#tr angst

he shoots up from the couch and nearly trips over his own feet as he rushes toward the kitchen — sees the way you set the table, the little details. folded napkins. his favorite side dishes. that one dessert you always said was too much trouble to make but you learned because he liked it once.

and then the guilt hits like a freight train.

his feet move on instinct, pushing your bedroom door open without knocking.

you’re awake.

sitting on the edge of the bed in one of his shirts, legs pulled up close to your chest. you don’t look surprised to see him — just tired. like you’ve already accepted whatever half-assed apology he’s about to give.

“baby,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “fuck, i… i didn’t realize.”

you don’t answer.

he steps closer, careful this time. “i was an asshole last night. i know i was.”

still, silence.

“i remembered the second i woke up.” his voice cracks. “i saw the table. the candle. the food. i saw everything. and it made me feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world.”

you finally glance up at him. “it’s not the first time, ran.”

he flinches.

“you keep forgetting,” you say softly. “maybe not dates. but me.”

he walks over and kneels in front of you, taking your hand in his. you try to pull away, but he holds on — gently, insistently.

“i don’t wanna forget you,” he whispers. “i’ve never wanted that. i’m just—i get caught up in all this bonten shit, and i convince myself you’ll always understand. that you’ll wait for me.”

you stare at him. “and what if one day i don’t?”

his grip tightens.

“then i’ll deserve it.”

the room falls quiet again, thick with everything left unsaid.

but then he rests his forehead on your knee. not in defeat — in apology.

“can i make it up to you?”

you exhale. “how?”

“however you want,” he says immediately. “just… tell me what i need to do.”

you hesitate.

“…start with heating up the food.”

he lifts his head, eyes wide. “you didn’t throw it away?”

“of course not. i spent three hours cooking.”

he smiles — crooked, relieved. “i’ll eat all of it.”

“you better.”

he leans forward and presses a kiss to your hand.

and this time, he sees you.

------

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

y/n sat in the farthest corner of the library, her head down, shoulders trembling as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. she failed.

her.

the girl who always had her shit together. the girl who spent sleepless nights perfecting every detail of her report. the girl who never let herself slip—because she couldn’t. not when this was her final year of med school. not when she had worked too damn hard to get here.

but none of that mattered now. because despite everything, despite the effort, despite the sacrifices—she still failed.

“y/n!!!”

her body stiffened. not now, please not now.

a loud shhhh!! echoed through the library as the librarian snapped, “shinichiro, if you’re gonna run your loud mouth one more time, i swear i will ban you from coming here forever!”

“i’m sorry!! i’m sorry! please, you know this is the only way i can approach the love of my life!” shinichiro whined dramatically, completely unbothered by the glares thrown his way.

right. the love of his life. y/n l/n.

y/n rolled her puffy eyes, pressing her temples. she didn’t have the patience for this today. shinichiro had been chasing after her for who knows how long, but she had never entertained him. strictly no boyfriend—that was her rule. she had no time for distractions, no space for unnecessary chaos in her already exhausting life.

especially not with a guy like him. a gang member. loud, reckless, completely unserious about his future. how could she, someone who wanted a peaceful life, ever consider someone like that?

yet, despite her best efforts, shinichiro never seemed to get the hint.

she heard him before she saw him, his voice carrying over from the entrance.

“y/n!!” a quiet shout escaped from him.

y/n squeezed her eyes shut. she could not deal with him right now.

shinichiro spotted her instantly and, as always, made a beeline for her table, plopping down beside her with a grin too bright for a place like this. “y/n, i got you pancakes,” he whispered conspiratorially, sliding a small bag under the table. food is not even allowed in the library, but she was really exhausted to even lecture him for that.

y/n barely looked at it, but before she could even protest, shinichiro had already shoved it into her bag. as if she had a choice.

he had been waiting for her after class earlier, as he always did, but today, he saw something he wasn’t expecting—y/n, on the verge of tears.

before he could call out to her, she was gone.

and so, shinichiro had done what he did best: he ran to the nearest store to grab her comfort food. the pancakes she always ate when she was stressed. the ones she once offhandedly mentioned made her feel a little better.

now, here she was, ignoring him completely, head dropping onto the table with a dull thud.

shinichiro’s eyes widened. “oi, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” he quickly placed his palm on the table right under where she was banging her head.

but y/n, in true stubborn fashion, didn’t stop. she just kept going.

except now, instead of the table, she was bumping her head against his palm.

shinichiro let out a small laugh. what a stubborn girl.

“what happened, love?” he asked softly.

y/n froze, then slowly lifted her head to glare at him. “don’t call me love.”

shinichiro pouted. “oh? then what do you want me to call you? baby? babe—”

“y/n.”

“are you sure you don’t want—”

“yes.”

shinichiro sighed dramatically but then smiled. “alright, alright. i’ll just call you by your name then. after all, it’s better than all those call signs. your name is pretty. like you.”

y/n shot him a look, unimpressed. “but I wanted to be called ‘love’ though. can you?” shinichiro grinned, testing his luck.

y/n ignored him entirely.

instead, she let out a long sigh and muttered, “i just… i did everything for this report. for a whole week. i barely slept just to get it done. and it’s still not enough?”

shinichiro stilled.

a whole week?

“who’s that professor?” him acting tough, as if he can threaten her professor. “i’ll make sure to teach him a lesson.”

y/n let out a small chuckle despite herself.

as much as shinichiro annoyed the hell out of her, he always found a way to make her laugh. to listen. to be there.

she would never say it out loud—god forbid his ego get any bigger—but deep down, she appreciated him.

she just… couldn’t give him what he wanted.

not now.

because if she could barely make time for herself, how could she ever make time for a relationship?

the walk home was slow—agonizingly so.

not because it was far. not because y/n was tired.

but because shinichiro, stubborn as ever, refused to let her walk home alone. again.

“either i take you home, or you’re walking with me.” his voice was final, leaving no room for argument.

but of course, she could argue. she could tell him to leave her alone, to stop hovering, to just go about his own damn business.

except she knew shinichiro.

and shinichiro wasn’t the type to listen.

so, she had walked. and shinichiro? he had followed.

on his motorbike.

at a walking pace.

which, as expected, led to honking, yelling, and a whole lot of pissed-off drivers.

but shinichiro? completely unfazed.

y/n sighed, defeated. because shinichiro sano is already causing traffic. “just take me home already!”

and that was how she ended up on the back of his bike, arms stiff wrapped around him as he drove her home.

when they finally reached her house, shinichiro hopped off first, carefully helping y/n remove her helmet. she rang the doorbell, and within seconds, the door swung open to reveal her mother’s beaming face.

“thank you, shin, for bringing our y/n home safely again.” her mom practically gushed. then, with a knowing smirk, she added, “how did your day go? did she give you a hard time today?”

y/n scoffed, crossing her arms. “uh, mom? shouldn’t you be asking that question to me? i’m your child, not him.”

her mother barely spared her a glance. “and? if you can’t value your friends, then i will.” she turned back to shinichiro, smiling warmly. “he is the only friend you have. or, well… soon-to-be boyfriend.”

her eyebrows wiggled suggestively.

y/n felt her soul leave her body.

“mom!”

her mother only laughed, stepping aside to let her in. “come inside, shin. have dinner with us.”

shinichiro scratched the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “oh, it’s okay, ms. l/n, y/n might—”

“pfft.” y/n cut him off. “just get your ass inside. it’s not like you aren’t here almost every day anyway.”

her mother clapped her hands together. “see? and i told you to call me m/n.”

shinichiro chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “hehe… sorry.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

by the time dinner started, y/n barely had to lift a finger to keep the conversation going.

her dad and shinichiro? practically best friends at this point.

they were both obsessed with motorcycles, so naturally, any time shinichiro came over, the two would spend hours geeking out over bike models, engines, and parts y/n didn’t even pretend to understand.

tonight was no different.

but y/n didn’t mind.

she sat there, quietly observing as her father laughed at something shinichiro said, her mother chiming in with a playful remark.

they were… happy.

and for some reason, the sight of it—her family laughing, talking, feeling whole—made something tighten in her chest.

because deep down, she knew.

she had always known.

without shinichiro, she probably wouldn’t even be here right now, sitting at the dinner table. she’d be locked away in her room, drowning in textbooks, pushing herself to exhaustion.

but tonight…

tonight, she ate with them.

and it was nice.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

after dinner, y/n walked shinichiro to the gate, arms crossed as she leaned against the frame.

“thanks for dinner,” shinichiro said, stretching his arms over his head. “your mom’s cooking is seriously the best. i should come over tomorrow too.”

y/n narrowed her eyes. “nu-uh. you need to stop bribing my mom with your compliments.”

shinichiro grinned. “it’s true, though. but also…” he rubbed his chin in mock thought. “i kinda like eating dinner with you.”

y/n rolled her eyes, but a small chuckle slipped past her lips. “you sneaky bastard. go home already.”

shinichiro laughed, stepping toward his bike. just as he was about to start the engine, y/n called out—

“shin…”

he looked up immediately. “hm?”

she hesitated, then exhaled. “thank you. for eating with us today.” she paused, glancing down. “honestly… if you weren’t here, i probably wouldn’t have eaten with them at all. i would’ve just locked myself in my room and studied until i passed out.”

shinichiro’s teasing demeanor softened.

he tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “don’t be too hard on yourself, y/n.” he shot her a playful wink. “you don’t wanna be a patient before you even become a doctor.”

y/n snorted, shaking her head. “silly.”

shinichiro swung a leg over his bike, grinning.

“bye, shin. drive safe.”

“i told you to call me ‘love’!” shinichiro pouted dramatically.

y/n deadpanned. “and i told you, no.”

he chuckled, revved the engine, and drove off.

as the months passed, they only grew closer.

it was the same routine—shinichiro would annoy her, she would complain (or cry) about her studies, and somehow, he was always there. at this point, he spent more time at her house than she did. sometimes, he wasn’t even there for her. he came to see her parents.

just like today.

y/n was jolted awake by the sudden roar of an engine outside. too loud. too early.

it was a sunday. could she not get one day of peace?

groaning, she dragged herself to the window and yanked it open.

“dad! turn that down! it’s too loud!”

her father’s voice rang out from the garage. “sorry, honey!”

before she could retreat back into bed, a familiar voice called out—cheerful, way too awake.

“morning, y/n!!”

shinichiro.

great. it wasn’t even eight a.m., and she already felt exhausted already. she rolled her eyes and slammed the window shut.

stomping down the stairs, she entered the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. her mother, already bustling around, turned to her with a smile.

“oh, y/n, here’s your food,” she said, handing over a plate. then, lifting another tray, she called toward the door, “boys! take a break. breakfast is ready!”

y/n sighed.

another sunday of sharing her parents with shinichiro.

but, truthfully… she didn’t mind.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

exam season hit like a storm.

y/n had spent the past week drowning in notes, textbooks, and last-minute cramming. but none of that mattered now—not when she had overslept, and was now in full panic mode.

“shit, shit, shit.” she scrambled around her room, stuffing books into her bag. she barely had time to brush her hair, let alone walk to campus.

without a second thought, she grabbed her phone and dialed a number.

the line barely rang once before he picked up.

“shin???”

“yes, y/n?”

“are you at uni already??”

“nope. skipped first class. why? miss me?”

“no?! anyway, can you pick me up? i’m so late, and my first exam is in fifteen minutes—”

“be there in five.”

“thank you, thank you!!”

not even five minutes later, she heard the familiar sound of his engine outside. yanking open the door, she rushed down the stairs and out the gate.

shinichiro sat on his bike, one hand resting lazily on the handlebars as he smirked.

“helmet?” he offered.

y/n waved him off. “just go, shin. i’ll be dead if i miss this exam.”

chuckling, he revved the engine. “then hold on tight.”

he was fast.

too fast.

the wind whipped against her face, her hands clutching tightly around his waist. normally, she would be terrified—but not with shinichiro.

for the first time, the speed didn’t scare her.

the morning breeze, the open road, the feeling of freedom—it was thrilling.

without thinking, she threw her head back and yelled, “woooo!!”, forgetting her exams for a while.

shinichiro laughed. “you enjoying yourself there?”

y/n grinned, nodding eagerly. she had never felt this free before.

and, god, it felt so good.

but before she knew it, they had arrived.

the moment they reached the university gates, y/n hopped off the bike, already sprinting toward the entrance.

“thank you, shin!!!” she shouted over her shoulder.

shinichiro smirked, watching her disappear into the crowd.

“good luck, y/n!”

he sighed, glancing at his phone. well, since he was already here…

he might as well go to class.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

hours later, exams were finally over.

y/n stepped out of the classroom, stretching her arms with a sigh of relief. almost instinctively, her eyes scanned the hallway looking for someone.

and there he was.

shinichiro. leaning against the wall, waiting for her.

a bright smile spread across her face. “shin!!!”

he looked up just in time to see her running toward him.

before he could react, y/n threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

shinichiro stiffened. what?

his hands hovered awkwardly before finally settling around her waist, pulling her closer.

“…how was your exam?” he asked, voice softer.

y/n tilted her head up, still hugging him. “my professor already checked the papers. i got the highest score!!”

shinichiro’s face lit up. “y/n!! you’re amazing!!”

without thinking, he lifted her off the ground, spinning her in excitement.

laughing, she held onto him tightly, warmth spreading through her chest.

when he finally set her down, she realized people were staring.

it wasn’t every day that the infamous leader of black dragon was seen hugging the top student of their section.

but honestly?

she didn’t care.

y/n grinned. “since you’re my savior today, let’s go on a date.”

shinichiro blinked. “…are you my y/n?”

she frowned. “what?”

“please never take this y/n away from me,” he said dramatically, clutching his chest. “i love this side of her.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “idiot. i know when to be grateful. but if you don’t want my offer, i’ll just celebrate by myself.”

she turned away, but before she could walk off, shinichiro threw an arm around her shoulders.

“let’s go,” he grinned.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

once they were back on his bike, shinichiro glanced over his shoulder.

“where to, ma’am?”

y/n hummed, thinking. “hm… i dunno? surprise me.”

shinichiro smirked.

after grabbing some snacks from the convenience store, shinichiro took a detour. y/n, expecting a usual hangout spot, was surprised when he drove into a hidden pathway surrounded by trees. when they finally stopped, her eyes widened in awe.

before her was a secluded lake, untouched and serene, its surface glimmering under the afternoon sun.

“shin… i didn’t even know this place existed,” she whispered, still mesmerized.

shinichiro simply watched her with a small smile, admiring her with the view before him.

he pulled out a cloth from inside his bike, spreading it on the ground before placing their snacks on top. then, he plopped down and stretched his legs out.

“what do you think?”

y/n turned to him with excitement. “what do i think?! it’s so pretty, shin!!” she wasted no time, sitting beside him.

they ate in comfortable silence, the soft sounds of nature filling the air, until shinichiro suddenly spoke.

“y/n, if you become a doctor, i should be your first patient.”

y/n frowned. “huh? you idiot! why would you want to be a patient?!”

shinichiro shrugged. “i might get sick, y’know. we never know.”

she huffed, crossing her arms. “don’t say things like that! if anything, i don’t want you to be a patient. ever.”

shinichiro chuckled, finding her reaction adorable. then, without a word, he laid down, resting his head on her lap.

she didn’t push him off.

honestly, after months of hanging out like this, she had gotten used to it.

the silence between them was peaceful—until shinichiro spoke again.

“y/n…?”

“hm?”

his voice was soft. “thank you for making me feel alive.”

she blinked, looking down at him in confusion. “uh… you’re welcome?”

shinichiro chuckled at her response but said nothing more.

then, after a brief pause, he smirked. “are you still aware that i’m courting you and still waiting for you?”

y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “yeah, shin. you remind me every single day.”

he grinned. “so, when are you gonna be my girlfriend?”

she hummed, pretending to think. “hmm… probably after i graduate? but i still need to finish my internship, so it’ll take a few months—”

shinichiro bolted upright. “wait. you’re really considering it???”

y/n tilted her head. “uh… yes?”

shinichiro’s jaw dropped. “what?!?!? y/n?!?!?!”

before she could react, he lunged at her, wrapping her in the tightest hug.

“shin…” she laughed, patting his back.

he pulled away, still in shock. “i can’t believe it.” then, standing up, he threw his arms in the air. “y/n is finally gonna be my girlfriend!!!”

“shin!! be quiet!! i didn’t even say yes yet!”

“still!! that’s like a 90% chance now! i started from zero! it was hard!!”

y/n chuckled, shaking her head. then, leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

shinichiro froze.

completely stunned, he sat there, unmoving, as y/n laughed at his reaction.

and then, she pulled him into a hug.

resting her head against his chest, she whispered, “you said i make you feel alive… but it’s actually the opposite. you’re the one who brought me life, shin. thank you.”

shinichiro tightened his arms around her, holding her close.

they stayed like that for a while, talking about random things until the sun began to set.

as the sky dimmed, shinichiro stretched. “shall we head back now?”

y/n nodded.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

on the ride home, she found herself staring at the stars above, their glow making the night feel almost magical.

wrapped around shinichiro’s back, she let herself feel everything—the wind, the warmth, the way her heart beat just a little faster whenever she was with him.

when they arrived, y/n stepped off the bike, shinichiro followed. she turned to him with a soft smile.

“thank you for today, shin… honestly, for everything. you make me feel… human.”

shinichiro brushed a strand of hair from her face, his gaze lingering. “have i told you how beautiful you are, y/n?”

she chuckled. “mhm. you always do.”

he hesitated for a moment before asking.

“can… can i kiss you?”

her heart stopped.

but then, she nodded.

shinichiro cupped her cheek, leaning in.

the kiss was gentle, slow—filled with all the feelings neither of them had spoken out loud yet.

when they pulled apart, y/n noticed a tear slipping from shinichiro’s eye.

“shin…” she whispered.

he quickly wiped it away, laughing softly. “sorry, y/n. i’m just… too happy.”

then, rubbing the back of his neck, he muttered, “i never thought i’d get to do that.”

y/n smiled. “you talk like i’m so special.”

shinichiro met her gaze, his voice firm. “but you are.”

her chest tightened. before she knew it, tears pricked her eyes.

she hugged him.

“…now you’re making me cry.”

shinichiro chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back soothingly. pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he sighed. “i should go now, y/n…”

still clinging onto him, she pouted. “why do you sound like you’re going off somewhere, like you’re not coming back?”

he laughed, ruffling her hair. “sorry. okay. see you tomorrow, y/n.”

y/n smirked. “call me ‘love’ now.”

shinichiro blinked. “thought you hated that nickname?”

“i do.” she grinned. “but i only want to hear it from you.”

shinichiro exhaled dramatically. “okay, then. see you tomorrow, my love.”

then, gently, he took her hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it.

y/n felt her heart melt.

as he walked away, she watched him go—smiling softly, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.

but that promised tomorrow never came.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

it had been months since shinichiro disappeared from her life. months of drowning herself in work, of pushing through the grueling days of her internship at the prestigious university hospital she had fought so hard to get into. neurology had always been her goal, but even that couldn’t numb the ache that settled deep in her chest—the pain shinichiro had left behind.

she had buried herself in studies before he came into her life, and now, she returned to it like a lifeline. if she just kept moving, kept going, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much. maybe she wouldn’t have to think about how he had promised her tomorrow, only to vanish without a trace.

but fate was cruel.

the commotion outside her office barely registered at first—just another emergency, another patient fighting for their life. but as she stepped out to assess the situation, her breath caught in her throat.

there, on the stretcher, pale and barely clinging to life, was shinichiro sano.

her world tilted. the sounds around her faded. she watched there standing as the nurses rushed him to the emergency room. the hospital lights flickered above, casting an eerie glow over his unconscious face. his body was weak, almost lifeless.

no, no, no.

“doc, what’s the status of that patient?” she managed to ask one of her seniors, her voice barely above a whisper.

“rare case. he has brain cancer. it’s a miracle he lasted this long—most don’t make it past six months. he was in a coma for three. just transferred here last week.”

her head spun.

three months.

three months ago was the last time she heard from him. the night he held her close, kissed her for the first time like she was his world.

the emergency room light switched off.

the doctor in charge stepped out to speak with the family.

y/n couldn’t hear anything. she didn’t need to. the cries of his family were enough.

she ran.

she didn’t care about protocol, didn’t care about anything except the overwhelming need to reach him.

she pushed open the doors.

his lifeless body lay in front of her.

“no… no. this can’t be happening.”

her hands trembled as she reached for him, her breath coming in short gasps.

“shin… wake up. i’m here now, love. i missed you. i missed you so much. just seeing you is enough, so please… please wake up, shin.”

nothing.

“please!”

her sobs echoed through the cold, sterile room as she clung to him, her fingers gripping onto the fabric of his hospital gown like she could somehow pull him back to her.

but shinichiro sano was gone.

the door creaked open.

a familiar voice, shaking.

“are you y/n l/n?”

she looked up to see who she assumed was his brother—mikey, the little brother he always talked about—standing there with red-rimmed eyes.

he stepped forward, hesitantly, his hands trembling as he held out a small box and a folded letter.

“my brother… he wanted you to have this.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

the rooftop was quiet, save for the distant sounds of the city below.

y/n sat beside mikey, the weight of the letter heavy in her hands. neither of them spoke for a long time, the grief settling between them like an unbearable storm.

finally, she broke the silence.

“how long?”

mikey exhaled shakily. “we found out last year. he was in a coma since three months ago.”

three months ago.

her heart clenched.

“he woke up last week. we thought he was getting better… he even asked for you the moment he woke up.” mikey let out a small, broken chuckle. “he even asked his friends to find you insisted on transferring here because he found out you were working here. he spent the past week just watching you. sneaking out of his room in a wheelchair just to catch a glimpse of you.”

y/n swallowed the lump in her throat.

“last night, he asked me to grab something from his room, a box specifically. told me to write a letter for him because his arm was too weak to hold a pen. that’s what you’re holding.”

her grip on the letter tightened.

“i told him to tell you about his condition, but he refused. said you were already carrying so much on your shoulder, and he didn’t want to burden you.”

her lips trembled. “he’s an idiot. it would’ve been better if i saw him.”

mikey laughed, but it was hollow, filled with pain. “he really loved you, y/n. even in his last breath, all he did was talk about you.”

tears welled in mikey’s eyes, his voice cracking. “i wanted him to have a long life. a family. kids. he wasn’t the best at a lot of things, but he was good at loving people. and now… now i’ll never get to see that.”

y/n bit back a sob.

why did it have to be him?

why did it have to be shinichiro sano?

the boy who loved so fiercely, so selflessly.

the only one who had ever made her feel alive.

mikey sighed, wiping at his eyes. “i’ll leave you alone now… so you can read it.” he hesitated. “thank you for loving my brother. your love saved him, even if it was just for a little while.”

and then she was alone.

the letter shook in her hands as she slowly unfolded it.

the world felt unbearably silent.

y/n sat alone on the hospital rooftop, the city lights flickering below like dying embers. in her trembling hands was the last thing shinichiro sano left for her—a letter and a small box.

her fingers trembled as she unfolded the paper. she wasn’t ready. she’d never be ready.

but she had to read it.

dear y/n,

if you’re reading this, i’m probably off to heaven now (if i am permitted go to heaven! hahaha).

first off, i just wanted to say how beautiful you are. just saw you earlier doing doctor stuff and thought to myself, ‘wow, my girl is really gonna become a doctor now.’ sorry i didn’t get to remind you how beautiful you are these past three months. you’re probably mad at me for disappearing like that. i’m sorry. i didn’t cheat, baby. i promise!! you’re the only one i love!!

but i’m grateful, you know? i got to spend my last day as a normal person on a date with you. you looked so beautiful that day. too bad i won’t get to see more of you anymore.

i was really looking forward to your graduation so i could finally have a proper girlfriend. you know, i had a crush on you since the freshman ceremony. four whole years of loving you from afar. and i only got the courage to approach you in your senior year because… well, i found out i was dying. i wanted to spend the remaining time i have to give you the love you deserve.

sucks, right? but it gave me the push i needed. i wanted you to know how much i loved you, even if i never really stood a chance. i have nothing to lose anyway. a guy like me? with someone like you? i must have been delusional. but somehow, i did it. you became my girlfriend—well, 90% at least, haha. the happiest day of my life was when you said you will be my girlfriend soon. but i got so caught up in that happiness, i forgot i was running out of time.

honestly, i wanted to scream at how unfair the world is. but at the same time, i can’t be too mad. because this sickness gave me the courage to have you, to hold you, even for just a little while.

people say ‘i love you so much i’d die for you,’ but for me? i love you so much that i’d live for you. and you gave me a reason to.

thank you, y/n. thank you for everything. i’m sorry i had to go too soon, but i know my girl is strong. i know you’ll be okay even without me by your side.

did you see the box? it’s an engagement ring.

her breath caught in her throat.

yn’s gaze shifted to the small box beside her. with shaking hands, she opened it.

a ring.

he was going to marry her.

her vision blurred as she forced herself to continue reading.

actually, i was supposed to propose to you on your graduation, not just ask you to be my girlfriend, just because i didn’t want to let you go anymore. i mean, i already know who i wanted to spend the rest of my life with. why not just marry you instead? hahaha.

i accepted the surgery knowing the risks were higher—because if there was even the smallest chance i could live longer, stay with you longer, marry you… i was willing to take it. it gave me hope.

but shit happens, huh? i went into a coma before i even got the chance. i’m sorry i couldn’t put that ring on your finger myself. you deserve a real proposal.

i won’t be around for your graduation now, so i’m giving it to you early.

y/n, take care of yourself, okay? i asked mikey to look out for you. sorry for all the times i stressed you out. but don’t be reckless like me, okay? i want you safe.

just be happy, y/n. even if one day, you forget about me, if it means your heart is at peace, it’s okay.

i loved you more than you’ll ever know. if only i had more time… i would have given you everything.

my princess. my girl. my love.

shit, that sounds nice, doesn’t it? being able to call you mine.

but it won’t happen now.

thank you for everything, y/n. i wish i could hold you one last time.

see you later, love. in another life?

“in another life, shin…”

the paper slipped from her hands as a sob tore from her throat.

y/n clutched the ring, slipping it onto her finger with shaking hands.

“it looks good on me, love, right?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

but no one answered.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

months passed.

graduation day arrived.

a day that was supposed to be the happiest moment of her life was now the loneliest.

after the ceremony, y/n didn’t celebrate. didn’t join her classmates in their laughter and joy.

instead, she went straight to him.

the grave was cold beneath her touch. she placed fresh flowers down, spreading a mat beside his tombstone. on it, she laid out the same snacks they had on their last date. and pancakes. the ones he always brought her.

she took a shaky breath.

“shin, guess what? i graduated with honors.” she forced a laugh. “crazy, right? just months ago, you were waiting outside my classroom then i’ll come to you crying about the lecture that day… and now i’m finally done.”

her fingers traced his name on the tombstone.

“so… are we engaged now?” she smiled softly, holding up her hand. “you were supposed to propose today, and i already have the ring. so i guess that means i said yes.”

the silence stretched on.

her smile faded.

“shin… i miss you.”

her body curled forward as she rested her head against his grave.

“please come back now…” her voice cracked. “you said you’d marry me. so come back… please…”

tears spilled freely, soaking into the stone beneath her.

“i want your arms around me again. i don’t want to forget your voice. your touch. shin, please… it hurts so much.”

she sobbed until her body ached.

until her voice was raw.

until the sun had long set, and all that remained was the hollow echo of her grief.

life went on.

the world kept turning.

but something inside her had shattered the day shinichiro sano died.

and no matter how much time passed… she would never be the same.

his last words haunted her. be happy. be okay.

but how?

how was she supposed to be okay when the love of her life was gone?

when the only person who made her heart feel full was now just a memory?

she let out a trembling breath.

“i love you, shin.”

she kissed the ring on her finger.

“i love you so much. you will always be the love of my life.”

and he was. he always would be.

but now, he was nothing more than a memory—one that haunted her every waking moment, one that left her aching, empty, and irreparably shattered.

because shinichiro sano wasn’t just the love of her life.

he was the loss of her life.

II

Six months ago you never would have imagined yourself in a gang's hideout, sitting in some delinquent's lap. If it was entirely up to you, you wouldn't be. Instead you're clenching your jaw to avoid yelling at him to stop shaking his leg.

Tonight he's dragged you all the way to Yokohama to hang out with his new gang. You think he looked better in black than red, and you preferred the deliquents in Toman. But your preferences only matter so much.

Thankfully you're not the only omega, although you don't anticipate finding any allies. The others look happy to be there. There's even one who is actually in the gang, as opposed to being a guest. You take a deep inhale to try to calm your nerves, and inadvertently gulp down Hanma's scent. The fact that it soothes you fills you with self-loathing. You're not supposed to be comforted by your almost-kidnapper. Biology and the comfort of familiarity are too strong to resist, you suppose. Nonetheless you refuse to let your guard down any further.

"How should we approach Toman?" Their leader asks, his name already escaping you.

For a moment you perk up. It wasn't long ago that Hanma was part of Toman. But then you slouch once more. Deliquents are deliquents, no matter the gang. None of them helped you, even the ones who looked at you with understanding and pity. Toman, Tenjiku, it's all the same. As an omega who's spoken for, you're nearly invisible.

Though you're pretty sure at least half of the time he sees you as little more than a sweet-smelling pet, Hanma does seem to notice the change in body language. The hand that reads 'Sin' begins to lightly caress your side while his scent becomes stronger. Something like cloves, grass in the rain, and another note you can't identify. It melts the scowl off of your face and likely stops your scent from souring.

Next to him his beta friend Kisaki leans into the circle and offers his thoughts. You know Kisaki finds your 'relationship' distasteful. Under his scrutinizing gaze he asked Hanma outright if it was really necessary to drag an unwilling omega around. When Hanma refused to budge on the issue, Kisaki told him that you better not get in the way. The dislike immediately became mutual.

"You worry too much." Hanma laughs behind you as he slaps his hand against Kisaki’s shoulder. You smirk and little at the way Kisaki swats his hand away.

"That’s the first time all night I've seen your girl smile." Across from you sits a man with long braids and a self-assured smirk. If you were told his name, you no longer remember. "Maybe she needs something different in an alpha."

Multiple things happen at once.

"Now Ran…" Tenjiku's leader begins.

"The fuck are you doing?" The boy with the glasses sitting next to Braids elbows him. "Such an idiot."

On your other side a blonde beta with a head tattoo bursts out laughing. "Just when I thought tonight would be boring."

Hanma goes rigid beneath you. "Wanna fucking say that again, Haitani?"

Despite your distaste for violence, you've seen Hanma fight multiple times. It's hard to imagine anyone standing up to him. But you hear the rhythm Braids is tapping against his leg with a baton. Bored, impatient, and full of alpha aggression. Better the devil you know.

"Shuji." You lean back to whisper in his ear the way you know he likes. For the first time all night your back presses against his chest. You can't help but relax your stiff posture, giving into the the craving for touch that you always try to deny. "It’s too smoky in here. Can we go?"

Though he is a terrible person, he does consider your needs to a certain degree. Perhaps more importantly, as an alpha the only thing he craves more than the submission of the alpha challenging him is the reassurance of an omega. You aren't his, but you can pretend.

"Please?" You press your cheek against the stubble on his. The itching is unpleasant against your skin. Pushing past the discomfort, you allow your scent to coat your words.

In response he turns his head to suck on the gland on your throat. Marking his territory in an obscenely intimate way. It makes your brain short-circuit and you go limp in his arms.

"You're fucking lucky I'm feeling generous right now." Hanma stands, shifting you into a bridal carry. "Go find your own omega, Loser."

"Hanma—" A voice, Kisaki’s, filters in. By the time you've processed it you're already outside.

&&&

Since it was the three of you today, you took the train instead of the bike. You lay in a daze in Hanma's arms, waiting for the sights and sounds of the nearest station to appear before you. Then he veers off the expected path.

"Where…? Put me down." You push against his chest. His scent is stronger than ever.

"Can't take you on the train smelling like this. Can't wait any longer anyway."

Your stomach plummets faster than a broken elevator. Struggling in earnest now, you push even harder against his chest. "Put me down!"

In the months you've known him, you have not been spared Hanma's touch. The day he found you he pulled you into an alley, dragging you away from your friends mid-conversation. When you struggled he squeezed your wrists so tight you felt your bones creak under the pressure. Your friends tried yelling and hitting him, but once he licked your throat gland there was nothing they could do. You were officially spoken for. Unless he changes his mind or loses a challenge, you're obligated to fulfill his whims. Most often he settles for making out, grinding himself against you. Occasionally he makes you jerk him off, not worrying about the mess it makes or the reluctance of your hand. In his mind you're sure he thinks that the orgasms he forces from you with his own hands erase any doubt.

Thankfully he accepted your request of putting off consumating and completing the bond until after you've graduated. You were sure you would still have a few months left to figure out a way to get out of him taking your virginity. There has to be a way you can stop him from forcing his mark on your throat. You need every bit of time to make plan your escape. Time you're no longer being afforded.

"Please, Hanma. I'm not ready for more." You shove once more, but it's like trying to push a mountain.

Hanma takes a deep inhale of your scent, nose pushed against the top of your head. "I'm going to lose my fucking mind if I don't know you're mine."

"Are you going into a rut?" You cease your struggle, freezing as if someone has hit pause. If he's in a rut and thinks his omega is getting taken away from him… you don't want to be viewed as prey.

"No. I'm on suppressants like you asked." He crinkles his nose and sticks out his tongue in disgust. "But I'm still an alpha."

Hanma tilts his face downward to nuzzle against your throat. He places soft kisses on your skin, so at odds with his bruising grip on your body.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Don't I always take care of you?"

Not by your standards, not even close. But the press of his lips against your gland and the words coming from them still slow the nervous beating of your heart.

&&&

You don't pay attention to how he checks into the love hotel or how he pays for it. Instead you bury your face into his chest and inhale his unique smell. It's so addictive, you could keep your face here forever. It requires great restraint not to take a bite of his pec through his shirt. The need he's feeling permeates his scent and spreads into you.

He tosses you onto the bed and doesn't hesitate to climb over you. His kiss is more aggressive than ever before. You match the force of his tongue with your own while he strips you both, only coming up for air to remove the final remaining pieces.

"Open your mouth."

You're not sure what to expect. He's never made you give him head, though it's obvious that he wants it. Despite the apprehension nipping at your heels, you maintain eye contact and do as he asks. Hanma grabs your jaw and kneels over you. You've never seen his cock this hard before. He spits into your mouth once, twice, three times before massaging your throat to get you to swallow. You crinkle your nose in displeasure, but feel wetness spread across your thighs nonetheless.

"Did you really have to do that?"

You let Hanma rearrange your legs to wrap higher on his waist than you'd like. It makes your hips slightly tilt upward as he lines himself up with your pussy. It's going to be deep, too deep for a first time.

"Wait! Can I be on top?" If you can have some control, you make it a little bit easier on yourself.

"Don’t be scared, baby. Your body was made for this."

He rubs his tip around your entrance, making you even messier. It would at least be able relief if he were bump against your clit, but he's avoiding it. Your hips buck up involuntarily, seeking that extra stimulation. Hanma gives a low chuckle.

"I heard it's tighter if you don't come first."

How did it not occur to you before that he hadn't made a single effort to prepare you? You smack his chest, but it makes no difference.

"Shuji!" You gasp his name as he slowly pushes in. So slow, as if he savouring it. You switch from hitting him to digging your nails into his chest.

He groans and forces his way in a little more. "Fucking love it when you say my name."

Holding you down with the weight of his much bigger body, Shuji lets gravity help him to force the rest of the way in. It's unbearable, bordering between pleasure and pain. His hips are pressed tight against your own. Shuji's hand squeeze your ass and tilt your pelvis higher. The angle makes you cry out as he grinds the head of his cock as your cervix. You feel tears burn trails down your temples as he moans your name.

"Why the fuck did we wait so long?"

We. As if you chose to change the boundaries.

Shuji's hips pull back for only a second before slamming back in. Like he can't bear to leave your aching heat. Despite your lack of willingness, you're so slick it's easy for him to make his way back in. Betrayed by your biology. The same as countless omegas before you. You let this assuage your guilt as you place a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. Shuji gasps at the touch.

"Knew you wanted this. Knew you needed me."

His pace is relentless. Too fast to be seeking anything other than release. Mindless. The sound of your bodies colliding echoes in the twinges of pleasure-pain each time he rams against your cervix. Too deep to be considerate.

"Slow down!" Each thrust punches a harsh breath out of you.

"Can't." He shifts back on his knees and throws both your legs over his shoulders. It's not quite a mating press, but if he leans forward and puts his weight back down on you it will be. "Can't— can't stop."

Shuji's impossibly long in your, spearing your core and spreading you apart. Without trying he bumps your g-spot each time. It shoves you closer to an orgasm you don't want to give him. If you do, it's going to be so much harder to make him pull out. The pressure is close to burning for you both. You feel his base starting to swell against your cunt.

"Shuji— don't knot!"

Omegas aren't allowed birth control without an alpha’s permission. You had avoided the subject because you didn't want Shuji to take it as an invitation. A mistake, in retrospect.

"Ugh fine."

Just before it gets too big for him to pull out, Shuji shifts his hips just enough to release onto you instead of inside you. Heat splashes over your pussy. You barely resist the urge to finger it deep inside yourself, settling for massaging it over your clit until you cum. Shuji scoops some of it up too, spreading it over the glands on your throat. The smell will stick, lasting for days regardless of how many showers you have.

"I love you." He whispers into the aftermath. Devastating as a bullet to your chest.

Hanma falls down on his back next to you, heavy breaths raising his chest like a puppet on a string. His hand gropes around the bed for a part of you to touch. As if he hasn't already taken enough. You roll away, establishing some distance as you switch to kneeling.

"Why couldn't you have just approached me like a normal person?" It's been bothering you since the start, though you hadn't wanted to hear the answer before.

"I wasn't about to take any chances." Hanma raises his upper body on his forearms to get a better look at you. His eyes trail down from your face to your breasts. "I'm a delinquent. Not the kind of alpha most parents want for their omega."

"I wouldn't have turned you down, if you hadn't immediately gone for intimidation. I always noticed you when we were in school."

As much as you have to admit it, hate the thought of flattering him, it's true. But you didn't know how to approach him and he never seemed interested. Eventually you moved on to high school and he disappeared off to wherever it is deliquent dropouts go.

"Well now you have me." There's a faint smile on his face. It's so beautiful it's makes your chest throb and your eyes water. You can't have that, not after how he's taken yours away.

"I'll never forgive you." I'll never forgive myself.

The smile fades into a cold, blank slate. "I don't need you to."

Escape is slipping further and further away. It's becoming a fleeting dream, snaking out of your grasp the more you try to hold on.

III

The next time you're dragged to a meeting you can sense something is different about Hanma. He's quiet when he picks you up outside of your house. In fact he's been silent for days; since that night he's made no effort to contact you. It was a relief, but one not meant to last. As always he reaches over to put your helmet on for you, something he probably thinks is chivalrous. For the first time ever you flinch, and he winces in return. Still he says nothing as he secures it on your head.

"What about Kisaki?" You ask as you climb onto the bike behind him. You're not really interested in conversation with him, but part of you is desperate to break the tension. You receive no answer.

The trip to Yokohama is especially cold without his pestering at each light you stop at. It's cold when he doesn't make fun of you for stumbling off his bike with stiff legs. It's cold when he doesn't tease you for hesitating outside of the gang's hideout. This time it's you who reaches out to link your hands. If Hanma has any thoughts about this, he keeps them to himself.

Unease creeps in as you feel the eyes in the room shift to you two. Hanma sits down in the exact same place as last time. As always, you pause before sitting. Even though he expects you to sit in your lap, you can't help but hope this time will be different. Months of Hanma manhandling you in front of anyone and everyone has not cooled the embarrassed heat from your cheeks. Before him, you had never so much as held hands with anyone, always worried some alpha would get the wrong idea. Turns out that caution was a wasted effort. You sigh and step closer, reaching a hand out to Hanma's shoulder stabilize yourself as you prepare to sit down.

"Wait."

His voice is cuts through the tension in the air and you flinch accordingly. There will be no room for argument. You stand rigid with your eyes on the ground. Your hand is still outstretched to reach for Hanma. When you hear the clink of his belt you drop that hand and clench your fists.

"Hanma, dude what the fuck? Put your dick away."

"Ugh, gross man."

"Nah I'm interested in seeing the show."

At this you look up. You meet the eyes of the alpha who gave Hanma a hard time at the last meeting. Braids. You glare at him and his audacity. He leans his upper body forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Getting a better view, perhaps. When he doesn't back down, you look away.

Instead you look back at Hanma, stroking himself and looking at you expectantly. Now you understand why he insisted you wear a skirt, even though it's cold out. His cock stands proud, flushed red and beginning to leak at the tip.

"Shuji…" Can he hear the worry in your voice? Does he see the pleading in your eyes? You don't want to do this.

"Tights off. Sit down."

If you two were any other designation, it would be shocking and degrading. Betas would never do something like this so casually. But it's not uncommon for alphas to expect their omegas to take care of any of their physical desires. Even in a public setting, so long as only adults are present. You two won't even be the only pairing in the room doing something like this.

As discreetly as possible, you pull off your tights and underwear. You don't want him fidgeting around and exposing you even more while trying to pull your panties to the side. Behind you Hanma makes a faint, pleased hum. It's enough to quiet some of the anxiety thrumming through your veins.

As an omega it doesn't take a lot to get you ready, especially for a partner your body desires. Even if your mind doesn't. The more time you spend intimate with one particular alpha, the more your inner omega reciprocates that desire. Hanma can feel it. His long fingers find their way under your skirt and have to do little more than brush against your slit. It takes a only few seconds for you to start panting. The tips of his fingers just barely dip inside before you're backing yourself up into his lap.

"Shuji." You say his name again, but with relief. He pulls your lips apart to make it easier for you to sink down on him.

"That’s a good girl." You're pretty sure it was Braids speaking, but your eyes closed at some point and you don't care to check.

This time it's easier to open up around his length. It's becoming muscle memory. He's still too big to be comfortable, but you don't mind the stretch so much. You make every inch disappear beneath your skirt, smoothing the fabric down once you're flush against his lap.

"I—"

"Enough." The leader cuts Braids off.

You open your eyes, looking between the two. Neither of them are looking at you. In fact Braids is sulking, focused on his polished shoes. You lean your head back against Shuji's shoulder. He brushes his lips against your throat while throwing an arm over your middle. It might look casual on the outside, but there's no chance you'll be able to move any millimetre unless he allows you.

Whatever conversation was taking place before you two showed up resumes. The words fly over your dizzy head. You're too focused on trying to stay quiet as you squeeze Shuji from the inside. The minutes pass without you registering more than the miniscule movements of your body and Shuji's ever-tightening arm. It's becoming harder to breathe, harder to be contained when you want to move against him. You know he wants the same; he's getting close, nearly locked inside. Any moment he's due to pull out, but you need just a little more friction before he does.

"Shuji." You whisper, just aware enough to know you don't want to be an even bigger spectacle.

"Ah fuck it."

The hold he has on your hips is bruising as he thrusts up into you. Both of you are hurtling toward the inevitable conclusion. With one hand you cover your face, and the other holds your skirt down. When you speak it's muffled against your palm.

"Pu-pull out." As much as you don't want the sensations to end and the embarrassment to come flooding in, you know his orgasm is imminent.

"Shut up." He has an air of aggression that hasn't been present since the day he first backed you into the alley.

"But—" You don't think you're ovulating, but you don't want to test fate either.

"If I want to knot you I'll knot you." It sounds like he's speaking through gritted teeth, every syllable taking effort. "If you make me a dad, you make me dad."

Cold terror shoots up your spine, chasing away your orgasm. You scramble to push yourself off of his lap, even though you know it won't work. Hanma thrusts up one final time. He bites down on your shoulder hard enough that you know there will be a dark bruise later. In contrast Hanma's hot cum fills you, burning you inside out.

You both breathe heavily. Behind you Hanma collapses back against the chair. The silence around you hangs heavy as a guillotine blade. Daring to uncover your eyes, you glance around the room. You don't know if it's worse that half the room is staring, or that the other half is looking anywhere but you two. The only people seemingly unaffected are the other alpha-omega couples, preoccupied with their own intimacy.

"Have you proven your point, Hanma?"

You jolt. When had Kisaki appeared? You're absolutely mortified. Most of these people you won't have to see more than a handful of times. But Hanma's best friend makes regular, albeit reluctant, appearances in your life. How are you ever supposed to hold a conversation with him again? Hanma doesn't answer him, perhaps feeling a bit of shame himself. Instead he massages your sides, soothing the damage he did and keeping your scent from turning as rotten as you feel inside.

It takes an eternity but eventually you're able to separate. Even with your thighs clenched as tight as possible, cum still runs down your legs as soon as you stand. You yank on your clothes as fast as possible to avoid even more mess. The moment you're dressed you whirl around to stare at Hanma expectantly. You don't have to tell him that you will <i>not</i> be spending another second here. He rolls his eyes but obliges you anyway. You two leave without another word. He's already said everything he needs to say.

&&&

The ride home is as quiet as the trip there. The humiliation is still burning through you so you soak his back in your tears. By the time you've made it back to Shinjuku your eyes are swollen but dry. It's just one more trauma to lock away deep inside you. You look away as you take off your helmet, avoiding his scrutiny as much as possible. When you finally do look up you're caught off guard. Hanma's crying too. It's restrained, only a couple stray tears roll down his cheeks. But you can see how red the tip of his nose is, the way he bites his lip to keep it in.

"What are you— why are you…" You trail off. Torn between the embers of your suppressed rage and your very human inability to not be moved by seeing someone cry, you don't know how to proceed.

"I know I do a lot of bad shit, but nobody wants to think of themselves as the bad guy."

"I thought…" You pause, letting your words gather at the tip of your tongue. "I thought you didn't feel guilty. You said you didn't need my forgiveness."

"I didn't mean to hurt you. It's this alpha shit. Can't control it."

Well up your fucking dose of suppressants, asshole. You don't want to antagonize him when you're both feeling vulnerable. The thought of kicking him when he's down makes you nauseous anyway.

"Does this mean you'll let me go?"

He shakes his head and looks down at you with something like pity. "I'll be better. But I'll never be good."

He bends down to kiss you so sweetly, hands on your hips, salt on his lips. Hanma has never been so tender with you before. In another life it might have been nice.

IV

Your week has been uncharacteristically quiet. Normally Hanma comes to inflict his presence on you at least three or four times a week. It should be nice to not have to worry about anything more substantial than completing your schoolwork on time. There shouldn't be a restless itch under your skin. His name shouldn't be echoing in his mind.

Shuji, Shuji, Shuji

You gnaw on the back of your pencil. It's past the time you told yourself you would put down your notebook and try to sleep. Nothing's been scratched onto the page for at least ten minutes, so you don't know why you're still up. (Waiting, if you're being honest with yourself.)

Another minute passes before you can't stand staring at your notebook, waiting for it to provide answers for you. Flicking off the lamp, you begin to get undressed. The only light to guide you as you dig pajamas out of your dresser is that of the moon. Your shorts are barely on when you hear a tapping in your window.

"Shuji." You sigh. Instinct told you it was him before you even opened the window and let him climb in. His scent flooded your room, notes of distress irritating your nose.

"Hey. I, uh, I need you."

Hanma eyes you for a moment, before hugging you. Blood, dirt, and sweat transfer to your clean pajamas. The feeling makes your skin itch so you push him away.

"What happened?" You've never seen him look so anxious and dishevelled. The rise and fall of his chest is too fast to be healthy. "Breathe. Tell me what's wrong."

The relief you were hoping to find in his return is nowhere to be found. There's a vacancy where there should be reassurance filling your heart. You bite back a disappointed sigh.

"You know," He says with a frantic edge in his voice, dodging your question. "sometimes they won't send alphas to jail if they have a mate."

"Jail?" Your hands find his chest of their own volition. It's getting harder to breathe for you too. "What did you do?"

"I just gave him a ride. I didn't do anything myself." Hanma's caresses the glands on your throat with the tips of his fingers. It should be a soothing gesture for you both.

"You fucking idiot!" You never talk to him this way. He's never made any explicit threats against you, but you can never be too sure when it comes to alphas. But now you smack his chest for good measure. "Throwing your life away for Kisaki and dumb gang shit."

"My life is dumb gang shit." He responds to your anger in kind, bearing his teeth.

"What about me? What am I supposed to do?" Are you free? Do you want to be?

When you're being honest with yourself, you don't despise Hanma the way you know you should. Your problem with him has never been compatibility. His touch has always felt right, his scent always making your mouth water. The issue has always laid with Hanma himself. You hate the way he's torn away your autonomy, can't stand his love for violence and danger. But you hate the thought of being forced to start over with a new alpha even more.

In fact, the more you think about it the more you begin to spiral. What if someone from one of Hanma's gangs takes his place? If he goes to jail then the most dangerous people you've ever met will know you're no longer spoken for. Your nails dig into his chest as you try to fight the rising tide of panic. He's already on edge, the last thing you need is to trigger his protective instincts.

"Will you help me?" He asks, though he's already walking you backwards and pushing you down on your bed.

Hanma starts pulling off your pajama shorts while sucking on your throat. So badly you want to tell him to slow down so you can think this through. But your rational thought is trickling out of your mind and down your thighs.

"I quit taking my suppressants a few days ago." His smirk tickles your throat.

The decision was already made for you. He sinks his elongated teeth into the side of your throat. There's no going back now. The connection explodes between you and you can sense the beat of his heart next to your own. You scream out his name through the pleasure-pain of the bite and the unexpected orgasm forced out from it. Too loud to go without notice, but you're not worried about the consequences anymore. Nobody willingly comes between an alpha and their mate.

"Open your mouth."

You're still inchoate from the linking of your souls, but you do as you're told. Shuji spits onto your waiting tongue and you close your mouth and swallow out of some strange reflex.

"Good girl." He opens your mouth again with his thumb on your lower lip and drips saliva into you once more. "Always so good for me. Knew you would be."

Shuji rolls you onto your side and throws your leg back over his hip. When he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance, you push your hips back into him. It's surprisingly gentle when he enters you. The violent pounding you were expecting never comes. Instead he gently rocks his hips against you without ever pulling out, lightly petting your stomach.

"Right where I am meant to be." He goes even slower, though he pushes so deep you could choke on him. "We should have done this sooner."

You push back harder, needing more friction to reach the orgasm tingling just out of reach. Shuji shushes you, kissing the top of your head. He stops moving altogether, seemingly content to let you warm him for the moment.

"Please. I need more!"

"Not yet."

You want to argue, but an alpha’s word is final. Instead you close your eyes and try to enjoy the dichotomy of too much pressure and not enough stimulation. You're still not used to his size.

When Shuji finally speaks again, you can hear the mischief in his voice

"I hear they won't send alphas to jail if their mate is pregnant."

You know it's not a request.

MASTERLIST DIRECTORY

SANZU LEAVES the bakery with a few bags of dorayaki tucked underneath his arm. He’s running ahead of schedule – he still has half an hour before Mikey expects him –, so he meanders through Tokyo's network of dark alleyways and hidden shortcuts.

He walks and walks and walks, letting his feet guide him wherever. He’s been working in the streets for long enough. He’ll know how to find his way back to Bonten’s headquarters no matter where he ends up.

He makes a left turn, a sharp right, two more left turns, until he hears the buzz of a nearby shopping district. He follows the sounds of people hustling about and finds a narrow path between two shops to slip through. He can see people walking by at the end of the path, but he doesn’t enter the busy streets, opting to observe and watch the crowds fluctuate instead.

And then he sees you. Clad in a flowing beige dress with a white t-shirt layered underneath, you’re staring off into the distance as the wind ruffles your hair. You’re laughing at something or someone, but as he tries to get a better look at you, a rush of shoppers streams past and blocks his view.

He slips a cigarette out of his back pocket, lights it, and breathes out a puff of smoke as he chuckles. When he glances back into the crowd, you’re gone. He turns around to retrace his haphazard path. Mikey likes his dorayaki warm.

–

Two weeks later, when Mikey’s supply of dorayaki has dwindled to a dangerous low, Sanzu returns to the usual bakery, accompanied by Ran this time.

The two are close colleagues, though Sanzu thinks “close” is too intimate of a description. Sanzu likes to keep people at arm's length away. Close enough to build cohesive, mechanical teamwork but not enough to skip pleasantries and create personal connections.

Sanzu is outside of the bakery, scrolling through his phone and tapping his foot as he waits for Ran. The latter always liked taking his time, and Sanzu’s patience was wearing thin. Luckily, his colleague walks out a few moments later. Sanzu is about to shoot a snarky comment when he notices that Ran is conversing with a woman.

It takes a few moments for Sanzu to remember who you are.

“Sanzu!” Ran calls happily. “Can you unlock the car?” Sanzu rolls his eyes before he slips the car keys out of his pocket. “Oh, and let me introduce you!”

You bow, offering your name and a few compliments to Sanzu’s suit. You wear a neat smile as you wait for his response. Sanzu, too, says his name and a brief “thank you,” all while avoiding eye contact.

Ran continues, “She goes to this shop regularly, as well. I wonder why we’ve never met before.” You nod in agreement before dismissing yourself, bidding the two a good rest of their day.

As Sanzu and Ran drive back to headquarters, Ran asks, “You know her?”

Sanzu groans before curtly responding, “No.” Ran hums, a smirk tugging at his lips, but does not press his pink-haired colleague any further.

It’s not like Sanzu was lying. He didn’t know you. He just saw you sometimes, and neither of you bothered to say anything when you did see each other.

However, after this interaction, you and Sanzu begin to cross paths frequently, always at the bakery every other Saturday at 8 AM sharp, when the dorayaki are almost out of the oven and the toasted pastries are being shelved.

Sanzu notices the pastries, such as the mango croissants and berry-filled sandwiches, because he always lets you order at the counter first. You always buy a lot. You carry at least two bags of food home, yet you never struggle with the weight.

He also notes the smooth lilt of your voice when you speak with the bakers. You seem to know the staff well, and he finds himself entranced by the highs and lows of your giggles, sassy retorts, and sincere praise.

You speak in the same sweet manner with him, which initially surprised him until he remembered that you aren’t aware of his occupation or lack of a moral compass. Although your exchanges are limited to questions of “How are you?” and “Any plans for today?”, he finds himself relaxing and basking in the casual nature of your exchanges. Usually, he replies to strangers with one or two words, but he comes to appreciate your lighthearted aura and matches the flow of the conversation.

And when the two of you part ways, you always say goodbye with a full smile, and with a few waves of your hand, you cross the street and disappear from his line of vision.

But Sanzu is not a consistent man (aside from his unwavering loyalty to Mikey), and his routines are often disrupted or forgotten. So when Sanzu finds you in one of Bonten’s warehouses, he mentally chides himself for being caught off guard. He switches gears and replaces his agitation with doubt and suspicion.

“What’s going on?” Sanzu asks Takeomi. His older brother huffs out a puff of smoke while handing him a thin laminated folder of photos and information.

As Sanzu flips through the documents, Takeomi speaks. “A client tried to rat us out. We captured a few of his employees to see if anyone knows anything.”

Sanzu hands the folder back before redirecting his gaze onto the kneeling employees. There are five in total – some of them shivering from the cold, others frightened still, all duct taped across the mouth. He narrows in on you for a second, observing the creases in your forehead and the tears that slip down your cheeks. His hands twitch.

“Did we get anything yet?” Sanzu asks again.

“Nothing so far. It’s a shame that we’ll have to kill them off,” Takeomi replies, though there’s very little remorse in his voice. It can’t be helped, Sanzu thinks, but he feels disappointment course through his body. He ponders on a compromise but drops the idea. Work is work, and you are no exception to Bonten’s procedures. All witnesses had to be killed, and Sanzu is not one to disobey Mikey’s orders.

But not all of the executives are as stringent as he is. Ran and Rindou saunter into the warehouse, and of course, the older Haitani bursts out with a joyful greeting when he sees you. You startle at his presence, and Sanzu can tell your shock and disbelief when your eyes widen. If your mouth wasn’t forced shut, your jaw would’ve dropped open as well.

Ran walks over to you and begins to untie the ropes binding your wrists, knees, and ankles.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Takeomi yells. A few ashes from his cigarette drift to the floor.

“Can we keep this one?” Ran yells back. “I like them!” Takeomi only scowls, peering at Mikey’s back. After waiting for a few moments, Bonten’s leader doesn’t react, and Ran smiles gleefully. Sanzu releases a breath he doesn’t remember holding. He reminds himself to maintain professionalism again. However, the more he stares at you panting and heaving, the more overcome he is by an itching need to take you somewhere far, far away.

“No.” He blurts without thinking, surprising Ran and Takeomi.

“Uh, sorry?”

“No, we’re not keeping her.” Ran knows not to argue against Bonten’s No. 2, but he huffs and crosses his arms, a scowl on his face.

“Then what else can we do to make sure she doesn’t say anything if we can’t kill her?” Takeomi asks. Sanzu doesn’t have an answer.

After discussing with Mikey, Takeomi, and Kakucho, Sanzu is tasked with the responsibility of checking in on you every two days. You aren’t opposed to the idea – not that you have a choice –, and you are escorted home by Sanzu soon after being notified of your release.

During the drive home, Sanzu asks you questions, gathering information and noting interesting tidbits. You’re the same age as him, a simple employee of a large corporation with a corrupt Board of Directors, and, to his surprise, have a five-year-old daughter.

While Sanzu has acquired many skills fit for a criminal, negotiating and speaking tactfully has yet to be something he is capable of.

“And the father?”

You glance out the window. “Ran away.”

“Why?”

You shrug. He clicks his tongue.

“Can I ask a question, if you don’t mind?” you ask.

After a few seconds of silence, you continue, “What’s going to happen to my coworkers?”

“They’re dead.”

The rest of the ride is silent, as well as the walk up to the third floor of your apartment complex. Sanzu needed to know where you lived, and the easiest way was to escort you to your home. However, before you slip inside your room, you turn around to face him.

Sanzu freezes.

Your eyes are fierce, an icy flame burning in your eyes. Your pupils dilate, more color than white, and you glare at him for a few moments. Then, in a level – almost cold and condescending – voice, you say, “My daughter will be protected.” Sanzu swallows, surprised at your intensity, before nodding once. You smile at his affirmation, though it doesn’t reach your eyes, and bid him farewell.

–

As promised, Sanzu visits you every two days. Most of the time, he simply drops by in the morning before you leave for work and says a quick greeting. You usually rush to the door from the kitchen, wearing a black apron covered with flour and powdered sugar. On Saturdays, the two of you visit the bakery together.

“Where’s your kid?” he asked once.

“Oh, I sent her to daycare already.”

“Even on the weekends?”

“She used to only stay for the mornings, but now she stays until lunch.” Sanzu is about to inquire about the change before it clicks.

“I must be keeping you,” he mutters and rubs his nape. Sanzu rarely apologizes, even implicitly, but he’d never wish for a child to suffer from neglect as he did.

“No, no, not at all! My daughter loves the daycare and her friends there. Besides, I like our time together.” You pat his shoulder before wrapping your hands around one of his. “You make my Saturday mornings.”

The way you effortlessly say “together” and hold his hand baffles him. He’s part of a major yakuza group. He killed your coworkers. By pure association, you and your daughter would forever be in danger. Furthermore, even if Sanzu wasn’t a higher-up in Bonten, it’s not like he’s an upstanding individual with a healthy lifestyle.

Sanzu had his fair share of relationships, though they were all very noncommittal and ended as soon as he shot them in the head. It’s not like he wanted to kill them, but whenever he was caught on the couch doing drugs, they always threatened to report him, and he didn’t want to waste time behind bars. Besides, he never considered a single one of them as a lover.

While you showed a lack of shock or discomfort whenever he visited on his more… spent mornings, Sanzu knew you would be no different. Out of best interests of both of you, Sanzu knew he should keep his distance.

But that’s kind of hard to do when you see someone so often, and Sanzu doesn’t realize it until Mikey calls him over.

“Sanzu, what’s this?” Hand steadying the tsuka of his katana, Sanzu turns around and faces his boss, who is sitting behind an ebony wood desk. A brown paper bag dangles from Mikey’s fingertips.

“Is that not dorayaki?” Mikey pulls out a large cream puff covered in powdered sugar and condensed milk.

Sanzu’s eyes widen. His job is to follow Mikey’s orders as they are delivered. Providing excess was as shameful as underperforming.

“My apologies, I must have grabbed it by accident.”

“I never knew you liked sweets.”

I don’t, Sanzu thinks. But he sure as hell knows who does.

“Do you want me to get more dorayaki tomorrow?”

Mikey looks at the clock before he tosses the bag into Sanzu’s unexpecting hands.

“You’re done for tonight.” Sanzu’s heart weighs a ton, acting almost akin to a kicked puppy. He has strived for years to become his boss’ right-hand man, yet he has failed at one of his most basic, routine tasks. “And bring more of those cream puffs in the morning.” Sanzu nods, refusing to disappoint Mikey further, and leaves the office to head toward the garage.

In the driver’s seat, the executive pulls out his phone. It wouldn’t hurt to try, he thinks. He calls you. It rings for a few moments, but you eventually pick up with a soft “Sanzu?”.

“I’m heading over to your place,” and he’s backing out.

Sanzu’s not sure why he’s in a rush. Probably ‘cause of Mikey, he convinces himself. But he’s also aware of the time. It’s a little past midnight, so your kid’s probably asleep.

When he appears in front of your entrance, he doesn’t even need to ring the buzzer before you throw the door open.

“Is something wrong?!” You’re heaving, hair messy from sleep and blue-light glasses slipping from the arch of your nose.

“I should be asking you that,” Sanzu replies.

“You’re the one who called me and said that you were coming over with no context! Is something wrong?” Your cheeks are flushed with exasperation, and he can’t help but stare at you with slight amusement. Sanzu gestures to come in, and you scramble to get out of the way.

“Your kid,” he says as he takes off his shoes, “what’s her name again?”

“Chizu.” You’re really glaring at him now, with cheeks puffed out, and Sanzu thinks this entire situation is comedic. “Why are you asking me that?”

“You know, people would usually ask why before answering.” He takes another glance at your stiff figure before continuing. “Anyway, I accidentally bought a cream puff from the bakery this morning, and I remember you telling me once that Chizu enjoyed these.”

“That’s all?”

Sanzu hums in affirmation.

You relax, relieved that it isn’t an emergency and even a little touched that he remembered what you said. Before you can thank the pink-haired man, a door cracks open.

Your little girl whines. “Mommy, you’re loud.”

“Oh, sorry, sweetheart. I was just doing some paperwork in the kitchen. I’ll be more careful, alright?” You crouch down to embrace your daughter, but your shoulders aren’t wide enough to hide Chizu’s line of sight from Sanzu.

As a result, the little girl is wide awake. She wriggles out of your hug, darts under your open arms, and speeds toward the man.

“What’s your name?”

Sanzu looks at you, and you grimace with a weak apology. Sighing, he squats down and decides to indulge the little girl.

“My name is Haruchiyo. It’s nice to meet you, Chizu.” Your daughter gasps in delight, excited that this stranger already knows her.

“How do you know my name? Who told you?”

Sanzu chuckles at her awe. “Your mom always talks about you.”

“So you’re Mommy’s friend? I thought Mommy doesn’t have friends.” You cringe a little.

“Your mom is very proud of you, so be nicer to her, alright?” Sanzu tries to pat the little girl’s head but ruffles her hair instead. He then gets up and ambles toward the door.

Taking his cue, you also rise and shuffle towards the door. “It’s getting late, Chizu. Go back to bed.”

Before the two of you even notice, Chizu’s tugging at Sanzu’s slacks, little balls of fists wrinkling the fabric. “Haru, stay!” Sanzu struggles to hide his annoyed groan, and you struggle to convince your daughter to let go.

“Haru, stay! You’re Mommy’s friend, so you have to stay!” Chizu’s whining transforms into loud pleas, and when she gets this way, you know the only way to appease her is to give her what she wants.

“Haru…,” you mouth. “One night wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

Sanzu shoots you a deadpan look, and you return with a steady one.

Finally, he gives. Chizu’s sobs were grating his ears, and driving back to his cold and empty condo was just not worth the effort.

“Stop spoiling the brat,” he mutters through gritted teeth as the two of you lead Chizu back to her room.

–

You haven’t woken up next to someone in years. Chizu is already 5-years-old, meaning it has been almost six years since your ex-boyfriend left you.

It’s early, sometime between four and five in the morning. Sanzu is snoring next to you, and you’re extremely tempted to brush out his bangs. You’re unsure if your need to touch the man comes from a place of genuine attraction or of chronic loneliness. So you settle down and decide to admire him as you wait for sleep to take over once again. You notice that Sanzu looks like he’s in pain when he’s asleep.

–

Sanzu hasn’t woken up next to someone in years. He never let any of his previous girlfriends stay the night (probably another reason why they always wanted to break up).

It’s early, probably a little past seven. Much of his job and Bonten’s activities happened at night, so he usually would never wake up until afternoon the next day. He only wakes up at nine in the morning every other Saturday.

You’re sleeping on your side, one arm folded into your chest and the other draped over the blanket. He wonders how you’re breathing because half of your face is smothered into the pillow, but he doesn’t question it because you’re constantly exceeding his expectations. Sanzu feels the urge to get up and cover your dangling leg with more of the blanket. Yet he decides against it; jostling the bed might wake you up. So he waits for sleep to take over once again.

–

The next time the two of you meet is two days later in the lobby of your apartment complex. Sanzu spots you first and waits for you to notice him. You do a few moments later, after shuffling a crumpled folder into your shoulder bag. You manage a weak smile and try to smooth down the wrinkled front of your blazer as you shuffle over to his side.

You greet, “Late night?”

Sanzu snorts. “Always.” You wait. You’ve always thought Sanzu’s eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue, but you have a much clearer view as the man stares at you. It’s an electrifying, piercing blue – bright and almost neon. “The boss wants to see you.”

You choke. And barely manage to sputter, “Boss? You mean, your boss?”

“He wants to know how to bake bread.”

“Oh.”

Very normal. Your average neighborhood (and potentially national) yakuza boss wants to bake. Just another day.

Next thing you know, you’re in front of a large apartment building that screams elitism from the gold engravings on the steel fence to the three large cherub fountains in the center of the courtyard.

“This is where the boss stays most of the time.” As the two of you ride to the top floor of the complex, Sanzu explains to you that this entire section of the prefecture is owned by Bonten. Many of the executives live here or nearby for ease of communication, as Tokyo is the organization’s center of operations.

Given all of that information, you expected more… grandeur. There should have been dozens of guards, weapons out in plain moonlight, and security checks to prevent you from exposing Bonten.

As soon as the elevator door opens, Ran rushes over and waves enthusiastically. “Good to see you again!” he exclaims.

You wave in return and take his hand, following his lead as he guides you to the entrance of Mikey’s home. Sanzu trails behind the two of you, accompanied by another man who has the same tattoo as Ran.

“You know, I would’ve never expected the boss to be interested in cooking! Mikey is a disaster in the kitchen – actually, he’s horrible at housework in general. All of us executives have to clean up after him,” Ran says.

Again, you assumed Mikey’s home would be rich with glamor and sparkle. But the interior is quite minimalist, or rather, it’s empty. You try your best to listen to Ran, but your eyes wander around. From the entrance, aside from a leather couch and a glass dining table, there are no other decorations or items with sentimental value in sight.

Approaching the living room, you are faced with four more men. They offer stiff nods before glancing over at the hunched figure sitting in front of the kitchen island.

“Boss,” Sanzu calls.

No response.

Still nothing.

Not a word or move.

You suck in a breath. You speak in as steady of a voice as you can. “Thank you –”

You feel the second-in-command glare holes into you as he threatens, “Stop –”

“Let her finish.”

You glance at the figure. “Thank you for having me.” A few moments of silence pass, and you ask, “What kind of bread would you like to eat?”

“Mikey wants to bake,” Sanzu grits out through clenched teeth.

“I know.” You turn around and give him a stern glare before looking back at the boss. “But it’s important to make something you want to eat. Isn’t that the point?”

Mikey slides out of his chair. With bated breath, you watch as he meanders towards you, head bowed and hands tucked into his pant pockets.

“Cream puffs.” Mikey’s voice is quiet and low. Smooth but gravelly and rough whenever he finishes a sentence.

Cream puffs aren’t a type of bread, you think. But of course, you’d never say that out loud.

“Cream puffs sound wonderful.” You smile, even though you know Mikey can’t see you. “We should get started then.”

“Well,” Ran interrupts, “we don’t have any ingredients.”

You spin around. “We don’t have anything?”

Ran shakes his head.

“Sanzu.” You turn toward the pink-haired executive. “Do you think food appears out of thin air?”

“Huh? Of course not – What the actual –”

“I’ll text you a list of things we need. Go to the grocery store. Now.”

Sanzu spews confused curses and retorts at you as Ran laughs and drags him out of the apartment. The other executives trail behind, sharing an unspoken understanding that nothing will be accomplished unless they go, too.

Only you and Mikey remain. The latter stands in front of you as you text Sanzu ingredients. You even momentarily forget about the boss as you mutter under your breath and cross-check your list with other recipes.

Mikey watches. But Mikey has never been one to beat around the bush.

He says your name after you send the text.

“Yes?”

“You can be with Sanzu, as long as he prioritizes his work.”

Though you are confused, you opt to nod.

“Be prepared to lose him.”

Mikey pulls out his phone from another pocket and dials a number. “I’m going to sleep. Take her home.”

Throughout the rest of the evening, you repeat Mikey’s words over and over again in your head, flipping them inside out, bending them backward and forward. Mikey’s words are like a shiny coin. You examine the contents of its surface and circumference, searching for a deeper meaning - was there a secret message? a signal or nuance? - if it even existed.

I can’t lose him if I never had him, you think. It’s been a few months since that evening in the icy warehouse, and you’re acutely aware that Sanzu has eased his way into your life. You make his morning coffee (with no sugar and soy milk) along with yours, and during the times when he checks in on you at night, he stays in the car as you pick up your daughter. As a result, even Chizu has taken an extreme curiosity toward the man, and Sanzu has to stay over until the little girl falls asleep. Most of the time, Sanzu half-heartedly listens to Chizu’s chattering, but if he’s feeling generous (which you can tell when he lets your daughter cling onto him), he also reads her a bedtime story or two.

You realize: Losing Sanzu wouldn’t just hurt you – it would also damage Chizu, and she was already being bullied for having a single mother.

Recently, thinking about Chizu has left you feeling a little restless. Don’t get it twisted – you’re damn proud of yourself. You have a comfortable, plush home, enough nutritious food for three meals every day, and Chizu’s going to attend a well-established elementary school next year. You’ve done well, and you know some things are out of your control, but your accomplishments can’t always shield you from negativity and doubt. Sometimes, you think, it’d be nice if you had someone to lean on.

–

“What’s going on?” You notice that Sanzu’s fingers are tapping erratically on the steering wheel. He’s also glaring at the red light. “Well? Out with it,” he sneers.

“Chizu’s getting bullied.”

A vein appears on Sanzu’s temple, and you’re not sure if you should be more intrigued or scared by his reaction.

He curses and says, “Let me guess. The kids find it weird she doesn’t have a dad?” Your silence is all the affirmation he needs as the light turns green, and he makes the left turn to Chizu’s daycare.

When you buckle Chizu into her booster seat, Sanzu turns around.

“Kid.”

Chizu stops her chattering. “My name’s Chizu.”

“Squirt, if the other kids pick on you for only having a mom, tell them that you’re goddamn proud that she’s your mom, alright?” Chizu nods enthusiastically and pecks your cheek. “Also,” Sanzu continues, “just say that I’m your dad. That’ll shut ‘em up.”

“OK!”

You panic. You hurry back to your seat, and as Chizu babbles about her day, you look at Sanzu with concerned eyes. He gives you one unbothered side glance, and his eyes are trained back on the road.

The two of you don’t talk until a little past one in the morning. You finished up some last-minute tasks, and Chizu is in deep sleep. To avoid waking her up, though, you usher Sanzu into your bedroom, only leaving the door open by a crack just in case.

“Why did you tell Chizu you’re her dad?”

“To get the other brats to zip it.”

“Do you know what it means to be a dad?”

Sanzu thinks for a moment. “No, but at least I know what a dad shouldn’t be.”

You touch a hand to his cheek. “I see. You don’t have to explain if you…”

Sanzu’s lost in thought, deciding whether or not to tell you.

The man sighs. “I had a younger sister. Her name was Senju, and she was just as annoying and clingy as Chizu. We were raised by our older brother – you saw him at Mikey’s place, the man with the large facial scar. I hate to admit it, but when Senju was around, it felt like we were a family.

“Looking back, I think the reason why Senju was so needy was because our parents were never around. I don’t give a shit about trauma or whatever, but it makes sense. She just wanted someone to care for her. We didn’t get bullied for it, though, because our older brother would throw cigarette butts at whoever tried to, and besides, our neighborhood was full of broken families and kids. Chizu’s just a fucking loud twat, so she needs someone to defend her.

“I’m not saying you’re a shitty mom, but you’re busy. You can’t defend your kid if you’re nose-deep in work 24/7.”

“Sure,” you say. You choose your next words carefully. “But… how is a Bonten executive like you any different?”

“I’ll just be a big, scary dog. I’m not actually going to be Chizu’s dad.”

“That’s not what you told her, though.”

“Huh?”

“You told Chizu that you’ll be her dad. She’s going to think you’re going to stay around and act like the father figure she never had.” You reach out and pinch Sanzu’s arm. “Don’t go back on your word.”

Sanzu swats away your hand and, with a clenched jaw, acquiesces. “Fine.”

–

You’ve never been good with confrontation. Confrontation made you lose your ex-boyfriend and all the support from your family, and you were never really good at it anyway. If anything, you prefer time to wash all the tension away and resolve things. But the present issue is entirely new to you, and your impulse is split between wanting to scream your emotions at a plaster wall or burying them so deep that even you would eventually forget they existed.

It’s been two weeks since Sanzu declared himself as Chizu’s father. Since then, both of you have decided on rules and boundaries and resumed your daily routines. The only difference is that Sanzu spends all of his free time with you and your daughter, meaning he’s over more often. As a result, you’ve only become more and more aware of the Bonten executive, and you fear that you’re overexerting your heart.

There’s no way you could tell Sanzu what you’re experiencing. You’re worlds apart, you remind yourself. Despite your gentle chiding, the side of you that wants to confess and lay out everything to Sanzu only grows stronger with each passing day. So what do you do? How do you manage all the butterflies, goosebumps, and icy hot chills that appear at the mere thought of Sanzu?

You throw yourself into work.

It’s fall in Japan, which means job-hunting season. After very little consideration and hesitation, you go job-searching. Spending hours researching, revising your resume, and developing your portfolio were practical and easy ways to divert your attention, and after two months of cold-emailing and passing interviews, you land a stellar job as a marketing manager for an expanding restaurant chain.

Not only did you get to work a job that combined two of your main passions, but the paychecks are also heftier. That night, to celebrate the wonderful news, you crack open a can of beer as Chizu sleeps. Just a small reward, you think smugly.

“You drink?”

You glance at the door where Sanzu is untying his loafers as you chug down your second glass. You hum a little, which echoes inside the cup.

“Let me have some.” Before you can contest, Sanzu swipes the beer can and swallows the remaining liquid before letting out a relieved sigh. He then stalks to your fridge, pulls out four more cans, and sets them down at the dining table.

Usually, you would’ve snarled at anyone who touched your drinks. You rarely drink, so your stash is always limited to your favorites. With a shrug, you let Sanzu off - only because you’re in a good mood.

As you refill your glass, you ask, “You’re back early. Is something wrong?”

“None of your business.”

You’ve come to realize that when Sanzu says that, he doesn’t mean it in a rude manner. Taking it literally, he’s right. None of the work he does is legal or ethical, and hearing about the number of people he killed today would ruin your mood immediately.

“Why are you drinking?” he grunts.

You smirk before replying, “I got a new job. It’s also close to Chizu’s daycare, so we don’t have to rush to pick her up. If you can’t drive us, we can always fetch a cab home.” Sanzu mumbles something, but it’s muffled as he downs another large gulp.

At this point, both of you are a little tipsy. You giggle at Sanzu’s slurred stories of his middle school days, and he listens to you as you share memories of when Chizu was a toddler.

“You know,” he says, “you’re so much more different from what I imagined.”

“How so?”

“When I first saw you, I thought you were just this little pretty thing. You were wearing this white dress or whatever, and you were just standing there under the sunlight.” You have no idea what he’s talking about.

You feel a little more sober. “Are you… disappointed now that you’ve gotten to know me better?”

Sanzu perks up at your question and shakes his head from side to side, over and over again. You throw your head back and laugh. He’s adorable when he’s inebriated.

“I like independent women,” Sanzu says.

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the fact that Sanzu isn’t looking you unabashedly in the eye like he normally does, but you slide to the edge of your seat and lean your head on his shoulder.

As expected, Sanzu tenses up and shoots you a hesitant glare. Somewhere in the back of your head, you know that you’re playing with fire, but you’ve given up on lying to yourself a long time ago. You like Sanzu, you want him, and all you need right now is closure.

Finally, you ask, “Do you like me?” You wait for Sanzu to shrug you off, to bark a clear rejection, and to leave your home. But a few moments pass, and the silence enables you to hear his shallow breaths. When he continues to remain still, you look up at him.

Instead of seeing a scowl, Sanzu’s face is flushed pink, and the tips of his ears are a cherry red.

“Sanzu?” you breathe.

Nothing.

“Don’t tell me that you’re so drunk that you have paralysis.”

You get out of your seat and head towards the bathroom to grab a warm towel. You pout as you wring the towel out. You were expecting a straightforward answer from Sanzu, but his lack of one is getting your hopes up.

When you return, Sanzu is slightly hunched over while he scrolls through his phone.

“Are you feeling better?” You approach the pink-haired man. He looks up, and you take this chance to hold his chin up with one hand and wipe his forehead with the other. Sanzu sits there, unmoving and basking in the warmth and gentleness of your hold.

Sanzu decides to act when you begin to retract your hands. He reaches for the wrist holding the wet towel and pulls you in until you’re standing between his legs.

“I do.” He speaks so calmly yet so confidently, and it takes you a few seconds to process.

A wave of relief, sadness, and adoration overwhelms you. You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the rough pads of his fingers wipe at the corner of your eyes. You blubber an apology or two, but you only begin to sob harder. Still vigilant of Chizu, though, you attempt to muffle yourself by placing the towel over your mouth.

Sanzu pulls you onto his lap and continues to brush away your tears. His expression hasn’t changed, but it’s the most serious he’s ever looked in front of you, and that’s all it takes for you to break down and hand him the broken pieces of your heart.

–

You wake up with a gasp. You sit up, accidentally throwing off the arm that’s wrapped around your shoulders, and gulp deep breaths.

Sanzu wakes up, too, and groans unhappily.

“What are you doing?” he croaks. “Go back to bed.”

“I would -” You cough a little and rub at your throat. “I would if someone wouldn’t hold onto me for dear life.” You continue to gulp deep breaths before you lie back down. This time, Sanzu’s arm slips down and wraps itself around your waist, dispelling your disgruntled expression. He mumbles something along the lines of “Better now?”, and you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck in return.

Sanzu yawns. “Is Chizu staying home today?”

“She has a sleepover tonight, so I’ll drop her off in the afternoon.” You’re falling back asleep so your voice trails off at the end of your sentence.

Sanzu is, too, but he manages to say, “I’m glad she’s having fun,” before he’s out like a light.

Because Chizu was out for the weekend, you spent your Saturday grocery shopping and deep cleaning the apartment. Sanzu was also busy with work, but he said he would be back at night.

Just the notion of the two of you being alone makes you nervous, and you slip a few times on the wet kitchen floor when you lose yourself in the thought. You’re excited and nervous, eager and yearning, but hesitant and self-conscious. A large part of Bonten’s operations occurred in underground nightclubs and bars, so Sanzu has seen his fair share of charming girls. You’ve never been insecure about your body, even after having Chizu, but the possibility that you can’t compete with Sanzu’s previous flings sends a nauseating ache to the pit of your stomach.

When Sanzu arrives just in time for dinner, the anxiety persists, but you’re grateful that he doesn’t seem to notice. In fact, Sanzu acts normal. He complains about his colleagues and the inflation of gas prices; he cusses and mutters colorful insults at the coffee table when he stubs his toe; and most importantly, he only touches you when you initiate.

That’s something you never expected from him, truth be told. Sanzu, though caring in his ways, is brutish. Demanding. While you hoped he wouldn’t take you by force, he hasn’t asked you for any physical affection, and you like to take pride in the fact that he treats you with unspoken respect. Only when you reach your arm out onto the dinner table does he hold his hand out to intertwine your fingers together. When you’re watching some comedy show on the bed, he ruffles your hair when you poke his shoulder. Even after kissing him, he simply holds your hip before letting you go as you pull away.

“Did that feel alright?” you whisper.

Why do you feel so ashamed? You’ve kissed people before. You’ve been loved before. So why is it that you can’t bear to look at Sanzu?

Sanzu lets out a snort and proceeds to kiss you again.

“Did that feel alright?” he mocks, smirk and snark crystal clear in his voice. “Of fucking course it did.”

To others, his response could’ve been entirely inappropriate. To you, however, it was hilarious. You crack up, letting out staccato huffs of laughter, and you feel the corners of your eyes crinkle up.

“Now you know how ridiculous you sound,” he says. Sanzu chuckles under his breath before setting your laptop on the night table and moving you over so that he’s now hovering over your body.

He asks, “What else are you worried about?” He’s still smirking, confident in his ability to rid you of your worries, and your self-esteem begins to return as well.

“I was just overthinking,” you admit. You gesture a little bit, trying to find the right words to explain, but you end up smiling sheepishly at Sanzu.

Sighing, he shakes his head and pinches at your cheeks. “Don’t.”

You laugh again and encircle your arms around his neck, pecking him to express your gratitude. But this time, his hand sneaks up your back and holds you at the base of your head. Unable to move, your eyes widen in surprise, and you release a cry that gets swallowed by his lips and tongue. Sanzu continues to steal your breath and voice, and when he releases you minutes later, you’re stunned silent.

You feel light-headed, and the burning in your cheeks and inner thighs is growing hotter with every passing second. Sanzu observes your flushed face for a second before he grins, diamonds creasing into dimples.

“Look at you,” he mutters, “all riled up.” He searches for your eyes until you two are looking at each other. “Let me eat you up, angel.”

Your breathy plea is all he needs before he pulls you in for another heated kiss.

–

Sanzu is greeted with a shrill whistle.

“Someone’s glowing today.”

Sanzu side-eyes Ran but continues his brisk walk to the conference room.

“So when did the two of you get together?” Ran probes with one eyebrow quirked. “She’s a really sweet girl. I hope you’re taking care of her.”

Sanzu grunts and opens the door. Most of the Bonten executives were in their assigned seats around a round table, save for him and Ran.

“Let’s start,” Takeomi says as he taps the spine of a binder twice on the table. A map is already projected onto a whiteboard, and certain regions are circled in red. “There have been a few fights in Kabukicho these past two weeks, and some club owners want us to increase security. I’ll designate oversight of this area to Rindou and Kakucho.”

“Why the two of us?” Kakucho asks.

“I’ll get to that in a second. First, look here.” Takeomi points at another red circle located near the Yokohama port. “Someone has been stealing our firearms before they get exported. There have already been two reports on separate occasions.”

Koko speaks up. “Have we recovered any of the stolen goods?”

Takeomi shakes his head and replies, “There’s a high probability that the culprit is stealing from us so they can increase their sales. We did manage to find out that this person escaped via car both times, and the vehicles they used were originally from the Kabukicho area.”

Mochizuki scoffs. “We can’t even catch a person who runs away with a shitty car.”

“That’s why I’m putting two people on the case. Rindou will watch over Kabukicho, while Kakucho monitors the roads that go into the district.”

“There’s no guarantee that they’ll go back to Kabukicho, though,” Kakucho says.

“Rindou, your main job is to find the stolen firearms. Track down any of the buyers and see if they have any information on the culprit. If you find anything interesting, tell Kakucho immediately.”

“I don’t see why we should waste our time on this,” Mochizuki argues. “There’s plenty of folks who would throw themselves at this job to get promoted in Bonten.”

Ran interjects here. “If I remember correctly, Mochizuki, you and your men are in charge of Yokohama, right?” Sanzu rolls his eyes, already foretelling how the rest of the meeting will unfold. “If I’m right, then isn’t this mess a result of your men’s incompetence?”

Mochizuki growls. “My men are perfectly capable.”

“So does that mean you’re taking responsibility for this problem? Are you admitting that you and your men have been careless?”

Mochizuki knocks over his chair as he shoots up from his seat. He is only stopped by Mikey’s raised hand.

Mochizuki mutters, “I apologize, Mikey.”

Mikey utters a singular command. “We will follow through with Takeomi’s preliminary plan. If it turns out that the culprit is not in the red light district anymore, then Kakucho should expand his search to nearby neighborhoods.”

Everyone nods, and Takeomi adjourns the meeting.

They file out of the conference room, leaving only Sanzu and Kakucho who holds him back.

“Sanzu, I can look over her while I’m in the area.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s not a good use of your time to be driving around Tokyo. You need to stay in Shibuya.

“Your partner lives near Kabukicho, right? Tell her to stay safe.”

Sanzu’s anger bursts. He grabs Kakucho by the collar and snarls, “Don’t tell me what to do. Everything’s going great in Shibuya, and she’s safe with me.” Kakucho stares back, and Sanzu stalks out of the room.

Sanzu’s frustration is interrupted when he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He pulls it out and sees a text from you. It’s a picture of you and Chizu. You’re both sitting on top of a white canvas spread across your living room floor, and there’s clay splattered all over your clothes. Some of it has even gotten into your hair. A short moment later, you follow up with another photo of Chizu’s artwork and an attached message: “Art project failed successfully? Guess I’ll need to buy some more clothes, haha!”

Snorting under his breath, Sanzu replies: “Let’s go shopping next weekend.”

A few seconds later: “Sure! I want to check out that large department store close by.”

Sanzu smiles. “Sounds good. See you in a few, loser.” He pockets his phone before heading towards the garage.

–

When you mentioned “a large department store close by,” he didn’t think it would be one in Kabukicho. The smuggler still hasn’t been caught, and while Sanzu’s pretty sure no one would start a fight on Bonten territory out in broad daylight, he knows he has to be careful.

“Where’s the brat? Is she not coming with us?”

You roll your eyes at Sanzu before chirping happily, “Chizu’s having another sleepover! Same girl as last time. I think they’re becoming really good friends.”

The two of you continue to make small talk throughout the rest of the day. You meander around the mall, dropping into shops to replace the clothes you sacrificed for your daughter’s clay pot. Sanzu would follow you around but waits for you outside the stores instead. He isn’t interested in anything in the first place, but more importantly, it’s the only way he could keep watch. No one has updated him on the smuggler’s location either, so he’s erring on the side of caution.

“Sanzu, is something wrong?”

Your voice breaks his concentration. He was glowering at his phone, waiting for a text or a call or anything, and he didn't notice you come out.

“Just work. Do you have everything you need?” Sanzu says as he takes the shopping bag from your hands.

“I need to go to one more store, but that’ll be it.” Your boyfriend nods and gestures to you to lead the way.

You take an escalator up to the third floor. Sanzu looks around, observing the groups of people filtering in and out of shops, the music playing from speakers scattered across the hall, and signs that read “Exit closed” and “Caution.”

He glances back at you. You’ve entered a home furnishing store and are checking out kitchenware, arms folded and eyes squinted as you judge stainless steel. You find one that you seem to be considering, and he scoffs out a laugh when he sees you knocking the pan bottom and listening with your ear close to the handle. He feels a rush of adoration when he sees you find a set you’re satisfied with, and suddenly he wishes he had recorded the moment.

When you return, he brushes strands of hair away from your face before taking the new bag and adding it to the small collection strung on his arm. You furrow your brows, reaching out to grab the bag and maybe a few more back, but Sanzu promptly turns away and begins striding toward another store. You huff in protest, but the smile tugging at the corners of your lips gives away your gratitude.

“Is there any place you want to go to?” you ask.

He still hasn’t received any communication from Kakucho or Rindou, and he’s not sure if the lack thereof is a sign that the situation hasn’t escalated or that the two are so busy because the case is becoming more dire than they had expected. Regardless, Sanzu has learned to hone and trust in his instincts, and something in him is telling him that it’s time to leave. He cannot be out in the public eye for too long, anyway.

“No, I think it’s time we head back,” he replies. You hum in agreement, and the two of you walk towards the exit of the department, not without continuing to bicker over who should carry your shopping bags and discussing ideas for dinner.

When you enter the parking garage, though, it’s eerie. Too still for a department store that’s packed with people. Too quiet when the lot is parked to the brim. Only your talking about the bakery and how business is doing echoes throughout the garage, and Sanzu tries his best to find your car as soon as possible.

When he spots your compact, he tugs at your hand that he’s holding onto.

You pause from the abrupt gesture, but Sanzu looks back at you with urgency: Keep talking. You swallow with difficulty but resume. In fact, you don’t stop speaking until Sanzu starts backing out of the parking spot.

You look at the side view mirror to your right, and at first, you see nothing out of the ordinary. No men in suits or guns out in the open or anything. But then a flash of red catches your eye. You follow the beam until you reach a small red dot shining on the cover of your glovebox.

Your eyes widen, and you’re about to scream. Until Sanzu slides a hand over your leg and pinches.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Through gritted teeth, Sanzu eases the car free and makes his way to the exit. The red dot disappears, but you’re not sure if it’s really gone.

Only after you leave the lot does Sanzu speak up again. “You’re going to need a new car.”

–

You feel your knees buckle at the sight of your home. The journey back took hours, with having to take several detours in case you were being followed, finding a replacement car for you, and reporting to Kakucho and Rindou.

Sanzu’s hands grip your underarms, supporting your entire weight and carrying you into your apartment.

You mutter apologies under your breath, and he grunts and huffs in response. He doesn’t let go until he heaves you onto your bed, and even with the support of your mattress, you feel like you’re about to keel over.

What… happened today?

Was I about to die?

I was going to die.

Sanzu just kneels in front of you. In the corner of your eye, you see his hand reach out and twitch, but it falls to his side in reluctance.

This silence would have persisted had it not been for Sanzu’s phone and its loud rings. He tugs it out of his pocket – a glance at the screen, and you see that it’s a call from Kakucho. Quietly, your lover pads out of your bedroom and into the kitchen to take a call.

“What is it?” Sanzu’s voice is rough, even slightly strained. You hear scratches and buzzes of noise, unable to discern what Kakucho is saying.

“For fuck’s sake, I already said we’re fine.” Pause. “I didn’t need your help. Hell, I think you should be more worried about Rindou because he can’t seem to fucking do his job.” More murmurs from Kakucho. Suddenly, a bang. “I have it under fucking control!”

Your body reacts, and you run to your door to see what the commotion is. Sanzu’s back faces you, and one of your dining chairs is on the floor. He’s cursing Kakucho out for both his meddling and incompetence, tugging at his hair and itching at the diamond scars at the corners of his mouth.

As you watch, the scene begins to fade away, as if the noise is being drowned out by water and the fluorescent brightness of the kitchen lights saturates your vision. Ironically, your body feels light and floaty, and you’re viewing everything from an omniscient point of view.

You’ve felt danger before. When your parents kicked you out, leaving you to fend for yourself. When your ex raised his hand at you – sometimes you can still remember the sting on your cheek. When you gave birth to Chizu – the anesthesia kicked in too late, and you really felt like dying then.

But… this?

Whenever you close your eyes, the image of that red dot plagues you. Unblinking, harsh, bloody. You’ll never forget it for the rest of your life.

And it wasn’t even pointed at Sanzu. Not that you would want your lover to be in danger, but it’s clear that your safety is now compromised. And if you become a target, they – whoever “they” is – would discover Chizu.

Oh, God, please not Chizu –

“Sorry for knocking down your chair.”

Sanzu’s voice brings you back to the present. Soul returning to your body, you try to remember how to look at him. It takes a while, but when you do, you struggle to discern the emotions in his eyes. Or rather, the lack of any such emotions. His blue eyes are darkened with nothingness, void of any warmth or life or happiness.

“There’s a lot we need to talk about,” he says. His tone is that of a businessman discussing logistics and contracts, devoid of any sympathy or concern, but the two of you are in your little, messy kitchen next to a faded wooden kitchen table and an excuse of a living room that is packed with Chizu’s crayons and drawing pad and the walls of an apartment that have only heard your cries at 3 AM because you’ve worked so goddamn hard to be happy and –

“Please not right now.” The words come out wobbly and weak, and a spark finally returns to Sanzu’s eyes. You’ve tried hard to wear indifference at all times, so you can’t imagine the expression you must have on your face.

Next thing you know, he’s carrying you back to your bed, closing your door with a push of his foot, and gently laying you down.

He whispers, “I’ll do anything to make it up to you. But right now, please just let me have you.”

You beg, “I need you.”

Sanzu kisses away at the pathetically large globs of tears that roll down your heated cheeks. He peels off your clothes before throwing them down onto the floor. He lets his hands wander and grab and knead at your skin, leaving bruising marks of pink and purple. He fills you up, and the room reverberates with his pants and your desperate pleas for more. And even when you finish, he keeps going, as if his desire could never be satiated, and you see flashes of white and red and nothing.

–

Sanzu can’t tear his eyes off of your sleeping form. Usually, he’d admire the damage he’d done to you and your body, but the dried crust and permanent frown on your face extinguish his pride.

He doesn’t know how to feel. He has a decisive character, yet even his strongest trait is failing him in this crucial moment. He doesn’t know how to proceed. There would be no right time to talk to you. There would never be a right time to see you so shell-shocked and crestfallen. There would never be a reason for Sanzu to hurt you.

He doesn’t have it under fucking control.

He manages to roll over onto his other side and is faced with your LED clock, the numbers indicating that it’s still early in the morning.

Time solves all eventually, right? But what would the solution look like in this case?

His gut drops. There is no other way to keep you and Chizu completely safe.

And suddenly, he’s feeling too much.

He cries and cries and cries. He’s sobbing while biting down on his chapped lips, which causes you to stir in your sleep, but you don’t wake. He hates showing weakness in front of others, but he bargains with himself to allow just this one time and brings you into his embrace.

In reality, though, once isn’t enough – he will never have enough of you. He wants all of your evenings, sunrises, homemade sugary desserts, breathless kisses, and gentle smiles. He wants to be there to accompany you on every grocery run and shopping trip because he knows you’re used to doing everything by yourself. After all, you’re busy with your new job, and he can spare an extra hour or two to help out – that’s what partnerships are, a give and take, back and forth. Besides, he’s promised Chizu he’d be there for her, so even if you didn’t want him anymore, he can’t go back on his word, right?

He sighs.

Who the fuck is he kidding?

Your relationship has never been a partnership. He’s always taking from you.

At first, you seemed so… immovable. So put together, he didn’t think you wanted another person in your life. But then you two naturally gravitated toward one another, and Chizu, being the loud mouth that she is, also held his heart hostage. He became a part of this little family, and for the first time, he wanted to be a more responsible person because you gave him reason to.

But it’s too late to change the worst parts of himself. Intentionally or not, he’s never been one to keep promises.

“Trust me,” he whispers into your temple, “I’d stay if I could. I really would.”

Sanzu knows he’s cursed to live a rotten life in the shadows. It’s probably some sort of karmic debt he’s accumulated from all the shit he’s done in his past lives, so as much as he loves you, he’s helpless to his fate. He can’t walk away from the ball and chain that is his past, and he’s too entrenched and entangled in the life he’s living now.

There is no other way.

He knows.

So he clasps your hands tightly one last time, praying to the heavens above for your and Chizu’s happiness and safety, before he prepares to leave.

–

The next morning, you notice that where Sanzu once was, sits a box with a note folded on top of it.

You already know.

Though you can’t help but still reach for the box, desperate for any trace of your lover.

Inside sits a thin wedding ring. There is no matching band.

I’ll always be yours.

You slip it on your fourth finger and admire it under the faint sunlight that streams into your room.

Maybe if you didn’t care so much.

Maybe if the two of you had met at another time or another place.

Maybe if you two were different people.

The phone buzzing is what wakes you up. The sight of your apartment is blurred and dark, indicating it’s past time for any phone calls. Groggily, you grab your phone and answer it without looking at who’s calling.

He doesn’t even say hello when you answer. A sob echoes into the receiver, waking you up a little more as he sniffles. “I killed her, didn’t I, [name]? I killed my sister.”

“No, no you did not.” You fight the blankets off of you, rushing to turn on your bedroom lights and find a pair of shoes. Hopping on one foot, you listen as Inupi argues with you and continues to demean himself. You click the kitchen lights on as well, gathering your keys and a jacket as you get to the front door. “Inui, where are you? I’m going to come find you and we’ll talk, okay? Just tell me where you are.”

Panicking — you’re panicking behind your stone-faced, calm facade because of how broken he sounds. How sure he sounds that it’s his fault his sister is gone. Another sob into the speaker as you fling your front door open.

And there he is, leaning against the wall to your apartment. Your arms fall weakly as you take him in ; as you see the tears that have gathered on his face and the absolute devastation that colors every inch of him.

You let out a relieved sigh, “oh, 'nupi...” Of course he came to you — he always managed to show up where you are when he got like this. When he couldn’t fight his mind on his own. Gathering him in your arms, you barely feel as he all but pushes you back into your apartment.

Trembling hands fasten around your waist, hiccups shaking his body. You tighten your hold, stumbling until your back meets the couch and Inupi lands on top of you. You shush him as well as you can, fighting your own tears at how broken he sounds.

Seconds, minutes, hours — your grip on Inupi never lessens, and his grip on you stays the same. His breathing has calmed expodentially and all you can feel are his eyelashes brushing against your neck.

"Inupi?" It feels odd to hear your voice after so long — it's loud as it rings around your living room. The blond simply nuzzles his face deeper into your neck. Your fingers rake through his hair softly before you tug, making him look at you. "Need to know how you are, Seishu."

The sound of his name brings him back. Jade eyes blink up at you, a shaky breath leaving his chest slowly. "Okay. M'okay, [name]."

"Sure?" Inupi lets out another breath, eyes tired, red and droopy. He yawns, lips pouting as he blinks. You smile lightly at him, twirling his hair once more. "Okay. Want to stay here — head to bed?"

Inupi stands shakily, leading the way to your bedroom. He knows the way by heart now, stumbling through the dim light until he's climbing into your sheets. You watch him for a second as he curls into himself, face smooshed into the pillow you were laying on. Puffy eyes meet yours once more as he pats the empty side of your bed, gesturing for you to join him.

"It'll get better one day," Seishu says quietly to himself.

You crawl into your bed with a nod, laying down and quickly getting comfortable. "One day at a time. And I'll be here the whole way."

The blond snuggles back into you, his face hiding in your neck and arms winding around your hips. "...thank you."

"'Course."

Inupi pulls briefly away from you with a sniffle, puffy eyes dancing down your figure as his pout deepens. “You look really nice today.”

“I’m in my pajamas ; the day is over.”

“You look nice every day,” he responds, stuffing his face back into your chest. Letting out one final deep breath, Seishu settles and relaxes into your arms. "See you in the morning, [name]."

You simply hum in return, knowing he wouldn't sleep well. Good sleep was rare for you both — nightmares of different kinds haunting your dreams. You hope, for his sake, tonight would be better.

——♥︎——

don’t ask me how long this has been drafted <3 hope i wrote inupi well ); nd that he’s [mostly] in character. as always, thank you for reading and if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any tokyorev content, let me know! ♡

🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @night-shadowblood-writes2 @chrofeisnightmaregf @natsumesakasakisupremacy @emperorsnero

"What the hell?" Ran asked and he was so furious you had a random tantrum - as he called it because he was too busy dealing with your shit. "You're acting like a child, doll. You know I have obligations right? Don't tell me you forgot i'm a gang member," he scoffed and you just sighed.

Fights has always been the same, but Ran never ever touched to hurt you. He always try to keep it to words, that's where it started a bit emotionally abusive. Word by word, talking to afternoon and night, you and Ran have limits also. And this time, the two of you can't handle it anymore.

"Ran, i'm just sick of this baby, don't we have a choice?" you tried, plead, but it was never enough.

"Choice? Just so you know, i'm a dangerous guy. You can't just turn the tables now!" he was stressful, "they are coming for me, you better stay away from our business," it came out as a threat but he just can't lose you. The other gang didn't realize it yet that you are Ran's weakness.

"Oh? So just like that? Am I a liability now huh? You think you can just throw me away?" you felt like sobbing, you were not like this before anyway. Until (you can't admit to his face but) he went shitty after liquior after party. Roppongi was his doman after all.

"You don't understand the stake here," he hissed, he wanted to have peace with you but deep inside he was getting frustrated too. Why can't you listen? His head is already dizzy at this point.

You took a deep breathe, Ran followed after, "Ran.. I love you but you're making me decide. I want to trust you but why are we like this?" tiredness left over you. You just want to hug him at this point.

Ran can't help but to brush his hair, his braids are messy now. He was going to talk but instead he sit down at the couch and rubbed his face to calm down.

"Look doll, this is risky but can you trust me one more time?" you brows furrowed, gut feeling says this will be bad.

"Break up with me and leave to a safe place"

You felt time stopped when you heard those from his lips, the same lips when you first heard him saying sweet nothings before.

"I don't deserve you, I want you to live..than hurt more on staying with me," Ran never felt so insecure, so low. His pride won't let it but he loves you more than anything.

You gulped, your brain is thinking quickly until you ease your mind by thinking Ran must have a reason, "if I do that, you come back to me after this war?" you were vulnerable.