ARCHIVED

as the minutes ticked by, the hope of him showing up dwindled. no one could mistake your dim, halfhearted smile for anything other than what it was. you tried your best to keep the spirit alive but it was no use. the ache of disappointment was too great to ignore.

it wasn't the first instance of this happening. when he wanted you to accompany him somewhere, you'd be there. but when it came to you having a function of any sort, he'd never show. leaving you to make up an excuse for his absence. this just happened to be the last time.

when he came home three days later--returning from his absolute radio silence--he found you waiting in the living room, bags packed. it was three in the morning and he couldn't imagine why you were sitting there in the dark with luggage at your feet.

"what are you doing?" he asked, flicking on the light switch.

"i'm leaving," you stated, standing and facing him. it should be obvious. you wanted to leave it at that, just telling him, but the words bubbled up in your throat and spilled out without warning. "i can't take this anymore, haruchiyo. one night. i asked for one night. all you had to do was show up and you couldn't even manage that."

"i had to work. you know how unpredictable my job is."

"it's always work. couldn't you let someone else deal with it for once? just one night. that was all i wanted."

"i'm not dealing with this right now," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and turning toward the bedroom.

"could you at least pretend to care about me?"

"i do care about you. when have i ever given you a reason to believe i don't?"

oh, you could write a book with all the examples. you chose to ignore the question. "only when it's convenient for you. otherwise, you act like i don't exist."

that seemed to be his final straw. "if you wanted to leave you have done so by now. so why are you still here?"

your hands clenched at your sides, tears burning in your throat. you knew it would end up this way, but there was always a part of you that hoped it wouldn't. because when you were with him everything was fine. or at least it felt that way. he made you happy, even when he broke your heart he'd always make it better. but this--it made you realize none of it was worth it. that fleeting happiness wasn't worth all the pain he caused.

you bent down to grab your bags and walked past him without another word, tears streaming steadily down your cheeks. as the door slammed shut behind you, a distant sound in his ears, he stared at the spot you'd been standing in. the ghost of your presence would haunt his apartment forever.

he'd sworn to do right by you every time he did wrong, but he kept messing up, kept falling into old habits again and again and again. everyone warned him he’d lose you if he didn't change and he never believed them. the only thing he hated more than them being right, was himself. he could promise to change, but he knew it'd never happen. he simply just wasn't the type of person who’d change, and in that moment, he wished he was.

you sat on the couch in the living room of your friend’s apartment, a temporary solution until you could find your own place. despite your choice to leave, you couldn’t ignore the fact you still loved him.

what was it that made you fall in love with him in the first place?

you laughed quietly to yourself, a pitiful sound. it was so obvious. it was the culmination of all the little things. all of them had your heart melting in his hands, and for so long, they outweighed all the pain he caused.

from one of the bags near the couch, you pulled one of those reasons out. a simple necklace he gave you a year into your relationship. not for an anniversary, or a birthday, or a holiday. not even as an apology. he gave it to you because he thought it'd look pretty on you. the memory made your heart swell in your chest.

you could feel the firmness of his thighs beneath where he sat you. the ghost of his fingertips brushing against your neck as he moved your hair and clasped the necklace for you. the shivers erupting down your spine at his touch. the feeling of his lips soft on your neck as he placed a kiss there in appreciation of the fact he was right: it suited you.

why did loving him have to be so painful? why couldn't walking away for good be easier?

he threw himself onto the couch, the same spot you'd been sitting in the night you left. he stared unseeing at the ceiling, head resting against the back of the couch. the apartment felt so empty without you. so cold. everywhere he looked, there were little reminders of you he couldn't bear to get rid of, in spite of the anger coursing through him. who that anger was directed towards he'd never answer.

if he really cared about you, he never should have been with you. he knew that. he'd eventually taint you, drag you into a world you didn't belong in. he wasn't weak, but he could only protect you from so much. he hated to admit it, but he was only one man.

from the night that he met you, he was drawn to you. most people were terrified or disgusted by the mere sight of him, but not you. the way you looked at him...it was so foreign. he didn't know how to describe it, but he wanted you to keep looking at him like that. never had he thought himself as the type to settle down with someone, yet he wanted to make you his.

the night he fell in love with you, truly fell in with you--he could still recall the memory clear as day. he'd needed a place far from his to stay at for a bit. the police were sniffing a little too close to him for his liking. lucky for him, he'd just started seeing you and you wanted all the time with him you could get. and he couldn’t get you out of his head.

when he showed up at your door, you didn't hesitate to let him in. it was the first time he'd gone to a woman's place. he'd never needed to before. usually opting for the backroom of a club or the nearest hotel. this was new territory for him, but not unwelcome. you stayed up all night with him, just talking. he was surprised to find himself caring about what you were saying and actively participating in the conversation.

you didn't question when he showed up for the next few nights, greeting him with a warm smile each time. the feelings you evoked in him terrified him. he didn't know how to handle them. he'd end up disappearing for days on end, sleeping with other women, or disposing of the bodies of traitors. without fail, he'd be shrouded in guilt each time. swearing to do better.

he thought moving you in with him would change things, neglecting the danger it put you in. changing his nature wasn't as easy as he'd thought it'd be. he was determined. every time he fucked up by falling into old habits he promised he'd do better starting the next day. but the cycle continuously repeated. and then you were gone. taking every bit of light from his life with you.

he just needed to accept he'd never be the right person for you. despite how much he wanted to be. he needed to let you go.

after over a year apart, he'd always show up at your door when you called on him. when you needed him, he'd be there in a heartbeat. a change made too late. you'd be lying if you said you weren't taking advantage of that fact.

tonight, when you called him, you told him you didn't feel safe at your apartment. which wasn't a lie. earlier, you'd noticed someone following you, and the only thing keeping him from following you all the way to your door was the fact the building door could only be opened by a keycard. it may not have been the smartest thing to enter your building with him tailing you, but you weren't thinking clearly due to the panic buzzing through you.

thoughts of worse-case-scenario swarmed you to the point of calling on your ex. because even though you were the one who broke things off, he was still the one you felt safest with. and, in all honesty, you missed him. you always missed him right when you thought you were fine without him. it hurt you every time.

why sanzu had your spare keycard was beyond you, but you didn't really care. he was at your door within fifteen minutes of hanging up the phone, hands in the pockets of his slacks as he waited for you to answer the door. he'd let himself in, but he was trying to exercise some self-control.

"you shouldn't open the door for strangers," he said by way of greeting. "you could get hurt."

he stepped inside when you opened the door wider, and you replied, "you're not a stranger and you wouldn't hurt me."

"haven't i?" he looked at you when he said it, something vaguely sad in his eyes. he took his shoes off and led himself into the living room. after a brief survey, he said, "you've redecorated."

your brows raised with surprise. you honestly didn't think he'd notice. it wasn't like you changed everything, only swapping out some minor decorations to fit a new aesthetic. everything else was the same. the couch, the table, even the rug were the same. "i didn't do much."

a simple nod was his only response. he crouched down by the coffee table, bending to look under it. and then the couch. and the lamp. he looked over every piece of furniture. you frowned but didn't stop him.

he searched your apartment for anything unusual or out of place. you trailed after him, a little curious as to what he was doing. if he was snooping, he was definitely bold to do it with you watching. but that wasn't it.

he never told you about the details of his work. one of the few things he wanted was for you to be kept away from that part of his life as much as possible. however, there were instances where parts of it would seep into the relationship. unavoidable glimpses into his darkest parts. he hoped tonight had nothing to do with him. that the man following you was unrelated to his work. he'd lose himself if anything happened to you because of him.

though he knew he should keep his distance, he couldn't resist coming to you every time you called. it was a risk then, and it was a risk now. he should let you go. He really should. but he didn't want to.

your bedroom was the last place he checked. nothing unusual turned up in any of the rooms. he was relieved but he'd still stay for the night. just in case. from your closet, he pulled out a spare pillow and blanket for the couch.

as he walked towards your bedroom door, you grabbed his hand to stop him. the words caught in your throat, but you forced them out anyway. "stay with me. i don't want to be alone."

he didn't look at you when he replied. "we both know what'll happen."

"and?"

"i thought you were done with me? isn't that what you said the last time?"

you didn't say anything, only tightening your grip on his hand. when he turned around, it was like something shifted inside of him. a hint of the wildness that had initially drawn you to him returning. yet his touch was gentle, almost cautious, as he cupped your cheek.

"if you want me to stay, i'll stay,” he said, leaning in until only an inch separated you. “but remember, this was your idea."

"it always is," you said, the words leaving on a breath, and pulled his lips against yours. you wrapped your arms around his neck, his wrapped around your waist. both of you trying to get closer to the other. it always ended up like this. finding your way back into each other's arms. constantly pulled to each other despite the effort put into staying apart.

how could you resist the temptation within your reach when all you could think about when he wasn't around was him. more than his presence, you craved his touch. no one made you feel so safe while also lighting your every nerve on fire.

his tongue slid against yours, a familiar dance. one of his hands trailed down your body until he was cupping your ass. he swallowed the moan you let out.

both of his hands found their way to the backs of your thighs. he hoisted you up, never breaking away from your lips. it wasn’t his room but he knew it’s layout like it was, blindly walking to the side of your bed.

he set you on the bed, finally parting from your lips, and crawled in beside you. propping himself up on one arm, he grazed his fingers over the stretch of skin where your shirt had ridden up. the intensity with which he looked at you had your breath catching in your throat.

his hand dipped under the waistband of the pants you had yet to take off—changing was the furthest thing from your mind when you got home. that little action drew a gasp from you. he smirked down at you, the scars around his mouth pulling with the movement.

he circled his fingers slowly around your clit. he relished the way you were already writhing under his touch. you always were so sensitive to the way he handled you.

“more,” the plea left you on a whisper, pushing your hips down for more friction against his hand.

“so needy,” he chided but obliged your request. he tugged your pants down just enough to give him room to work. once he’d given himself a moment to admire your bare cunt, he dragged his fingers through your wet folds before dipping one inside. a soft moan met his ears.

he pumped his finger slowly into you, warming you up enough to slip a second finger in. your hands wrapped around his forearm as he curled his fingers, eliciting yet another moan from you. you were getting restless beneath him. pushing your hips against his hand. his torturous movements weren't enough for you despite how good they felt.

he took pity on you and sped up the pace of his fingers. wet sounds mixing with your soft noises. the whole time he watched you from above, taking in the way you crumbled beneath him.

the grip you had on his arm tightened, your back arching. "that's my girl," he said, smiling at the way you clenched around his fingers. he guided you through your shaking orgasm with deft fingers.

as your orgasm waned, you looked up at him. "enough stalling, fuck me already."

oh, you didn't have to tell him twice. he helped you take off your pants while you rid yourself of your shirt and bra. he scooted to the edge of the bed, hands already unbuttoning his shirt. you watched the way the fabric slipped down his arms. the muscles of his exposed back rippled as he bent to take off his pants. he turned to you, fully bare, and your heart raced as you met his eyes.

he crawled over to you, finding himself between your legs once again. he trailed soft kisses up from your hips, pausing at your breasts. hands braced on either side of your body, he kept his head dipped to suck on one of your nipples. swirling his tongue around the peaked bud. he released it with an audible pop, moving on to the other one and repeating his actions. he only stopped when you tugged at his hair. the trail of kisses continued from your collarbone, up your neck and jaw, and finally, he reached your lips.

you reached down between your bodies, hand wrapping around his hard cock. with some effort, you managed to line his tip up with your desperate hole. Your cunt sucked his throbbing cock in with ease. he swallowed your moan as he held back his own. whatever facade he'd put up that night was crumbling away with that single stroke. he started a slow pace, desperate to make this night last.

eyes closed, your hands roamed over his sides as he broke away from your lips. your breaths huffed out of you, interrupted by soft noises of pleasures. back then, he would fuck you like he had nothing to lose, drawing out every sinful melody from your pretty lips. but now, on nights like these, he fucked you like he had everything to lose. those little noises coming from you now--he'd give anything to hear them every night for the rest of his life.

"this is the last time, sanzu." the words spilled out of you, cutting through the moment with a sharpness that even you felt. he had to admit, it stung for you to not call him by his name. he shoved that ache aside.

"you say that every time," he said, resting his forehead against yours, breaths mixing with your own.

your retort died in your throat as his strokes grew faster, harder. not by much but enough to drag a sigh from your lips. you raised your legs higher, giving him access to thrust deeper. and he did. the tip of his cock kissed the one spot that had your toes curling repeatedly.

"sanzu," you moaned out, pushing your hips against his, meeting his thrust. that name--the one that was his but wasn't--coming from your lips was grating on his ears. he didn't want to hear from you. not now, not then, not ever.

"please," he begged, head nestled in the crook of your neck. his strokes, long and deep, never faltered. "say it. just this once, say my name."

you ran your hand through his hair. "haruchiyo." he shuddered at the sound of it. no one said his name like you did. you wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. and repeated his name. again and again. a mantra to an aching soul.

the last time you called him by his first name was the night you left. his lips pressed against the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and nipping. intent on leaving a little mark on you. it was the only thing he could do to keep what remained of his composure--which wasn't much.

he never should have been with you. but consequences be damned, he needed you in his life. even if only in these fleeting moments. he'd come back every time. just for a taste.

your back arched against him. "close," you mumbled out. "please, haruchiyo."

he lifted his head from its home on your neck. he wanted to watch you cum. to see the way your eyes looked back at his while that small death claimed you. he cradled your face with one hand. in that moment, he wanted to make you every promise under the sun. but he could never ensure your happiness. so he could give you this at least.

a few more deep thrusts were all you needed. a shiver crawled down his spine as he watched you twitching beneath him. you dragged your nails down his back, moaning his name as he guided you through your orgasm.

feeling your pussy spasming around him sent him over the edge of his pleasure. painting you white from the inside. he hovered over you, forehead to forehead, panting in tandem with you.

i love you. the words died in his throat. he couldn't say them now. he wished he'd said them before. always--he'd always regret missing that chance.

a few hours past and you lay awake, staring at his back, chest rising and falling in his sleep. your fingers ghosted over his spine. the words you'd said earlier came rushing back, striking you with a force that had your heart clenching in your chest. "this is the last time, sanzu." a lie. a burning lie on the tip of your tongue. you could say it a thousand times and it'd never be true.

you knew he had his faults, things he hid away from you, but you wanted to believe that deep down he had something good buried away. something unseen that was the reason he was deserving of love. you'd give him chance after chance, and it didn't matter if he'd hurt you in the end.