more colder when the midnight cold tickles your skin. it’s as if the winds know that today is a bad day.

—with a drawn out sigh, you push back from leaning against the railing, turn on your heel, and walk back into the warmth of the penthouse.

—he hasn't noticed you when you enter the living room silently. you’d giggle at the sight of him swaddled in a blanket like a burrito on the couch but the blue light tinting his sad features licks the urge away like flame on parchment.

—you don't know how it’s possible for him to look even more tired.

—“i thought i’d find you here,” you say quietly as you approach.

—he quickly clicks off his phone at your voice; a subtle statement that he’s listening to whatever you have to say with his undivided attention as he looks up at you.

—you sit down next to him, dipping your weight into the plush cushions in a tense silence unlike the comforting one you're both used to.

—you fiddle with your hands, building up any semblance of courage to say something.

—after a short while, you break the silence.

—“i’m sorry.”

—or rather, the both of you do. you stare at each other; the first time today you’ve both actually peered into the seas of your eyes without shame, without regret, without hostility—but with a childlike glow of puppy love when you said those two words in unison.

—laughter bubbles in your throat and kakucho follows suit, filling the dark room and cutting the tension in half.

—“you’re stressed, love; i should’ve been more considerate,” you reason first, laughter dying down.

—“i know… but that’s no excuse for me to be harsh to you.” he places a tender kiss on your forehead, silently looping an arm around you and pulling you into the blanket with him. it was soft, but not as soft as him as you sink into his blissful, warm touch.

—you missed him. even if it was only for a few hours, you yearned for his touch without him by your side. a fulfilling and now comfortable silence with the occasional passive cycle of breathing the only sound in the room.

—a content sigh leaves your lips as exhaustion makes its way through your body, making your eyelids droop and melt further into the comfort of your husband.

—“i love you, kaku. you know that, right?” you ask, voice muffled and worn out from the long hours without your other half near you.

—wordlessly, kakucho pulls you closer, enveloping you fully into his arms and yours wrapping around his torso as he pets your hair.

—you rest your chin on his chest and let out a few breaths of laughter at his flustered face, looking everywhere except your eyes in the dim room. leaning up, you gently kiss his scar, tracing the pattern with your thumb and he shivers at the contact. you grin up at him when his teary eyes meet yours, full of adoration.

—“i do,” he whispers. “i love you, too. so much.”

—you are the sun—shining bright like no other in his presence, and he is your moon—the aura of his quiet but loving person entranced with your radiance always making him glow brighter.

—and even if he wasn't by your side in a certain moment, you can always feel him lingering, peeking through the stars to meet you—his own star—and intertwine your fingers together in your galaxy.

—who needs to stargaze when you're both each other's stars already?

SHINICHIRO

—it’s quiet.

—and not the good kind, either.

—usually when you click open the front door after returning from a long day of work, you would have already been greeted with a forehead kiss from your husband who refused to hug you until he took a shower because he smelled like motor oil.

—usually when you walk towards the stairs you’d hear the casual conversations between shin’s two favourite coworkers—draken and seishu—as they close up shop, ready to retire for the day.

—usually, you’d wave and exchange a few words before heading upstairs.

—but the lights are out, there’s no banter, and there's not a wiff of familiar motor oil you’d smell because shinichiro isn't there to kiss you hello.

—instead, it’s more of the overbearing cigarette smell as you approach the hall leading to the ajar back door and your heart clenches.

—shinichiro always smokes more whenever he gets stressed. he’s tried to break that habit when you both married each other, but of course, old habits will always die hard. you’re proud of him for trying, though. you always have been. so to know that he’s resorted to his old habits, to know that you’re the reason he’s gone back…

—before you know it, you make hasty, quiet steps out the back door to bend down and wrap your arms around his figure sitting turned away from you.

—“i’m sorry,” you mumble, barely audible against the familiar scented fabric pressed against your face. the lingering smell of motor oil is still there, too.

—his form ceases trembling.

—“...[name]?”

—your only response is to squeeze him tighter. with that, he bursts into a sob and you feel his shoulders tremble in your grasp.

—“shin? baby, don't cry—”

—“i’m sorry too,” he blubbers as you slink around to sit behind him and hold his face in your hands. he continues to exclaim what you think are slurred-together apologies and professions of love which mixes into incoherent blabbering.

—oh, shin.

—“ifuckedupiknowi'msosorrybabeidon'twantyoutoleaveiloveyousosomuchand—”

—“shinichiro.”

—he chokes on his words and you take this opportunity to grasp his hands in your own.

—“who said i was going to leave?” you ask, rubbing gentle circles on his knuckles.

—shin bites his lip, looking down. “i dunno, i just thought… i’m…”

—you nod, encouraging him to continue when he trails off. he takes in a shaky breath.

—“i’m not the best husband,” he whispers. “so i thought you might be getting tired of me, being with me for so damn long. i can't believe we’ve stayed together for this long and… and married each other.”

—he doesn't meet your eyes still as the crickets continue their rhythmic chirping as you chew on your words to think of what to say.

—“stars dim all the time, but that doesn't make them any less beautiful.” you grin sweetly, squeezing his hands gently. “you’re my star, shinichiro sano. i wouldn't leave you for the world because you’re my universe. we’ll work it out. we always have. wouldn't have made it this far if we didn't.”

—the stars seem to glimmer in his eyes and yours too when he peers up. you both are cheesy, awkward, lovey-dovey messes under starglow, and you wouldn't have it any other way, hand in hand.

—you always looked so pretty under the starlight and fireflies in his eyes, even before he started to court you. you were always like a bright star—a dream in his eyes, and now his dream had come true; with you sitting next to him, sharing a quaint house, sharing two rings, sharing a tight bond that no one could untie. god, he loves you.

—and…

—oh. you’re blushing.

—wait, did he really say all of that out loud? ah. now he’s blushing too.

—it takes him back—both of you awkward, pubescent teenagers giggling and exchanging lovesick glances at each other, neither of you bold enough to make an initiative move.

—if shinichiro from the future had told his past self that he would marry you, he wouldn't have believed himself.

—he can't believe it either, really. even now. it’s been one crazy joyride, and he’s glad to have you by his side to swerve through it, potholes and all.

—a wave of exhaustion sweeps over him—one of many he had experienced throughout the tiring day—but this time it’s mixed with the warmth of your soul that makes him feel comforted and at ease. at home.

—home is a feeling, not just a place.

—shinichiro buries his face in the crook of your neck as you brush your fingers through his scalp, careful not to snag at his tousled and unbrushed hair.

—but home is also a place where you two feel loved in each other’s presence, no matter how ramshackle it is with nails sticking out of the exterior or uneven wall decor.

—the most exhilarating thing about life is the way one can mold it, like sand. no matter how much it crumbles to dust, you can build it back up to make it new, make it better, because life is always a learning experience for everyone.

—no matter how much it can wash away from the tide, reassembling the foundation is only a matter of pulling your weight into snapping the scattered pieces back together.

RAN

—you don't know where you’re running to, but you know your legs can't endure much more in your fleet. they burn with the feeling that only comes from overuse, along with the stinging tears that threaten to fall once again.

—but you know why you’re running away from the lingering conflict in your head.

—because running away is always the easiest option.

—somehow, subconsciously, your legs have carried you to a familiar sight that makes your heart ache. a stone bridge, hanging over a river that flowed through the city overlooking skylines in the distance. it isn't the most beautiful view, but sometimes the experience is better than the appearance.

—where did it all go wrong?

—ran’s huffing and puffing, legs aching to the point his knees are about to give out at any moment until he spots you. he knows you. he’s spent so much time in his life with you, so only he knows where you’d go after an encounter such as the catastrophic one you both just had.

—the bridge.

—he’d met you there as he was looking on past the moon leaning his elbows against the railing, deep in melancholic thought even when the rain soaked through his suit. he’d met you, who held out an umbrella and expressed concern for him with no ounce of fear, but rather concern. for him. he’d met you, who left your umbrella with him saying that you had a spare in your car telling him, a stranger, to keep it.

—he’d met you on your impromptu first date—same place, different time—all the familiar as he leaned forward on the stone railing while you cautiously took those same small steps as you approached to retrieve your umbrella he insisted on giving back after he (somehow) got ahold of your number.

—he’d met you, after years of dating when he suddenly told you to meet him at “the spot”, he took to calling it; your footsteps turning timid as you walked towards his handsome self who smiled brighter than sunshine when he heard the familiar clack of your shoes on the pavement.

—you, who looked at him dumbfounded when he pulled out the gleaning ring as ran haitani, the love of your life, asked you those four words with that rare and vulnerable lovestruck shyness. you, who realized the one thing ran haitani had always done for you.

—he’s always the one waiting for you.

—but who waits for him? you. you do. caring, patient you. you who stayed up past midnight before promptly passing out on the couch when ran had told you he was going to be out for longer that night. you, who always patched him up any time he had gotten an injury from his line of work with such carefulness. never hostility. you spared not an ounce.

—you, who hasn't left his side once despite him being a despicable man.

—and this time, it’s you who hears the hasty footsteps approaching.

—“[name].”

—you finally look him dead in the eyes which halt him in place, barely a metre away from where you stand.

—“do you love me, ran haitani?” you question immediately, adding more edge to your voice than you would have liked.

—you can hear him hesitate, digesting every thought and hearing the gears crank in his mind to conjure up a sincere passage to say to you. your hands grip tighter on the railings, growing impatient as the only sound you’re met with is the water flowing through the canal underneath.

—“i do!” he nearly shouts, making you jump a little at his abrupt tone. “i swear, a thousand times i do. a thousand and one and even more. and i can't deny that i… i fucked up. and i hurt you.”

—“yeah. yeah, you did,” you agree meekly.

—“that's one of my promises i made to you, my love: i swore i wouldn't hurt you.” he presses a hand over his heart. “but i want to make it up to you, to see your gorgeous smile i love, to give you the whole world and then some. and i’m… i’m going to do just that. to better myself. to better us.”

—you’re on the brink of crying again, but ran brushes them away as fast as they flow with swift sweeps of his thumb, hands caressing your face.

—you lean into him, face buried in his chest as he loops his arms around you. your voice is muffled by the familiar fabric of his shirt, but ran knows exactly what you're mumbling.

—“...promise?”

—he bites on his words for a bit in tense silence and your arms around him squeeze, holding a breath.

—“i can’t promise,” he starts, “but i will make it up to you, ‘n dedicate more of my time to you one way or another.”

—he pulls you away to prop his hands firmly on your shoulders and looks you square in the eye, any glint of lazy humour that could possibly be left over replaced with seriousness.

—“i won't make any promises until you forgive me. because i know they'll be empty until then, ‘n i don't want that. i don't want to hurt you even more than i already have, angel.”

—you sniffle then nod as warmth fills your chest in a newfound comfort at his touching words. “okay. i’ll wait for you, ran haitani.”

—a gentle smile from him molded of pure and utter adoration for you is enough for one to crawl up from the corners of your mouth. he taps your nose affectionately and watches you break into a grin.

—your husband gazes at you lovingly, basking in a serene, orange glow from the sunset dimming into the horizon with a smile that could outshine the fading rays. his heart pounds twice as fast against his ribcage as if it wasn't beating quick enough already accompanied by the fluttering in his stomach. he swears he’s falling in love with you all over again.

—god, he thinks, caressing the apples of your cheeks.

—you really are an angel.

—last part of ran’s dialogue and the promise stuff was inspired by @/fuyussi’s wakasa new years post :D

—i tried so fucking hard not to turn any of these angsty at the endings please be proud

—also should i make a taglist? would anyone be interested :o

Sometimes a poem is nothing but an unheard scream

You stood before the door to your once house. Your eyes and nose are red, lips dry, and throat hoarse. You hesitantly opened the door, entering inside you are met with the sickening smell of cigarettes. You coughed, earning the attention of the man sitting on the couch with a lighted cigarette between his lips.

His gaze was cold as he nodded, acknowledging your presence. "I'm just here to take my stuff." You said, walking towards the bedroom. You threw all your belongings in a bag as you struggled to keep the memories of last night filling your mind.

Rindou leaned on the door frame, watching you. His hands were in his pant pockets and a tired look on his face. “The night you asked to kiss me, I tried to imagine myself without you. The thing is, I could and I felt so much better,” he uttered.

Zipping up the bag, you turned to face him. "You can do whatever you want now." You said, venom dripping in your words as your cold gaze met his unbothered face.

"Y/n, we had to end it someday. I will never be that me again. I can never love you as I did before." He reasoned.

"So you thought cheating on me was better than talking it through with me?" He averted his gaze from you. He is a criminal with a stone-cold heart but with you, he can only pretend to be cold and unbothered.

"I don't even recognize you anymore. Where did the Rindou I knew go?" You sniffed back a sob as you walked past him, making your way towards the door.

"We're on our own now", he said before you slammed the door shut. A few tears slid down as you walked away. It's over.

Two months. It's been two months since you and Rindou broke up. "So y/n what do you do for a living?" The guy in front of you asked. Your friend had dragged you out to a double date with her. "I'm a writer."

You were sure that you were over him but why does this remind you of him? Your mind wandered off to your first date with him. It was a chilly day. He was wearing a turtle neck shirt with his recently done jellyfish resembling hair.

He smiled softly at you, stopping mid-conversation to find excuses to touch you or to just stare at your face. It was in a cafe just like today. But the guy in front of you was not him.

I should be over him— you thought as you tried to avoid the conversation with your date, who was interested in you. "Amy, can I leave early? I have someone to meet up with for work."

"Oh, sure. Bye babe". You smiled sweetly at her and the other two guys before exiting the cafe. "I should just stop thinking about him." You mumbled to yourself as you walked on the pavement.

"How did I end up here?" You asked yourself as you sat on the bar counter, ordering a drink. Your eyes were heavy as everything in your life just felt like a routine to you. But your heart was overflowing with emptiness.

The bitter taste of the alcohol made you close your eyes tight as you gulped it down your throat. The familiar sound of giggles caught your attention as you scanned your surroundings. A few seats away, you saw your ex-boyfriend flirting with a girl.

His hands played with her hair as he leaned in to kiss her lips. Both of them pulled each other closer as they deepened the kiss. Your heart dropped, tears suddenly flooding your eyes from witnessing the vision in front of you. You couldn't help but let the teardrops slide down your face as you saw them together, so happy and so in love.

You should have known better than to trust your heart with a criminal. Not being able to bear any more pain, you walked out of the bar.

"No... No no no" your whole body felt like it was burning. You gagged on unspoken words as you slid down the closed bathroom door. "Why was I not enough? Who will love me now?" Your lips quivered as you stepped inside the bathtub filled with warm water.

Your clothes floating in the process. You should have undressed for you to bathe but your mind was filled with void, eyes dark and lifeless as you swiped through the pictures in your phone. There was a picture of you and Rindou going golfing, you were playfully hitting his head with a golf club.

The next picture was you holding his hand as he got his neck tattooed. You joked about tattooing his name after you both married that day. A sad sob escaped your lips as you swiped to the next picture.

It was you both making a snowman, Ran had taken that picture. You swiped through every picture of you both together. They were all from a year ago. It was afterward that you both thought that you had fallen out of love. Still, you wished to fix it while he moved on.

The phone dropped from your hand as it cracked against the hard surface of the floor. Sinking into the warm water, you close your tired eyes—tired from the tears, tired from being played with, tired from being the only one who can't let go, tired of... love.

The water tickled your lips as it reached your nose, holding your breath, you sink... The water making it hard for you to breathe—no, it was hard all along. Maybe this could numb the pain. Maybe it hurt because it mattered, he mattered. But you didn't matter to him.

You cough as the water entered your nostrils, burning your senses as you struggled to open your eyes and you gasped for air but only panic and water remain. This is it.

Your eyes burned before you closed it once and for all. Face red, your limbs numb and your head hazy. With a smile, it ended. Everything ended...

The glass shattered on the floor. Rindou's eyes were wide and glued to the screen on the wall. "The best-seller author y/n was found dead in her bathroom...." Voices faded and a ringing left in his ears. Tears streamed down his face and all that occupied his mind, were you.

You were gone... He left you... He did that to you. He screamed like a madman running out of his house. "No no no no" he chanted, like this was just a dream, an ugly one—a nightmare.

"No, y/n. You can't do that to yourself." But you did and all you left in this world were your memories and the bitter aftertaste of your broken heart.

The End.

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Koko gripped the black and white diamond hair pin nervously. It has a carving of an ostrich beautifully and the diamond’s texture compliments the sparkles that radiates from the lights above him. He’s not so sure if you’re a fan of ostrich or not, the hair pin catches his eyes the moment he laid on them. It catches his eyes more than the butterfly, flower, swan, even love-carved ones presented by the shop owner. The hair pin was the most unsold, he said. Koko thinks he should considers the statement, but still he bought it. After all, the most unsold means the uniquest, right?

Right, he tried to convince himself

Suddenly, the big bedroom door opened. You walked in with two big suitcases dragged within your arms and a little note in your left hand. Koko hesitates to approach you. He was so sure it’s gonna be easy, but now the reality made doubt creeped its way up his spine to his heart.

Will you forgive him?

The question was the source of his hesitation, haunting him like a soul to its body. Been there even before the thought to buy an apology stuff, been there ever since he realized the cold sheet he slept on for six months. He hoped for the warmth of his home again when he decided to brushed his hesitation away. One step closer, he let out his voice. “You look like—“

“A body just arrived. I won’t be back until I finished all my works,” with that you walked out of the bedroom. Suitcases left behind, uncovered and untidied with a man who fell silent. Slowly, he bowed his head. Weigh made its way to his heart like a slow-motion of a crash. Slowly, surely, and painfully. The room seems to get colder, even if it’s 10.00 A.M. and the beginning of the summer. His legs lost all its support until he sat on the edge of bed. Fingers rubbing the diamond hair pin delicately as if he was trying to comfort himself.

The reality speaks its words now. No road back to forgiveness. Trapped in a cold prison-like place he built for himself.

It was so cold how you cut him off like that. Your words carved a hundred-like daggers to his heart with a deadly venom dripped from its edges. Those daggers stayed inside unreleased while its venom spreads, filling every cell of his body. Torturing him for the rest of his life.

I deserved this, he tried once again to convince himself. It’s okay, I deserved this.

The weigh will remains there in his heart, be a burden wherever he goes. As he averts his eyes to the view outside of a window, a tear escaped.

“Black emptiness as it was, something always managed to slip in. Blurred in the lines of whether it’s a light or just death making its way to visit…”

You put the make-up on top of the corpse’s face tenderly. Treat the dead respectively as if you treat the living, ‘cause a mortician’s job is to be the comfort for the dead before their burial, once your instructor said. You followed the statement. It gave you some sort of relief, knowing you can provide some help for some people. Knowing you can be useful and needed.

A feeling you’ll never get from him.

“Akane was very beautiful, no one will and ever compare to her.”

You should’ve known. You should’ve known from that moment that he’ll never look at you the way he looked at Akane.

“You should dye your hair with white color instead, (Y/N). It’ll make you look prettier.”

It hurts. It hurts so bad. It hurts to the very core when you realized you’ll never be Akane, it hurts when he doesn’t and won’t recognize you as you are. As (Y/N). Not someone else.

“Fuck it off, will you? Be more reserved like Akane, please.”

You’re tired, you don’t know what to do anymore.

The final touches has been done. The corpse is ready to be seen by the family to observe. You put the make-up aside. Your eyes studying the result of your work in case something’s missing. All has been put on, nothing’s missed. The powder set on perfectly, not too thick but not too thin either. The eyes didn’t smudged, lips red like a living. Instead of small mistakes, you found… perfection.

You found beauty. You found such a serenity in the dead. In a lifeless body.

And before this, you were never attracted to death strongly—like a string of fate.

You jolted for a second. Someone knocked the door.

Your colleague walked in, “(Y/N), your friend comes to visit you.” You looked behind him and saw Inui. The usual companion. The regular person in your life. Your only friend.

You exhaled silently, knowing what will come to you in a moment. You packed your things, gave a farewell to your colleague, and stood in front of Inui. Your eyes catching his stern face even before you get this close to him, “I can expl-“

“Let’s just talk somewhere. You need to be clear, anyway,” Inui walked off first, steps made like an impatient man. Clear and tough, you just knew you have to be honest to him. About your feelings, your conditions, all of your situations.

No more hiding, no more lying. Even if it’s just a grain of sand.

“Wounds from past, pins growing in each veins, dead soul—dead mind. The remains are only empty, void, numb…”

Red ceilings and walls, it is the usual cafe. Not too far away from your workplace, the place has been your own “asylum” with Inui to consult. Much like a diary but with Inui being the silent reader.

You told Inui all the struggles you’re faced with. The struggle of loving him, the struggle of convincing him, and now the struggle of forgiving him. Inui has been with you since you dated Koko. Even more, Inui has watched you before you approached Koko.

And he tried to warn you about the upcoming tragedy. This tragedy.

But still, your savior heart—or rather complex, because now you see it pointing its thorns back at you—decided to play its usual scenario. Saving another beings from a danger that could kill themselves. Preventing them by diving through the dangers, unaware of the fact that not every beings wanted to be saved.

Now, you realize. How painful it is to always be the hero—heroine—in every story. You look up to Inui as he set his cup of coffee. Eyes bore into each other’s, his tells a longtime tales of worries. And you’re very grateful that he took care of you tirelessly. Especially your emotional needs.

“Why did you move out from the cottage?”

You knew it. Though Inui tried his best to stay calm, there’s still a slight tremble in his voice. Honest, you tried to remind yourself. Be honest.

“He tried to find me for a longtime, Inui. I can’t stay mad at him,” it’s true. No matter how hurt you’ve been, your heart refuses to hurt those who hurt you for a longtime. It is a curse and a blessing, you once agreed. But now, you see it as more of a curse than a blessing.

Inui gives you a firm gaze, “then what about him? Did he give a fuck about you all this time? He’s all about Akane, isn’t he?” No venom, no anger, not even hatred. He asked like a person asking his friend how they’re doing, you knew it. But still, it didn’t stop you from spitting the truths in the depths of your heart. No, he didn’t. He never loved me. He always sees me as Akane.

You didn’t answer him. Instead, you confessed something which you don’t realize you said it yourself. Out loud. Away from the depths of your mind. Once locked in the darkness, came outside simply. A confession that’ll make Inui drops tears silently few moments later.

And forever will make him feel hopeless—hollow.

“I’ve been thinking…” you stopped long enough. Doubts still lingering in your head, before you push the words defeatedly. “I want—“

“Droplets… oh so sweet. So beautiful. Let it be their trail of memories—for it shall guide them through dark, narrow, hallway.”

Inui didn’t even look at you when you stood up and went home—house. It’s just a house, not a home.

At this point, “house” even isn’t worthy. More of a hell on an earth.

He doesn’t have it. Doesn’t have any strength to lift his head. Doesn’t have any courage to stare one more time at your back, as you left the cafe—your figure still visible behind the cafe’s huge glass like window while you took a glance at him one more time, as if he’s that one person you’ll always longed for. He’s afraid he’ll pour more tears than he already has, even though the ones on his lap have a wide stain already.

And even though he doesn’t want it, his thoughts took a trip back to six years ago.

Times where he met you with Koko not yet as a couple, but as a friend. Times where he would see you distracted Koko from his grief by cheerfully dragging him to cute cafes. Times where you were smiling brightly and your smile seemed unbeatable.

Now, the days were gone like a smoke of memories.

Slowly, your smile started to seem troubled. Your body didn’t move as cheerful as it was. You look tired. He should’ve knew it. How your mind began to trace around at nothingness. How your behavior changed. How you seemed to rather be alone while you always dragged Koko or him to hangout with you.

Inui choked back a sob.

If he paid more attention to you, maybe you’ll still have some smile to give. If he knew how you felt all this time, maybe he can buy much more time to be there beside you. If he could gave a much clear warnings, he can prevent this. And then you would still be the cheerful girl he knew. The girl who have a soul so bright, he could die of its luster.

And maybe, just maybe. You could be his instead.

Fuck the if’s. Fuck Koko.

He’ll never get over his grief. He’ll never forget Akane. He’ll never open his heart to anyone after her. Inui doesn’t even know if it’ll affects him when (Y/N) goes away. Whatever will happen, Inui won’t stop cursing him. He’ll hates him for the rest of his life and there’ll be no forgiveness.

Right now, he just has to wait. After all, you’re gonna move out and find peace in the end.

“Wavering heart… what’s the matter? The road of black and the road of grey, it is all yours to choose. Be strong, or you shall float between blinding of whites.”

The bottle of red wine were gripped hard.

You took a visit to the nearest wine store to buy your favorite earlier, Ruby Port. You need something sweet tonight, in fact very sweet it could awaken the diabetes moments later. You also bought a jar of painkillers, in case it could reduces the pain you feel now and later.

I want to die. I want to die, Inui.

You don’t bother preparing the glass. You will drink it in one go anyway. You may not be able to swallow the whole painkiller pills, but you surely won’t let a single drop left in your wine bottle. You afraid it would spill and stain the expensive carpet Koko has bought. You can’t waste his money, not when you won’t see him anymore.

I’m sorry. But I don’t feel loved. Not even once.

All set. The wine stood proudly on top of the glass table, the painkiller’s jar beside it. Now, you just have to wait until the clock struck to midnight. Koko usually finishes his work around that hour, so you don’t have to worry about any disturber.

I’m tired. I don’t know what to do.

You sat prettily on your chair. Fingers gently tapping the glass table, following the tune of your silent humming. Your parents used to sing it when you were a child, either through their daily basis or putting you to bed at night. It became a habit on you too. You started to sing it whenever you’re in the same room with Koko. You don’t know if Koko liked it though, you bet he was annoyed.

Thank you, Inui. Thank you so much. I’m so grateful to have a friend as good as you. It’s not your fault, I’m the one who wasn’t strong enough.

Now, you won’t hum the tune anymore. You won’t listen to your favorite song anymore. You won’t eat sweets anymore. You won’t see the sunshine nor sunset anymore. Your feet won’t touch the salty water of the sea anymore. You won’t see children running around the shore anymore.

I’ll leave tonight. Once again, thank you and I’m sorry. I hope you have a joyful life waiting in the future.

You won’t live anymore.

You’ll forget what it feels like to be alive. What it feels like to have warmth surrounding your body. What it feels like to have a beating heart. What it feels like to step your feet onto the solid ground.

But why dwell on it now?

You called the angel of death via a bottle of red wine and a jar of painkillers since three hours ago. He is sitting prettily on the table now, waiting with you for the clock to struck to midnight. Why do you think of repelling him now? Isn’t it rude to cancel the agreement you’ve just made five hours ago?

It is 11.55 PM.

Right, it is rude. You have to do it. There’s no going back. Five minutes to go. Going back only meant for cowards. And you don’t consider yourself as a coward. You have to do this. You never felt alive anyway. He drained your light, any energy you had left. He sucked it mercilessly. You didn’t have warmth surrounding your body, your heart was long stopped, and your feet longed to touch the sky.

You longed to touch the clouds, to float between air and don’t feel anything.

12.00 AM.

You pour the pills as many as you can in your hand and tried your best to fit it all in your mouth. You grabbed the bottle of wine and gulped it straight down your throat, helping the pills to pass through. You didn’t choke, no. Instead, you felt a burning sensation all over your body. Sweats covering your skin, it felt so hot yet you can’t let out a single scream. You succumbed to the pain, embracing the heat as you fell to the floor. Your mouth begins to pour some white foam, seizures all over your body.

It went for some time, until the sight of the luxury ceiling began to fade. Black and numbness took over as you exhale one last breath of life. Managed to smile even for just a few seconds.

“Empty, numbness… follow through the trail of memories—that leads to the edge of red.”

Koko hopped to the train once the door was opened. He grabbed the nearest handle since the seats were already taken by elders or pregnant women. Normally, one of his butler would drive him with his Mercedes for the more efficient road. But he decided to use the public transportation now, since he remembered that one time you took him to another cute cafe in different district.

“Inui! What happened!? Did she tell you something!?” He didn’t answer. He just looked blankly to the scene before him. Bright, yellow police’s line surrounded the room. Inside, there were three cops and one lifeless body. Two cops inspected the body while the other inspected a bottle of red wine and a jar of painkillers. Some pills fell to the desk table and the carpet.

Koko let go of Inui once he realized he won’t answer. Sobs still filled his breath, his tears long dried since he called the police. However, he was still staring at Inui. “How could this happen…”

It wasn’t really a question, more like wondering to himself. But then, Inui’s eyes snapped at him, eyebrows furrowed like a menace—a stare of disgust. Then, words like daggers flew out, “it was your fault, don’t play dumb. You killed her for the sake of Akane, didn’t you? If only you could forget her, Koko. Then she would still be here. If only, you could forget her.” With that, he walked away.

Leaving Koko froze in the place he stood, silently watched his figure getting smaller by the distance. Slowly, he looked back to the scene. Eyes directed towards a pair of feet, unmoved. Chest began to tight, body felt like jelly. And before he knew it, his body fell to the floor.

The sound of door opening can be heard again. Koko waits for other people to walk out first, so that it’ll be easy for him when he walks out.

After he exited the station, Koko took a road that leads him to a quieter place. Sounds of neighbors talking to each other, children playing the traditional games, and bicycles tires rolling off the road can be heard. He is still quite far from that place. From that one specific cottage.

He woke up from his passed out state, remembering everything. Not like some dramas or movies where the protagonist lost their memories and can continue their life without burden. He remembered everything, he felt everything. And the guilt started to eat him alive inside and out. Different from the first time it crawled up his spine, the guilt filling him fully this time.

Like a possession, he doesn’t recognize himself anymore. It used to be a shell of a someone who lived in.

The cottage was still in a great shape, despite not having someone to take care of it.

Koko went inside. His feet touched the dusty floor. Even the walls are still sturdy, though the paint has lost its fresh, green color. Koko closed the door and walked around. He looked at the paintings you’ve made. There is one painting showing a father and a daughter who hugged lovingly, the father wears green attributes while the daughter wears white attributes. It has a black background, with a sunset on a distance.

The next one is a painting of a beautiful lady with a white dress who sleeps, a red rose in her hands. Her face says serenity. It also has a black background, even the bed too. A sleeping beauty, perhaps?

There’s another one which is very simple. It’s just a painting of a rose.

Koko doesn’t know if those paintings meant something, he just looked at your masterpieces while his feet took him to every single corner of the cottage. Until he arrived at the bedroom, he sat on the bed. Mind trying to shape your apparition doing your daily activities. Ears trying to remember your soft voice, either it’s singing, humming, or just talking. Nose doesn’t have to try, your scent still lingering inside the cottage. Unfortunately, skin has lost its memory no matter how he tried to rub it together. Soft skin, touches, he can’t feel it. He can’t hallucinate it.

Which reminds him again that you’re already gone six years ago. Vanished, nowhere to be seen solidly.

Slowly, tears making its way to his eyes. He thought of how things could be different. How if he opened his heart and finally let go of someone who should rest in peace years ago, your existence would still be here beside him. Then, he would repay you by taking you to luxury places instead. Drinking on top of a hill with a sunset view, or a date in a historical palace. He would marry you and have a family together, moving towards a future. He would grow old with you while watching your grandchildren play, little feet running around the house.

But those are just another “what if’s” in his life. Reality speaks of a dreams burned in ashes, warm to recall nothing to grab.