I told someone today that they are important. It broke my heart when they told me "no one has ever told me I am important before." If no one has told you, you are important. You specifically, are important. Your existence matters. Your life matters. You are important.
i'm working on a 3 part ex-boyfriend kento fic. there'll be angst, an argument scene, and a reference to shibuya. sooo, if you wanna be tagged, just comment or like this post đ§ž
hope 2026 is treating you well so far đż reminder to drink water
The October air felt cool against your hot cheeks as you walked down the street, entering the fenced area. Yumiko, the small dog, took one step before stopping again to sniff and investigate.
"Would you hurry up?"
The dog squatted into position. Your eyes bounced away from hers at the sight of last night's meal kissing the grass. A dull ache blossomed in your chest when you noticed a nearby couple playing with their dog. The scene worthy of being captured and framed with all of the other staged photos lining shelves at the store. Another buzz disrupted your thoughts.
2 new texts from Hiroto
9â15 AM
Good morning, beautiful. I hope you slept well. Can't wait to see you later.
9â17 AM
Is 7 still ok?
The ache in your chest grew as you exited the app. The background a mix of neon curves, light, and swirls illuminating the night sky. The memory soiled by the last conversation you had with Kento. The silent drive to your place. His last words echoing in your mind on repeat.
Yumiko's high pitched yip shot at the thoughts drifting you away. The small pile by her demanding attention. You slipped your phone back into your pocket before grabbing a small bag to handle it.
Mrs. Hashimoto smiled as you walked up the steps with Yumiko happily leading.
"You're such a dear. Thank you again."
"No worries, Mrs. Hashimoto."
"Say, when will that handsome fellow be back?"
"I'm not sure. He's still away for business."
"That's a shame. Thank you for taking Yumiko out for me this morning. She knows when he'll be by, so she sits by the door now."
The hole within you grew an inch, "Mrs. Hashimoto, I can take Yumiko out in the mornings. It's no problem."
"Really?" Yumiko pawed at the older woman's legs with a whine. She calmed her in Japanese, then took the leash from you "Thank you, dear."
A hint of a smile formed on your face, only to dissipate when she shut the door.
A lump formed in your throat at the reminder of Kento showing early in the fall and winter to walk your neighbor's dog. You'd seen her in passing, but it wasn't until you both went out for breakfast one day that you saw her hobbled over and struggling to lock the door while Yumiko whined. She had on so many layers, you nearly missed her face. Kento offered to help after exchanging a glance. His selflessness was one of the things you loved about him and grew to despise when it came to his job. Hiroto was selfless and kind, but he wasn't Kento. He was a ball of sunshine. He'd send "thinking of you" texts throughout the day, come up with date ideas, and even talk with servers when you went out to restaurants. He was âŠ
Good morning, beautiful. I hope you slept well. Can't wait to see you later. Is 7 still ok?
You stared at his texts while sauntering back to your apartment.
Morning, yes. See you later!
You frowned and hit send.
The fabric from the dress imprinted on your skin as time passed. The couch cushion all too familiar with your weight from sitting on it more than usual since the breakup. From the accidental naps to the crying sessions to the attempts at numbification. The dress felt too big and too small at the same time, but this was the fourth outfit within the last twenty minutes. Your stomach grumbled, filling the silence of the apartment. The sound a reminder of your negligence and emptiness.
A sudden knock at the door overshadowed the cacophony of the storm brewing within. You slipped on your shoes, then grabbed your purse before turning the handle. His sun kissed skin glowed in the light. Eyes the color of Earth, always warm and kind. That crooked smile coupled with its dimples, perfectly framing his face.
"Hey, you look great!"
"Oh," you waved a hand as if to swat the compliment away. "Thanks, Hiroto. You look nice⊠as always."
The dimples deepened at those words, "Shall we?"
You hummed in agreement while crossing the threshold. A small wave rippled through you at his scent of ocean and sandalwood. Your eyes briefly held his before darting to his car.
The picture of him as a young boy with his father stared back at you. They were practically twins, except his father wore glasses. He knelt by his mini me, proudly holding up their catch. Hiroto shared the story the first time he picked you up in his car. The duo's routine of spending early Saturday mornings in the ocean. Laughing, talking, or crying, up until he passed. The hole within you deepened and widened, now forming a pit. The progress you thought you'd made from months of shielding yourself in your apartment turned mausoleum undone from the image of a father and son holding a fish. His father's still face smiling at you, silently pleading to spare his son from any additional pain. Your eyes tore away from the man. Searching for relief in anything else. Streetlights and signs morphed into blobs of reds, greens, and blues. Your fingers automatically dabbed at the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Hiroto glanced in your direction at the sound of a sniffle.
"Everything ok?"
"Hm? Yeah, I just haven't eaten much today."
"We could've went out earlier."
"No, it's okay. I haven't really had much of an appetite."
"OhâŠ" his eyes studied you at the red light. Moreso, the distant gaze you held while looking out the window. "We can take a rain check, if you want."
"No, no," you shook your head, then faced him "I'm okay, really. Thank you though."
Your throat tightened on itself at the lie. With every effort to melt into the seat, your muscles tensed and burned. You tried to find solace in the scent of the sea and wood filling the car; but, it wasn't Kento's and it would never be his.
The clerk's eyes widened as you strolled in with mascara running under your eyes. Your frame curled inward in an attempt to bury yourself in your hoodie and sweatpants. The lingering taste of vomit at the base of your throat added to the existing burning sensation. Even worse, you could still hear Hiroto's voice on the other side of the bathroom door at the restaurant. His tone soft, attentive, and caring. Buzz, Buzz, ⊠Buzz.
His face filled your screen only to vanish when you hit decline. Your thumbs hesitated over the keyboard while you beelined for the feminine products aisle. A cramp rippled throughout your low abdomen. The sensation turning into an ache then a gaping hole by the second, yet you didn't wince. You learned there were worse pains after all.
Can't talk rn, but I'm fine. I promise
Your eyes stared at the message. Thumb hovering over "Send".
Incoming text from Hiroto
Hey, I don't mean to annoy you. Just want to make sure you're ok. Do you need anything? The restaurant offered a voucher to make up for it â(
A huff left your lips as you pocketed your phone. Swatting away the fresh memory of hurling the few bites of dinner into the toilet, accepting being alone indefinitely, and stockpiling on tampons and pads for fear of facing the public ever again. You turned and saw rows of tampons, pads, and â
Your heartbeat skipped before beginning its descent to the ground and whatever lay beyond. Those familiar hazel eyes locked onto yours instantly, like a lost ship searching for a lighthouse.
"⊠Kento âŠ"
His muscles tensed at the sight of you with ruined mascara, cheeks tear stained and skin blotchy from crying. "What happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Your clenched jaw didn't go unnoticed at the inquisition. Silence filled the space between you where there would've been a conversation. An opening. An invitation. Anything except the chasm that continued to yawn. Widening its jaws and consuming everything in its path. Your eyes darted to the side after being under his gaze for another second too long. The corner of his lip twitched as he looked at the pack of muscle relief patches in his hand. A word left his lips, soft as a whisper but loud enough to hit your ears. The sound of him saying your name brought the tears you desparately fought to keep at bay forth.
"We're not doing this."
"Please," his hand started to reach for you, then dropped at his side. Clutching into a fist at the mere thought of touching you after your last conversation. "I don't like how we left things. You deserve better than that."
Your fingers quickly wiped your eyes "Tell me something I don't know".
"I miss you," he said without thinking. And I think you still have my shirt, the thought circled in his mind, but wouldn't dare pass his lips. Not with the way you were looking at him. Eyes rimmed red and filled with tears. Your hands flexing in the pocket of your hoodie.
"IâŠ" Your lips pressed together as your eyes bounced between him and the items nearby. The taste of salt and snot on your tongue as you tried and failed to keep it together.
"Can Iâ"
"No!" Your voice leapt from the pit within you. Strangled and unfamiliar. "You want to know what happened?! You! You happened and I wish I could hate you, but I can't."
"You can."
"No," your throat tightened with each swallowed sob.
The step he took toward you made you step back. "Don't." He froze at the instruction, but kept his eyes on you. The sight of you clad in black and gray shaking your head while blinking away tears becoming the last memory of you.
Your body felt numb as you walked back to your apartment. Yet, your muscles tensed at the sight of Hiroto on your steps.
"Go home," you croaked.
"I thought you were resting."
"I needed these." You flash him the pads and tampons indifferent to your tone or bluntness.
"Oh, I could'veâ"
"Hiroto, stop."
He stilled at your command and his eyes softened.
"You're really sweet and âŠ" your lips fumbled to fill the blank. Only to press together at the realization and reluctant acceptance that it didn't matter, because you had nothing to give. To anyone or yourself. All that you had was reserved for an "us" that no longer existed. You ran your sleeve under your nose, "Anyone would be beyond lucky to have you."
He said your name and stepped forward, reaching out for you.
"Just go home!" You blinked at your own outburst, "I'm sorryâŠ" you quickly went inside then shut the door and locked it before sinking to the floor.
It was 2AM when you woke up in your bed, puzzled by the thought of making it in on your own to begin with. Your body was on autopilot as you went to the bathroom then crawled back into bed. The next day was like that and so was Sunday and Monday and everyday after that.
He was a Grade 1 idiot. Worst partner of the century. Titles of demotion flashed through his mind as he navigated the roads after leaving your place. He nearly did it this time. His feet were planted at the front door. Words ready, or as ready as they could be. Yet, his hand froze when he lifted it to knock on your door. Why couldn't he face you? Why did he let the silence make a permanent home between you two? Nearly three months later and he still remembered the look in your eyes. The cocktail of hurt, anger, and despair. The rim laced with his own essence as you drank the bitter poison. Did his name taste foul in your mouth now? Had you uttered it all since you broke up?
Nanami's jaw tensed as he parked his car. His eyes glazing over the sign of the store. He groaned while leaning back, feeling the latest injury ripple throughout his side. The sight of a couple giggling at the storefront made his lip twitch. The silent reminder of what he could have had. As he walked into the pharmacy, he wondered three things:
Were you still awake?
Would you ever take him back?
Did you want chilâ Why were you crying?
Although his head screamed to look away, his feet remained rooted as he faced you. The sound of your name on his lips once again made his heart race. His hazel eyes were too busy studying your form. For any bruises, cuts, discoloration. Were you hurt? Did someone.. no, no, that couldn't be it. His jaw stilled at your cold tone. The mascara⊠you rarely wore it, except for special occasions like your anniversary. Did you still remember the day? Did you wish you two never met?
The questions continued as he watched you walk away. His head and heart at war. Fighting between letting you go for the second time and begging you to stay as he kneeled between tampons and condoms on the linoleum floor.
"Do you need help?"
The voice of a clerk disrupted his thoughts. He needed help sleeping, freeing himself of ghosts that trailed him daily, letting go of skeletons pulling at his ankles, eating more, and working less. He needed to take a vacation, relax. He needed a good night's sleep, maybe a new bed, or pillow. He always preferred your bed. Your side was molded to fit you from the years of sleeping there and waiting for the other half to hold a body. The right side, his side, was firm but not too tough. Soft, but not utterly delicate. As if he'd sink into the bed and be pulled under. What sleep waited for him tonight before the train to Shibuya?
<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (WIP)
Author's Note: Thank you guys for your patience and still being interested in this đ I know it's been a while. Chapter 3 is going to be worse, just so you know. You've been warned đ Comment if you wanna be tagged in the next chapter, which will be the final one!
there's something to be said about returning after being gone for so long. i think the quiet perseverance has to be honored, or at least acknowledged, in some way. because, despite it all, you keep coming back.
in this series, floyd is back for revenge but can he handle the heat when you, nicky and chris combine forces to take him down for good?
a/n: below youâll find all things related to my 'vendettaâ series for our dear mafioso husband. you can also find these things, and other content like answered asks, under #nicky valentino vendetta
status: ongoing
last updated: 10.12.23.
soundtrack
chapters
1- itâs you
2- the heartâs cry
3 - ainât shit sweet
4, part 1 - together again & part 2
5 - lover of mine
6 - untitled
7 - all black like a funeral
8 - anything
9 - at your service
10, part 1 - elephants, part 2 - the show must go on!
11 - breaking news
12, part 1 - cloudy days, part 2 - the storm
moodboards
vendetta
lover of mine
all black like a funeral
taylor (chrisâs love interest)
taylorâs home
the grand finale
random stuff i think about
nicky missing you
valuable vase destroyed during fight
facts about the kitchen
stella
nickyâs favorite room
nicky as a dad
mc finds nickyâs secret stash of cigarettes
nicky when he stopped smoking
everyone during nicky and mcâs game of âfind the cannoliâ
nicky and chris prepping mc to fight
miscellaneous
handwritten version of chapter 6 (intro)
bonus features for chapter 7
mc and nicky argue (after chapter 7)
uquiz
chris and taylorâs offical first date
from others, with love
nicky in chapter 7 @anonymous-eggy
their oc (connor) in chapter 7 @anonymous-eggy
taylor @anonymous-eggy
taylor @myverystupid
ânot aloneâ @anonymous-eggy
p.s.: i suggest reading this after chapter 4, part 2
the main 4 in chapter 7 @mahirublue
nicky when he quits smoking @mahirublue
thank you to everyone whoâs read the chapters so far and even created content from this series đ youâre an absolute treasure.
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