ε(*･ω･)_/ﾟ:･☆

"didn't mean to bump into you," you murmur, not wanting to ruin the peaceful atmosphere. "didn't think you'd still be here, pumpkin."

even in your lethargic state, you still manage to spit out your typical cheesy nicknames for scaramouche. his cheeks warm at the affectionate title and he kisses the top of your head as you rest your head upon his chest.

"its my day off," he confirms and you hum quietly in acknowledgement before drifting off to sleep once more.

when you wake, your cuddle buddy is gone and the blankets are firmly tucked around you, practically swaddling you whole. the confusion of just how scaramouche was able to accomplish this without waking you up leaves you baffled enough to wake up for the day. you rub the sleep out of your eyes, regretting that you were unable to stay awake and enjoy the early morning cuddles with your husband more.

you figure he's still somewhere around the house, so you depart from the bed on a quest to find him. the two of you share a small cottage together, hidden away from others in a difficult to find location. it gives scaramouche peace of mind that you cannot easily be found by those who wish to bring him harm, and you enjoy the beautiful woodland scenery that comes with the seclusion.

the halls of the cottage are filled with the aroma of cinnamon, wafting from the kitchen. you follow the enticing smell and find your husband preparing breakfast for the two of you. he's unaware of your presence, humming away to one of the songs you insisted be played at your wedding. scaramouche wears the only apron in the kitchen - your apron - and its a bright pink, frilly mess that hugs his hips as if it was made for him. you're almost jealous of how much better it looks on him than it does you.

if someone had told you years ago that the man you had just started dating at the time would eventually be cooking you breakfast and wearing your pink apron willingly and without a scowl on his face, you would have been rather confused. but, then again, this was the side of scaramouche that only he showed you - the side you fell in love with, even if others didn't really understand why you loved him so much. you know better than to sneak up on him, so you make your footsteps a bit louder as you approach him.

scaramouche looks up at you with the softest of smiles on his face and it takes everything in you to not pounce on the fatui harbinger and envelop him in a hug. even now, you still feel the same thrill of butterflies that you did on your wedding day.

"good morning," he greets you and you resist the urge to bite into his cheek lovingly as you lean in and give him a greeting kiss. you return his greeting before sleepily clinging to him as he cooks, watching wordlessly as he pours cinnamon pancake batter onto the pan that rests within the kitchen hearth.

"did you have any plans today?" you ask. "i kind of forgot you had the day off."

scaramouche shrugs. with anyone else, he'd be chewing them out for not remembering such little details, but not with you. never with you. you are always different to him, in every best way possible. despite his differences with you, you notice how he's still reserved at times around you, especially now as heat flushes his cheeks.

"i just wanted to spend the day with you," he grumbles embarrassedly and you beam at him, utterly enthralled by his shyness towards you.

"you're so cute, kuni," you coo and watch as indignation and scarlet hues cross his face.

"i am not cute," he insists. "i am a fatui harbinger."

if he insists on disagreeing with your claims..? well, two can play that game.

"so you're saying i'm lying?" you ask in a purposefully pathetic tone, staring at him pleadingly. despite his soft spot for you, scaramouche stares at you blankly.

"yes."

you place a hand over your heart dramatically, stumbling back as if you've been struck.

"oh, my beloved husband calls me a wretched liar!" you cry dramatically and scaramouche continues to stare at you as you perform your theatrics.

"yup." he confirms, trying to hold back a smile as you drape an arm over his shoulder, leaning on him obnoxiously as you fake a loud sob.

"you don't even care how much you hurt me with your false claims, buttercup!" you whine and scaramouche scoffs humorously at how petulant you're being over the situation.

"i am not the one who called a war criminal cute," he huffs. "that's all you, songbird."

"you've committed another crime." a giggle escapes your lips as scaramouche looks at you expectantly. "you've stolen my heart."

"is that so?" faint amusement taints scaramouche's words. you watch as he flips a finished cinnamon pancake onto a plate.

"yeah!" you insist as scaramouche uses the spatula in his hand to tear off a bite of the pancake. "i'm gonna die without it and it's gonna be your fault and-"

"try it." before you can finish your words, scaramouche sets the spatula in his hands down and picks up the piece of pancake he tore off and holds it up to your mouth. immediately obliging, you practically inhale the bite of sweet breakfast, forgetting about your little lighthearted rant of how awful your husband is for not letting you shower him in incessant compliments.

"that's really good," you say with wide eyes. sure, speaking in the middle of chewing isn't the most proper act, but your hasty compliment causes scaramouche to laugh softly and for a faint blush to his cheeks once more.

"you're the cute one," scaramouche mumbles as you grab the rest of the pancake on the plate, munching on it happily as he continues to flip the rest of the pancakes still left on the pan.

all worries leave your mind as you stand next to your husband, stealing the fruits of his cooking labor and nibbling away at a cinnamon pancake of his creation. you wish every day was like this. you aren't quite sure when or where scaramouche learned to cook - he certainly never cared for the act when the two of you began dating - but you certainly can't complain with the way he can whip up a meal as if it's the easiest thing in the world.

"hey, wait," you say as you finish the pancake and refocus on your husband. "you can't just feed me to shut me up, you're the cute one!"

"if you say so," he says as he collects the rest of the pancakes off the pan, stacking them high onto the serving plate.

"yeah, it is if i say so," you huff haughtily. "i am glad you agree."

scaramouche laughs lightly at your self-assured, self-righteous tone. it's a complete opposite of how you usually speak to others, but this is a hill that you will gladly die on. you will let your husband know how cute he is, even if your life depends on it.

"if i'm so cute," scaramouche says, cheeks tinging with red as he acknowledges what you've been so desperately trying to ingrain in his mind. "then spend the rest of the day with me."

"it's your day off!" you exclaim as the two of you sit down to eat. "did you really think i had plans to do anything else? you're like my favorite person ever."

scaramouche falls quiet and stares at you. there's a hint of surprise in his eyes at your words and you furrow your eyebrows. you don't quite understand why he's still surprised by your proclamations of affection at times.

"i would spend all of my time with you, angel, but you have work," you explain. "if it was up to me, every day would be your day off and we could eat pancakes every morning and spend the day together. i married you for a reason."

scaramouche looks down at his plate of food, thinking over your words before looking back at you again. his face is rapidly turning an even deeper scarlet than his usual flush and you smile sweetly at him, which only causes him to grow even shyer.

"i..." he begins, mulling over his words a bit longer. "i care for you deeply and wish i could spend all of my days with you as well."

the words sound oddly forced, but you only find sweet sentiments in their odd cadence. scaramouche has never been one to find it easy to express his feelings, especially outside the intimacy of the bedroom and without the loose-lipped aid of sleepiness. the three little words the two of you exchange constantly throughout the day come easy for him now, but this statement he just uttered strikes you deeper than a typical i love you.

scaramouche's hand reaches towards yours, seeking physical contact to soothe his frayed and flustered state. you hold onto his hand tightly, interlacing your fingers together.

"you're everything i've dreamed of, kuni," you remind him and he lifts your hand in his to his lips. he kisses your knuckles softly, lips just barely ghosting against your skin.

to be fair, kazuha tries to reason with himself, he didn't go down without a fight. and at the end of it all, he still technically came out on top. the villain put on quite the show but grew too greedy in the end; once kazuha figured out their weakness, it was easy to figure out how to take them out. doing so was easier said than done, and it certainly wasn't ideal for the villain to have to die in the end, but with them out of the way, the city was safe — you were safe — and that's all that mattered.

well, sort of.

kazuha's never worried too much about his public appearance. it's not like he was keeping the city safe for the attention. in fact, he doesn't like it very much — he actually thinks he hates it now, especially since the villain somehow televised most of the entire battle. the entire city had to see him get stabbed and knocked unconscious. the end of the fight and the villain's defeat didn't seem to be shown to the public, so essentially, the people think that spider-man is dead.

kazuha stops his shambling down the alleyway and leans on the concrete wall. "they may not have to think that much longer..." he groans to himself.

barely conscious and annoyed beyond belief, kazuha has been trying to feel his way around the backstreets of the city to find your apartment for over an hour now. with the extent of his injuries, the average person would have dropped dead over thirty minutes ago; kazuha considers himself lucky that he managed to make it this far. he would have swung here, but he's fairly sure he'd widen one of several gaping wounds, and he'd rather not do that when he's so close to his destination. but close or not, his body is finally reaching its limits. it's hard to tell if he's made it to your building or not. he'd planned to scale the wall all the way to your balcony, but he doesn't think he can lift another finger.

kazuha slowly eases himself to the ground and rests his back against the wall with a weak chuckle. he can practically hear your enraged yelling now. you'd probably panic at the sight of him and make some snarky comment about him interrupting yet another one of your extensive study sessions. you'd force him to lay still and tell him to shut up every couple of seconds even if he wasn't saying anything, and he'd probably laugh at you.

"it's a shame," he whispers to no one, "i can't do that anymore."

kazuha's breathing becomes uneven. he may not be a nurse like you (he can hear your rebuttals already), but he's sure he's dying. the sleep that's creeping up on him feels oddly final; he knows for a fact that if he closes his eyes now, he's never going to open them again. but he wants to keep them open — he wants so badly to see you one last time, even if only for a second.

you, the only person he's ever loved; the only person who means anything to him; the only person left in this world who cares about him.

kazuha wheezes a laugh. technically, you don't care about him; he's long since pieced together that you've fallen in love with the masked version of him, yet he still swung by almost every day to see you.

"i'm a glutton for punishment, aren't i?" he murmurs.

...he misses you. he's going to miss you.

kazuha pulls his mask off and rests the back of his head on the wall with a sigh. at least he's going to die having kissed you at least once. the memory brings a smile to his face, but it quickly crumbles. he promised he would come back safely. he even sealed it with a kiss, and yet here he sits, barely clinging to life alone in an alleyway.

"...i'm sorry." he whispers.

"...zuha..?"

kazuha blinks slowly, his vision dotted with black spots. did someone call him just now?

"oh my fucking god..! kazuha!"

there's the quick slapping of feet on pavement approaching, but kazuha doesn't move to see who it is. there's no real use in that, he thinks tiredly. with what little strength he has remaining, he tugs the mask back over his face. whoever it was that called him already saw him in the suit, but he may as well try to salvage what little privacy he has left, if any.

the footsteps stop and the person's once distant voice comes in clear from right beside him. "no, no, no, don't cover your face! don't hide from me, please, i--"

kazuha frowns from behind the mask. that voice... it sounds an awful lot like... you?

"no," he rasps. "that can't be right."

your voice doesn't go away. if anything, it gets clearer. "what can't be right? kazu-- i-i mean, spider-man, you have to get up!" you touch his arm gingerly, a silent request for permission to do so. when kazuha doesn't move, you pull his arm up and drape it over your shoulders. he groans loudly and you begin to spew apologies. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, just bear with me, okay?"

in a moment of desperation, kazuha's brain tries to switch itself back on. it is you — you're actually here, trying to help him. the heavens took pity on him and let him be with you one last time, but now that you're actually here, he finds himself scrambling to find ways to stay alive for just a moment longer. unfortunately, his body's exhausted just about all of its energy reserves — he's nearly dead in the water.

that doesn't stop you, though. despite all odds (and kazuha's agonized noises), you put your all into helping him into your building, into the elevator, and into your apartment. it takes far longer than you would have liked, but carrying a half-dead body isn't exactly easy for non-morticians. the entire way up, you could hear spider-man mumbling incoherently, the occasional apology coming in clear.

"if you're really sorry," you grunt as you lay him on your carpet as gently as possible, "you'll stay alive."

kazuha tries to laugh, but it comes out as a cross between a pant and a groan. "i'm... not too sure about that one, dove..."

you press your fingers to his pulse point; just barely a flutter. you need to act, and fast.

on any other day, you'd bemoan your status as spider-man's personal caretaker. you can't even call yourself his doctor -- or nurse, for that matter. you're just a nursing student who just so happened to stumble across him one day in the very same alleyway you just found him in.

but today, you have not one life in your hands, but two. and you'd be damned if you let either of them slip through your fingers.

you rush to your linen closet and sweep an entire shelf clean of medical tools and supplies. you're going to need everything you've got. you find a sizable hole in the suit and cut away the cloth on spider-man's (kazuha's?) torso with a pair of scissors.

the damage is almost as bad as you thought it was; there are four large clean cuts amongst a palette of bruises on his body, each one steadily oozing blood. with the way he's (barely) breathing, you'd assume that he's broken quite a few ribs, and that doesn't even begin to cover what you assume is similar lacerations on his arms and legs that are hidden beneath the suit.

"first things first," you whisper to yourself, your voice trembling. it's going to be a long night.

it takes almost eight hours to stabilize spider-man.

thanks to your lack of expertise and access to high-end supplies, it takes far longer for you to get his body to stop going in and out of shock. but in spite of it all, you did it. once you wrap the final bandage, you sit back and look at the carnage. there's blood everywhere; you're going to have to trash this carpet. the thought almost makes you laugh. almost.

now that you have the time to think about something other than keeping someone alive, you find yourself scanning over spider-man's slumbering body. how were you supposed to explain any of this to him when he woke up? he wouldn't be surprised to know where he was, but you remember what you saw when you found him.

how were you supposed to tell kazuha that you found out his secret? do you even tell him at all? how do you tell him?

your thoughts are halted by a yawn. tears spring to your eyes with how big it is. maybe you're still thinking too hard; after all this, you need time to process — time to rest. so, you climb onto your couch, lay yourself out, and let exhaustion take you under.

you awake to the sound of your balcony door opening.

you shoot upright and squint and shield your eyes immediately. it's impossibly bright outside; did you sleep until morning? you blink back the vertigo and your vision clears to see spider-man with one foot out the door. you may not be fully awake, but you jump to your feet anyways, panicking. "wait!" you yell at him.

spider-man doesn't flinch, but he does stop. he looks over his shoulder at you, the gesture uncharacteristically cold for him. you feel your heart sink. "you're finally awake." he says evenly. "good afternoon."

"afternoon?" you parrot back. you fumble for your phone and check the time. sure enough, it's well into the afternoon — not only that, but you slept for over 24 hours straight. you gape, but then remember what you sat up to do. when you look back at him, you see spider-man perching on the edge of your balcony, ready to leave. "no, no, stop, seriously! wait a second, dammit!"

"i'm afraid i can't," he barely turns to face you again. "i have to go now."

"what about your injuries?"

"eighteen hours of sleep was more than enough for me to regain my strength." spider-man faces the city again. "now, if you'll excuse me."

you ball your hand into a fist at your side. why isn't he listening to you? why isn't he trying to crack a joke with you? why does it feel like he's never going to come back? if your heart sinks any lower, you think you're going to throw up.

what can you say to make him stay? he's so close to leaving. there's a lump the size of a rock in your throat and the words become stuck. you need to think of something. say something, anything!

"kazuha, please... don't go."

that gives him pause. you exhale, relieved, when spider-man — no, kazuha — hops down to stand on your balcony properly. finally, he turns to face you completely. you notice that the holes you made in his suit have been closed; he must have found your sewing kit while you were sleeping.

kazuha's shoulders sag. "i can't stay here." he says your name so softly, the sound of it jostles the lump in your throat. "i have to leave."

you swallow thickly. "and do what, almost get yourself killed again?" you don't know how the words are coming to you so easily. "i don't think so."

"in my defense," he tries to joke, "i nearly get myself killed every day."

it feels so sick to you, seeing the man who you'd barely managed to resuscitate make light of everything that's happened. he will never know of the four times his pulse completely stopped, of the hours you spent choking back tears as you desperately tried to keep him alive. you're barely holding it together now as you look him in the face — you still haven't even had time to process the fact that you've fallen in love with kazuha twice over.

molten tears sting your eyes. "am i a joke to you?" your throat tightens and your vision blurs.

you wonder what expression kazuha is making beneath that mask. the fact that you can't see his face — the fact that he still won't let you — only makes your face burn hotter. "no," he says. he says it like you've personally offended him. "never, i--"

"then stay." you demand. your vision blurs with unshed tears. there's just too much to process. "please, just... stay."

kazuha seems to consider your request. then, he walks further in your apartment. there's still so much distance between you two. is he doing that on purpose? he's silent for a while before he pulls the mask off, revealing his face. before you stands kazuha, the barista you've been seeing for the past couple of months. something akin to regret swims in his autumn colored eyes.

you bristle. "don't look at me like that."

"like what?"

"like you want to leave." you barely manage to get the words out. "like you don't want to be here anymore." when kazuha doesn't say anything right away, you feel your heart crack. "is this really that painful for you?"

kazuha frowns, his pretty features marred by regret and something else you can't quite place. "you were never supposed to find out this way." he sighs quietly. "you weren't supposed to find out at all."

you feel tears sting your eyes. so you were going to start a relationship with a man who was hiding a secret as big as this one? was he really never planning on telling you this? "why?" is all you can manage.

"for your safety." kazuha's response is quick, almost sharp. his brows twitch downwards.

"why?" you feel like a broken record. "i could've handled knowing something like this, i--"

"songbird," kazuha comes closer to you and you shudder subtly. you're not used to hearing that name come from his lips. "if someone found out that you knew my secret, there would be serious trouble. and i... i can't let anything happen to you. i won't let anything happen to you."

and yet here you stand with a single tear slipping from your eye. you're not sure what it is that's breaking your heart. it could be many things, really: it could be the fact that you're relieved to know that in the end, you were in love with kazuha all along, or that you've been keeping him alive for months without knowing, or that he literally died in your arms several times during the night, and had you not resuscitated him, you would have had to unmask his corpse.

there's just so much weighing on you, and you're nowhere near prepared (nor awake) enough to handle it all.

kazuha's in front of you in an instant, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek and swipe the tear away. he calls your name softly, like it's a fragile thing. he's been treating you that way this entire time, you realize. "don't cry, please." he almost begs.

"i just don't understand," your voice cracks. "how long were you going to-- to lie to me, kazuha?"

it's kazuha's turn to crumble. he visibly winces, clearly bothered by your choice of words. it's harsh, but you're right; he's been lying to you as both spider-man and as himself. "however long i could." he admits. more tears roll down your cheeks and he cups your face and rests his forehead on yours. "please believe me. it was for your own good, dove. i never intended to hurt you. that's the last thing i ever wanted."

"i know," you sniff. "i know, but..." you're at a loss for words. you stop for a moment and just bask in how warm he feels. the silence you share is weighted; so heavy that it closes your throat and nearly chokes you. kazuha's gloved fingers swipe your cheeks free of tears, however endless they may seem.

"what if i'd lost you?" you finally ask. "what if-- what if i couldn't help you? what if i ki--"

"you wouldn't have." kazuha cuts you off quickly. "i knew that you wouldn't. you have my gratitude. i literally owe you my life. but.."

"but..?" you echo. "but what?"

"i can't entrust that job to you any longer." kazuha's hands leave your face and you shiver at the loss of warmth. "i can't..." a pained expression makes its way across his face. "i can't see you anymore, dove. i have to go."

kazuha doesn't make any move to leave just yet, but you grab his hand, keeping him in place. it's almost funny -- he said he had to go, yet he curls his fingers when you take his hand, tightening his grip on you. "i can still help you!" you insist. "d-don't just cut me out-- i can help you, so let me help!"

kazuha shakes his head. "and run the risk of you getting hurt? no. i can't do that."

"kazuha, please--"

he calls your name, soft but firm. "i told you, no."

"i was always at risk of getting hurt! what's so different now?"

that doesn't seem to sit well with kazuha. something dark skitters across his face. "you're too important to me. i need you to stay safe, and... and if that means that i have to keep you away, then so be it."

"what the hell?" you throw kazuha's hand away from you. "you've been doing this ever since--" you stutter for a second, your emotions and memories coming in too fast for you to process. "fuck, you've been doing this since we met! making decisions without asking me how i feel!"

kazuha reaches towards you, but you slap his hand away.

"i take you in and patch you up once, and suddenly you decide that i'm your personal doctor. did you ever ask me if i wanted to help? no! you just kept coming back!" the words flow out of you faster than a rushing river current. "you dumped the responsibility of keeping you alive on my shoulders without my consent, and now that i'm doing it, you suddenly want to take it away -- again without asking me if i'm okay with it!"

"dove, breathe."

"oh, fuck you." you hiss. your head hurts. "i'm not going to let you jerk me around anymore, kazuha. i can't do that." a fresh wave of tears hits you, but you blink them back. "i don't care what you say; you're stuck with me whether you like it or not. you made this bed, so you better lie in it, dammit."

kazuha just stares at you. he's silent as you sniff and catch your breath from your outburst. something about his silence feels so condescending, so oppressive. something tells you that you're not getting through to him. then, after a long pause, he speaks.

"you're right." he says.

what?

"huh?" you reply, too stunned for words.

kazuha gives you a wry smile. "you're completely right. i dragged you into this and it would be... improper of me to push you out of it." he looks so pained by his words -- like the weight of his actions is finally coming to crush him. "i pulled you in all because i..." he trails off and looks past you.

"you what, kazuha?" you move in an attempt to meet his eyes, but he avoids you. is he finally going to tell you why he did this? "why did you keep coming back here?"

something so vulnerable and raw crosses kazuha's face and he doesn't catch it in time. the sight of it makes your eyes widen. his jaw sets and he finally meets your eyes. he looks so serious -- you're not used to it. as if he can hear your thoughts, kazuha exhales slowly, and the tension leaves with his breath. he seems to be his usual self once more.

"because i was in love with you." kazuha says after a beat. "and i'm standing here because i still am."

you balk. as obvious as it should have been based on how you two have been dancing around each other for the past couple of months, the idea of kazuha liking you back in earnest -- the thought of him loving you -- just never crossed your mind. you thought yourself alone in your intense feelings, and you were okay with it. you still had kazuha's affection at the end of the day; you were content with what you had.

perhaps it was because your feelings had split between kazuha and spider-man that you believed your feelings to be one-sided. spider-man could never have loved you back -- your intense emotions would be a hindrance to him. so by that logic, you automatically assumed the same must be the case for kazuha.

but it's not. it never was. spider-man and kazuha are the same person. and he's in love with you.

kazuha keeps talking. "i latched onto you, songbird." he huffs a laugh, the sound derisive. "it was a desperate move on my part. clinging to the one person who'd shown interest in me -- to both sides of me. i couldn't stand the thought of being without you. i still can't."

"then--"

"but there are some sacrifices that must be made." kazuha's words are firm, but his voice wavers. his whole expression shifts, and you can see just how uncertain he is about all of this. he gives you a tight smile. "if i have to lose you to keep you safe, then i'd lose you a million times over. i would do anything if it means keeping you out of harm's way."

you don't speak and for a while, neither does kazuha. the two of you let his words marinate and you can see plain as day just how affected he truly is by this decision. now that you're thinking about it, you think that this sounds scripted -- like kazuha made this decision and kept it on the back burner as a last resort. but if that's the case, then there's one thing he didn't account for: the depth of his feelings.

tentatively, you reach up and brush kazuha's face with the tips of your fingers. he blinks at you but doesn't pull away. you cup his face in one hand and sigh softly. "you don't really want to leave," you whisper. "do you?"

kazuha shuts his eyes and leans into your touch. he doesn't answer verbally, but you both know that what you said was correct. he presses the faintest kiss against your palm and looks you in the eyes. "i love you." he declares just loud enough for you to hear. "i want to keep you safe, but... truthfully, i... i want to do so by your side."

kazuha's words dance around every corner of your brain, lighting you up from the inside out. you lean in and lightly brush your lips over his, sending butterflies loose in your stomach. "then stay." you whisper in the space between.

you can feel kazuha sigh. he pulls you in for a longer, sweeter kiss, murmuring something incomprehensible as he does. kazuha's lips are soft and his hands are so gentle as they brush over your face. you try to break the kiss to say something, but kazuha keeps you in place, murmuring a soft, breathless wait.

he seems satisfied after a few more minutes, breaking the kiss to leave one on your nose and forehead. "hey, kazuha?" you murmur as he does.

"hmm?"

"i love you, too." it's almost liberating, finally getting that off your chest. your face burns with your confession, and when you see the way kazuha's crimson eyes brighten, your body temperature rises even further. god only knows what he's thinking right now. you avert your eyes. "kazuha... promise me something."

kazuha nods. you can still feel his eyes on you. "anything."

"come back to me alive." you chuckle quietly. "i'd say come back safe, but that's, uh... not our thing, apparently. so just... don't die out there. let me take care of y-- mmf--"

kazuha silences you with a kiss, one you melt into. when he pulls away, he looks torn. it takes a second for you to realize just how loaded your request is. in his line of work, where most of his opponents would rather see him dead than merely unconscious, staying alive is quite the hefty task.

he brushes his thumb over your cheek, his brows carrying the slightest draw to them. "you know--"

"i know." you cut him off with a weak smile. "i know. but at the very least... try your best. please."

kazuha looks at you for just a moment longer before leaning back in, resting his forehead on yours. "i'll do my best," he says. "for you."

you let your eyes slip shut. the thought of him leaving you after this makes your stomach turn. so you ask, "will you stay?"

kazuha's answering hum is immediate. "i will." he pulls you into his arms and sighs, the sound low. "i will."

you wrap your arms around him in turn and heave a soft sigh of your own. it's starting to dawn on you just how much you're taking on by having him here like this. kazuha's secret is a monumental one -- one that you now share. the safety of the city rests in your hands as well, now; whether you're ready to handle that responsibility or not doesn't matter anymore. your choice to stand by kazuha's side means that you're choosing to help take on the burden he's been shouldering alone.

you tighten your arms around him. you'll be damned if you let something like this happen to him again.

✦ okay, okay, i know i've written better endings, but i didn't know how else to wrap this one up..

✦ but FINALLY this comes to an end... this has been in my drafts for AGES. i suppose you can say i'm cleaning out my drafts? i'm going to try wrapping up some old stuff and checking it to see if it's worth posting! there's some good stuff in here, y'know?