badboydevotee

[badboydevotee]

Who are your faves in Tokyo Debunker?

Jin, Taiga, Ren, Sho, Jiro~

[badboydevotee]

Love In Legato

Summary: As the season burns brighter, you find yourself pulled into a quiet unraveling—Jin’s walls cracking like glass under summer’s touch, a melody he’s never dared play written just for you. A letter sealed with music and silence may be all he has left to give.

The ocean breeze slips in through cracked windows, dancing through chiffon curtains and touching the ivory keys of a grand piano sitting untouched in his room—until today.

It had started with a letter.

A single envelope slipped beneath your door. You had thought it might be from a teacher—maybe Tohma, considering his habit of leaving you unexpected tasks. But the handwriting was too refined. The paper was too expensive. When you broke the wax seal, the scent of fresh-cut cedar and sea salt hit you like a memory.

“Come to the music room. 5 PM. Don’t be late. —J.K.”

No signature. Just initials, though there was no mistaking who it was from.

You groaned out loud. “Not this again…”

Jin Kamurai had been a pain in your side ever since your first mission together—a disaster that ended with you soaked to the bone and him scoffing while effortlessly saving the day. He was everything you didn’t like: cocky, aloof, way too confident for his own good. And he called you “servant.” You made it a point to walk away every time.

But despite all of that, your heart never listened.

The moment you entered the music room, you regretted it.

Jin sat at the grand piano, head tilted slightly toward the light as he pressed the keys—soft, aching notes that wrapped around you like a second skin. His white suit shimmered faintly in the fading sun, and his silver-blue hair ruffled slightly with the breeze. His eyes—icy blue, unreadable—lifted to meet yours.

"You’re late."

You scowled. “Only by thirty seconds.”

"Thirty seconds longer than I had patience for.”

“Then why invite me?”

He stood, the piano's soft melody cutting off mid-chord. "Because," he said, voice low, “I’ve written something. For you. And since you’re not going to come willingly unless it sounds like a command, I had to make it one."

You blinked. "You wrote a piece?"

He stepped closer, closing the space between you. You noticed the gold chain around his neck glinting faintly as he handed you a folded sheet of music.

"No. A letter. But I don’t write letters the normal way."

You unfolded the sheet. No words. Just notes. A haunting melody in G minor, swelling and falling like ocean tides.

"You expect me to read music like a love letter?"

His expression didn’t waver. “Play it.”

When you sat at the piano and played the first few notes, a hush fell between you. The melody was tender—vulnerable in a way Jin never allowed himself to be. And as you played, you realized: this was his heart. Every harsh word, every arrogant smirk, every time he pushed you away—it was all here, transposed into the language of music.

By the time you reached the last chord, your hands trembled.

"You said you didn’t care," you whispered. "But this—"

"I never said that," he cut in. His voice had dropped, quieter now. "You just assumed I didn’t. Because I don’t say things with words like you want."

He knelt beside you, hand brushing yours on the keys.

"I’m not good at this," he murmured. "At… people. At feelings. But I’m trying. For you."

The next few weeks passed like a dream.

You never officially became "a thing," but it became obvious to everyone in Frostheim. Jin would “accidentally” show up in the hallway just as you were walking by. He’d “forget” to mention that the cafeteria had your favorite dessert until the last minute, then drag you there without waiting for a thank-you. His favorite insult now came with a smirk: “Stupid servant. Can’t function without me.”

You rolled your eyes every time. But you never walked away.

One afternoon, you found yourself on the beach outside—sand warm underfoot, the sky painted with lavender and pink hues. Jin was already there, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled from the breeze. In his hand: a bottle, sealed with ribbon and a wax stamp.

"A gift," he said, tossing it lightly to you.

You caught it, eyebrow raised. “What is this? A message in a bottle?”

"Open it."

Inside was another letter—this time in words.

You’re loud. You’re annoying. You’re too stubborn for your own good. And I don’t know when I started liking all of that. Stay with me. Even if I’m difficult. Especially if I’m difficult. I don’t care what you call me—just don’t walk away again. Yours, even if I won’t say it out loud. —Jin

Your chest ached.

He was standing there, waiting, not saying anything. You stepped closer, slipping the bottle into your bag.

"You still owe me a better nickname."

He blinked. “What?”

“If you ever call me ‘servant’ again, I’ll push you into the sea.”

A pause. Then—he laughed. Not a smirk, not a scoff, but a real laugh. His voice, deep and rich, rang out like the piano's final note.

“Fine. Then I’ll call you…”

He leaned closer, breath warm on your cheek.

“Mine.”

That night, back in Frostheim, you returned to the music room. Jin was already there, waiting with a second page of music.

He looked up, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You coming in or what?"

You sat beside him at the piano. Together, you played. The room filled with your music—his rough, perfect chords and your gentle accompaniment blending together.

And when the stars lit the icy sky above, Jin reached over, hand resting on top of yours.

"You make summer feel… less unbearable."

You smiled softly. “You make it feel like a breeze I never want to lose.”

Title Legato - "smooth and connected." When notes are played legato, they flow into each other without breaks—gentle, emotional, and continuous. The title suggests a love that may not be loud or sudden, but instead flows quietly and deeply—like the subtle, growing affection between Jin and the reader. It reflects Jin’s tsundere nature: he doesn’t speak his feelings outright, but his emotions come through in soft, connected gestures—like music played legato. Jin expresses his feelings not in words, but through music. The "legato" represents how love forms gradually through shared moments, even if neither of them says it aloud.

Inspo song

Mad by Martin Garrix and Lauv this song's stuck in my head, I had to put it somewhere.

Ao3 vers. I keep saying love in gelato..

[badboydevotee]

Midnight Opal

Summary: "Hey, servant. Did you get the package from Tohma yet? ...No? Tch... What the hell is he doing..." - Jin's birthday greeting (2025).

The Frostheim dormitory was cloaked in its usual silence, the kind that pressed in around you like snow falling in slow motion—cold, weightless, beautiful. You had spent most of the day being greeted by your classmates, receiving messages and small gifts, and trying to forget one crucial, bothersome thing: Jin Kamurai hadn’t said a word about your birthday.

…Well, not directly.

You were halfway up the marble staircase that led to your room when a familiar, clipped voice echoed behind you.

“Hey, servant.”

You froze in place.

Of course.

Turning on your heel, you raised an eyebrow at Jin, who stood on the landing above you, leaning on the rail as though he had been waiting.

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” you sighed, crossing your arms.

He smirked faintly, but his voice carried no heat. “Did you get the package from Tohma yet?”

You blinked. “Tohma? No, I haven’t seen him all day.”

His jaw tightened ever so slightly. “Tch… What the hell is he doing…?”

You watched him carefully. Despite his usual aloofness, there was a slight edge of restlessness in his posture—his hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders tight, eyes flicking away from yours a bit too fast. You were beginning to recognize the signs. When Jin wasn’t being an arrogant ass, he was painfully awkward. Which, frankly, was even more entertaining.

“Did you send him to give me something?” you asked innocently.

He scoffed, turning away. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

A beat passed.

“…So yes,” you grinned.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“You’re imagining things.”

You let out a soft laugh, walking up the stairs to catch up with him. “You know, for someone who insists I’m ‘just a servant,’ you sure spend a lot of time thinking about me.”

That got him. He turned, narrowed eyes flashing as if you’d just dared him to duel.

“Don’t make me regret acknowledging you.”

“You already did,” you teased. “Acknowledged me, I mean.”

Jin opened his mouth to fire back—but the words didn’t come. Instead, he exhaled sharply, pulling something from his coat pocket. A small, velvet box. The kind that practically screamed “expensive.” He shoved it into your hands with the grace of someone disarming a bomb.

You blinked down at it. “…You got me something?”

“Technically,” he muttered. “Tohma was supposed to give it to you.”

You opened the box.

Inside was a necklace—delicate, silver, with a single glimmering opal at the center. Iridescent, flickering with blue and lavender under the lights. You gasped.

“This is beautiful…”

“…It matched your eyes,” he said under his breath.

You looked up at him, startled.

He cleared his throat. “I mean. It looked decent. That’s all.”

“You picked this out yourself?”

Jin turned away, walking toward the window with a low grunt. “Whatever.”

You grinned at his retreating figure. “You’re cute when you’re like this.”

“What did you say?” His voice was sharper now, almost smug.

Your stomach dropped. Shit.

“I said you’re cute when you—wait—I didn’t mean—!”

He turned, a predator’s grin forming as he strode toward you.

“Oh? Say it again.”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

He was close now—closer than he ever got unless you were arguing. His blue eyes bore into yours, smug and daring.

“I’m pretty sure you said I was cute.”

Your face was on fire.

“You’re imagining things!” you squeaked, backing up a step.

Jin leaned in slightly, smirk still in place. “You’re stuttering.”

“I’m NOT—!”

“You are.”

He chuckled. Laughed. A rare sound, low and amused, and it made your stomach flip.

“…You’re so annoying,” you muttered, though the smile betrayed you.

“Yet you’re still standing here.”

“Because I want my birthday gift.”

“That was your gift.”

You tilted your head. “That’s it?”

He gave you a look. “Tch. You’re greedy.”

“I’m joking. Really, Jin… thank you.” You looked down at the necklace again. “It’s perfect.”

His smirk faded a bit, replaced by something softer, more difficult to read. He glanced at his watch.

“Come with me.”

“Where—”

“Just follow me, idiot. And bring a jacket.”

You had no idea where he was taking you, only that it involved walking past several off-limits staircases, an elevator only used by Jin, and a set of security locks you didn’t even know existed.

At the top of the building, Jin pulled open a heavy door and stepped aside. Cold air rushed in, but you weren’t focused on that.

You were focused on what lay beyond.

A rooftop garden.

Illuminated by hanging lanterns and tiny, floating glass orbs that glowed like fireflies. There was a table set near the center, covered in a crisp white cloth, topped with candles and a decadent dessert spread. A soft jazz melody drifted from hidden speakers, and a heater hummed nearby, keeping the air comfortably warm in your little private pocket of the sky.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“…You did all this?”

Jin stepped beside you, his hands buried in his coat. “I had people.”

“But… you planned it?”

He glanced down, not answering. Which was enough.

“Why?”

He sighed. “Because I don’t do things halfway. Not even birthdays.”

You turned to him slowly. His eyes were on the city skyline, the soft gold light casting elegant shadows on his face. There was a vulnerability to him right now, rare and unguarded.

“You really didn’t have to go this far,” you said softly. “I would’ve been happy just getting ramen with you.”

He clicked his tongue. “Don’t say shit like that. You deserve better than ramen.”

You blinked at him. “I… I do?”

“You’re annoying,” he muttered. “But you’re not just some nobody. You’re mine.”

Your heart stopped.

“…I’m what?”

He didn’t repeat it.

Instead, he pulled out a chair for you, still avoiding your gaze. You sat down in stunned silence, watching as he settled across from you with the air of someone who had just revealed a war secret and regretted it.

The evening passed like a dream. The cake was too rich. The lights too soft. Jin’s awkward attempts at small talk slowly gave way to genuine conversation. He asked about your childhood, your favorite memories, your future dreams. He listened.

He rarely did that for anyone else.

And then…

“…Hey.”

You looked up from your half-finished dessert.

“Hmm?”

He was leaning back in his chair, the stars mirrored in his silver hair.

“I know I’m not easy to be around. And I’m… not good at this kind of thing. People. Feelings. Birthdays. But…”

His voice softened.

“…I don’t hate being around you.”

You blinked. Your throat tightened.

“That’s… the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you whispered, laughing through the emotion.

“Don’t get used to it.”

You nodded, lips trembling with the effort not to cry.

“I won’t.”

But you both knew you would.

Later that night, as he walked you back to your dorm, you paused outside your door. The silence stretched between you, warm and brittle.

“…Thank you, Jin.”

He stared at you, unreadable.

Then, without a word, he stepped forward—and gently, gently—tucked your hair behind your ear. His fingers brushed your cheek. He leaned down, lips ghosting the top of your head.

“…Happy birthday, dear”

Your heart caught. You stared at him.

“Dear…?”

“I’m allowed to have my own nickname for you, aren’t I?”

You nodded wordlessly, stunned.

“Now go,” he muttered, stepping back. “Before I change my mind and steal your cake.”

You laughed, warm tears in your eyes.

“Good night, Jin.”

He gave you one last look—the kind that said too much, the kind he’d never dare to put into words—and turned, disappearing down the hall.

But you knew.

And just maybe—so did he.

Notes:

> I ran out of ideas of what Jin could ever call reader if there is such a thing for him on endearments, and I kind of don't want to dwell on common ones.

> Also this is a birthday gift for myself but of course I'm still sharing <3

Ao3 vers.

[badboydevotee]

Foxglove

Summary: "Yep, it's my birthday today! You want to give me a present? Okay, then tell me who you like!" - Towa’s birthday voiceline.

The air hummed with a peculiar charge, like the world itself was holding its breath. 

And it was. Because today was Towa’s birthday. 

You stirred under your covers, the soft chime of wind brushing against your window coaxing you awake. You had barely opened your eyes before the familiar scent of crushed flower petals filled your nose. Your heart skipped. He’d already been here. That scent — a wild, untamed mix of dandelions and wild mint — could only belong to him. 

Towa.

You padded through the dorm’s corridors, clutching something in your hand — a small, hand-bound book of pressed flowers. You had made it yourself over several months. Every page held a memory, a moment shared with him. You had hesitated over what to gift him, knowing he wasn’t interested in things. Towa treasured moments. Oddities. Beauty in its rawest form. 

But the real question was: Would he treasure something from you? 

As you neared the greenhouse — Towa’s favorite haunt — the door was already ajar. Of course it was. He never locked it. Why cage something meant to bloom? 

Inside, it was chaos and harmony at once. Vines curled toward the light lazily. Bubbles drifted lazily in the warm, humid air. And there he was. 

Towa. 

He sat cross-legged in a patch of dappled light, sipping from a bowl-shaped flower like a fox at a forest stream. His white-lavender hair caught the sun, almost translucent, and his peach-colored eyes shimmered — horizontal pupils gleaming. A dandelion stalk hung from his lips. When he saw you, he grinned. 

“Dandelion.” The nickname slipped off his tongue with a softness that made your knees weak. 

“Happy birthday,” you said, stepping forward, heart pounding. 

He tilted his head. “You remembered. I’m flattered. But you always remember the important things, don’t you?” 

You nodded, trying to find your words. Before you could speak again, he stood fluidly, like a breeze made flesh, and walked toward you. 

“Want to give me a present?” His eyes sparkled. “Okay, then—” He leaned in until your noses nearly touched. “Tell me who you like.” 

You blinked. Your cheeks warmed. He had a way of asking things that sounded like riddles and dares at once. 

“Towa—” 

“No cheating.” His tone dropped ever so slightly, the shadows in the room responding like loyal hounds. The clouds outside covered the sun for a moment. His smile thinned, his pupils narrowing. “Truth only. Even if it hurts.” 

You inhaled shakily. “You. It’s you. I like you, Towa.” 

There was a heartbeat of silence. The flower in his mouth dropped to the floor. The sky brightened again. 

Then — he beamed. 

“Finally.” 

He twirled around, arms wide, flowers blooming in his wake. 

You stepped forward, handing him the gift. He took it slowly, reverently. 

“A book?” he asked. “It smells like sunlight.” 

He flipped through it, fingers trailing over the pressed petals. When he reached the last page, he found a single dandelion tied with golden thread — the same flower he always saw you with when you first met. 

Later, he led you deep into the woods beyond the dorm, to a hidden glade filled with bioluminescent flowers. You had never seen this place before. 

He sat down and pulled you beside him. 

“This is where I come when I don’t want to smile,” he said softly, voice lower, real. “But today… I want to smile.” 

You leaned against him. His warmth was real. His presence was no longer strange — it was comforting, electric, familiar. As if he were a part of the earth itself. 

“I used to think I was meant to be alone,” he admitted. “Like a wild anomaly too strange to keep close.” 

“You’re not strange to me.” 

He looked at you then — fully, deeply. “Dandelion,” he murmured, “you are the only one who bloomed in winter. The only one I waited for.”

He didn’t kiss you. Not then. Towa believed in moments. And this one wasn’t about hunger or claiming. It was about belonging. 

He lay back in the grass, head on your lap, hands full of glowing petals. 

“I’ve decided,” he said sleepily. “You’re my favorite birthday gift. Ever.” 

And just before he drifted to sleep, he whispered,

“Next year, ask me who I love. I’ll tell you.”

Ao3 vers.

[badboydevotee]

When did you start writing?

I started back in my teens, you know when physical light novels were a trend? I got inspired after reading a few of them. I also didn't know they have Wattpad + I prefer physical copies than online. I have short attention span ><

I also made a few blogs in Tumblr before. One of which is A3 Yume blog

But I discontinued it 😅

[badboydevotee]

would you still write hypmic content sometimes in the future? i'm guessing you probably like samatoki a lot (he has TONS of angst potential) soo would you write more about him or the other characters? thaank youuuu(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)💐💐💐

HIIIIIIIIIIII I LOVE YOUR WORKS<333 AND I REALLY REALLY LOVE THE RECENT ONE ABOUT MC. my girl rlly deserves to liveÓ⁠╭⁠╮⁠Ò

OF COURSE! I love him so much!! I miss writing other fandoms too! If I get a free time writing, I'll try again and other hypmic characters too. 🩵 😫 I guess my faves are showing, I'm trying not to make it obvious but I think I'm making it so obvious. 😂 Samatoki is easiest for me to do because I like him and YOU'RE SO RIGHT he has A LOT of angst potential and I so love angst. 🤤

Thank you so much for the support 🥹 Leaving a comment and reading everyone's comments motivates me more to do fanfics 🥹 If I ever don't reply, just know I read it and I just don't know what to reply next ><;; but thank you from the bottom of my heart 🩵

[badboydevotee]

Ask me a question is now open! I'll try to answer as soon as possible during my free time! Any questions are entertained, just not so personal stuffs~

Questions will be open for a week only! I'll close it once it's past a week~ So feel free to ask

☕👀

[badboydevotee]

Is This The End?

Summary: You walk the line between what must be forgotten and what your heart refuses to let go. As time slips away, choices must be made — even if they come at the cost of everything you have come to cherish.

The sunset bled like a quiet wound across the horizon.

You stood by the tall window of the old building, your silhouette swallowed by the glow that pressed in through the glass. The streaks of purple, light blue hues and amber looked like brush strokes painted by a world that had never known sorrow.

Your fingers tightened against the fabric of your coat. The building was quiet. No missions today. No blood. No cries. Just silence.

A silence you didn’t trust.

“Is this the end?”

The question returned again—like the bloom on your nape, slow, invasive, inevitable.

The Kyklos curse had grown, the purple flower now blooming at your nape. They said time was running out.

Edward’s mist couldn’t hold you—not completely. You had wondered then, what if I give in? What if the pain, the slow decay of your humanity, the constant dread of becoming something monstrous… What if all of it stopped?

And yet… you didn’t.

Because of Kaito, who once told you that you helped him survive a mission he never thought of making out of. Because of Jin, whose icy sarcasm gave way to a rare smile when you took care of him when he was sick. Because of the girl you’d saved from the Barometz—her hand trembling in yours, her eyes whispering thank you through tears.

Because of the ghouls who once said they didn’t need you, and then nearly tore the school apart when you disappeared.

Because… even if you couldn’t fight the monsters with weapons and blood, you’d fought the ones in the silence.

“You’re not useless,” Jiro had once said.

You remembered that moment clearly. His voice was hoarse, broken from the pain, his body barely held together in the bed. You got angry at the Mortkranken students for not helping you and Yuri to transport a capsule to help Jiro. You’d screamed at them. Begged. Lost your temper.

You hated losing your temper. But you hated watching people die more.

That was the paradox of you. Shy. Insecure. Weak, you said. But when it mattered, when lives were bleeding out before you—you moved. You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate.

Even now, standing there alone, you wanted to scream.

Because you were so close to finding a cure.

So many leads, all gone.

The candle Taiga offered—an eternity in a world where nothing hurt. The bite Edward offered—an unlife where your flower would wither away but so would your soul. And the help of the Sage’s Ring, and its soft, strange warmth when it resonated with another’s stigma.

“What if… what if being cured means forgetting?” “Would I lose… them?”

The memory of Sho’s laugh. Haku’s grin as he healed your skinned knees after you slipped on frost. Luca teaching you how to hold a dagger even though you’d never use it. Yuri making you tea and acting like he didn’t care.

These weren’t just memories.

They were pieces of you.

And yet, you knew. Darkwick was a place for the cursed. The ghouls. If your curse was lifted, you'd no longer belong here. You’d be sent back—to your old world. Your old life. You’d forget all of this.

Forget them.

The sky darkened further, the clouds swallowing the last light.

You placed a hand against the glass, cold meeting cold. Your breath fogged faintly on the windowpane. Somewhere below, voices laughed—a few students chasing shadows across the courtyard, pretending for a moment that the world wasn’t ending around them.

You envied them.

No. That wasn’t quite right.

You loved them.

And if it meant fading from their world so they could keep living in it... would that be enough?

You pulled out the letter from your coat pocket—the one you hadn’t dared to open.

It was sealed in wax, bearing the sigil of the Headmaster.

You’d been told that once your choice was made—whether to try the final test, to risk the change, or to accept a fabricated peace—the letter would guide the way.

One path would purge your curse. One path would turn you into something else. One path would trap you here forever.

You traced the seal with trembling fingers. Your eyes, still hidden beneath your bangs, stung.

And yet… you smiled.

Because no matter what you chose—no matter what the letter said, or how many days you had left—you weren’t that frightened person anymore.

You were still scared. Still unsure. Still wondering if you mattered.

But you fought. You loved. You saved people.

And you were going to keep doing that, to your very last breath.

Even if you had to forget them…

“I hope they don’t forget me.”

You slipped the letter back into your coat.

Tomorrow, you’d decide.

You stand here just a little longer… watching the sky burn softly, like it knew how many stories had been written beneath its fading light.

Ao3 vers.

[badboydevotee]

Blurred Vision

Summary: Exhaustion catches up to Jiro who’s forgotten how to rest—until a steady presence beside them becomes the only thing that keeps the world from falling apart. Something unspoken finally settles into place.

Dust hung lazily in the shafts of morning light, and all was still—save for the faint rustle of paper and the sound of strained breathing. You sat beside him, perched on the edge of the bed with your knees pulled up to your chest, watching him with quiet worry.

“Do you ever stop?” you murmured, breaking the silence.

Jiro didn’t look up. His crimson eyes scanned the page slowly, his face blank, the usual surgical calm etched into every motion. His messy hair fell slightly into his eyes, unkempt but strangely endearing. His face, usually a blank canvas, looked older this morning—drawn, pale, and worn.

“I stop when the work is done,” he replied simply, his voice low, monotone.

“That’s not how bodies work, Jiro,” you said gently, “You’re not a machine. You need rest.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Jiro,” you said softly, brushing his bangs aside, “you’ve been staring at the same page for ten minutes.”

But that was a lie. You could see it—the sluggish movement of his pen, the subtle tremble in his long fingers, the way his vision seemed to swim right past the lines he was trying to read. His body was crying out for rest, even if his mind refused to surrender.

You reached forward, placing your hand lightly on his. He flinched—not in fear, but like he wasn’t expecting warmth. He never really did. Not even now.

Jiro blinked.

The letters on the page suddenly swirled together into an illegible mess. He blinked again, once, twice. His head tilted slightly, and then, like a puppet with its strings cut, he swayed.

“Jiro?”

You caught him just before he fully slumped to the side, the papers scattering from his lap to the floor like fallen leaves.

“Jiro!”

His glasses slipped down his nose, his body strangely light in your arms. He blinked up at you, eyes hazy, red irises dull.

“…Can’t… see.”

Panic bloomed in your chest like wildfire. “Jiro—what’s wrong? What do you feel?”

He didn’t answer.

You pushed his glasses off completely and cupped his face. His skin was cool, clammy. There was something wrong—more than just exhaustion, more than lack of sleep. Your hands shook as you reached for the emergency med kit on the bedside.

But Jiro’s hand caught your wrist.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, dammit!” you snapped, tears rising unbidden to your eyes. “Don’t you dare say that when you look like you’re about to pass out or worse!”

“…It’s not painful. Just… the blur again.”

You didn’t know what terrified you more—that he was so used to pain that blurry vision didn’t faze him anymore, or that he could collapse like this and still try to pretend it was normal.

You lowered yourself to eye-level with him, brushing his messy bangs away from his forehead. “When was the last time you took Yuri’s medication?”

“…This early morning.”

“Liar.”

You moved on instinct, flipping open the latch, your fingers practiced from too many mornings like this. You found the bottle labeled Stabilizer: Kirisaki, J.—a name that always felt too clinical for the man you held now, vulnerable in your arms.

You grabbed the half-empty glass of water from the nightstand and pressed the pill to his lips. He sat up just enough to swallow it, your hand steady on his back. When he finished, he slumped forward again, exhaling softly, his forehead brushing your collarbone.

He didn’t answer. But the way he leaned into you—head bowed, breath warming your neck—said more than any words could. You held him like that for a while, fingers curling into the soft strands of his hair, grounding him.

“You always pretend nothing bothers you,” you murmured, “but you scare the hell out of me when you push past your limits.”

There was a long pause. Then, unexpectedly, Jiro let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “You caught me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “This isn’t funny.”

But he was still chuckling, that low, rasping sound he sometimes made when you got spooked by the cadavers during lab duty. He only laughed when you were the one panicking—never out of cruelty, but because, in some twisted way, your emotions made him feel something he wasn’t sure how to process.

In that moment, his laughter wasn’t to mock, but to reassure.

Still, it broke something inside you.

“You idiot,” you whispered, cradling his head to your chest. “What are you trying to prove? That you can work yourself to death and still hold a scalpel steady?”

“…Not trying to prove anything,” he murmured into your shoulder, his voice muffled. His fingers curled weakly into the fabric of your sleeve.

“…When you’re here, it stops. The pain.”

Your breath caught. You could feel his heart beating against your chest—slow, tired, but still there. You pulled back just enough to look at him. His expression was blank, but his eyes were searching now—slowly focusing, slowly returning to you.

He trailed off, his hand sliding up to rest against your chest—his fingers curling lightly into your shirt, as if to make sure you were still real.

“You ground me,” he said, voice barely audible.

You didn’t reply with words. Instead, you leaned down and pressed a kiss beside the small mole near his lips. His face barely moved—but the tension in his shoulders eased, just slightly. A breath. A release.

And then, something rare.

Jiro smiled.

Barely there—but real. A flicker of something warm beneath the cold exterior. You reached up and touched his face gently, fingers brushing the curve of his cheek.

“I’m not your medicine,” you said softly.

“You are,” he replied, matter-of-fact. “Yuri says my condition stabilizes when I’m with you. Endorphin release. Regulated pulse. Maybe emotional dependency. Doesn’t matter. It works.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he couldn’t rely on you like that, but the truth was—you were just as helplessly drawn to him.

Maybe it was the way he always carried himself like he had nothing left to lose, or the strange peace you found in his silence. Maybe it was the way he’d always stand just slightly behind you in crowded hallways, as if watching your back. Or the way his fingers trembled when he thought you weren’t looking.

You brushed your lips against his forehead, then slowly pulled away to look at him. “Lie down. I’m staying with you tonight.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered.

“…Good,” he said. “Because I don’t think I would last without you.”

A pause. Then, finally, he obeyed, letting you guide him to lie down, head resting on the pillow, your hand still in his.

You tucked the sheets around him like you’d seen Yuri do once, back when Jiro passed out in the lab from blood loss. Back when the rumors started calling him “Frankenstein.” But under the scars and hollow gazes, he was just… Jiro.

Your Jiro.

As the minutes passed, you felt his grip loosen, breath deepen. Sleep finally, mercifully, overtaking him.

You lay beside him, fingers still tangled in his, heart still aching.

And as you watched the sunlight shift across the sheets, you whispered quietly:

“I’ll be here. Even when you’re not.”

And for once, the pain was silent.

Ao3 vers.

[badboydevotee]

Birthday Prayer

Summary: “I suppose today is my birthday. Thank you. If you don’t mind, will you join me in praying for my twin brother’s safety?” Luca’s birthday voiceline.

The dormitory hall was quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices and occasional bursts of laughter echoing from rooms further down. You stood in the middle of Luca’s room, eyes trailing over the delicate preparations you and a few others had spent the better part of the day arranging: streamers in subtle shades of violet and gold, candles flickering atop a small cake, and a string of lights casting a soft, enchanted glow over the room.

But there was no Luca.

Not yet.

It had been over half an hour past the time he said he’d return. His phone hadn’t buzzed with any messages, and a creeping sense of worry edged into your stomach. Luca wasn’t the type to be careless—not without good reason.

The door creaked open behind you. Kaito leaned against the frame, his usually casual expression more solemn.

“Hey,” he said, voice lowered. “You’re looking for Luca, right?”

You nodded.

“He… went to the chapel. Said he wanted some time alone.” Kaito hesitated, then added gently, “Today’s his birthday, but it’s also the day his twin disappeared.”

You didn’t wait for him to finish. Grabbing your coat, you muttered a soft thanks and made your way through the chilled evening air toward the ancient stone chapel at the edge of Darkwick’s grounds.

The chapel was quiet, empty save for the faint flicker of candlelight and the distant sound of wind brushing against the stained-glass windows. You stepped inside cautiously, the door creaking behind you as you scanned the pews.

There he was—Lucas Errant—kneeling at the altar. His hair glowed faintly in the candlelight, a soft transition from earthy brown to a violet that echoed in his eyes. His back was straight, hands folded, head bowed.

You stood behind him for a moment, unsure if you should interrupt, until he spoke.

“I suppose today is my birthday,” Luca said quietly, not turning around. His voice was calm but strained. “If you don’t mind… will you join me in praying for my twin brother’s safety?”

Your heart clenched.

You stepped forward and knelt beside him.

Together, in silence, you closed your eyes. You didn’t know the words he said in his heart, but you felt the grief and the strength woven into them. And you whispered your own—asking for protection, for reunion, for light to guide someone lost back to the brother who still waited.

After several long minutes, Luca breathed out slowly. “He always loved candles,” he murmured. “Even as kids. Said they reminded him of stars that had come down to earth to keep people company.”

You turned to look at him. He was still facing forward, but his eyes were distant, glassy.

“He’d always light one for me. Said it would ward off the monsters.” Luca’s voice dropped. “Now I light them for him… hoping they’ll show him the way home.”

There was a pause.

“I’m sorry for disappearing,” he said, finally looking at you. His purple eyes were tired, but grateful. “I know you probably planned something. I didn’t mean to ignore it. I just… I couldn’t ignore this.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you said softly. “Not to me. I just didn’t want you to be alone tonight.”

Luca offered a small, genuine smile—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but tried. “You’re kind. Kinder than I deserve.”

You reached over and gently took his hand. His fingers were cold, but they wrapped around yours with careful, trusting warmth.

“I don’t know where he is,” he said, voice shaking. “I don’t even know if he’s alive. But I can’t stop searching. I won’t. Every day I stay here, I study harder, I hunt deeper—because there’s a demon out there that took my other half. And I will bring him back.”

His conviction burned like a fire under frost. You saw it then—the fury beneath the gentleman's calm, the pain beneath the chivalry. The cold fire that ignited whenever demons were mentioned.

“I believe in you,” you said. “And I believe in him, too. I believe he’s still out there, waiting for you.”

Luca exhaled shakily. “Thank you,” he whispered. “That means more than you know.”

You sat together in the quiet, your hands still joined as the candlelight flickered like stars between you.

After a while, you stood, helping him to his feet.

“Come on,” you said gently. “There’s a small party waiting for you. Nothing fancy. Just… people who care.”

Luca hesitated. “I’m not sure I’m in the right mood.”

“I know,” you said. “But I think your brother would want you to celebrate, even just a little. Not because you’re forgetting him, but because you’re remembering him with every step.”

His eyes watered, and for a moment, he said nothing.

Then he nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s go.”

But before you could walk away, he turned back to the altar, took another candle, and lit it.

“For you, my twin brother,” he murmured. “I’ll find you. I swear it.”

And through it all, you would walk beside him—offering light when his burned low, and hope when his faltered.

Because he wasn’t alone.

Not anymore.

Ao3 vers.

[badboydevotee]

Your Name Is A Scar I Carry

Summary: He remembers everything. You remember nothing. Caught in a world of riddles, curses, and crimson-laced futures, an impulsive man with blood on his hands carries a burden no one else can see. You're just trying to survive. He's trying to save you—over and over again. But how do you love someone who’s already mourned you a hundred times?

────────────────────────────────────────────

It’s always the same goddamn night.

Same flickering lights in the train corridor. Same scream. Same outstretched hand reaching for someone who never should’ve been there in the first place.

You.

You don’t belong in his world.

You’re not a fighter, or a superhuman. Just a normal person who stepped on the wrong train at the worst time. Just a heartbeat, a laugh, a softness this world never deserved. You weren’t meant for blood and anomalies. And yet—you became the center of the storm.

Every time you die, the world resets.

And every time, Taiga is the only one who remembers.

────────────────────────────────────────────

He didn’t care the first time.

You were nobody. Just a girl with a too-heavy bag, tripping into the aisle with wide, confused eyes. He shoved past you, chasing the Kyklos anomaly, thinking you would disappear like the rest of the world that wasn’t cursed or cruel.

But when you died screaming, and the world snapped back to zero... And it happened again... And again...

He began to realize: You were the anchor.

You were the fixed point that marked the start of every nightmare.

────────────────────────────────────────────

Taiga tried everything.

He ignored you. He warned you. He let you die.

Nothing changed.

Each time, the dream reloaded like a glitching slot machine, and he was the only one holding the memory. Holding the guilt.

You, though—you never remembered. Not once. Every time he met your eyes, it was like you were meeting him for the first time. Innocent. Trusting. Unafraid.

God, it was torture.

You didn’t know who he was. You didn’t know what you meant. You didn’t know what it cost him to reach for you again.

────────────────────────────────────────────

This loop this time, he plays it differently.

The sun is warm for once. The air smells like citrus and smoke.

You’re struggling with your bag again.

And he’s there, leaning against a streetlamp like he owns the damn universe.

“Hey,” he says smoothly. “You look like you’re about to throw your back out.”

He smiles, shark-like, all teeth and charm. “Been a long time.”

You blink. “We’ve never met.”

Oh, but you have.

A thousand times.

────────────────────────────────────────────

“I’ll carry that,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Let’s just say I’ve got a soft spot for disaster girls.”

You don’t understand. You laugh, but your eyes narrow. You’re wary—he can’t blame you. He looks like trouble. He is trouble.

But you hand him the handle anyway.

Just like always. ────────────────────────────────────────────

At the casino, he plays the All-In. Not because he is one—but because he's desperate to stall the future.

You sit at his table. You laugh at his jokes. You call him reckless, arrogant, impossible.

And he lets you.

Because in every loop before this, you never make it past the seventh day.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You don’t know about the notebook hidden under his mattress. You don’t know about the stunned face of his that marks each time you died. You don’t know the sound you make when the curse hits you. You don’t know how many times he’s carried your body from the wreckage.

And you don’t know that every time he touches you, he’s mourning a version of you that’s already gone.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You don’t know the loop. Only Taiga does.

And it’s killing him.

────────────────────────────────────────────

“You’re not like the others,” you say one night, soft and quiet, watching the city lights glow outside his window. “You act like you know me.”

“I do,” he answers without thinking.

You look at him, confused. “We’ve barely met.”

He wants to scream. Wants to break something. Instead, he just shrugs.

“Feels like longer.”

────────────────────────────────────────────

Eventually, the Kyklos comes again.

It always does.

He sees it in the reflection of your eyes. The way your smile falters. The chill in the air that you don’t notice but he does.

You don’t remember the pain. You don’t remember the curse. You don’t remember dying.

But he does.

So when he shoves you behind him, when he stands between you and the monster, when he pulls the trigger without hesitation—

It’s not because he’s brave. It’s because he’s so damn tired of watching you disappear.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You wake up in his arms.

Alive.

Breathing.

And still unaware of what you escaped.

Taiga’s trembling.

You look up at him, dazed. “Did I...?”

“No,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. “You’re okay.”

“Taiga... are you crying?”

He laughs bitterly, wiping his face. “Nah. Just allergies.”

You don’t push him.

You never do.

And he never tells you the truth.

Because if you knew—if you knew how many times you’d died for his sins, how many timelines he burned trying to save you—

You’d never look at him the same way again.

────────────────────────────────────────────

EPILOGUE

Taiga doesn’t sleep much anymore.

Sometimes he stands at the foot of your bed, watching you breathe, memorizing every rise and fall like it’s the first sunrise after a war.

You hum in your sleep. Dreamless. Peaceful.

You don’t know the loop.

You never will.

And maybe that’s a mercy.

Because he’ll remember for the both of you.

────────────────────────────────────────────

"You said you'd never leave, And then you did.

But now you're here, And I won’t let you go again.

Even if it kills me. Even if it already has."

────────────────────────────────────────────

Inspiration: Is It Too Late by Alie Gatie (song) Firebird Trilogy by Claudia Gray (book) ────────────────────────────────────────────

Ao3 vers. Notes: It has been a while, hope everyone's fine. I've been caught up with work and do covers so I barely have time to play or do fic TvT. Work's tiring but we must do our best to survive! Fic posts might be delayed again so please stay and bear with me! <3

[badboydevotee]

Between Heat and Heartbeats

Mature content. Not NSFW but it's entirely up to reader's interpretation. Enjoy!

Summary: You and Sho share a warm, teasing moment after a relaxing onsen bath. As sparks fly, Sho sweeps you off your feet—literally—and carries you back to dry off together, revealing a softer side beneath his cocky charm.

The onsen water still clung to your skin as you stepped out into the fading light, the crisp edge of evening just starting to cool the humid summer air. You tugged your yukata tighter around your waist, the thin cotton damp from steam and sticking lightly to your skin. The faint chirp of evening cicadas echoed from the trees, and the sky above the hot spring bath was painted in molten shades of orange, rose, and lavender.

You rubbed at your neck absently, warmth lingering beneath your collarbone. The bath had been perfect—hot, silky, the kind that dissolved every ache you didn’t know you had. But even now, your cheeks still burned—not from the water, but from what you'd seen just before leaving the bathhouse.

Sho.

He’d been soaking in the open-air section of the onsen, body half-submerged, eyes shut, resting against a rock like it was his personal throne. The steam had wrapped around him like a second skin, hair sticking to his forehead, water glistening down his collarbone and disappearing beneath the half-open folds of his towel.

You’d tried not to stare.

Tried and failed.

And now here you were, stepping barefoot onto the stones outside the changing area, and there he was again.

Sho sat slouched on a wooden bench near the vending machine, glowing in the soft light like some delinquent version of a summer prince. His yukata hung open, the folds loose and lazy like he didn’t care about modesty. His greenish hair was damp and tousled, lips wrapped around the mouth of a chilled soda bottle.

His eyes flicked to you, sharp but sleepy, and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Finally,” he said. “Thought you drowned or somethin’.”

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your voice level. “Maybe I was enjoying the peace and quiet.”

He patted the empty space beside him, the bench creaking with the invitation. “Sure. Peace and quiet. Not like you didn’t sneak glances at me in the steam, right?”

You froze halfway to sitting.

He laughed. “Relax, I ain’t mad. I’d stare too, honestly.”

You sank down beside him with a groan. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm.” He took a lazy sip of his drink. The bottle hissed faintly as he pulled it away from his lips, beads of condensation trailing down the glass and over his fingers. “Want some?”

You eyed the soda bottle warily. “Is that your way of being romantic?”

He shrugged, cocky smile lingering. “What, sharing a cold drink after a hot bath isn’t intimate enough for you?”

You took the bottle. Your fingers brushed his, and you swore a spark jumped between your skin and his. The soda was cold, sweet, sharp against your tongue—a jolt of refreshment after the heat.

Sho watched you drink, gaze unapologetic.

“You ever think,” he murmured, “that the best part of the bath is the after?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

He leaned back, stretching lazily, arms thrown over the back of the bench. The move pulled his yukata even looser, exposing the sharp cut of his collarbone, the faint shadows of muscle under wet skin. His earrings caught the light as he turned his head.

“You get all warm. Muscles relaxed. Skin flushed. And then...” He closed his eyes, letting the breeze graze him. “...you cool off together. That’s the good part. That’s the part you remember.”

You swallowed hard.

“I never took you for a poet.”

Sho chuckled. “Nah. Just observant.”

The air grew still between you. Not awkward—just heavy. Charged. Your gaze drifted to his profile: the soft dip of his lower lip, the way his jaw flexed as he bit the inside of his cheek. You felt too warm again, but it wasn’t the bath.

He turned his head, catching your eyes. His voice was quieter now, softer.

“You’re different when you’re like this. After a bath. Like... your walls drop. You don’t talk tough. You’re just... real.”

You looked down at your lap. “Maybe that’s what the bath does.”

Sho shifted, one arm sliding from the bench to rest around your shoulders, light but deliberate.

“Nah,” he said. “I think it’s me.”

You looked up.

He was close. Close enough that you could see the droplets clinging to his eyelashes. Close enough that the warmth rolling off his skin reached yours.

His gaze dropped to your lips—just for a breath—before he smirked.

“You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.”

He laughed again, tilting his head back. “Deny it all you want, sweetheart.”

You didn’t push his arm away. You didn’t shift. You just sat there, under the soft light, the hum of summer and cicadas and vending machine electricity filling the silence.

Sho sighed contentedly.

“I could stay like this forever.”

And weirdly, you found yourself thinking… Yeah. Me too.

The warm fizz of cola danced on your tongue as you sat beside Sho, the humid night wrapping around both of you. Droplets clung to your skin, your hair still damp from the bath, sticking softly to your neck. Sho had his usual half-grin, bottle in hand, yukata loose and open just enough to make your heart skip every time your eyes wandered.

He stretched, lean and relaxed, like a cat under the sun—even if it was already nightfall.

You were about to make some witty remark when suddenly Sho turned, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"You look like a steamed bun right now," he said, squinting playfully.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“All red, soft, and warm.” His smirk widened. “Kinda makes me want to bite you.”

“Sho!” you gasped, swatting at him, your face heating up for real now.

Before you could launch a full defense, his arm was around your waist in one quick, fluid motion—lightning fast—and suddenly the world tilted.

“Wha—?! Sho!” you yelped as he effortlessly swept you up into his arms, bridal style.

Your legs kicked lightly in the air, yukata threatening to fall open as you instinctively clung to his neck.

“Put me down! We’re—someone could see—!”

“Oh no, you’ve already been claimed,” he teased, his grin wicked. “Too late for take-backs. You're mine for the night, steamed bun.”

“You are insufferable,” you muttered, squirming against his hold, though a part of you definitely didn’t want him to put you down. His grip was firm, steady, like holding you was second nature.

“You say that,” he said, shifting your weight easily as he started walking back toward the inn, “but you’re not exactly trying to escape.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, muttering something unintelligible. His skin was still warm from the bath, his scent a mix of soap and sweat and something unmistakably Sho—a little wild, a little sweet.

He carried you past the empty hallway, quiet laughter echoing faintly from faraway rooms. The paper doors slid open with a soft shhh as he nudged them aside with his foot, stepping inside the shared room lit only by a single soft lamp in the corner.

Sho set you down on the futon with an exaggerated sigh, like you were the heaviest thing in the world.

“You’re lucky I’ve been lifting more than just frying pans lately.”

You threw a pillow at him, which he dodged with a lazy tilt of his head.

“I thought you were gonna help me dry off,” you said, brushing damp hair off your cheek.

“Oh, I will,” he said, voice dropping just slightly.

He kneeled beside you, grabbed a soft towel, and started gently patting your hair. His touch was surprisingly tender, fingers occasionally brushing your temple, his gaze unusually soft as he focused on the task. You watched him in silence, heart fluttering.

“I mean, I could let you air-dry,” he mused, “but then you'd catch a cold, and I’d have to nurse you back to health.”

You rolled your eyes. “How tragic.”

He grinned. “Exactly. So tragic I’d have to stay in bed with you the whole day.”

His teasing slowed, the towel stilling in his hands. His eyes met yours again, and for a second the room was quiet.

No more jokes. No more playful jabs.

Just Sho—serious, thoughtful, his thumb brushing your cheek as if memorizing you.

“You looked happy out there,” he said quietly. “Real happy.”

“I was,” you replied, voice just above a whisper. “I am.”

He smiled—really smiled this time. Not the cocky, smug one he wore like armor, but something soft, open.

“Good,” he said. “I want you to feel that way when you’re with me.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

Sho leaned closer, brushed his lips against your forehead, then pulled back, flopping beside you onto the futon with a groan. “Now dry me off, steamed bun. It’s only fair.”

You laughed and tossed the towel at his face.

And just like that, the night slipped into something quieter. Something yours.

Wrapped in cotton, the scent of soap and the leftover warmth of the onsen clinging to your skin, you laid beside each other as sleep began to creep in. His fingers found yours beneath the blanket, and you didn’t let go.

Not even in your dreams.

Ao3 vers.

[badboydevotee]

The Warmth He Can't Feel, But Know

Summary: “Yeah, it’s my birthday today! Oh damn, you’re gonna celebrate it with me!? No way, I’m like, super touched right now!!” - Rui's Birthday Voiceline.

"Yeah, it’s my birthday today! Oh damn, you’re gonna celebrate it with me!? No way, I’m like, super touched right now!!” Rui said, a goofy grin spreading across his face as he threw his arms dramatically into the air.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his usual theatrics. His excitement was so infectious, like sunshine bottled up in a body that refused to sit still. 

“Of course I’m going to celebrate with you,” you said, nudging him gently with your elbow. “Did you really think I’d let your birthday pass without doing something special?”

“I mean, you could’ve forgotten,” he said with a dramatic pout. “But you didn’t! And now my heart’s all warm and fuzzy. You're trying to kill me with kindness, aren’t you?”

You smiled. “Better that than the alternative, Mr. Hands-Off.”

At that, Rui chuckled, raising his gloved hands in mock surrender. “Guilty as charged. But hey, don’t tempt me. You’re already dangerous enough.”

The teasing gleam in his pale ruby eyes softened into something gentler, warmer, and for a moment, the playful front slipped. It was rare—fleeting, even—but every now and then, Rui let the veil drop, and you could glimpse the weight he carried. The curse. The cost. The quiet ache he always masked behind charming winks and flirtatious banter.

But not today. Today wasn’t about that. Today was about him.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing his hand despite the gloves. “We’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Oho? Whisking me away already? At least let me put on cologne first—make me smell worthy of your attention!”

“You always smell good, Rui. Now move it.”

His laughter echoed through the hallway as you dragged him out of the common room, away from the familiar corridors of Darkwick. You had it all planned. A walk through the forest trails that skirted the academy’s grounds—safe, quiet, and beautifully overgrown with early spring blooms. Rui’s element was chaos, sure, but even he appreciated the calm, especially when it was shared with someone who cared.

Along the way, he kept up a steady stream of chatter: joking about how Edward probably didn’t even know it was his birthday, making dramatic guesses about what kind of surprise you had in store, and making sure to throw in a wink or two whenever he could.

But when you arrived at the little clearing you'd found the week before, everything fell into a soft hush.

The spot was perfect. A blanket lay stretched over the grass, with a small picnic spread—some of Rui’s favorite snacks, a thermos of his preferred tea, and a little cake you had somehow smuggled from the kitchens without him knowing. Hanging from the low branches of the surrounding trees were paper lanterns, flickering gently with glowing enchantments that cast soft, dancing lights across the clearing.

Rui just stood there, blinking.

“...Whoa.”

You stepped closer, trying to read his face. “Too much?”

“No,” he whispered, almost reverently. “No, not at all. It’s just—no one has ever…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to.

You reached out, brushing a loose lock of his hair back from his forehead. “Happy birthday, Rui.”

He looked at you, really looked, and something in him melted. Gone was the flirt, the joker, the man who always had a comeback. In his place stood someone stunned into stillness—he didn’t want to move. Not from this moment.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said softly, “but I’m gonna thank the universe anyway.”

You sat beside him, pulling him down onto the blanket by his sleeve. “You don’t have to deserve me. You already have me.”

He tilted his head, smirking as some of his usual charm returned. “That almost sounds like a confession.”

“Almost?” you teased, leaning in.

He turned serious again. “You… really don’t mind? Spending time with me? Even knowing I can’t touch you without these gloves? That I could hurt you?”

“I trust you,” you said simply. “And I care about you. Curse or no curse.”

That did it. Rui blinked a few times too quickly, then laughed under his breath. “You’re too good for me.”

“You always say that, but you’re good too. You just don’t like admitting it.”

“…Maybe.” He smiled. “But today, I’ll admit this—I’m happy. Like, really happy.”

You shared cake under the trees, his laughter echoing with the rustling leaves. He made you taste everything first, dramatically declaring things “unfit for a goddess” or “blessed by the snack gods” depending on your reaction. At one point, he lay back on the blanket, hands tucked behind his head, pale eyes watching the enchanted lanterns sway.

You lay beside him, your head resting against his shoulder.

“I don’t get tired,” he said quietly, “but this? This makes me feel... content. That’s even better.”

And then, Rui turned his face toward you. The lantern light caught in his eyes, and he looked at you like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Can I kiss you? I mean—using a cloth, just…”

Your breath hitched, but you nodded.

And when Rui leaned in, glove-free hands carefully resting on the blanket, he kissed you like he had all the time in the world.

No rush. No performance. Just Rui.

And for once, everything was quiet—no curse, no chaos—just the two of you.

The kiss lingered long after it ended.

There was something about it that Rui couldn’t shake—like the warmth of your lips had left a quiet echo across the edges of his soul, brushing against the places even he tried to avoid. He had pulled back slowly, almost reluctantly, and for a moment, he just looked at you.

No grin. No teasing smirk. Just Rui, with soft eyes and a silence that said more than his words ever could.

The sky was already blushing into dusk, and the enchanted lanterns floated a little brighter against the deepening blue. Crickets had started their nightly song, and somewhere in the distance, a few fireflies blinked to life. You had stayed lying there, curled up against him on the blanket, your hand brushing against his gloved one like it belonged there.

“...So,” Rui murmured after a while, his voice low and lazy, “if I say this has been the best birthday of my life, do I get bonus points?”

You chuckled softly. “You don’t need points.”

“Yeah, but I want them. I’m a competitive man. I wanna win at… being the luckiest guy on Earth.”

You lifted your head, giving him a look that was half skeptical, half amused. “Is that a competition now?”

“Totally. And I’m wiping the floor with everyone else.”

There it was again—the flirtation, the dramatics—but you could feel the honesty beneath it. It wasn’t just something he said to charm you. Rui meant it. And that meant everything.

After a while, you both packed up the little picnic and walked slowly back toward the dorms, neither of you in a rush. The lanterns faded one by one behind you, and the forest seemed to hold its breath as the night deepened. Rui was unusually quiet, his hand brushing against yours every so often, never lingering too long.

When you reached the stone path that led back into your dorm, he stopped walking.

You turned to him. “Something wrong?”

“No. Just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flitting away. “Can I be selfish for a second?”

You tilted your head. “You? Rui Mizuki? Selfish? I’m shocked.”

“Har har.” He gave you a half-hearted smirk, then sobered. “I just don’t… want this to end. Tonight. You.”

Something in your chest squeezed.

“It doesn’t have to,” you said quietly.

He blinked. “You’re serious?”

You nodded. “Come on. You’re not getting out of a post-birthday movie night that easily.”

Rui actually looked stunned for a beat. “Wait, wait, hold up—you’re inviting me to a movie night? Like, with popcorn and blankets and all that domestic stuff?”

“Domestic stuff?” you echoed, laughing.

“Yeah, you’re playing with fire,” he said, smirking. “One cozy movie night and next thing you know, I’m buying matching mugs and calling you babe in public.”

Your face heated a little at that, but you stood your ground. “You coming or not?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Lead the way, babe.”

You smacked his arm, laughing all the way to your dorm.

Later, curled up on your bed with a blanket thrown over both of you and an old romantic comedy playing on your screen, Rui leaned back against the headboard with you nestled against him. He hadn’t taken off his gloves, of course, and you hadn’t expected him to. He was careful in every movement, every shift of his body. But his presence was still all around you—his scent, the warmth of his voice in your ear, the little way he looked down at you when he thought you weren’t watching.

Halfway through the movie, you felt his head tilt toward you.

“I’m not used to this,” he whispered.

“To what?”

“This. Quiet. Safety. Feeling like I can stay.”

You looked up at him. “You can stay. As long as you want.”

His eyes shimmered in the dim light of the screen, and for once, he didn’t try to laugh it off. Instead, Rui reached for your hand—still gloved, still careful—and held it gently.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For today. For… letting me be someone more than the cursed guy with a smile.”

You squeezed his hand. “You’re always more than that. You just forget sometimes.”

He let out a breath, like it released something deep inside him. “Then remind me. Please.”

“I will,” you whispered.

And with that, Rui relaxed fully into your side, letting himself feel—the weight of your presence, the warmth of your kindness. 

Outside, the wind rustled softly against the windows, but inside, the world was still. And safe. And warm.

Ao3 vers. Sorry, birthday fics are so late for March and April. I'll try to finish them and catch up.

[badboydevotee]

One In A Million

Summary: In the clover field. Haru gifts you a rare four-leaf clover, wishing for your happiness. When you jokingly compare it to a wedding proposal, he surprises you by asking, "What if it really is?" As emotions unfold between you, the moment turns into a heartfelt confession—one that feels like fate. You realize that love, not luck, brought you to him.

The warm breeze carried the soft rustling of leaves, the sun casting golden light over a sprawling field of clovers. The air smelled fresh, tinged with the delicate sweetness of wildflowers that had begun to bloom at the edges of the field. You and Haru stood amidst the sea of green, the world around you hushed, as if nature itself had paused to listen to the words neither of you had spoken yet.

Haru had been leading you on one of his spontaneous adventures, dragging you away from the Jabberwock house under the pretext of “urgent business.” But in reality, he had no particular destination in mind—only the desire to spend time with you, away from the weight of responsibilities and the never-ending work that usually consumed his days.

As you wandered through the field, Haru suddenly knelt down, his gloved fingers sifting through the clovers. His expression was unusually serious, his normally playful demeanor subdued as he searched for something hidden among the leaves. You watched him curiously, tilting your head.

“Haru? What are you doing?” you asked, stepping closer.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, a small triumphant smile spread across his lips as he plucked a tiny clover from the ground and held it up for you to see. It had four perfect leaves, a rare find—a symbol of luck and fortune.

“Here,” he said, extending it toward you. “One in a million. Just like you.”

Your heart gave a sudden, startled thump in your chest. The way he said it, so effortlessly, so naturally—it made warmth rise to your cheeks. You hesitated before taking the delicate clover from his gloved hand, cradling it between your fingers as if it were something fragile and precious.

Haru watched you with a soft gaze, his ever-present smile carrying something deeper this time. “I wish you happy days,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge. “No hardships. No loneliness. Not as long as I’m here.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, made your breath hitch. You felt something swell in your chest, an emotion so full it was almost overwhelming. Without thinking, the words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them.

“This feels like a wedding proposal.”

Silence.

Your eyes widened in horror at your own words. Your hands flew up to cover your mouth, as if you could somehow take them back. Heat rushed to your face, the embarrassment so intense you thought you might just melt into the earth.

For a moment, Haru simply stared at you, frozen. Then, to your surprise, a soft chuckle escaped him. It wasn’t mocking, nor was it dismissive. It was warm—genuine.

“What if it really is?” he asked, his voice laced with something unreadable, something tender.

Your breath caught. He was looking at you now, really looking at you—not as the ever-cheerful Haru who dragged people into his antics, not as the tireless captain who took on more than he should, but simply as a man standing before you, offering you a piece of his heart in the form of a tiny, four-leaf clover.

A moment stretched between you, a heartbeat suspended in time. And then, slowly, you smiled.

“Then I’m glad to spend my life with you.”

Haru’s eyes widened slightly before his expression softened, his smile curving into something almost vulnerable. For the first time, he looked as though he had found something he hadn’t even realized he was searching for.

He reached out, gently tucking the clover behind your ear, his gloved fingers lingering against your skin.

“Then I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, his forehead lightly pressing against yours. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

The wind carried the sound of rustling leaves and distant birdsong, but all you could hear was the steady rhythm of your own heart, beating in time with his.

In that golden field of clovers, surrounded by the quiet beauty of nature, you knew—this moment, this feeling, was luck beyond measure.

The two of you sat together, the field embracing you in its warmth, the sky above painted in soft hues of orange and lavender as the sun began to dip. Haru, ever the lighthearted one, leaned back onto his elbows, gazing up at the sky with a peaceful expression. You sat beside him, the four-leaf clover still delicately placed behind your ear.

“You know,” Haru mused, his voice carrying a hint of laughter, “I think this is the first time in a long while that I’ve felt… at ease.”

You turned your head toward him, curiosity evident in your gaze. “Really?”

He nodded, shifting slightly so that he was facing you again. “Being captain of the Jabberwock house… it’s a lot. I’ve always had to be the one keeping everything together. Making sure everything is running smoothly, making sure people and anomalies don’t lose their way.” His voice softened. “But with you… I don’t have to do any of that. With you, I can just… be.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest, heavy with unspoken emotion. Haru, who always seemed so full of energy, so tirelessly dedicated to his work, had never shown this side of himself before. The side that longed for rest, for comfort—

For love.

You reached out, hesitating for only a second before taking his hand in yours. His fingers curled around yours instinctively, as if they had always belonged there.

“I want you to have that,” you murmured. “A place where you can be at peace.”

He let out a small breath, almost like a laugh, but there was no humor in it—only gratitude, only warmth. He squeezed your hand, his grip firm yet gentle.

“I think I already found it,” he admitted, tilting his head slightly. “And it’s with you.”

Your heart swelled, the setting sun casting golden light across the both of you as the field of clovers swayed in the evening breeze. In that quiet moment, as the world around you stood still, you realized—

You weren’t just lucky.

You were home.

As night fell, the stars blinked to life above you, scattered across the sky like a blessing. Haru stretched, letting out a yawn, before turning his gaze toward you once more.

“Should we head back?” he asked, though there was no real urgency in his voice.

You hesitated, reluctant to leave the peacefulness of the moment. But then Haru stood and extended his hand toward you. “Come on,” he said with a grin, “I think we have plenty of adventures left to go on. And now… we do them together.”

You took his hand, feeling the warmth of his grip, and let him pull you up. As you walked hand in hand toward the horizon, you knew that wherever you went, as long as Haru was beside you, you’d never walk alone again.

But as you reached the edge of the field, he suddenly stopped, pulling you back gently. Haru glanced over his shoulder, his smile turning softer, more contemplative.

“One more thing,” he murmured. Without warning, he cupped your cheek, pressing a light kiss against your forehead. “For good luck,” he teased, though the emotion behind it ran far deeper.

Your fingers brushed over the clover behind your ear as you smiled up at him, your heart filled with something that could never be just luck—something rare, something true.

Something like love.

Ao3 vers.

[badboydevotee]

His Heart, Once Frozen

Summary: Jin Kamurai, the once formidable ruler of Frostheim, finds himself tormented by feelings he can no longer ignore—you. As he isolates himself in his chambers, he struggles with his emotions, longing for the warmth you bring into his cold world. Unable to resist any longer, he ventures into the night, determined to see you. Finding you at the Academy, exhausted from work, he awkwardly offers his presence, unable to admit the true depth of his feelings. Despite his aloofness, one thing becomes clear—no matter how much he denies it, he will always return to you.

The frost-laced halls of Frostheim were as eerily quiet as ever, the chill in the air settling deep into the bones of those who dared linger. 

Jin reclined on his bed, cigarette balanced between his fingers, the tendrils of smoke curling up towards the ceiling in lazy spirals. His icy blue eyes, usually so sharp and unreadable, held an unusual softness as he gazed at the ornate portrait hanging on the wall across from him. 

A sigh left his lips as he flicked open his lighter, the flame momentarily illuminating the solemnity in his gaze. The soft flicker of light cast shadows over the contours of his face, highlighting the conflict that warred within him.

He had tried, so desperately, to shove down the emotions that had been clawing their way to the surface. To ignore the way his thoughts drifted to you more often than not. To dismiss the warmth that spread through his chest at the mere mention of your name. But it was futile. He had fallen, and there was no climbing back up from the abyss that was you.

He had always been confident, sure of himself, unwavering in his decisions. But this—this feeling—rendered him utterly helpless. You had become an enigma he couldn’t decipher, a mystery he was drawn to unravel. And yet, the mere thought of baring himself to you, of showing you the depths of his affections, left him feeling exposed in a way he had never known.

“Damn it…” Jin muttered, dragging a hand through his silver-blue hair, frustration evident in his tone. He was the heir to the Kamurai family, once the formidable ruler of Frostheim, and yet here he was, lying in bed like some lovesick fool, unable to focus on anything but you.

What were you doing now? Probably busying yourself at the Academy, drowning in endless paperwork after years staying in the Academy. The image of you, brows furrowed in concentration, lips slightly pursed as you worked, flashed through his mind, and Jin felt his chest tighten.

He wanted to see you. To hear your voice. To feel the warmth that only you could bring into the cold world he had shut himself in. But he knew better than to act on impulse. He wasn’t the kind of man to simply admit his feelings outright—not when he wasn’t even sure how to deal with them himself.

With a heavy exhale, he let his gaze drift back to the portrait he imagined. You were unlike anyone he had ever met. The way you carried yourself, the way you never let his sharp words push you away, the way you saw him—not as the heir to a powerful family, not as the ruler of Frostheim, but simply as Jin. It terrified him. And yet, he craved it. Craved you.

His fingers absentmindedly traced the cool surface of the lighter as phrases played in his mind, unspoken confessions hidden within them:

Mona Lisa, a sight to see her…

Immersed in endless flattery…

A bitter chuckle escaped him. You weren’t like the countless admirers who fawned over him for his status, his power, his name. No, you saw through the icy exterior, past the carefully constructed facade. You saw him, and somehow, that was both the most terrifying and most exhilarating thing in the world.

The room suddenly felt too suffocating. He couldn’t stay locked away in here any longer, not when his thoughts were consuming him whole.

With a resolute sigh, Jin pushed himself off the bed, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray before grabbing his coat. He didn’t know what he would say when he saw you. Hell, he didn’t even know if he was ready to say anything at all.

But one thing was certain—he needed to see you. To remind himself that you were real, that this wasn’t just some fever dream he had conjured in his loneliness.

And maybe, just maybe, he would find the courage to tell you the truth.

That you had become the warmth in his cold world.

That you had melted the ice around his heart.

That he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you.

Jin didn’t waste time. Before he could second-guess himself, he stepped out into his room. His breath came out in pale wisps, but the chill did nothing to cool the fire that burned inside him.

He reached the Academy faster than expected, his mind too preoccupied to register the journey. The halls were dimly lit, most students having retired for the night, but he knew exactly where to find you.

Papers were scattered across your desk, your brows furrowed in concentration as you worked beneath the warm glow of a lamp. You looked exhausted, but still, you persisted, biting your lip as you read over another report.

Jin hesitated at the doorway, suddenly feeling ridiculous. What was he even doing here? Barging in like some desperate fool in the middle of the night. But before he could turn back, you looked up—and your eyes met his.

Surprise flickered across your face, followed by curiosity. “Jin?”

His throat felt tight, but he forced himself forward, stepping into the room. “You should take a break,” he said, voice softer than usual, betraying the turmoil inside him.

You blinked, tilting your head. “Are you worried about me?”

He scoffed, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” But there was no bite to his words, no sharpness in his tone.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you stood, stretching your arms. “Well, since you’re here, why don’t you keep me company for a while?”

Jin exhaled through his nose, pretending to consider it. “Tch. Fine. But don’t get used to it.”

But even as he said it, he knew the truth.

He would always come back to you.

Song Inspo:

Ao3 vers.

[badboydevotee]

Chapter 2 of my latest Haku fic is updated! Just scroll down to that fic~ Enjoy!

[badboydevotee]

When the Sun Sets, So Do We

Summary: You and Haku sit by the water’s edge as the sun fades, caught in a moment that feels both endless and fleeting. Unspoken words hang heavy between them, a quiet understanding of what’s already been lost. One lingers, holding on, while the other has already let go. In the end, there is no anger, no plea—just a quiet goodbye, a lingering ache, and the bittersweet weight of a love that could not stay.

CHAPTER 1: The water shimmered beneath the fading sunlight, golden ripples dancing over the surface of the bay. The soft hush of waves lapping against the embankment filled the quiet spaces between words unspoken. A warm breeze, thick with the scent of salt and the distant aroma of street food from the city behind, ruffled the dark strands of Haku’s green-tinted hair. He sat beside you, one knee drawn up, the other leg swinging idly over the edge of the stone embankment. The city hummed behind you both, neon lights beginning to flicker on, but here, by the water’s edge, time moved slower. As if it, too, was reluctant to let go.

For a while, neither of you spoke, caught in a kind of stillness that was neither peaceful nor unsettling. Just... quiet. Haku’s gaze, however, wasn’t as calm as the atmosphere around you. It wandered over the horizon, over the melting colors of sunset, but his eyes, those striking eyes—glowed with a kind of tiredness. They were no longer bright and inquisitive like they used to be. Now, they only reflected something darker. A quiet sorrow, perhaps, or an empty kind of longing.

A sigh left his lips, soft and almost imperceptible against the rhythm of the waves. His fingers twitched against the stone beside him, restless. He had always been the one to pick up after others, the one who held things together, even when the weight of it all nearly broke him. The one who made sure everyone else was fine, even as his own world frayed and unravelled at the edges. But tonight... tonight, there was no fixing it. No clever words, no comforting touch that could piece the broken bits of him back together. And most painfully of all, no fixing you.

"You know," he murmured, almost absently, his voice low and laced with something fragile, "I always thought... if I were to stay somewhere for good, it would be a place like this."

He turned to glance at you, his gaze lingering on your profile, your hair softly rippling in the breeze. The way you sat—so still, so serene—only made the ache in his chest grow. He wanted to say something more, to pull you closer, to hold you and keep you from slipping through his fingers. But what was the point? You were already slipping away.

You didn't respond, but you didn’t need to. You didn’t need to say anything. The silence between you two had long since become deafening in its clarity. He could feel it in the way your gaze never lingered on him the same way anymore. In the way you barely glanced in his direction, and when you did, your eyes were distant, careful. His stomach twisted at the thought.

He wasn’t stupid. He saw it in the way you’d start to say something, only to stop yourself, lips pressed together. He saw it in the tightness of your shoulders when he reached out to touch your arm, the way you stiffened, as if holding him at arm’s length. That was the truth. You had moved on. And he hadn’t. He couldn’t.

“So, this is really goodbye, huh?” he asked, the words leaving him almost too easily, like something that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue for far too long.

You nodded, offering a smile—one that never quite reached your eyes. "Yeah... I suppose it is."

It was final. Irrevocable. The words were simple, but their weight crushed him. He swallowed hard, and his hands clenched into fists. Goodbye. Even the word sounded wrong. And yet, it was the truth. The only truth left.

His breath hitched. He wanted to be angry. Wanted to shout. Wanted to demand you stay, to plead for you to fight for him like he still wanted to fight for you. But he couldn’t. Because he had seen it in you—the way your heart had already left him long before this moment. The way you no longer needed him. 

A gust of wind swept through, carrying the distant echo of laughter from the city streets. And then, unexpectedly, Haku reached out. His touch was featherlight as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering just a second too long before retreating. There was something deeply intimate in that fleeting contact, something unsaid yet painfully clear.

He let out a soft laugh, bitter and self-deprecating. "Don’t look so at peace with this," he muttered, a half-smile curling on his lips, but there was nothing genuine about it. "You were supposed to make this harder."

His words hit you like a blow to the chest. It stung because you knew it was true. It wasn’t just him who had been holding on. It wasn’t just him who had been hoping for something that was no longer there. It was you too. But what could you do? You had tried to keep it together, tried to fight for the both of you, but somewhere along the way, you lost it. You lost him.

The ache in your chest tightened as his voice cracked ever so slightly, a tremor of vulnerability in it. It was a feeling you’d never been able to bring yourself to acknowledge. That even though he had always been the strong one, always the steady presence, the one who kept things in balance... he, too, was just as fragile.

"Would it have mattered if I did?" you asked softly, your voice faltering as it left you, so quiet in the weight of the moment.

Haku’s eyes softened, a flicker of something almost too delicate to name passing through them. He looked away, his jaw tightening, and for a moment, the night seemed to hold its breath with you.

"No..." he whispered, the pain almost too much for him to bear. "But maybe it would’ve made me feel less like an idiot for walking away."

The sky deepened further, the colors fading into a dark and peaceful indigo, the soft glow of the city stretching like faint memories in the water's reflection.

He stood up then, his movements slow, hesitant—as if each step took more effort than the last. His gaze lingered on you longer than he intended, but he couldn’t stop himself. You were everything. The smile he gave you was a quiet thing, fragile. It wasn’t a smile of finality, but a smile of loss.

"Well then," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, trying to hide the tremble in his fingers. "I should get going. The night’s calling, and all that."

You rose as well, standing just a step away from him. His hesitance was palpable. But there was nothing left to say. No words to undo the space between you two. His voice, though, barely above a whisper, reached you one last time.

"Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t push yourself too hard. Just... be happy."

You could see it in his face—the sincerity, the rawness of his feelings. Even now, even after all of this, he still cared. You swallowed, a lump in your throat forming as you nodded. "Alright... I will."

But as you spoke the words, you both knew they were empty. His heart no longer belonged to you, and yours no longer belonged to him. The weight of the choice you had made hung heavy between you both, final and irreversible.

He lingered for just a moment, just long enough to imprint your presence in his memory. And then, with one last lazy wave, he turned, his figure disappearing into the darkening night, swallowed by the soft glow of the streetlights beyond the pier. This time, he didn’t look back.

And that, more than anything, hurt.

You were gone, and he had no power to bring you back. He couldn’t hold on to you anymore. The ache in his chest was unbearable, but it was nothing compared to the quiet, lonely feeling of knowing you had already moved on.

His heart shattered.

But he had loved you, and so, he will always love you.

"Wherever you may be, I hope you’re happy now... even if we won't be together anymore..." he whispered to the wind, his voice barely audible, like the last thread of hope he had left.

He didn’t wish for anything more. He didn’t expect anything in return. But somewhere deep in the silence of the night, he still hoped you would take care of yourself.

"I still love you”

Your heart no longer belonged to him.

Another name, another face, another love had caught your heart. And though Haku ached with the knowledge of it, he still respected your decision.

The sunset had been beautiful.

And like all beautiful things, it had to fade. CHAPTER 2: The Horizon We Couldn't Cross

Haku stood at the edge of the pier, his green hair tousled by the breeze, his two red ribbon-like earrings swaying ever so slightly. His eyes watched the horizon.

It was the kind of sunset he loved to watch alone. The kind that gave him time to think. Time to feel. Time to reflect. But today, his solitude felt heavier than usual.

Haku had always thought of himself as a bit lazy, always taking life as it came. He liked things to be simple, effortless. And most of the time, they were. But today, the simplicity had crumbled. His easygoing nature had faltered.

His heart felt heavy as he remembered this place. It was when you ended things with him.

His throat tightened. He exhaled, a shallow, almost inaudible breath, as though he could will the words away.

He repeats the scene in his mind over and over again, the weight of it sinking deeper with each repetition. It was such a small line, so simple in its construction, yet it felt like a blow to his chest. His grip on the railings was tight.

Haku had known something was off. He could tell by the way you had been looking at him recently, the way your eyes—so bright and full of life—no longer lingered on him with the same warmth. The way your smile had started to fade into something less certain, less familiar. It was always in your eyes. It was always there when you looked at him. And now, it wasn’t.

He could feel his pulse slowing, each beat like a drum in his ears, and for a long while, all he could hear was the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, the occasional faint hum of the city in the distance.

He felt… numb.

You were the one person who had captured him. The one who made his lazy days feel worth something. The one who had made his heart beat faster than it ever had before. When you laughed, the world seemed to stop for a moment, and when you looked at him with those eyes, it felt like you were looking into him, into the very core of his being. You had been his anchor in the world. The one person who made him feel like maybe there was more to him than just the carefree, detached exterior he wore like a shield.

But now… now you were gone.

Haku’s gaze dropped to the water below, the waves reflecting the colors of the sky. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout your name, to call you back, to ask why—why your words were so final, so distant. But he didn’t. Instead, he let the silence swallow him whole, the stillness of the world around him a mirror to the emptiness he felt inside.

He thought about the time they had spent together—the moments of quiet companionship, the way you would always listen, the way your laughter would fill the empty spaces between them. The moments that had made everything feel right, even when nothing else was.

And now…

He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected the end to come so quietly, so decisively. But then again, Haku had always been the one to pick up the pieces, to clean up the messes of others, without ever really considering what would happen to his own heart in the process. Maybe that was his fault. Maybe he had let it all slip away without ever realizing it. He had always been a little too laid-back, a little too willing to let things go, trusting that everything would work out in the end.

But not this time.

This time, the end was here.

Haku looked over the horizon again, feeling a strange sense of helplessness wash over him. There was nothing left to say. Nothing left to do. The path had already been set. He couldn’t change it, and neither could you. You had moved on. You had found someone else.

And as much as it hurt, he knew you deserved to be happy. Even if that happiness wasn’t with him.

Even if I’m the one left behind.

A tear fell, unbidden, as it rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, as if ashamed of the weakness it represented. He had never been good at expressing his emotions, never good at admitting when he was hurting. But this… this was different.

This was you.

The person he had loved without question, without hesitation, even if his love had been quiet and unspoken. Even if he had never been the type to wear his feelings on his sleeve.

It had always been there.

And now, all he could do was stand there, at the edge of the bay, watching the sun set, feeling the weight of everything that had slipped away.

He knew that things would never be the same.

The last lines of your words echoed in his mind, the finality of them pressing against his heart.

"I loved you, and I have to let you go."

Haku inhaled deeply, his chest tight.

If fate wishes to deceive, I won’t allow it to disappear.

The wind tugged at him again, but this time, he didn’t resist. He let it carry the pain, the sorrow, the love. He had loved you with all his heart, even if it hadn’t been enough.

And as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, leaving only the faintest trace of light, Haku whispered to the empty sky:

“Take care… I’ll always love you.”

And he let the wind carry his words away.

I have always wanted to use "The Sunset Is Beautiful, Isn't It?" — The Bittersweet Phrase that I didn’t know it had meaning. Then I saw this Haku card it fits! > This fic was inspired by this song too, here's the English translation too > Ao3 vers.