amateur writer

You sat at your desk, face illuminated by the soft glow of your desk lamp. The sound of your keyboard going clack clack clack echoed throughout the empty office floor, with the occasional pause in between.

It was an eternity before you finally looked up from your laptop, body collapsing into the chair (they, you thought with a sigh, should really invest in something more comfortable). You lifted one arm, draping your elbow over your forehead.

You should've never agreed to take on this project when your boss asked you to. "'It's just a little more work' my ass," you muttered through gritted teeth. If one week of pure overtime was considered just a little extra work, you didn't want to know what he thought was a lot of it. You groaned as you sat back up to reach for your phone, back aching from the multitude of postures you were sifting through the last several hours. Turning it on, your grip tightened as you checked the time.

Great. You just missed the last train that would take you back home.

You rubbed at your temple, letting out the millionth sigh of that day. You could hail a taxi, hypothetically, but it would definitely require you to cut something out from this month's budget. Like two weeks' worth of coffee.

You kind of needed that.

You sighed again. It was better than spending the night at the office, you supposed.

Exhaustion seeped into every bone of your body, a weight heavy enough to make getting up a more difficult task than usual. The numbness in your legs made you wobble a little — the stiff footwear you used for work did not help — but you managed to stand upright after a few tries.

There wasn't too much to pack up today, thankfully. You were doing a last once-over at your desk when your phone vibrated in your hand. You glanced at the screen, eyebrows scrunched up — who would be texting you during these hours?

Hey, hey! Off from work yet?

Your heart jumped a little at the name. "Satoru...?" you mumbled, confused.

Your thumbs flew across the screen. Just finished up. I'm about to leave. ...why?

Another ding! echoed through the room, almost as soon as you sent the text.

Guess who's waiting downstairs!

Somehow, that was all it took for all the fatigue you were feeling to melt away. Without a second thought, you grabbed your bag and rushed over to the elevator. Why he was here, you didn't know. But you weren't going to complain.

It felt like an eternity when you finally reached the lobby. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes before walking out of the elevator, hands warm despite the chill weather. Your eyes swept across the area until they landed on a certain white-haired sorcerer.

He had noticed you first, you could tell. Maybe even as soon as you had stepped out. His feet were pointed in your direction, and he wore that same stupid grin you knew oh-so-well as he gave you a lazy wave.

Your shoes clacked against the polished floors in a tempo faster than usual, a hand tightly grasping onto the strap of your bag. You hoped that the warmness you were feeling in your cheeks did not make a physical appearance.

He called out your name as you approached, meeting you halfway. You tilted your head to one side, studying him. A clean button-down, and sunglasses instead of his usual blindfold — not the look he often went for, that was for sure. "What's the occasion?" you asked, almost hesitantly.

"What, this dress shirt?" He pretended to dust off the sleeves. "I always wear it underneath the uniform. And as for the lack of blindfold" —he tilted his head down and batted his lashes at you— "didn't you miss looking into my eyes?"

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "And when did I ever 'look into your eyes'?" You skillfully avoided making eye contact with him, walking towards the glass doors. He followed you, strides wide.

"Every time we had a sparring match, you would—"

"Okay, that's different," you retorted as you let him open the door. "I would've been blown into smithereens if I hadn't focused on you."

He let you out first, following behind you. "If you say so. But I know my charm's hard to resist."

You gave him a playful punch in the arm, and he faked a wince. "What are you here for, anyways?"

"Whaaat, can't I just visit my favorite classmate for no reason?"

You snorted. "We both know you're lying."

"Lie?" He put a hand to his chest, letting out a dramatic gasp. "I would never!"

"Right, right." You tried to hold back a smile. "What's the actual reason?"

Seeing that he was getting a reaction, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed in the same theatrical manner. "Well, if you must know."

"Uh huh."

"I was sent on a mission recently."

"Mhm." You vaguely remembered him saying something about that.

"And there was a shit ton of curses — more than the usual volume. It was a pain in the ass."

You raised an eyebrow. "You said the same thing about the last mission."

"Okay, but this time it's true! And I defeated them all on my own, of course." He gave you a lopsided grin.

"Where does you coming to pick me up from work play into this?"

"I was getting there! You could at least praise me a little before that."

"Mmm. Good job, Satoru. I'm glad you're making up for the lack of my and Nanami's presence in the jujutsu world."

He sighed, pouting. "You sound sarcastic."

"Maybe 'cause it was meant to be sarcastic." There was a teasing glint in your eye. "Jokes aside, though, really—you must be tired."

"Sooo tired. If only the great sorcerer had come with me…" He said the second part while staring pointedly in your direction, almost accusingly.

"Uh huh. The great sorcerer who hasn't trained in—" You paused, counting the numbers in your head. "At least seven years. Definitely would've eased your burden by tenfold."

"More like hundred—no, thousandfold. Don't undersell yourself."

He sounded so serious that you might've believed him if you had lived under a rock.

"If you say so, Satoru…" Your gaze wandered towards the bag he was carrying in the other hand. "Were you holding that this whole time?"

He clicked his tongue, holding the bag up by the straps as if it were a prized trophy. "It seems like all this nine-to-five is affecting your vision. You do recognize this, don't you?"

"Yeah..." You sent him a promo video about this dessert place a few days ago. "Isn't the wait for that place super long?"

He nodded. "Trust me, you don't wanna know how many hours I had to stand in line for this." He opened the bag, gesturing it towards you. "C'mon, pick something. I got one of each."

You examined the contents of the bag; it really did look like he bought the whole store. You didn't even know how all of that managed to fit.

Just as you were about to reach in, you felt a drop of water land on your cheek. You abandoned the treats and held up a hand, looking at the sky with a frown. "Is it raining?"

He peered up thoughtfully as the people around you rushed to find shelter. "Seems like it."

You dug inside your own bag looking for the umbrella you brought, but to no avail. You furrowed your brows, confused. "I could've sworn I took it before I left..." You glanced up at Satoru, asking a question you already knew the answer to. "You don't happen to have an umbrella on you, do you?"

He shrugged. "You know I don't use those."

You grumbled. "Of course." Seemed like you were the only one who was going to get wet in this weather.

"But I do have a proposal."

There was a twinkle in his eyes when you looked back at him — or, at least you could imagine there was one behind those dark lenses from the way he was speaking. You shielded your face from the cold pellets — it really was beginning to pick up — waiting for him to continue.

Instead of speaking, he raised his finger and placed it on your soaked shoulder. Instantly, you felt the difference — definitely no more rain, and perhaps slightly hotter. Although you weren't sure if the latter was because of his infinity. You glanced up, watching the way the water hit the invisible shield and slid down without touching you.

"Whaddaya say?" Satoru's voice brought you back to reality. He wiggled his eyebrows at you as you wiped at your face with your forearm.

"You look stupid."

"Hey!"

You ignored the barrage of sentences that came out of his mouth after that, your focus limited to that one area on your shoulder. You weren't complaining about this situation, but it would feel a little awkward if the two of you just walked the whole way like this.

Hm.

Maybe it was the silence of the empty streets, or the adrenaline that was coursing through your body. Or the fact that you had such a long day that this miniscule amount of contact was enough to make you delusional.

You lightly placed your hand on top of his finger, glancing at his face for any signs of discomfort. He had stopped talking at some point, not that you were paying attention. He only cocked his head at you, his bangs falling to one side in one perfect motion.

You turned back to his hand, tugging at it slightly. He let it fall to his side, and you — biting your lip, ignoring the way your ears were loud with the drumming of your heartbeat — carefully clasped it in yours. You looked at him again, almost timidly.

His face and body language were…unreadable.

For a second, your heart sank. Maybe you misread the signs, maybe that was just the guy Satoru was — someone who picked his friends up from work, even if it was in the dead of night.

Yeah, maybe friends do do that — Satoru could be pretty nice when he wanted to be—

Your chest felt tight, too tight, not in a way where you couldn’t breathe but it was hitting dangerously close. And you, you were pulling away, your feet moving faster than your arm, your mouth opening to give him a pathetic apology laced with some stupid excuse in hopes that the both of you could just pretend nothing happened and—

You felt a tug on your hand, and blinked. "..?"

The corners of his mouth were quirked upwards, lines so steep you could’ve sworn you saw dimples. His grip on your hand was firm, you realized. He was holding your hand back.

“Might be the first idea of yours that I can get on board with.” He readjusted his fingers so that they interlaced with yours. “Much better, hm?”

Your breath hitched at the movement. They fit so perfectly, too perfectly. As if your hand was molded to fit his, and his to fit yours.

Warm, you thought. It was warm. And much bigger than you expected.

“Yeah,” you murmured, the previous anxiety fading into something bubbly. Jumpy, almost. Your thoughts settled as the both of you stood there in silence, as you readjusted to this new situation. It took a moment for everything to hit.

You hadn’t planned on confessing — well, you didn’t, but you might as well had. It couldn't get more straightforward than this.

“Since when?” you finally asked. Clearly your feelings were at least somewhat reciprocated.

He grinned. “Would you believe me if I told you that it was love at first sight?”

Your answer was immediate. “No.”

“Sheesh. That confident?”

“If it was from our high school days, you would’ve said something long ago.”

“I guess you’re right.” He hummed, drawing invisible circles into the back of your hand with his thumb. “I guess I knew when they started sending me on solo missions abroad.”

“So…” You furrowed your brows, counting. “…about five years ago?” That was when your yearly hangouts (more like catch-up sessions) went from very few to one-if-you’re-lucky. And Satoru became much more, text-inclined, was the best way you could put it.

“Give or take." His voice had a soft vulnerability to it. A tone you really weren't expecting. "What about you?”

“Um.” You paused, a little embarrassed. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when his quips started feeling more endearing than annoying, or when you started looking forward to his random, out-of-the-blue calls. But still, your estimated timeline felt awfully small next to his.

He noticed your silence and pouted. “I was worth that little to you up until recently?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say recently…” you trailed off, looking away. “More like…about seven months ago?”

“You’re a whole fifty-something months too late. You better make it up to me somehow.”

“Isn’t it your fault for not being charming enough?”

He huffed. “I have plenty of charm. It just took you too long to see it.”

“Maybe watching a bunch of women crowd around you whenever we met up was a turn off.”

“See? Plenty of charm.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Right.”

The warmth radiating from Satoru's skin was almost addicting. It was funny, how something so simple could be so intimate. You could feel the roughness of his palm, the slight bumps of the veins connecting to the knuckles. If you stilled yourself enough, you could feel his pulse — or maybe yours, it was hard to tell at this point.

Would his heart be beating so fast, like yours was? Was he also wondering what he should do next? Say next? Nervous was not a word you'd use to describe this egotistical man, but you'd never seen him in a formal romantic relationship, so you wouldn't know.

You still had a lot of questions swimming around in your head, the most notable being "why?". You shook your head; you'll find space for that conversation another time. You weren't sure if you could even handle that topic in your current state — dazed, slightly confused, almost…feverish?

You sneezed, and you suddenly remembered that you probably had to head home at some point. Wait, in what direction were the two of you even walking towards?

"Were you planning on walking me home?" you asked. The soreness in your feet was slowly making itself known again.

"I was following you," he said, confused.

"…"

"…"

The two of you stared at each other, unmoving.

"…….."

"Oops?"

"…………………….."

He gave you a sheepish grin, scratching his cheek. "Taxi?"

The goodbye was a little more awkward than what you were used to, one filled with more touches than words. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles as you got ready to get into the cab, his sunglasses sliding down just enough for you to see the crinkle of his eyes. When you had to close the door, he reluctantly let go, letting your hand slide away from his. But not before sliding the bag of sweets over to you.

"All of it?" you asked. "You should take some." You felt bad enough that he waited in line just for those.

He shook his head, a sly smirk resting on his face. "I gotta have an excuse for coming over, don't I?"

"Pfft." You giggled. "Who said I'd let you?"

"Of course you will. You can't get enough of me."

You rolled your eyes. "Now I wonder where this sudden confidence is coming from."

He gave you a cheeky grin before turning to the driver, pulling out some cash from his wallet. After he told her the address, he stepped back onto the sidewalk. He waved to you as the engine started, and you waved back. Kept waving until he was just a small dot down the street.

The ride was quiet. The driver didn't talk much, and you appreciated that. You rested your head against the cool window, watching the drops of water encase the blur of colors in small, irregularly-shaped circles.

Well, damn. That happened.

You fidgeted with your hands, running one finger across your palm. Traced what was left of the warmth his hand provided. Pressed down at the areas where his calloused fingertips brushed against your skin.

This was going to be a long night.

The feeling of his touch lingered long after you got out of the cab and thanked the driver with a tip. The rain had finally stopped, leaving a cool draft in its wake, but your face still felt unbearably hot. You kept replaying the moment where you reached for his hand…and he let you, as if it was the most natural thing in the world — you'd never even daydreamed this far.

You didn't remember how you got to your apartment, let alone how you showered and ended up in your bed with your pajamas. But the grumble of your stomach eventually snapped you out of your thoughts, albeit momentarily.

Right. You hadn't had dinner yet.

You stumbled over to the living room, where you had left the bag of sweets. It was late, and you didn't want a heavy meal, anyways.

You peered inside to grab that snack you were eyeing before the rain started, but froze when you saw something that way-too-closely resembled the umbrella you had forgotten at the office. You took it out, squinting.

Yup, that was your umbrella alright. How did this even—?

As if on cue, your phone buzzed (when did you leave it on the table?).

Egotistical Tree Pole: Don't forget your umbrella next time, yeah? :P

You stared at it until the screen went dark.

The jujutsu world is a cruel, cruel place. You had cemented that statement as fact well over a decade ago.

You don't know when it started. Maybe it was with Suguru, the way he carried himself after that one mission with Satoru. His smiles stopped reaching his eyes, and his words were few. You had questioned him about his uniform once, why he was still wearing long sleeves despite the blistering heat. He just gave you an empty twitch of his lips and told you that it was nothing.

And then came Yu — that cheerful, bright-eyed boy whose contagious smile rivaled the radiance of the sun. You remember seeing his lifeless body on that table, his skin pale and his chest still. That scar does not belong on his face, you had thought, bringing one trembling hand to his cheek. Not at all.

You then turned to look over at Suguru -- your rock, your anchor. The light in his eyes, which had dimmed since he came back from the star plasma vessel mission, had completely faded away. Not even a flicker as he stared on, completely still. He only parted his lips to tell Kento to not worry about the mission. To let Satoru handle the rest. Then his hands -- rough, calloused hands from years of relentless training -- moved to cover Yu's face with the white sheet, as if he could bear to look on no longer.

The next few weeks went by in a flash; you yourself could only revisit short snippets of the memory. The rot and decay clinging onto your clothes to the point where you had to throw the set away because the smell lingered no matter how many times you put it in the washer. The last conversation you had with Suguru before his mission where you pulled him into a tight hug that you can't remember if he reciprocated. That afternoon when Yaga pulled you into the hallway with news you had somehow already expected but refused to believe regardless.

"Can't we just leave everything to him from now on?"

Kento's reply to Suguru that day in the morgue rung in your ears every night before you went to sleep, and every morning when you sat between Shoko and what was now an empty chair.

You could see Satoru, fully unobstructed. His eyes blank as he stared down at his desk, as quiet as he had been the first few weeks of classes during your first year. The boy, who was told since birth that the fate of the world rested on his shoulders, who had met someone that could carry that weight with him, was back to bearing it alone.

For a while, things were quiet. Too quiet. The classroom used to be filled with the voices of Satoru and Suguru bickering over nothing, the laughter of you and Shoko as the two of you watched on in amusement. There were slumber parties over the weekends, and one too many movie marathons incorporated into a number of them. Now, the classroom felt cold and gray, and the sleepovers were put on an indefinite pause -- as if Yu and Suguru had taken all life with them when they left.

The group now consisted of four people instead of six, and all inside jokes slipped past the jagged gaps, falling on deaf ears. Laughters felt forced and conversations fell silent. Hangouts were already few and far between, but became even rarer when Kento eventually stopped showing up at all. You didn't press further, didn't question why. You could see it in his eyes, in everyone's eyes -- grief was a parasite that could not be willed or chased away.

You yourself thought about leaving this part of the world behind many, many times. Could you handle another one of your friends dying? Let the scent of their blood sear into your brain? Peer into their lifeless eyes and carry their limp, unresponsive body back to the school?

You didn't know. You weren't sure. But you stayed anyways, because that was what you were taught to do -- kill curses, save lives, sacrifice yourself if it came down to it. That was all you knew to do. That was the job of a sorcerer.

Hours blended into days, days blended into weeks, weeks blended into months. The passion you had coming in two years ago -- back when the prospect of being a jujutsu sorcerer was something akin to being a worshipped hero -- had long been distinguished. Every night, you wondered what you were doing, if it was even worth it to continue.

Satoru had changed, too. Still as stuck up as ever, still just as blunt, but anyone who knew him before everything happened would be able to tell that something was amiss. And Shoko -- while she wasn't as obvious with her feelings, her sarcastic comments came with a lot less enthusiasm.

By the time Ichiji had joined the school, you felt like a husk of your former self. No, you were; you used to be like this boy, used to bask in the adrenaline of wondering what came next. His eyes reminded you of Yu's, of the old you, and you wondered how many missions it would take until the they, too, would be robbed of that joy and excitement.

"He's not going to last one mission," Satoru said to you and Shoko one day. "He should just give up while he still can."

Normally, you would've responded to that comment by telling him to have some faith in his juniors. But Yu's lifeless face flashed across your mind, and you clenched your fists.

"That's very straightforward of you," you said instead.

The jujutsu world is a cruel, cruel place. That statement cemented itself as fact with every solo mission you were sent on, every injury that appeared on your friends' bodies.

Even now, it rings in your ears as you ignore the burning in your lungs, the stinging of your cuts. As you choose to stare at the man in front of you, your feet frozen and your eyes wide.

Suguru clamps a hand over his wound, letting out a dry chuckle. His hair frames his face perfectly as he peers up at you.

Even in death, you think, he's beautiful.

He calls out your name, voice hoarse but soft. Calls out your name the same way he did when the both of you were still students -- quiet, gentle. Looks at you in the same way, too.

"Suguru," you murmur back.

You have thought about this moment a million times, let it replay a million times more. What you would say to him, what he would say to you. And every time you do, there's that ache in your chest -- a want so desperate that it claws at your ribs in the most painful of ways.

Here he is in front of you. Yet you do not know what to do.

He smiles when you decide to sit down on that asphalt floor. Your heart does not skip a beat. Instead, you examine his face, notice the way his features have grown sharper. He does not speak as you do so; he lets you stare, waits until you're ready to talk. He's always been like that -- patient, composed.

"How are you?" you finally say. Present tense, because it hurts less to pretend.

"I've been well." You don't need to elaborate -- he understands what you mean. "What have the three of you been up to?" A question that you both know he already knows the answer to.

You fiddle with your hands. "Satoru's a teacher, now," you say. "Shoko's the school nurse. And I just get sent on missions all over the place."

He grins. "Quite the sorcerers you have become."

"I suppose." You offer him a half smile in return.

For a while, the both of you sit in silence. You savor his steady presence for a moment longer before you talk again. "You know, things haven't been the same without you."

Satoru lost the only person who could keep up with him in both banter and combat. Shoko lost someone she could sit in hours of comfortable silence with and ramble about random medical facts to. You lost the one you could turn to at any point of the day for deep conversations.

A piece of Suguru was embedded into all three of your hearts, buried so deep that to take it out would mean to slice the chest open and dig, dig, dig until the only thing left was a pile of bleeding flesh.

"Hm? Is that so?" he says.

You do not know if he means that question genuinely, but you answer anyways. "Yeah," you say quietly.

The words you want to blurt out burn the back of your throat, the emotions you want to place sting the corners of your eyes. You bite your lip and stare at the blood-stained ground.

He says your name again. You slowly raise your gaze to meet his.

"I don't have much time left, do I?"

He says it as if he were asking about the weather, as if it were something mundane.

"I don't know," you lie. You look at his tattered robes, at his cut skin. "Do you want me to…?"

If he is in pain, he does not show it. His eyes crinkle, and in that moment, your chest tightens. If it meant that you could see this smile in your sleep, you'd be willing to relive this nightmare until your last breath.

"Would it be too much to ask for you to stay?" His voice is barely audible.

When you shake your head, he laughs, and then winces.

"I'm fine," he reassures you when he sees the way your eyebrows furrow. "Still as big of a worrywart as ever, aren't you?"

"If you and Satoru weren't out there being stupid half the time, I wouldn't have worried."

"Touché."

You move over to sit next to him, ignoring the way his blood seeps into your clothes, the way it pools at your feet. You lean against him as gently as you could, and he does the same.

His breathing is shallow, irregular. You feel it in the way his chest heaves, in the way he pretends he isn't gasping for air. You close your eyes, trying to take in it all, even with the metallic scent in the air.

"I would have followed you, if you had asked me to," you whisper.

"I know," he says. "That's why I didn't."

You don't know how long you had stayed there, how much time had passed. But when you open your eyes again, he sits slumped against you, heavy and unmoving.

"Suguru?" you say.

"Sunshine, what are you doing?"

You jumped a little at Casper's voice. It had been a few days since he permanently moved in with you, but it was still difficult to get used to the fact that you were no longer living alone. You turned your head slightly to see him peering over your shoulder, staring at the screen in front of you.

"Playing Minecraft," you said. "Ever heard of it?"

"No." A beat of silence, and then a quiet “hrm” before he continued talking. "And you find this activity...entertaining enough go hours without talking to me?"

You giggled at the slight pout in his voice, fully turning around to look at him. “‘Hours’ would be an exaggeration. Besides, I'm talking to you now”—you rested your arms on the back of the chair, putting your head down and peering up at him through your lashes—“aren’t I?”

He huffed. "This conversation — if you can even call it one— hardly counts, Sunshine."

You blinked at him. "Is that so?"

"..." His crimson eyes were locked onto yours for only a brief moment before he looked away. He covered the lower half of his face with one hand, eyebrows furrowing as the red creeped up to the tips of his ears. "You need to stop…doing that."

"Doing what?" you said innocently. "Looking at you? It would be rude not to when you're talking."

"That was not what I meant, and you know it."

You flashed him a cheeky grin before sitting back up. “Sorry. You're just too cute when you're flustered."

"I am not cute. We have been over this," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "In any case, I do not understand how this 'Minecraft' could be more important than me."

“Aww, is Grimmy jealous?”

“I am not.”

“But you totally are.”

“You’re deluding yourself, Sunshine. How could I be jealous over a game?”

“Maybe.” You tilted your head to one side, an idea springing into your mind. “Say, would you wanna give it a go?”

He raised an eyebrow. “And why would I want to do that?”

“I dunno. You might find it fun.” You shrugged. “And it would be nice to play together sometime.”

He seemed to perk up at the latter proposal. “Perhaps I will, then.”

You stood up, and he plopped into the chair. “I'm assuming you've never played video games before?" you asked.

He shook his head. "I did not have the time for such leisure. Collecting souls is quite time consuming, as I am sure you understand by now."

“Right. Grim reaper duties and yaddy yadda.”

"'Yaddy...yadda'...?" he repeated slowly.

"...nevermind." You made a mental note to give him a comprehensive list of slang later. “All that didn’t stop you from texting and calling me, though.”

He paused. “You were part of my job. Technically speaking.”

“Well, technically, I guess,” you agreed. “Anyways.”

You spent a few minutes explaining the basic controls—the WSAD buttons, the space bar, the keybinds most people nowadays know by muscle memory. After about five minutes, he seemed to get the hang of it, and you watched as he wandered further into the cave.

"It is quite dark in here," he said.

"Yeah, I ran out of torches. I was mining coal when you came up to me.” You leaned in closer. “Open the inventory. Now drag that”—you pointed to the sticks—“to this square here. And place the coal in the square above it. Great! Take the torches."

"How did the sticks and coal produce light?" he said. "There was no fire."

"I dunno. It's a game, just roll with it. Now right click a block to place it."

“Anywhere?”

“Mhm.”

"…this makes no sense. How is it attached to the stone?“

"You'll find that a lot of things don't make sense. Don't question Minecraft logic."

Before he could argue more, there was a hiss. He frowned, moving his mouse around to find the source of the noise. “What was—?"

He turned around just in time to come face-to-face with the creeper, and then—

Boom.

The two of you stared at the "You Died!" that replaced the dimly-lit cave he was trying to navigate through. You burst out laughing while he looked on in confusion.

"What—how—?" he sputtered, swiveling around to look at you. "How did I die? You—ugh, stop laughing this instant!"

"Oh, Casper..." You grinned at him, wiping a stray tear from your eye. "It's okay. It happens to the best of us."

“This is ridiculous.” He turned back to the screen as if staring any harder would miraculously give him an answer. “‘Sunshined_Sunflowers was blown up by Creeper’?” he read. “Suiting username, Sunshine, but was that what it was? The grim reaper does not die. It should be the other way around!”

“Uh—uh huh.” You collected your composure and nodded along on in agreement. “Yup. How dare they lay a hand on you?”

“Exactly! To be so bold as to kill me…” He frowned, deep in thought. “I shall seek revenge another time.”

"'Another time'?"

"I have died, have I not?"

"Well, yes, but not permanently. Just click respawn and you'll be as good as new."

"What? You can come back from the dead?" he said incredulously. "That is impossible."

"You really never played video games before, huh.” You reached over him and clicked respawn. “I mean, if you cranked the difficult up to hardcore, yeah, coming back would be impossible.

"As it should be."

“If you say so, Grimmy. I can show it to you if you wanna try it for yourself. Although with your current skill level…” You trailed off.

He looked at you. “Are you implying that I would be unfit to take on such a task?”

“Someone certainly sounds offended.”

“Of course I’m offended. That—that thing merely snuck up on me is all. Had I been prepared for its arrival, I would have cleanly sliced off its green little head.”

“Uh huh…let’s test that theory out another time.” You stretched, yawning. “I think it’s time to sleep.”

“Very well.” He glanced at the clock on the desk and stood up. “I suppose I could go hunt down that ‘creeper’…not tonight, if you’re heading straight to bed.”

“Oh? And if I’m not?”

“It’s nearing two in the morning, Sunshine. I think I’d drag you to bed myself.”

“Hmm…and how would you do tha—aaaah!”

In less than a second, he had one hand on your waist and the other behind your knees, lifting you up. You yelped and instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself into the safety of his chest.

He glanced down at you with a smirk, revealing one of his canines. “Does this answer your question?”

“I guess,” you mumbled. “…your heart is beating ridiculously fast, you know.”

“…are you saying yours isn’t?”

“Nah, it is. I just didn’t realize you had it in you.” You grinned, tapping a finger on his bicep. “These weren’t just for show after all, huh?”

“You—! What’s that supposed to mean!”

You stood in front of Suguru’s door in your pajamas, wondering if this was a good idea.

Is he already asleep…?

You turned to go back to your own room, but upon remembering the few bites he had taken of his lunch the past week, you decided against it. Hesitantly, you knocked, the sound of your knuckles against the wood echoing through the hallways. “Suguru? Can I come in?”

A beat of silence. “One second.” The sound of a bed creaking followed his voice, and just a few moments later, the door opened with a small creak.

Unfortunately, the sight of your boyfriend didn’t make you feel any more relieved. His hair framed his face messily, but they didn’t cover up the dark circles or hide the hollowness of his cheeks. The corners of his lips curved upwards when he saw you, but the smile never reached his eyes.

“(Y/N).” He stepped aside to let you in. “Staying up so late isn’t good for you, you know?”

“I could say the same about you.” You stepped into his dorm and he closed the door behind him. “It’s 2AM, and you have to go on a mission in a few hours.”

“I didn’t feel too sleepy.” He offered you his hand, and you took it, your eyebrows knitting together when you realized just how bony it felt. “And the rain wasn’t helping much. But now that you’re here, it’s a different story.” He led you to his bed and lied down, pulling you onto his chest in the process.

“Suguru! Warn me before you do that next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, because I‘m not letting go of you.” He rolled over so that the two of you were lying on your sides, wrapping his arms around you. “Ever.”

“I think you’re hanging around Satoru too much. You’re speaking and acting like him.” You laughed when he made a face at that statement.

“Don’t compare me to that guy.”

“Just ‘that guy’? He’d be so hurt if he heard you say that.”

“You know what I mean.” He pinched your cheek and gently rested his forehead against yours. “So, did you need something?”

“What, I can’t come visit my own boyfriend without a reason anymore?”

“Not when it’s two in the morning. But I might reconsider if you’re planning to stay the night.”

“Will that make you feel better?”

“Definitely. Though I feel just fine.”

“You don’t look fine…”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, pulling you closer to him and planting a brief kiss on your nose. “Really.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. You haven’t been getting much sleep, have you?”

He stared at you for a few moments, and the pitter-patter of the rain filled in the silence that had fallen over the conversation.

“...”

“Suguru…”

He then let out a tired sigh, his arms tightening around your waist just slightly. “You’re right. I haven’t.”

You brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“I just…can’t. Whenever I close my eyes, I see her.”

You took note of his heartbeat, which was rapidly speeding up. "Riko?"

He nodded and paused, trying to regain his composure before opening his mouth to speak again. “It's all still so vivid in my head. I can still hear the gun going off and–"

"You don't have to talk about it if it's painful, Suguru," you whispered softly.

He shook his head, giving you a weak smile. "No, I think it's better this way. I feel like I'm being suffocated." There was a slight tremble to his voice as he spoke, his sentences laced with nothing but regret. "When I do fall asleep, I always dream about the same thing. She dies, he tells me that he killed Satoru too, these people laughing at all of this as if it’s some sick sit-com–” He clutched at the hem of your top, his voice cracking. "Sometimes I can't help but think, what if I had just killed all of them off like Satoru said? Would I still be feeling this remorseful?"

You bit your lip at these words, not knowing what to say. Is there even a correct answer here?

Seeing the expression on your face, the muscles in his jaw tensed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you–"

"No, no, you didn't," you quickly reassured him. The rain had stopped, and the sound of raindrops hitting the glass was replaced with the sound of trees swaying in the wind. "And honestly, I don't blame you for thinking that way. People can be so cruel sometimes."

He swallowed. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I–" His voice cracked a little.

"It's okay to cry, Suguru." You cupped his face in your hands, placing a kiss on both of his cheeks. "I hate it when you hold it in."

He leaned into your touch, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“She had friends, family, she wanted to live–" he said quietly. "And they were clapping, cheering–" He broke into a sob. "(Y/N), I–I was supposed to protect her but I couldn’t–I couldn’t even do that right–"

It was the first time you had seen him break down like this, and your chest ached. You wiped away his tears with your thumb and ran your left hand through his long hair, desperately trying to come up with something to say to calm him down as he tried to talk.

“I feel so damn useless, even now I’m just–do you see this?” He looked up at you and placed a hand on top of your right hand, his thin fingers wrapping around it as if he was scared to lose you, too. “All I'm doing – all I can do – is replaying the events over and over.” He shook his head, his wet cheeks glistening in the soft moonlight. "I'm a jujutsu sorcerer, yet – yet I couldn't save her. I watched her die."

“It wasn’t your fault, Suguru. None of it was, I promise." You could barely hear yourself speak, but you hoped that your words could help somewhat. "I'm sure that she appreciated all that you've done for her."

You didn’t know how much time had passed when his choked sobs finally slowed down to hiccups, or how long you had been tracing circles on his hand with your thumb, but by the time the sun peeked from the trees in the distance, Suguru’s eyes were closed, his long lashes brushing against his damp cheek whenever his eyelids slightly fluttered.

"I'm sorry..."

You sighed at his sleeptalking, making a mental note to talk to him later about his tendencies to feel guilty about showing his feelings. "It's okay, Suguru. You shouldn't have to apologize for anything." You kissed his forehead and murmured a soft “I love you,” giggling a little when you saw a smile form on his delicate features.

Must be a nice dream, huh.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

very "show not tell" with his love for you

hates pda but reluctantly lets you hold hands with him anyway

mutters "i love you" under his breath when he thinks you're asleep (you're not)

his eyes soften when he sees you

beats people up for you

it's so funny when he tries show a little more affection over text because he ends all of his texts with a period

asks nobara for help when the two of you fight

enjoys your company, even if it's just the two of you sitting in silence

secretly likes it when you run your hand through his hair

stares at you a lot

surprisingly touchy in private? like he purposely brushes his hands against yours, hugs you from behind, etc

avoids eye contact and brushes it off when you compliment him (you can see the tips of his ears turning red)

tries not to bother you about his own personal problems but always listens to yours

gets a little jealous when you're giving attention to another guy instead of him

watches the shows you tell him about and tries to get into them

does things you like to do with you even if he hates them

makes you warm soup when you're sick

puts a lot of thought into the gifts he give you, whether it be something symbolic or something he thinks you'd like

remembers every little detail you mention about yourself

puts your life before his own

ITADORI YUJI

loves bombarding you with hugs

usually takes you on dates to places where there are a lot of people

likes taking pictures with and of you

rambles about how amazing you are to his friends

tells his grandpa about you when he visits him :(

sends good morning and goodnight messages every day without fail

absolutely loves cooking for you

buys you guys matching bracelets and keychains

there's something about you falling asleep on his shoulder that makes him so happy

finds something to compliment you about daily

lets you steal his clothes

sometimes he's so oblivious to people flirting with him you want to cry

gets excited about things with you

cries with you when watching sad movies

asks you for a kiss every single day

you can feel your limbs numbing whenever he accidentally falls asleep when you two cuddle and he sleeps like a log so you can't exactly wake him up

pillow fights are a common thing

a very patient teacher when he teaches you how to cook

takes pictures of things he sees that reminds him of you and sends them to you

constantly worries about sakuna hurting you and has thought about distancing himself from you multiple times because of it

GETO SUGURU

wakes you up with forehead kisses. definitely.

opens the car door for you (like the gentleman he is)

gives you handmade gifts that he spent hours on and probably sacrificed sleep for because he wanted them to look perfect for you

likes to tease you (just a little)

pulls you close to his chest when you're crying and comforts you with his sweet words

never lets you talk crap about yourself and will give you a hundred and one reasons as to why you're the complete opposite of how you view yourself if you do

will probably scare anyone who did something to you into giving you a sincere apology (his cursed technique comes in real handy for this one)

whispers sweet nothings in your ear when the both of you are cuddling

gently squeezes your hand when you're nervous

lets you braid his hair

gives you back massages when you're tired and exhausted

cooks for you (breakfast in bed guys)

genuinely encourages and supports you

makes sure you get enough food/water/sleep

shows interest in your interests

will leave you if it was the option that would benefit you the most or hurt you the least

definitely likes to spoil you rotten

will spend thousands of dollars on you even if there's no special occasion

very much a "your wish is my command" kind of guy

also the type of boyfriend to see you struggling to get something from high up and place the thing somewhere even higher

lets you try on his sunglasses and laughs at you when you trip and fall because you can't see anything in them before catching you when your face is literal centimeters away from the ground

enjoys "accidentally" dozing off on you (proceeds to lay his entire weight on your body)

loves it when you praise him

likes laying in your lap while you play with his hair

spoons you every time you guys sleep and refuses to let go in the morning

makes fancy dinner reservations

boasts about you to everyone

sets unflattering/funny photos of you as his wallpaper and lock screen

looks at pictures and videos of you when he's supposed to be working

throws himself onto you whenever he sees you

his hugs crush your ribs

makes you participate in staring contests with him

loves to tease you and see you flustered

says cheesy pick up lines out of nowhere

You. The couch. And the deafening silence.

It wasn't like you and Satoru hadn't gotten into arguments before; back in high school, he loved to bother the crap out of you when you were busy doing something that required your full attention, and many of these button-pushing sessions led to full-blown arguments where the two of you hurled insult after insult at each other (though they were more of a one-sided thing, because he just laughed at you and your reddening face, asking if that was all you got). And Shoko and Suguru would watch all the while, one enjoying the entertainment she was getting and the other patiently waiting for a moment where he could calm the both of you down.

But this argument was different. It wasn't some small fight between teenagers that the two of you would forget in a few days. Heck, it might even last a few days instead, now that Suguru wasn't here.

Suguru.

You sighed, remembering that you fought with him, too. Figuratively and literally.

You sunk into the soft seat and leaned your head against the back cushion, letting out a loud groan.

Should I just apologize and get this over with?

After all, knowing your boyfriend, he'd be way too prideful to say sorry first.

Right. Boyfriend. Maybe even soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.

You tightly clutched the hem of your shirt at the thought, your heart feeling heavy. The remnants of the feud buried themselves deep into your chest, pulling and clawing at it as if it was trying to rip something out of there. It hurt knowing that the relationship you were once so happy to establish might not last as long as you thought it would.

Your best friend and your boyfriend; two heartbreaks, two people lost.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears. The room gradually grew darker and darker as the sun set in the distance, a painful reminder to you that Satoru had been gone for hours. Pulling your knees to your chest, you rocked back and forth, wondering where he could be this late.

Certainly not at some club, right...?

Your stomach twisted in a way you couldn't explain, and you let out a choked sob.

He can't be. He's not like that.

But Satoru had never been romantically involved with anyone before you. So how did you know what to expect?

You felt your fingernails digging into your skin, hard enough to make it bleed. You hated the way the scenarios were running through your head, the way none of them were him coming home to you without smelling of sickly sweet perfume and without having lipstick stains all over his neck. It was truly a different kind of pain knowing that someone who had declared his love for you merely six hours before could take it all back in an instant.

This is all so, so stupid. Maybe this was a mistake from the start.

Grabbing your coat that was lying right next to you, you stood up to leave.

Maybe a break would serve the both of us some good.

You put it on, not bothering to zip up the front.

I never should've said yes.

You walked towards the door, your footsteps soft, hesitant, and gradually slowing down to a stop when you arrived. You reached for the doorknob, still unsure of your decision. Your hand hovered in midair as you looked down at your feet, warm tears still streaking down your cheeks.

Is this really the right thing to do?

You couldn't think straight, or pinpoint what exactly you felt. Anger? Worry? Dread? The different emotions were all mixed into one, forced down your throat and into the pit of your stomach, with the sole purpose of breaking you from inside out.

You didn't want to think about anything anymore.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before wrapping your hand around the doorknob, and--

The door flew backwards, striking against your palm. Your eyes opened in surprise, darting from the doorknob to the tall man that stood in front of you.

Neither of you said a word.

You were rooted to the spot, your legs frozen. Beads of sweat rolled down your back, tickling you, futilely trying to distract you from the situation at hand. Your hands felt clammy, your breath was stuck uncomfortably in your throat, and a single tear awkwardly slid its way down the side of your face, seemingly not getting the memo.

Satoru stared back at you, his sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, slightly crooked. His blue eyes blinked at you, with a hint of confusion behind them. He was also slightly panting, you realized as you saw his shoulders slightly heave up and down from the corner of your eye.

"...(Y/N)?" His voice was gentle, void of any anger, unlike the tone he had used with you just hours before.

You didn't reply in fear of breaking down in front of him, in fear of coming off as some kind of victim when the fault was yours as much as it was his.

"What are you... Were you leaving? Were you crying?"

He sounded so confused, so worried. He touched your wet cheek, brushing against it with his calloused hand.

"Toru, where were you?" Your voice was barely audible.

One second passed. And then two.

Please tell me that you didn't give up on us.

And then three. And four.

The silence dragged on. And your hope dwindled along with it.

"Toru, I..." you said hoarsely.

Your heart dropped when you finally smelled the faint trace of perfume. The very same sickly-sweet smell you had been afraid of.

It can't be.

Can it?

"Were you...kissing some other girl?" Your voice cracked a little.

"What?! No!" His eyes widened as he frantically shook his head, and then he exhaled and furrowed his brows. "Was that why you were crying?"

You nodded meekly, feeling as though you were about to cry all over again. "I thought you'd want to break up with me."

"I'd never." You felt his lips press against your forehead, the warmth still lingering even after he pulled away. "And..." He dropped his hand to his side and glanced away, preoccupied with something on the floor, his voice quiet, sincere. "I'm...sorry."

Now it was your turn to widen your eyes. Did he just...apologize?

He peeked at you, and then grinned when he saw your expression. "Dumbfounded, aren't you? You should be honored to be the first and only person I've ever apologized t--mmph!"

All of the sadness seemed to have evaporated from your body as you grabbed his face with one hand, bringing it close. "Do that again."

He squinted at you. "I got you flowers," he suggested, squirming in your grasp. "And perfume too, so if you smell that on me, that's probably from the shop." A pause, waiting for you to let go. "And chocolate." Another pause, a smirk forming on his face. "Sexy lingeri--?"

You gave him a deadpan stare before he could finish.

"Kidding, kidding! Obviously." He laughed, the sound filling your stomach with butterflies. "So does that mean you forgive me?"

You sighed, nodding, letting go of him. "I'm really sorry, too. It was a stupid thing to argue over."

"Well, that marks the end of our first lover's quarrel!" He readjusted his glasses and smiled at you before bringing his left hand out from behind his back. "Good thing, because my arm was about to start cramping--"

You didn't register the rest of his words as he showed off the items he bought for you, your mind still trying to process what had just happened.

Toru knows how to apologize...

Surprised? Happy? Maybe giddy? Or all three?

You let a giggle slip, and he turned to you, the bouquet of flowers in his hands raised like a trophy.

"What're you laughing at?"

"Nothing."

It was quite late at night; probably a little past 11:45PM.

Many parts of the town still bustled with activity at this time, but this one was not one of them. Aside from a few rats scurrying about the food that the restaurants dumped outside their buildings, there were barely any signs of life in this area.

But if one were to stop and listen carefully, underneath the clattering of porcelain from the staff cleaning up the last of their plates and the tree branches swaying in the wind, they would be able to hear the voice of a girl, high-pitched and terrified.

“W-who are you? Why are you doing this?”

Words came tumbling out of her mouth, shaky and near incoherent -- a messy collection of letters sloppily assembled to buy time and nothing else. She slid down to the floor with her back pressed against the cold wall of the tight alleyway, blood trickling down the side of her head and staining her navy-blue dress. Her head hurt like hell when she tried lifting it to get a better view of who was standing in front of her. Her throat was dry and it was difficult getting air down to her lungs, but nevertheless, she still opened her mouth to scream for help.

“Somebody, help me, please!”

These words merely rang through the small space, bouncing off the concrete but never reaching any other ears. It was the same with the hearty laughter that followed, which was so warm and full of enthusiasm that it’d fool anyone who was listening into thinking that this was just an emotional reunion between two friends.

“It’s no use, (F/N).” The same person who had laughed spoke up. “No one lives around this area. Most people who work here or pass by this place on their nightly strolls are home by now.” A smirk was growing on his face, hidden by the mask he wore. The girl in front of him sounded so desperate, so unlike herself. Did her confidence from earlier dwindle now that she knew she had nowhere to run or hide? “Don’t you get it? You’re alone with me. No one is going to hear you. And (Y/N) won’t be able to play your knight in shining armor like she always does.”

He spat out the last part with a hint of hatred that spilled from the bottle he kept screwed up and sealed tight.

“How do you—?”

The question was interrupted when he crouched down in front of her. With one gloved hand, he pulled down his hood. It was pitch dark, but the moonlight was more than enough for (F/N) to recognize him and his unique features.

Tousled red hair, light freckles, and piercing blue eyes that were void of light.

“Childe—?”

“Ajax,” ‘Childe’ said with a glare, cutting her off. “I might’ve told everyone to call me that, but I want it out of your filthy mouth.

Several minutes passed by in silence as he scanned her up and down. (F/N) didn’t know what was going through his mind, but she was sure it had nothing to do with letting her go.

“I…Chil—” she tried, but instead of any change in behavior like she had hoped, she got a hard slap across the face before she could even finish. Her cheek stung, a dull pain that somehow also made its way to the inside of her mouth.

“It’s Ajax.” Childe scowled. “Are you deaf or something?”

She whimpered and lowered her head. There were about a million thoughts racing through her head, but none of them gave her an idea of why Childe would want to hurt her. She had always stayed out of his way, and heck, they didn’t even talk unless their professor made them partners for a project.

So, why? And what did any of this have to do with (Y/N)?

It was only when she heard the sound of metal clinking against each other did she look back up.

Childe was looking through a pouch, his eyebrows pinched together in concentration. “Where is it…” he mumbled, getting slightly exasperated at how long this ordeal was taking. Then after a few moments, he raised an object in the air triumphantly, as if he was showing off some first-place trophy. “Aha!”

Through her tears, (F/N) couldn’t see it very well, but the way it almost shone in the natural light made her blood run cold.

Surgical scissors.

“Chi—Ajax, you’re not possibly—?” (F/N) said, her voice rising in terror.

“You know the assignment the professor told us to turn in next week? The one that we were supposed to do together?” The corners of Childe’s eyes crinkled up as he smiled. “I was wondering, why don’t we do the dissection on you instead of the frog we had planned on? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that the report and analysis are so perfect, he’ll probably even give us extra credit.”

“What did I even do? Whatever I did, tell me and I’ll fix it!”

"If you don’t even understand what you did wrong, then there’s even less reason for me to hold back.”

He stabbed her in the abdomen, though he had planned his first cut somewhere else. The motion was so sudden that (F/N) didn’t even have time to react to protect herself.

She screamed.

Childe’s eyes widened to mimic a maniacal expression at the sound, and his heart pounded feverishly at the thought of how much more pain he could put her through. The horror she’d be feeling as he continued to work on her with the very same surgical knives they had used in the lab just yesterday was enough to send him into a frenzy. But the best part is, the last thing on her mind won’t be (Y/N), but this murderer before her.

He should be the only one who was thinking about (Y/N).

“Delightful, absolutely delightful!” He chuckled as he pulled out the scissors. “Do you feel it now, (F/N)? The pain?! Come on, describe it to me in detail!”

“Ajax, stop, please! It hurts--!” (F/N) choked out, covering her fresh wound with one hand. The blood still trickled down between her fingers, staining them red. A metallic scent filled the air, making her gag, prompting her to swallow down the fresh blood that threatened to spill out from her throat.

Stab.

She could see her bruised and wet face reflected in his dark eyes.

Stab.

She attempted to stand up, but instead slipped and fell because of the hot pain shooting up from her legs.

Stab.

She couldn’t even process the pain anymore, and her vision was getting blurrier and blurrier as more and more black spots appeared.

“Don’t ignore me now! Talk to me!”

Childe’s voice sounded miles away.

Her throat felt red and raw from screaming, and her voice was getting weaker and weaker. The energy she originally possessed seemed to have left her, and she gave up fighting.

Not that Childe had noticed.

It was only after a few minutes, after he saw the way her arms laid limply at her sides, that he stopped. His bloody knife raised in midair, and him, breathless. He stared at the dead body in front of him, finally coming back to his senses.

With a sigh, he stood up and stretched. “Hahh…I got carried away again… She didn’t last that long. But either way, job finished. (Y/N)’s all mine. And anyone who gets in the way…”

“Childe?”

A familiar voice interrupted his monologue, and he turned around in surprise. A warm feeling blossomed in his chest as he met the newcomer’s eyes, and he pulled down his mask excitedly.

“(Y/N)! What brings you here?”

“Childe, is that…blood on you…?”

He opened his arms as (Y/N) started walking in his direction.

“Yes! (Y/N), I—!”

But she completely ignored him, not even sparing him a second glance, and approached the body behind him.

Standing in front of it, not moving a muscle.

Childe followed.

“Is this…(F/N)?” she said softly. “Is she...dead?”

Childe’s disappointment at her lack of attention quickly dissipated as he jumped to explain, grinning. “Yes, and yes! She was getting a bit too close to you, so I figured—”

“So you figured that killing her would be the best thing to do?” Her voice trembled. “Is that it?”

Childe blinked. Wasn’t she happy that he killed someone for her? Wasn’t she proud?

“Answer me!” She turned to look at him, her hands balled into fists, her tears wetting her cheeks. “Was that what you thought?!”

“Oh, (Y/N).” He cupped her face in his hands, his tone patient and almost condescending. “You don’t understand--”

“Don’t touch me!” She slapped them away and stepped back. “Don’t…don’t come near me.”

As if even the heavens were grieving with her, it started to pour. The blood washed away from Childe’s face, making him look more like a misunderstood man who had just arrived on the scene than anything else.

“It was for you! Aren’t you happy?” he shouted in an effort to let himself be heard over the rain.

“Happy? Don’t make me laugh!” (Y/N) shouted back, her reason for doing so differing from his. “I don’t care whether you killed someone because of me or not; what you did was absolutely wrong! In fact, I feel even worse because it was ‘for me’!”

Childe clenched his fists. “It was just one person! Why are you stressing so much over it?”

“‘Just one person’? Are you crazy?! You killed someone, Ajax!”

At that, Childe froze. (Y/N) had never called him by his given name since they had become friends.

“I overlooked the fact that you were part of that delinquent group at school because you didn’t seem to be like the other members.” Even through all the rain, he could hear the sadness penetrating through her angry front. “But you come and do—do this?”

Why was she so upset? He couldn’t understand why she cared so much about the girl. She should have that much care for him, not her.

And then, a sudden realization dawned on him. A realization that made him wish he hadn’t killed (F/N) so fast.

…does she…?

“Do you like her back?” he said. “Do you enjoy her company more than mine?”

“Is this what it’s about?! About some stupid romantic feelings?! She and I were just friends!”

She didn’t answer the question.

“So you did like her. That’s why you’re making such a big deal.”

“Excuse me? Me? Making a big deal? You just murdered someone, for god’s sake!”

He took a step toward her, and she took a step back.

“I don’t get it. What’s so good about her? What does she have that I don’t?”

Betrayal. Sadness. Confusion. Why her and not him?

“Tell me, (Y/N) -- what draws you in about her? She’s boring. She’s spoiled. She’s constantly seeking attention. What makes you love her? Talk to me!”

He took another step. And another. And another. (Y/N) tripped over (F/N)’s body, falling backwards into her pool of blood. Childe dropped down onto his knees in front of her, and dropped his knife to hold her shoulders with both hands. She flinched and tried to shake him off, but he just tightened his grip, his fingernails digging into her skin through her clothes.

“Why don’t you love me? I gave you so much, I tried showing my love to you so many times, but you always laugh it off! Why isn’t it the same with her?!”

“Let go!” (Y/N) said, pushing against his chest. She was pretty sure that her shoulders were bleeding at this point, and the distance between them was uncomfortably small.

“Just give me a chance! I’ll make you the happiest person in the world, I swear! I’ll even stop killing people—”

“People?” (Y/N) stopped, staring at him in disbelief. “You mean this wasn’t the only person you’ve killed?”

“Why does that matter to you? You didn’t even know half of them!”

“You’re—you’re out of your fucking mind! I can’t believe I was friends with a psycho like you! Let go of me!”

She gave a final push and Childe let go of her out of shock. Standing up, she fumbled for her phone.

Childe picked up his knife as she tried to dial 911 with shaky, wet fingers.

“Stupid water,” she cursed under her breath as the droplets kept on making the screen register her taps as her pressing on the number 5.

After a few more tries, the “call” button was clicked.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

(Y/N) glanced up and almost dropped her phone when she saw what Childe was holding. Nothing of use came out of her mouth when she tried to speak. She was petrified, rooted in her spot, scared of this man who had been so nice to her before all of this.

“Ajax, don’t,” was all she could whisper out.

“Hello? Ma’am? Who are you talking to?” the operator said.

She couldn’t hear her anymore, especially not over her accelerating heartbeat that was pounding in her ears. All she was focused on was the person who was getting closer and closer to her as each second ticked by. Her legs refused to move no matter how much she pleaded, and instead, gave out right as Childe arrived in front of her.

He had the advantage now.

He got down on one knee, grabbing her chin roughly. His piercing blue eyes that once sparkled with joy upon seeing her, now looked into hers with newfound clarity.

The answer had been right under his nose all along.

Trees. Branches. And the occasional (howling) whisper of the wind. Perfect for falling asleep.

For most people, anyway.

For you, it’s been at least 23 hours since you last slept. Only 8 if you counted the 30-minute nap you took during class. And four since you tried every method to get your brain to fog up like it did whenever your teacher droned on and on about the importance of controlling your cursed energy flow.

Please just let me sleep. The teacher’s gonna yell at me again for doing it in class.

The wooden ceiling only stared back at you, offering no support whatsoever.

With a sigh, you sat up. The bed creaked at the movement, and your blankets fell from your shoulders, exposing you to the chilly night air. You pulled your knees to your chest, waiting for sleep that won’t be due until probably a few hours later.

I wish I could talk to someone right now.

It was weird. During the day, you had so much anxiety about everything that you could barely concentrate on what was happening. But now that you had the time, there was nothing.

Though you could probably start with this pre-existing world that you had just been tossed into a few weeks ago. Your parents were more open-minded than you had thought and immediately agreed to enroll you into Jujutsu Metropolitician Technical High -- or whatever it was called, you didn’t really pay attention -- as soon as they realized it was safe.

You had snorted at that. Was the school safe? Maybe. But was the job it was preparing you for safe? Not at all. A part of you wondered if they had some bias to begin with; after all, it meant that the things you saw all throughout your childhood -- things that everyone thought were your imaginary friends though you had constantly denied it -- and continued to see throughout your middle school years were real, and you weren’t just crazy.

It did bring some comfort knowing that other people saw these things too, but other than that, knowing that you had to fight them someday -- for a living, too -- made your heart fill with dread.

Maybe this wasn’t the right path for you. You had always been content with taking over your family’s soba shop, anyway.

Is it too late to unenroll myself?

15 minutes passed in silence as you rocked back and forth, and the clock lighted up to show that it was officially 2AM. Deciding that there was nothing better for you to do anyway, you left the warm comfort of your sheets and sat on the edge of the bed. Your bare feet brushed against the cold floor as you felt around for your slippers, sending goosebumps rising all over your skin.

After a few moments, you had found them (somehow, they were lying all the way at the corner of the bed). Gently, you slipped into them, and then stood up. Hoping that the walls were thick enough to prevent the sound of your footsteps from reaching your dorm neighbors, you took light steps towards the door.

After making sure that nobody was on the other side, you slowly opened it, holding your breath. Thankfully, it didn’t creak on its hinges, and you exited your room.

You couldn’t describe it very well, but the air out here was crispier and sharper, somehow. The environment was still as unfamiliar as ever, however, and you longed to be back home, away from all of this nonsense.

You looked out the window. The moon was surprisingly bright tonight, illuminating the hallways and casting long shadows along the walls.

You took a careful step forward. No sound.

You tested the floorboards a few more times before you were comfortable enough to walk around without taking six seconds per step.

This is peaceful.

You quietly hummed to yourself as you walked down the hallway, trailing two fingers that occasionally bumped into the wooden framework along the cool glass.

“(Y/N)?”

A familiar voice suddenly interrupted your night stroll, and you jumped. You turned your attention away from the stars and directed it at the person who called out your name.

Suguru, you realized. He was your deskmate, and always had a friendly smile on his face whenever the two of you talked. You weren’t best friends, but you were far from acquaintances.

Far enough for you to have caught feelings for him and for you to crave for something more.

“What are you doing up so late?” He closed the distance between the two of you by a few meters, his tone concerned.

“I, was, uhm--”

You gawked at his face for a few moments. His hair, which was usually up in a bun, framed the sides of it, giving him an almost ethereal look in the soft lighting. And his features were--

“You were...?” he repeated, amused, dragging you out of your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, embarrassed. “Taking a walk. I couldn’t fall asleep.”

He had a thoughtful look on his face. “I see.”

“So. What are you doing up so late?”

“I needed a glass of water. The training was pretty intense today. Wasn’t enough to tire you out, though.”

“I think we both saw how I walked right into Mei Mei’s crow. It’s okay, you can laugh.”

He cracked a smile as you rubbed at the area where the bird had hit you with its beak. And it was starting to throb again.

“You wanna talk?”

“Huh?”

“You clearly have a lot on your mind.”

“Says who?”

He shook his head. “Keeping it all in isn’t healthy, so what’s up?”

You reluctantly agreed and sat down, leaning against the wall. He did the same, taking a seat right next to you.

“It’s just been kind of stressful lately. Actually, ever since I started coming here, I couldn’t fall asleep. Like at all.”

He nodded in understanding. “It’s pretty hard getting used to this place.”

“Really? You seem to be taking it all in pretty well, though.” Despite also coming from a normal, non-sorcerer family, he had fit right in at this school since day one. Unlike you.

He chuckled at your response. “Trust me, I’m struggling behind closed doors. But it gets easier.”

Does it, though?

“I’m really worried about everything.” You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers. “I don’t know if I want to get involved in all this curse stuff. I don’t exactly have the courage to face these things, you know? I thought I just needed to deal with seeing them all the time, but no, I have to fight them, too.”

“I get it.”

“You do?” You looked at him, puzzled.

“To a certain extent. Sometimes I get anxious about dying and wonder if I made the wrong choice.”

“How do you...’get rid’ of that fear?”

“The thoughts don’t go away, but remembering that I’m doing it to help people helps a lot. By taking on this role, I’m helping those who can’t protect themselves from these curses. We sorcerers exist to protect non-sorcerers -- that’s what I believe, but it’s not wrong to want to run from it all. We just have to get stronger so our chances of dying slim down.” He tilted his head to one side, looking at you with a kind smile. “I personally think you’d make a great sorcerer someday, (Y/N). Even if you don’t think so right now.”

Your cheeks heated at his words. After mumbling a quick thanks, you changed the subject to something else, the majority of your anxiety seemingly having dissipated into the air after hearing what he said. He didn’t question it.

You didn’t know how much time had passed as you two talked about random things, the topics ranging from home life to funny moments at your middle schools. By the end of the conversation -- which was marked by your yawns slowly integrating themselves into your sentences and your slow responses -- you felt as if you had known him your entire life.

He walked you to your room’s door, still laughing at the story you told him earlier. “Well, goodnight, (Y/N),” he said, wiping a tear from his eye with a finger. “I was mildly annoyed at having to get out of bed, but I’m glad I did.”

You grinned back at him, your hand on the doorknob and twisting it. “Likewise.”

The door didn’t open.

You turned to look down at it, confused, and twisted it again.

Still nothing except for a rattling sound.

You glanced at the position of the door in the hallway, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sure this is the right door...”

Oh, crap. I think I locked it out of habit when I closed it.

“Is it locked?” Suguru asked, peering over your shoulder. “You can sleep in my room if you want.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his offer, but you shook your head. “Yeah, it is. And I can’t do that.”

“If you’re worried about anything happening, I’ll sleep outside. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant--” You turned to him and shook your head frantically. “Suguru, I trust you a lot. I just don’t want you to lose sleep. Especially since you stayed awake for me.”

“Then I’ll take the floor,” he suggested.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the cold hard ground in your own room...”

“And I can’t have my friend who’s staying over sleep on the ‘cold hard ground’ either. You’ll catch a cold both ways.”

“Friend,” huh.

You stared at him. He stared at you back.

“...”

“...”

“I mean...I wouldn’t mind if we just shared the bed... Unless it would be too uncomfortable for you?”

He chuckled for the second time that night. “Not at all. I’ll take your reply as a yes, then?”

You nodded meekly, and he guided you to his room by placing his hand on the small of your back, sending shivers up your spine. His door unlocked with a soft click and he let you in first.

You couldn’t see very well, but from what you could make out, it was a lot tidier than you had expected. The floor wasn’t littered with dirty laundry or empty instant ramen boxes everywhere, at least.

The overall layout of the room was the same in every dorm, so you made your way to where you remembered your bed being. And thank god you were correct, because you tripped on something and fell face-first.

“You okay?” Suguru called out as he made his way to you, his voice worried.

“Yeah.” Yours was muffled, your face still buried in his blankets that smelled too much like the laundry detergent your family used, too tired to get up. “I just tripped a little.”

“Sorry about that. I didn’t get much of a chance to clean it today,” he apologized. “Ah, you’re finally worn out, aren’t you?”

“Mmhm...”

He turned you around and you felt his arms go behind your back and under your legs, but you were too tired to care. He lifted you up and gently placed you on one side of the bed before slipping in next to you.

His chest was pressed against your back despite his best efforts to maintain some distance, allowing you to feel his heartbeat. It was fast but rhythmic, and gradually slowed after he pulled the blankets above the both of your shoulders.

All of that had alerted you from your sleepy state, and you thought you were back to not being able to get a few hours in because of the proximity, but you were wrong. No sooner had you uttered a soft “goodnight” back, you had fallen asleep, the last thing on your mind being you reminding yourself to go out late at night more often.