a/n: donât expect this to be anything super good, this is my first time writing anything that isnât a college essay đ but i miss tokyo revengers and i love music.
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inui seishu. he knew he wasnât made for âno strings attachedâ or âno commitmentâ relationships. sure, he didnât have many friends and often found people annoying, but that didnât mean he didnât want actual connection one day. honestly, he found the idea of hookup culture and messing around with people to be quite revolting, actually.
so, why on earth did he feel so calmâand in a way he couldnât describe, happyâwhen he woke up next to you after that first night? the night you insisted he shouldnât go home since it was so cold outside. and why did he feel like a man starved for days when you made him a small breakfast the next morning, even though it was all the food you had left in your apartment?
he didnât know. maybe he was sick. or stupid. probably both, he told himself.
the two of you met when you asked him for directions to a clothing store you had heard about from friends. moving from yokohama to shibuya was not technically a hard moveâit wasnât far, maybe only forty-five to fifty minutes on a good day with little traffic. but you were still leaving behind friends and family, so it felt heavier. you needed newer clothes for a job interview, and when you saw a man in a rather comfy outfitâalong with⊠heelsâyou decided to ask him. because what other man would have good fashion sense besides one confident enough to wear heels?
you had asked, and he showed you. you made small talk because he seemed like a nice enough guy. he even offered to walk you to the store since it was a short distance, and because, as he put it, he was in a âgood mood.â
before he left, you gathered the courage to ask for his number. not because you thought he was cute (he was) or because you wanted to get to know him more (you did)âyou swore it was only because you needed a friend in the new area.
and maybe that was true, at first.
at the beginning, the two of you texted here and thereânothing too serious. heâd answer your questions about the city, tell you which convenience stores wouldnât overcharge you, send you half-annoyed but secretly amused replies when you got lost again.
you started grabbing coffee together after your shifts, meeting in the middle of crowded streets like it was the most normal thing in the world. inui was quiet, sure, but he listened. really listened. and you liked that about him. he liked the way you talked to him like he wasnât strange or intimidating. like he was just⊠seishu. like he wasnât a guy who used to beat people up for fun with his best friend (not that you knew of that. he didnât want you to know.), or that he wasnât a scarred âfreakâ as some people used to call him when he was younger. you treated him like he was someone youâd known your whole life. like he was meant to be there by your side. he liked it.
the night everything changed wasnât planned. youâd had a bad dayâyour boss was a total asshole, the cold was getting worse, and loneliness hit you harder than usual. you invited him over just for company. he showed up with beer and an extra pack of cigarettes like it was the most obvious thing.
you talked. you vented. he actually opened up a little. the heater was barely working, so you ended up sharing a blanket on your couch, shoulder to shoulder, close enough to feel each breath.
and maybe it was the comfort.
maybe it was the way you both pretended not to be lonely.
maybe it was the silenceâgentle, heavy, familiar.
but one moment turned into another, and the closeness shifted into something else. a kiss that neither of you stopped. a touch that felt too natural. warmth that felt like safety.
the next morning shouldâve been awkward. he shouldâve left immediately.
he stayed for breakfast. he stayed for conversation. he stayed because something in his chest told him leaving would feel wrong.
after that night, things didnât go back to normal. neither of you talked about what happened, but neither of you avoided it either. sometimes heâd come over because you were bored. sometimes youâd show up at his place whenever his roommate wasnât there because you âaccidentallyâ bought too much food. it was easy, familiarâdangerously comfortable.
eventually one of you said it.
âwe donât have to make this complicated.â
and inui, who knew he wasnât built for casual things, nodded anyway.
because losing you felt scarier than lying to himself.
so he continued coming over when you called. it wasnât always sex, there was fun too.the two of you could stay the night with each other without always giving into your urges, but he wanted to. he wanted you to.
in the beginning, it was easy enough for inui to pretend.
easy enough to convince himself he could handle thisâwhatever this arrangement was. easy to believe the warmth you gave him was temporary, and that temporary was enough.
the first time he felt that ugly, unfamiliar twist in his stomach, you were standing outside a café talking to someone. a coworker, maybe. you were laughing, leaning in slightly, listening with an expression inui had come to like too much.
he knew he had no right to feel anything about it.
the arrangement didnât come with promises. it didnât come with claims. it didnât come with the right to feel possessive.
but there he was, standing a few feet away, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. watching you smile at someone else like that made something inside him curl and claw.
you waved when you saw himâbright, oblivious.
âseishu! hey! this is my coworkerââ
âi should go,â he muttered.
the coworker raised a brow.
inui didnât stay to explain. didnât trust himself to.
and he hated that. hated how petty and stupid it made him feel. hated how your confused frown stayed burned in his mind the entire night.
jealousy wasnât an emotion inui was familiar with. he didnât have the luxury of it growing up. didnât have people to lose, things to fight over, hearts to worry about keeping. so when it crept into himâquietly at first, then more violentlyâhe didnât know what to do with it.
he started noticing things he shouldnât. the way others looked at you. the way you joked easily with people he didnât know. how your phone buzzed a little too often for his liking. he didnât question you. he wasnât that kind of person. he wasnât controlling. he wasnât cruel. but he did start pulling away just a bitâleaving earlier when he stayed over, keeping some distance when he felt too much.
you noticed. of course you did.
âseishu,â you said one night as he sat rigidly beside you on the couch, âare you⊠okay?â
âyou donât seem fine.â
you frowned, leaning closer. he tensed. you sighed, knowing that was the end of the conversation for now. he never opened doors he didnât want opened.
but the distance didnât fix anything.
it only made the jealousy sharper.
fear that youâd get tired of him.
fear youâd find someone more open, more fun, more easygoing.
fear that the arrangement would end the way all temporary things didâwith him standing alone again.
inui always thought he was good at hiding his emotions. he had never seen the point in being loud or overly expressive; even his best friend got confused by his stoic face every now and then. but when it came to you, hiding how he felt only made everything hurt more. every swallowed word, every quiet nod, every night he pretended you meant nothing to himâit all drove the knife deeper into the void forming in his chest.
he knew you probably didnât like him the way he likedâloved?âyou. you were friendly to everyone. warm, open, easy to talk to. the way you treated him wasnât special; it was just who you were. he was simply the person who agreed to let you blow off steam, let you use him for comfort, for warmth, for distraction. he told himself he was fine with that. he told himself he could handle the role.
but he was breaking inside.
sure, he looked calm. composed. unbothered. but was it all just a façade? he didnât know anymore. every time you kissed him late at night, every time your fingers slipped through his hair like he was some obedient lap dog, something in him cracked a little more. he hated how good it felt. he hated how easily he melted under your touch, how quickly he answered your calls, how desperately he wanted you to need him.
he hated waking up knowing youâd be gone within an hour or twoâand that he had no right to ask you to stay.
eventually, his body made it a habit to wake up before you did. like it knew what he wanted even when he refused to admit it.
you slept in his arms on the nights you stayed over, your body curled into his like it was the most natural thing in the world. when he started waking first, heâd lie perfectly still, barely breathing, terrified that even the smallest movement would wake you and send you slipping out of his life for the day. but guilt always won in the end, and heâd inch just far enough away so he wouldnât overwhelm youâgod, the last thing he wanted was to be too much.
one morning, like clockwork, he woke before you. the room was colder than usual, so he tugged the blanket higher over your chest, tucking it gently around you. his mind wandered, as it always did in those quiet, dangerous moments. absentmindedly, his fingers traced the tattoo on the back of your left shoulder.
a mockingbirdâclean lines, soft shading, beautiful work. he didnât know the meaning behind it, but he understood the irony well enough.
a bird meant to mimic songs it couldnât call its own. he sighed. how fitting. because thatâs exactly what heâd been doingâechoing the easy, detached tone of your arrangement while his heart pulled itself apart. pretending he could handle borrowed affection, pretending waking up to an empty bed didnât matter, pretending your soft touches didnât ruin him a little more each time.
and the longer he pretended, the heavier it became.
every night you came back.
every smile that wasnât meant to be romantic but still made him weakâ
it all piled up like weight on his chest.
by the time you said âsee you laterâ that afternoon, he felt stretched thin, brittle, one wrong word away from breaking. and he knewâhe knewâit was only a matter of time before everything heâd tried to bury clawed its way out.
that breaking point came sooner than he expected.
it happened on a night that shouldâve been normal.
youâd come over to his apartment this time, soft smile on your face, carrying a bag of pastries because you knew he liked them. he hated how that made his chest warm. he hated even more how happy he felt seeing you walk through his door like you belonged there.
you told him about your day. he listened.
you curled up against his shoulder. he pretended his heartbeat wasnât loud.
and for a moment, he thought maybeâmaybe he could survive this arrangement after all.
a name he didnât recognize.
a message with too many smiley faces.
a tone that made the back of his neck go cold.
he didnât mean to lookâbut he did.
and the second he did, something inside him snapped tight.
âwhoâs that?â he asked, voice flatter than he intended.
you blinked. âohâjust someone from my hometown.â
âsomeone,â he repeated, eyes narrowing before he could stop himself.
âwell⊠yeah. someone.â
you stared at him, surprise flickering across your face. âwhy do you soundââ
âseishuâŠâ your voice softened. âwhy does it matter?â
why did it matter? why did it matter so much it felt like his chest was caving in? why did it matter enough that he suddenly couldnât breathe?
because you werenât his. but god he wanted you to be.
he stood up abruptly, hands shaking, pacing because if he sat still he might break in half. you watched him, confused, worried, trying to reach for him only for him to pull away.
âi canât do this,â he muttered, voice cracking.
your breath caught. âdo what?â
âthis.â he gestured helplessly between you. âus. whatever this is. i canâtâi canât pretend it doesnât affect me.â
he looked like someone cracking open under pressure heâd been holding for too long.
âi get jealous,â he blurted, the words spilling before he could stop them. âi hate it. i hate how it feels. i hate how stupid it makes me. i hate that i donât have the right to feel this way, but i stillââ he swallowed hard, voice breaking, ââi still do.â
you slowly stood, approaching him carefully, like he might shatter.
âseishu⊠talk to me.â
he shook his head, breathing uneven. âi wasnât built for this casual shit. i thought I could handle it. i lied. i fucking lied to myself every time i told you it was fine.â
âand seeing youâseeing someone else have even a chance with youââ his voice cracked fully, raw and shaking, ââit scares me. it makes me feel sick. it makes me feel like iâm losing something i donât even have.â
you stepped closer. he didnât move away this time.
he looked at you with the kind of fear people only feel when theyâre about to lose what they love.
âfuck itâŠâ his voice dropped, barely above a whisper, âi think i love you.â
the room went quietâheavy, fragile, real.
he finally looked at you, breath trembling, waiting for the world to end or begin.
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