Mid.Z

Living with Nagi Seishiro was like having a pet cat that didn’t pay rent and somehow always ate your snacks.

He was lazy.

Always lying around.

Always in the living room.

Always breathing the same air as you.

And it drove you nuts.

Every time you walked into the kitchen in the morning? He was already there, hair messy, hoodie half-zipped, spooning cereal into his mouth like it was the most exhausting task in the world.

You’d just stare at him. “Don’t you have practice or something?”

“Coach canceled it,” he’d lie, eyes not leaving his phone.

(He didn’t lie. Practice wasn’t for two more hours. But he’d still pretend it was canceled—just so he could sit there longer with you.)

At first, it was cute. Kinda funny.

But the longer you lived together, the more his “chill” got under your skin.

You cleaned the apartment? He sat on the couch.

You cooked dinner? He laid across the counter and asked what you were making.

You said you were going out? He blinked and went, “Eh? Can I come too?”

You swore you were going insane.

Not because he was annoying.

Because you were starting to like it.

One night, it boiled over.

You had an assignment due and barely got any sleep. Nagi was in his usual spot on the couch, blanket up to his chin, switching between a game and watching you type.

He didn’t say a word—just sat there, occasionally munching on chips.

You finally snapped.

“Don’t you have something to do?! Like train, or sleep in your own bed, or literally anything that doesn’t involve being five feet away from me all the time?!”

Nagi blinked slowly.

Then sat up.

Then yawned. “…But if I’m not near you, it’s boring.”

You paused. “What?”

He looked at you like it was obvious. “I don’t like being alone. Not anymore. It was boring before I moved in.”

You stared at him. For once, speechless.

“Besides,” he mumbled, curling back up under the blanket, “you get all red and loud when you’re mad. It’s cute.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You’re doing this on purpose?!”

“Mmhm.”

“…Why?”

He peeked at you with one sleepy eye. “’Cause I like being around you. Duh.”

Your heart thumped louder than your brain wanted it to.

That night, you found yourself lingering in the kitchen longer.

And he smiled into his cereal the next morning when you sat next to him without saying a word.

Bonus Ending:

A week later, he casually drops:

“Wanna watch something together later?”

You glance at him. “You mean like a date?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Depends if you hold my hand or not.”

You almost drop your coffee.

“…Asshole.”

He grins. “Cute when you swear too.”

⸻

END 🛋️💤💗

You had been dating Kaiser long enough to know he was hard to read sometimes.

Sure, to the world he was flashy, arrogant, impossible to ignore. But you knew there were pieces of him that were locked behind barbed wire. Parts he never showed, even to you. You didn’t push. You gave him space.

But today, you got too close.

It was a quiet afternoon. Kaiser had just gotten back from practice, muscles aching, hair a little messy, wearing one of your hoodies like he always did when he wanted comfort but wouldn’t ask for it.

You were sitting on the couch with him, watching something you weren’t really paying attention to. He had his head leaned back, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. He looked… peaceful.

And vulnerable.

So you reached out—gently, slowly—trailing your fingers along the side of his neck and toward his jaw.

But the second your hand touched him, he flinched violently. Like a switch flipped.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he snapped, sitting up, voice sharp and loud in the small room.

You blinked, stunned. “Kaiser… I was just—”

“Don’t touch me like that.”

Your heart dropped. “Like what?”

“Like I’m some fragile thing you’re trying to fix,” he growled, standing now, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t need your pity. I don’t want it.”

You stood too, trying to stay calm even though his voice stung. “It wasn’t pity. I was being affectionate.”

He laughed, bitter and hollow. “Right. ‘Affectionate.’ You mean like how people touch pets they feel sorry for?”

You flinched this time. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I don’t need you looking at me like I’m broken!” he shouted, eyes glassy now, rage bleeding into something far more fragile. “You don’t know what it’s like to be touched and feel like you’re gonna get hurt. To want closeness and be scared of it at the same time. You don’t know—”

He stopped.

You watched him breathe—shaky, angry, scared.

“…I never said you were broken,” you said quietly. “But I can see that you’ve been hurt. And I’m not gonna pretend that I don’t notice just to make you more comfortable. Because I love you. All of you. Even the parts you keep locked up.”

Kaiser looked like he wanted to say something cruel. Push you away again. But his hands were trembling.

He turned away, muttering, “I didn’t mean to yell.”

You walked up behind him—slowly—and wrapped your arms around his back. Gently. Giving him every chance to move away.

He didn’t.

Instead, after a long pause, he whispered, “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” you promised.

And you didn’t.

Not that night. Not ever.

⸻

End.

It’s been four days.

Four days since the argument. Since the door slammed. Since you told him to leave—and he actually did.

You didn’t expect that. Not from Ness, who clung to you like gravity, who needed constant reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere. But that night, his words cut too deep, and yours were just as sharp.

You stare at the unread messages on your phone, your chest tight.

And then…

Bang. Bang. Bang.

A knock at your door. Too loud. Too desperate.

You open it—and there he is.

Alexis Ness. Eyes red, shirt wrinkled, hair a mess. He looks like he hasn’t slept. He probably hasn’t. His chest is heaving, his breathing erratic, like he ran here even if he didn’t.

He doesn’t wait.

“I can’t do this,” he blurts. “I can’t—Y/N, I can’t breathe without you.”

You blink, frozen in place.

“I tried,” he says, stepping forward, voice trembling. “I tried to wait. I thought maybe you needed space, or maybe I should respect that you didn’t want to see me again but—” He swallows hard. “I love you too much to just disappear.”

You whisper, “Ness…”

He breaks.

“I know I messed up. I know I talk too much, cling too much, get too jealous and say things I don’t mean—” His voice cracks. “But the second I walked out that door, it felt like I ripped out a part of me. And I’m not okay without you.”

You’ve never seen him like this.

He steps closer, eyes wide and glossy. “If this is really over, if you really don’t want me anymore… say it. Say it, and I’ll leave.”

Silence. The air between you pulses.

But you don’t say it.

You step forward, gently tugging at his shirt and whisper, “You’re such an idiot.”

Ness exhales like he’s been drowning, and suddenly his arms are around you, desperate and tight.

“I missed you,” he mumbles into your shoulder. “So much. Please… don’t let this be the end.”

“It’s not,” you whisper. “Just… next time, talk to me before it gets that bad.”

He nods rapidly, still clinging. “Anything. I’ll do anything—just don’t make me live without you again.”

You let him stay.

That night, he falls asleep holding you tighter than ever, like if he lets go, you’ll vanish.

He’s dramatic, obsessive, and way too intense.

But he’s yours.

And he’s not going anywhere this time.

- submissions are open

It was late—too late for Rin to still be outside, but he had no plans of going home. Not when you were walking beside him, your hoodie sleeve brushing his hand every so often, sending static jolts of anxiety and something warmer through his chest.

The two of you had spent the whole afternoon together, something that had become a bit of a habit lately. At first, Rin told himself it was convenient—same school, same route home. But the truth? He looked for you. Every day.

He liked how you made fun of him without fear. How you didn’t get flustered when he glared, and how you always said his name like it meant something.

“You’re quiet,” you said, nudging his arm lightly.

“I’m always quiet.”

“Yeah, but usually you’re ‘brooding-quiet’. This is more like… ‘thinking-too-hard-and-trying-not-to-make-eye-contact’ quiet.”

He scoffed, flicking a glance at you. “You’re imagining things.”

You grinned. “No, I think you’re imagining things. Like kissing me or something.”

Rin froze mid-step.

You weren’t wrong, but—why the hell would you say it like that?

His ears turned red instantly. “Shut up.”

You laughed, and Rin hated how his heart skipped just from that sound.

“Okay, okay,” you said, stepping in front of him to block his path. “I’ll shut up if you answer one question.”

He narrowed his eyes but nodded cautiously.

“Do you wanna kiss me?”

His jaw tightened. Rin looked at you, really looked this time. Your face was lit dimly by the streetlights, your lips slightly parted, expectant but not smug. Not teasing. Just real.

“…Yeah,” he said, barely above a whisper.

You smiled, soft and genuine. “Then just do it, Itoshi Rin.”

He didn’t even think. He just stepped forward, one hand reaching up to touch your cheek with a touch more gentleness than you’d expect from someone who trained like a machine every day. And then, finally, he kissed you.

It was awkward for a half second—his nose bumped yours, and he tensed like he’d messed it up. But you tilted your head, steadied him, and kissed him back.

And that… that was when everything else faded. The world went quiet, and all that mattered was the way your lips felt, the warmth in his chest, and how your hands curled into his hoodie like you’d been waiting for this too.

When you pulled away just slightly, Rin whispered, “I hate how good that felt.”

You smirked. “Then let’s make it worse.”

And this time, you kissed him.