jasmineoolongtea

[jasmineoolongtea]

hiii guys, so sorry for disappearing for a bit :(( i've been really busy preparing for my big move to uni (since it's also in another country as well) and also recovering from my wisdom tooth surgery. i just wanna apologise for my spotty online presence and thank you guys for being patient with me <333 (hopefully i'll have a new piece out for you all tonight so ty for waiting 🫶🫶🫶)

[jasmineoolongtea]

it turns out, gojo satoru hates silence. to be more accurate, he hates the sound of total nothing when it comes to you.

that's not to say that he wants you to scream at him like all hell's breaking loose but he just wants something from you, good or bad he doesn't care, over this suffocating silence. you don't even look at him; instead, you focus on attempting to secure the sterile white bandages on top of his injuries. you pretend like you don't see the crimson red of his blood seeping through them as you do.

"baby..." his voice is barely above a whisper, a rare occurrence for someone who's always been the loudest in any room he's in. he gets no response from you, only the sight of your jaw tensing up as you grit your teeth. satoru tries and fails to meet your eyes.

"baby. please, talk to me." he pleads softly, using his other unoccupied hand to reach out to you. you freeze slightly at the feeling of his fingertips upon your arm.

a small sigh of defeat escapes him. "see? i'm fine, nothing's gonna hurt me alright? it's just a scratch, that's all." as if to emphasise his point, he raises his arms up in a show of goodwill, swallowing the harsh wince of pain that threatens to escape his lips.

for what feels like the first time in forever, you look back at him, your eyes meeting his cerulean ones. "that's not the point, satoru." you state, finishing up your bandaging of him. "what if one day you do get hurt badly?" the clang of your tools hitting the metal tray table echoes within the walls of the infirmary.

he brushes off your concerns with a wave. "that's not going to hap-"

"okay, but what if it does?" you cut him off bluntly. your expression is serious, deadly serious with your unwavering gaze and slightly furrowed brows, to the point where he's rendered speechless for the first time.

"have you ever thought about what would happen to the people you leave behind... about me?" your words trail off at the end of your sentence, your voice faltering slightly as well. maybe it's a trick of the light but satoru swears that tears are welling up in the corner of your eyes.

his chest tightens with an uncomfortable squeeze, his gaze falling to the floor. no one dares to speak for a moment, whatever words and phrases of reassurance satoru would typically throw your way now suddenly seem shallow and lack any sort of weight behind them. the air is tense around the both of you.

you don't even need him to respond to know the answer to your own question as it would be a resounding no. for most of his life, satoru lives and breathes like he's untouchable, detached from most things including other people. being someone who has been leagues above everyone else since birth does that to a person.

however, it seems that this has caused him to forget that others around him don't share his fate and that no matter how detached he still believes himself to be, there are still ones who crave his connection and see past his facade of godhood and more as the human he truly is underneath it all.

"...i'm sorry, baby." he murmurs under his breath as he looks back up at you, sincerity and raw vulnerability evident in his expression. "i promise that i'll be more careful next time." he brings your hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss against your skin, letting himself bask in the warmth, your warmth, that is radiating off of you.

"there shouldn't be a next time." you huff half-heartedly, trying to stand strong in light of his previous behaviour which led to this moment but you feel your knees start to turn into jelly the moment his lips graze your hands.

a faint laugh escapes him. "i'll make a promise on that too." he adds, spreading his legs slightly just so he can pull you against his chest and into his arms.

gojo satoru is used to living only for himself but now, he has to remember that he has someone to come home to and he's going to make sure that he starts living like he did. only a shame he didn't see this earlier.

[jasmineoolongtea]

can tumblr stop deleting my replies 😭😭😭 i'm trying to give @lacyohlacyyy a heartfelt ily but this app keeps deleting it every time i reload 😡😡😡

[jasmineoolongtea]

thank you for the tag angel !!! yes this is me outing myself as a mystic messenger veteran on this blog 😪 also i <3 dohwa (please don't ask me what's going on with the webtoon rn i also do not know) and the compatibility being nearly 100% is insane 😭😭😭

no pressure tags: @lacyohlacyyy, @hiraethwrote + anyone else who wants to do this !!!

⇝ check your mbti chemistry with your faves !

♡ no pressure tagging @jozhenji @celestiallz @yinyuedijun @petrichorium @nagumoan and anyone else who wants to play :>

[jasmineoolongtea]

miss i’m jealous of your writing style. oh the nanami piece was beautiful <3

eeeeeek i'm so glad that you enjoyed it georgina !!!! my only two hope when writing that was that 1) you enjoy it and 2) i did nanami justice so very happy to see that i've accomplished that on both fronts (also kicking my feet and blushing because of your compliments)

[jasmineoolongtea]

nanami kento is a man of discipline, through and through. this lends itself to him being referred to as a 'workaholic' (although he strongly disagrees with this label if you were to ask him)

some (gojo) might even go so far as to joke that the word 'vacation' is something unheard of for a man of his calibre, much to his chagrin.

however, work, for kento, is ultimately a means to an end. and when he's afforded a respite from the monotony of it all, he'll close his eyes and slip away into his daydreams as after all, at the end of the day, he is human.

he dreams of quiet nights with you curled up in his arms by the fireplace where you're both lulled to sleep by the crackling of the flames; where the general bustle and busyness of the city is nothing more than a past memory that one might reminisce on after a glass or two of wine and you've got him smiling to the point his cheeks are starting to hurt over some dumb inside joke the two of you share.

when he looks out the window, he'll be met with the sight of rolling mountains and lush, sprawling fields or maybe the vast greatest of the ocean on the horizon as the waves lazily lap at the shoreline your beach house overlooks (it's up to you).

when he turns back, you'll be there, blissfully asleep against his bare chest with your limbs tangled in his and he can carefully brush away any stray hairs that could potentially obstruct his favourite view; you.

he dreams of lazy mornings where the two of you get to lounge around your shared kitchen together with a warm mug cradled in your hands as you bask in the glow of the late morning sun that makes kento wish that he could forever immortalise this moment in his mind.

maybe there will be a song that happens to appear on the radio that manages to excite you to the point where you start pulling him away from whatever he's doing to dance with you and he gets to twirl you around in his arms before dipping you into a gentle kiss that serves as a soft 'good morning' to each other.

whether it's you or him who's cooking that day, he doesn't mind as long as he gets to spend time with you and remain within arm's length of you at all times for any second spent away from you is a form of torture within its own right.

if you ever get the itch to get out of the house sometimes, the two of you will take the opportunity to go on a serene drive around the neighbouring area where the destination is not as important as the journey you take to get there. without the stress and anxiety of the city's traffic, the two of you get to truly enjoy the scenery you pass by and the way the cool breeze brushes past you as you cruise down the road at an easygoing pace.

perhaps the drive slows down to a soft stop, though to your slight confusion, as kento spots a small, secluded field of flowers to his side and he decides to hop out for a second after placing a delicate kiss against your cheek as a silent request for you to be patient with him.

when he returns, it isn't empty-handed as he makes his way back to you with a handmade bouquet containing all your favourite flowers carefully arranged into a thoughtful design. his typically spotless pants are slightly wrinkled and speckled with grass and dirt from kneeling to pluck flowers for you but that is the last thing he could care about when he's blessed with the sight of your face lighting up with joy as you accept his gift with a 'thank you' that takes the form of a lingering kiss that inevitably deepens into something that leaves the two of you breathless yet wanting more.

every time he is forced away from your embrace by the rude blaring of his alarm clock that summons him back to his job, he makes a silent reminder to himself that someday, it'll all be worth it when his fantasies become closer to reality than fiction.

moodboard for this & this is dedicated to the biggest kento lover i know out there @lacyohlacyyy (hope i did kento justice for you georgina <33)

[jasmineoolongtea]

Jason “daaaarlinggg guess who just escaped the psych warddddd” Todd

[jasmineoolongtea]

nanami kento is a man of discipline, through and through. this lends itself to him being referred to as a 'workaholic' (although he strongly disagrees with this label if you were to ask him)

some (gojo) might even go so far as to joke that the word 'vacation' is something unheard of for a man of his calibre, much to his chagrin.

however, work, for kento, is ultimately a means to an end. and when he's afforded a respite from the monotony of it all, he'll close his eyes and slip away into his daydreams as after all, at the end of the day, he is human.

he dreams of quiet nights with you curled up in his arms by the fireplace where you're both lulled to sleep by the crackling of the flames; where the general bustle and busyness of the city is nothing more than a past memory that one might reminisce on after a glass or two of wine and you've got him smiling to the point his cheeks are starting to hurt over some dumb inside joke the two of you share.

when he looks out the window, he'll be met with the sight of rolling mountains and lush, sprawling fields or maybe the vast greatest of the ocean on the horizon as the waves lazily lap at the shoreline your beach house overlooks (it's up to you).

when he turns back, you'll be there, blissfully asleep against his bare chest with your limbs tangled in his and he can carefully brush away any stray hairs that could potentially obstruct his favourite view; you.

he dreams of lazy mornings where the two of you get to lounge around your shared kitchen together with a warm mug cradled in your hands as you bask in the glow of the late morning sun that makes kento wish that he could forever immortalise this moment in his mind.

maybe there will be a song that happens to appear on the radio that manages to excite you to the point where you start pulling him away from whatever he's doing to dance with you and he gets to twirl you around in his arms before dipping you into a gentle kiss that serves as a soft 'good morning' to each other.

whether it's you or him who's cooking that day, he doesn't mind as long as he gets to spend time with you and remain within arm's length of you at all times for any second spent away from you is a form of torture within its own right.

if you ever get the itch to get out of the house sometimes, the two of you will take the opportunity to go on a serene drive around the neighbouring area where the destination is not as important as the journey you take to get there. without the stress and anxiety of the city's traffic, the two of you get to truly enjoy the scenery you pass by and the way the cool breeze brushes past you as you cruise down the road at an easygoing pace.

perhaps the drive slows down to a soft stop, though to your slight confusion, as kento spots a small, secluded field of flowers to his side and he decides to hop out for a second after placing a delicate kiss against your cheek as a silent request for you to be patient with him.

when he returns, it isn't empty-handed as he makes his way back to you with a handmade bouquet containing all your favourite flowers carefully arranged into a thoughtful design. his typically spotless pants are slightly wrinkled and speckled with grass and dirt from kneeling to pluck flowers for you but that is the last thing he could care about when he's blessed with the sight of your face lighting up with joy as you accept his gift with a 'thank you' that takes the form of a lingering kiss that inevitably deepens into something that leaves the two of you breathless yet wanting more.

every time he is forced away from your embrace by the rude blaring of his alarm clock that summons him back to his job, he makes a silent reminder to himself that someday, it'll all be worth it when his fantasies become closer to reality than fiction.

moodboard for this & this is dedicated to the biggest kento lover i know out there @lacyohlacyyy (hope i did kento justice for you georgina <33)

[jasmineoolongtea]

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A WHAT???? 📢

ac: takk1m on twt

[jasmineoolongtea]

❥ teaser for the nanami blurb i have coming out tonight <33

[jasmineoolongtea]

Been thinking a lot lately about how Satoru doesn’t really cook.

Growing up the way he did, everyone was pulling from every direction, unloading immense responsibility on him because of the Six Eyes. So normalcy wasn’t in the cards for him.

From a young age, his schedule was packed from dusk to dawn with all kinds of tasks embedded on him. And so, dinner was simply a time of day for him more than anything else. He was served a mediocre dish, then he had to return to his responsibilities.

And then he moved to Tokyo, and was finally blessed with some newfound freedom. But he didn’t want to waste this spare time learning how to cook, especially when Jujutsu Tech served him perfectly okay meals three times a day. Who was he to not take advantage of such privilege?

Any interest of developing some culinary skills was also smothered by his insane sweet tooth. Something he’d picked up as a way to help him, quickly evolved into never ending munching — forget proper food.

Sadly for him, the number of responsibilities didn’t decrease as he entered adulthood — rather the opposite. And now, as he was technically a grown up, there was a lot less tolerance for nonsense. People expected things from him now.

Yet again, cooking dinner was deprioritised. He also didn’t see a reason to devote time to cook when it was so much easier to just have it delivered right on his doorstep. He had the means to support such an expensive luxury, so why not?

Sitting down by the dining table after a long day of duties, a warm meal welcoming him with delightful smells never even became something he missed, seeing as he didn’t know what it was he had sacrificed for choosing the easy path.

Then you came creeping into his life.

You in general, had been a surprise to say the least. After everything, pursuing anything romantic wasn’t something that had been on his list of priorities either. But once he met you, he couldn’t not try to make you his.

Everything escalated pretty quickly, and it was fairly early on that you decided you wanted to cook for him for the first time.

“I got some insane pasta cravings. You down for that tonight?” You had your phone resting between your shoulder and your cheek while you scanned the grocery isles for what you needed.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he answered on the other end of the line. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

You couldn’t help but giggle a little at his comment, a tiny bit confused by what he meant. “Well, duh. I’m not making two separate pasta dishes.”

“Oh,” a moment of silence from your boyfriend as the reality set in. “Yeah, no, of course. Just habit I guess,” smearing on with his usual, charismatic voice to play off his little slip.

Because poor Satoru had only assumed you would be ordering in, since it was all he really knew. The concept of prepping and cooking a dish from scratch hadn’t even crossed his mind.

A few hours later, the same usual comfort that came from your company, welcomed him along with an assortment of the most delicious smells once he arrived at your apartment.

“Ah, perfect timing,” you smiled, rushing to give him a small peck on the lips when he joined you in the kitchen before quickly hopping back to putting the finishing touches on dinner.

A small sensation of worry filled you, because this was the first time you had witnessed Satoru completely silent. Taking the time to turn your head over your shoulder to make sure he was alright, you saw his eyes just taking in the scenery of the set table and the somewhat messy kitchen.

“Just take a seat, Satoru,” you chuckled nervously, nodding in the direction of what had become his designated chair. “It’s almost ready.”

You saw a weak nod before he slowly shuffled over to the table and sat down. He swallowed the small lump in his throat when you put the casserole on the table in front of him.

“Dinner is served. But it’s hot, so just, be careful.”

When he didn’t move a muscle, you tried to act as if things were normal and served yourself first, hoping he would eventually tell you whatever it was that had gotten into him.

“Satoru?”

Your soft voice of concern snapped him back to reality, his familiar smile finding its way back to his expression — though he wasn’t truly himself quite yet.

“Looks absolutely delicious!” He gushed and finally filled his plate.

You continued to eye him with some suspicion as he started to dig in. Something you couldn’t put your finger on, washed over him when he took the first bite. Then another, and another, and another — then he was suddenly ogling you with the widest eyes you could remember seeing on him.

“This might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten!”

You pursed your lips to choke back the exaggerated laugh that was about to burst out at his statement, that you were convinced had to be a lie.

“Is that so?” You teased, carefully stepping deeper into the topic to see if he was actually being truthful.

“Babe, this-“ he cut himself off, awe overtaking him. “Where did you learn this?”

You shrugged casually. “I’ve just picked up a few things over the years, I guess.”

“What else can you make?”

“Uhm, I don’t know,” you stuttered, a little taken aback by his surprising enthusiasm to what you considered to just be a simple pasta dish. “Several things.”

“Could you please cook for me tomorrow? And whenever you have the time?”

“Of course,” you smiled, shoulders resting when he now seemed to be totally fine, finishing his first portion only to take yet another huge serving.

Because to Satoru, it was more than just dinner.

Dinner and eating had always just been yet another task he did simply because he knew he had to eat. Never had there been any deeper meaning to it — but you showed him it could definitely be more.

To him, it also became a sign of devotion. You were willing to put in the time and the work to make him something nice, then you would get to enjoy it together. No one had really done that for him before.

Finally it was Satoru's turn to enjoy the domesticity of something as mundane as a home cooked dinner.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[jasmineoolongtea]

➽───❥ dc masterlist જ⁀➴

series ೀ

❣︎ coming soon

fics ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

❣︎ coming soon

drabbles ⋆⭒˚.⋆

❣︎ scars and marks with jason todd

headcannons ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

❣︎ coming soon

© jasmineoolongtea

[jasmineoolongtea]

guys your girl got into law school and is going to become a lawyer WOOOO 🎉🎉🎉

[jasmineoolongtea]

jason todd's skin isn't untouched in the slightest, far from it.

almost every crook and cranny of his sculpted form has been marked or marred by some sort of scar or injury he's managed to sustain over his time as a vilgilante to the point where there's barely anywhere on his body that's seemingly safe from this apparent curse.

is it bad to say that he's lost count of them over the years? a bruise here, a large jagged scar there; sure, jason used to spend time fixating on them like some strange obsession he couldn't shake off when a new one appeared fresh on the canvas of his skin but by now, all they would get was a slight grimace whenever he caught a glimpse of them in the mirror as his lips draw into a tight line before quickly throwing some article of clothing over his head to cover it.

unfortunately for him (though seemingly par for the course for his life trajectory), many of them are the result of some less-than-pleasant experiences and encounters that and in true jason fashion, he has taken it upon himself to bear this metaphorical cross even if it weighs heavy on him and his every waking moment.

though he would never admit this out loud, he can't help but see each line of scar tissue or faded bruise as another reminder of his own mistakes, failures and inadiquacies and at times, they sting more than what caused the wound in the first place.

however, he's found a type of mark that doesn't hurt as much (quite the opposite in fact) and those are ones caused by you. specifically, the lipstick marks you leave in your wake.

the way you trail and place these kisses across his body is like you're trying you're trying to commit every plane and edge of his chiseled figure to memory and who is he to stop you in your quest. whenever you arrive at one of his many scars on your journey, you always take extra care to linger on them for a second longer than the others and for a fleeting moment, he lets himself forget the backstory attached to them and instead focus on the sensation of you against him.

you treat him like he's your own personal canvas with how you meticulosly choose to mark him such as clustering them in certain places like on his shoulder blade or placing them in a line leading down his torso and ending just below the band of his underwear.

your lipstick is smudged so perfectly around your mouth and when you pull away to go to wipe it off, he has to fight the urge to audibly let out a sigh of disappointment at the sudden lost of contact and how good you look when there's evidence of his presence on you.

although the public will never be privy to this artwork, jason thinks that it just might be one of the greatest masterpieces he's ever had the pleasure of seeing or experiencing.

everytime he catches a brief sight of the faded imprint of your cherry red lips dotted against his bare skin in the mirror, there's a ghost of smile that graces his features as he makes a mental note to ask you to top them up when he deems them too faded for his liking.

he can't decide what he likes better; the feeling of your soft lips against the harsh lines of his muscles or the look of pure satisfaction you get when you lean back to admire your work. jason's never been one for photography but god he wishes that he had a camera just so he could take a photo of these moments to immortalise them for the rest of eternity.

sometimes you like to joke that he's the reason that you go through your lipsticks so fast and he'll offer you a somewhat bashful grin in response although you know that there isn't an ounce of guilt in his bones for this. silently, he swears to buy you a lifetime of lipstick if it means that your lips keep coming back to him.

[jasmineoolongtea]

jason todd's skin isn't untouched in the slightest, far from it.

almost every crook and cranny of his sculpted form has been marked or marred by some sort of scar or injury he's managed to sustain over his time as a vilgilante to the point where there's barely anywhere on his body that's seemingly safe from this apparent curse.

is it bad to say that he's lost count of them over the years? a bruise here, a large jagged scar there; sure, jason used to spend time fixating on them like some strange obsession he couldn't shake off when a new one appeared fresh on the canvas of his skin but by now, all they would get was a slight grimace whenever he caught a glimpse of them in the mirror as his lips draw into a tight line before quickly throwing some article of clothing over his head to cover it.

unfortunately for him (though seemingly par for the course for his life trajectory), many of them are the result of some less-than-pleasant experiences and encounters that and in true jason fashion, he has taken it upon himself to bear this metaphorical cross even if it weighs heavy on him and his every waking moment.

though he would never admit this out loud, he can't help but see each line of scar tissue or faded bruise as another reminder of his own mistakes, failures and inadiquacies and at times, they sting more than what caused the wound in the first place.

however, he's found a type of mark that doesn't hurt as much (quite the opposite in fact) and those are ones caused by you. specifically, the lipstick marks you leave in your wake.

the way you trail and place these kisses across his body is like you're trying you're trying to commit every plane and edge of his chiseled figure to memory and who is he to stop you in your quest. whenever you arrive at one of his many scars on your journey, you always take extra care to linger on them for a second longer than the others and for a fleeting moment, he lets himself forget the backstory attached to them and instead focus on the sensation of you against him.

you treat him like he's your own personal canvas with how you meticulosly choose to mark him such as clustering them in certain places like on his shoulder blade or placing them in a line leading down his torso and ending just below the band of his underwear.

your lipstick is smudged so perfectly around your mouth and when you pull away to go to wipe it off, he has to fight the urge to audibly let out a sigh of disappointment at the sudden lost of contact and how good you look when there's evidence of his presence on you.

although the public will never be privy to this artwork, jason thinks that it just might be one of the greatest masterpieces he's ever had the pleasure of seeing or experiencing.

everytime he catches a brief sight of the faded imprint of your cherry red lips dotted against his bare skin in the mirror, there's a ghost of smile that graces his features as he makes a mental note to ask you to top them up when he deems them too faded for his liking.

he can't decide what he likes better; the feeling of your soft lips against the harsh lines of his muscles or the look of pure satisfaction you get when you lean back to admire your work. jason's never been one for photography but god he wishes that he had a camera just so he could take a photo of these moments to immortalise them for the rest of eternity.

sometimes you like to joke that he's the reason that you go through your lipsticks so fast and he'll offer you a somewhat bashful grin in response although you know that there isn't an ounce of guilt in his bones for this. silently, he swears to buy you a lifetime of lipstick if it means that your lips keep coming back to him.

[jasmineoolongtea]

okay wait why does diet pepsi by addison are kinda go hard 😗😗😗 this was not on my 2024 bingo card but i am definitely a fan of this development 🤭 (also can we talk about how it's jason dilaurentis starring in the mv ???? took me back to my pll days and that is a whole trip in itself)

[jasmineoolongtea]

geto suguru isn't exactly sure how he got here.

there are a lot of other things he probably should be doing on a thursday afternoon after school and waiting here in an abandoned classroom for you, like some kind of lovesick puppy, is definitely not on that list of things to do.

he entertains the thought of leaving for a second but that idea goes straight out of the window when he sees your face appear in the doorway.

"sorry for being late. i hope i didn't make you wait for too long." you apologise with a bashful smile as you stumble into the empty classroom.

you're slightly out of breath to the point where you have to take a second before speaking, your cheeks are flushed with colour and suguru thinks you've never looked more beautiful than now.

"no, it's fine. i don't mind waiting for you."

he's pretty sure that he could wait forever if he knew you were there on the other side though you don't need to know that.

when you place your hand in his and he rests his against your waist, he can't help but think about how well you fit into him like it was moulded just for him and he wonders for a split second if there's even a chance that you share a fraction of what's going through his mind right now.

your moves are awkward and unsure, 'all because of your two left feet' (in your own words, not his), and while even the most patient of people would have been on their last straw with how many times you've accidentally stepped on his feet, to suguru, they just add to your unique charm that he's certain he'll spend lifetimes searching for anything that might come close to it.

as much as he wants to pull away because you have this strange effect on him where you can render him breathless in the blink of an eye with a single touch or stray glance, he also hates each and every second he can't be in your presence and this is one of the few moments he's afforded some respite from the enormity of his feelings.

suguru isn't a masochist (as far as he's aware) however you're making him reconsider a lot of things about himself.

truth be told, he doesn't even know why he agreed to this in the first place, he damn well knows that he is probably the furthest thing from a professional dancer and there's a part of him that feels bad for lying straight to your face but when he sees how relieved you are when he agrees to your request, he's sure that lying can't be that bad in the grand scheme of things.

"you should..." he trails off, fall for me instead.

"hmm? what did you say suguru?"

you're looking at him so expectantly like you truly want to know what he's going to say next and he wishes that you would always look at him like that for if that was the case, he might just have the courage to spill the thoughts that plague his every waking moment.

"oh, no i was just saying that you should not worry so much. i'm sure you'll be fine." actually, he's sure you'll do more than fine but once again, he bites his tongue.

maybe if he was more brazen and cared less about him, he would curse out satoru for being such a lucky bastard, so lucky in fact, that he gets to be the one who can hold you in his arms. unfortunately for him, he's not that type of person, and even worse for him, he doesn't live in a world where he's the one who has your stomach in knots.

the sun is setting below the horizon and soon, the world will be plunged into a familiar darkness there's an uncomfortable feeling pooling within his gut that tells him that this moment can't last forever and you'll go running back into the arms of someone you truly belong with (no matter how much he tries to will it into existence).

nevertheless, he'll take one night of slow dancing with you in the dark over nothing and foolishly pretend that this is something that it isn't.