Summary: you both live in completely different worlds, the differences started to deepen. The talking end but the love didn’t.
Warnings: angst and no comfort
The Lilac eyed Haitani looked down at his hand, occupied with alcohol. Hair disheveled, breath reeking of alcohol, Ran Haitani is a mess right now.
He looked up towards the window, the sky filled with clouds and the only sound reaching his ears being the patter of the rain, his ragged breathing and somehow, silence.
The man who was feared first amongst all of roppongi then all of the delinquent and the mafia world, was in shambles.
It’s been a week, since his world was turned upside down, as if he had paid all of his sins in this week.
Ran Haitani is no saint, and neither were you a sinner.
An angel and a devil, a match which could never be possible.
The older Haitani gets up from his king sized bed and walks over to the balcony and steps out. Rain drops hit his face.
The rain itself coming like a feather touch. The touch he craves right now.
As if even the gods had felt pity and mercy for him.
His veiny hands grip down on the railings as warm droplets of tears fall from his eyes.
Was it the 7th? Or 8th time he had cried, just in some 36 hours. Honestly he had lost count.
He takes support of the wall and railing as his fatigue starts to show.
Knuckles becoming white, his mind replays the moments.
The moments he wishes to forget
The moments he wishes he could just remove
The moments which have been causing this for days.
But these are the same memories
He wishes to cherish
Memories he wishes to treasure
Like a sacred jewel in a king’s palace.
For you were more than that.
Your smile, your hair, your eyes, your bubbly personality, your clumsy habits, your whines and complaints, he treasures them all.
Ironic isn’t it?
Is it karma? He wonders. For all the sins he has committed, it was natural for him to feel karma.
But if there was a god out there somewhere, he would beg to their feet, to revert it all back.
Ran was on his couch, relaxing and having a drink as he hears the door open with the jangle of keys. He gets up and walks over to greet you but he’s met with something he wishes he could get out of his head.
You were injured badly, cuts and bruises everywhere, leaning on his brother rindou.
Ran feels the air from his lungs stolen as his body begins to shake. He quickly embraces you in his arms as he asks rindou for what happened.
“The Hazara gang got her, it was fortunate that Koko and me were close by, but I guess we were late. I’m sorry ran”, Rindou finishes as he moves out the front door.
Ran lightly tilts your head up as he looks at your face, so lightly as if you were glass, that a small touch would break you apart. Even with bruises and scratches, he found you so beautiful, as if an angel had descended from heaven.
And he’ll be damned if his angel is hurt. He carefully places you on the couch and gets some ice for your bruises and first aid kit for other.
As he cleans you up, he thinks about the first time he came to you in this position.
15 year old ran had just lost to some thugs, he immediately came to you, his safe place.
Where he believed all his sins were forgiven, where he would never be judged, where he could stay eternity in your arms, listening to his and yours matching heart beat.
With that beautiful memory of the past, he thinks of the future. Ran was in the biggest and strongest mafia gang in Japan, it was obvious he was gonna get enemies.
But his enemies hurting his Bella Dona, he would rather sell his soul to the devil himself than let that happen.
Today’s incident had really made him think about your relationship. You were a normal interior designer, stable job, good friends, always a smile on your face.
And then there was him
He was in a gang, a dangerous job, being targeted almost always, always a gun in hand and on the head.
You guys were two sides of the same coin.
And The more ran thought about this, the more his heart broke.
Him being in your life was just going to hurt you.
Physically too now.
His hands were quick to grab yours as he start to tremble, he knew what had to be done.
And to say it terrified him, would be an understatement.
He thinks about the morning, today when everything was just fine.
His eyes had opened to the bright light and the feel of your heart beat.
His head on your chest, he savoured that moment. For he knew he would have to get up and enter the cruel world.
His world.
His world to killing, drugs, gambling, all those things which you weren’t.
These small moments were which made him last in the battle field.
And now
He would have to give it all up.
Ran is brought out of his trance as he feels a thumb trance along his cheek bone and wipe away his unnoticed tears.
His eyes meet your as he gets mesmerised, the same way he had been at 15 years of age.
“It’s not your fault”, were the first words said to him by you in your melodious voice.
But he knows they are false.
It was all his fault, and you were trying to keep him from panicking more, but ran wouldn’t believe anything right now.
He stares into your half lidded eyes and caresses your face. “But I know it is”, he says as he sees your pupils dilate
His legs push him up as your hand slips for his grasp. Your hand reaches for his again but he steps away from the couch.
“I’m sorry you had to face this, but you live in a world where you don’t belong. You don’t deserve all the stuff I do. And I can’t risk your life, just for my love… I hope in another life, we would meet in better circumstances”, and his feet dart to the front door as his eyes do to the floor.
He ignores your calls from the living room as he grabs his coat and his hand stops on the door handle.
He hears you behind him and he turns and looks at you with so much love, affection, appreciation. But also regret, he regrets ever getting you involved in his hell.
He never took those moments and memories for granted.
He whispers, “I will love you in every life”, and exists the penthouse.
The very penthouse he has shared countless hours of memories.
All filled with the love, he only wishes he could go back to.
Ran’s fatigue takes a toll and his legs give out. He stumbles upon the patio chair present and his hands fall to his knees.
He looks at them and tries to recall the feeling of yours, the warm feeling which would give him butterflies even after 8 years of dating.
And he lets his emotions run free.
Now with the patter are the sounds of a broken man crying. A broken but selfless man. A broken man who would trade the world for the two people in this world.
A guttural sob is heard as thunder follows.
The dried up tears on his cheekbones are covered by the new ones. No one to wipe them away now.
Ran knows it’s for the better, but he just wants to be selfish for once.
He just wishes to embrace for eternity, till the sun shines and stars sparkle.
Because even if the world ends
He will always love you
For the memories, love, affection, safety, you have provided him when no one couldn’t.
Summary: Just a little boy slowly falling for his best friend, just a little boy realising too late
Warnings: fluff a bit, angst and no comfort
Fandom: The promised neverland
Sitting under the large tree just outside the house. The house we have been lied to for our short lives. It had become a daily routine now, I would be sitting down here, peacefully reading a book. A book I have read a thousand times, and ponder about the new escapes routes.
The other children would run here and there, play tag, make flower crowns, while I lay in shade. I never mind it though, I guess I have always found it quite beautiful.
And then you would walk in front of me, snatch my book from my hands as I try to reach for it. I’d think that you disturbed me, but did you really? What am I saying, of course you didn’t.
But I guess little 8 year old Ray wasn’t too knowledgeable of this. You would sit beside me and play with the little plants beneath us.
I would tell you to go away, that I was busy, but you always stayed.
Then why didn’t you stay?
Early in the morning as the laughter and running of the children were heard, your voice for me stood separate.
Even on many sleepless nights of mine, in the morning my day would become a bit better just seeing you on the bed beside me.
Hair all tangled and blanket thrown and discarded on the wooden floor.
Before breakfast when I would watch from afar as you set the table with Emma. In the corner of my eye I would see Norman giving me his “look” and I would just turn around, placing the plates in my arms.
Moments later we would be sat at the huge table, all children sitting and eating in harmony, with our caretaker, Mama Isabella.
You would be sat right beside me, as you have been since we came to this wrecked home. Can we even call it that?
Mama, Emma and Norman would sweat-drop as they witness our little banters. You placing your vegetables in my plate and me returning them and scolding.
I would be sitting in the cold and silent library, reading one of thousands of hundreds books here. The gigantic wooden door would open as a small figure would slip in. Faint noises of shoes clanking on the wooden floor boards.
“Hey ray!”, you said as you settled down next to me. Once again disturbing me when I would like to be alone.
But now that I look back, i really wish you disturbed me more.
“I’m reading, go play with Emma and Norman”, as little 10 year old Ray would turn his head the other way, refusing to meet your bright amber eyes. The eyes filled with so much life and colour. While his were green with a hint of grey. Eyes filled with constant worry for next sibling to be left to the demons’ hands.
But those same eyes would forget about anything else when you would drag him out of the cold comfort space and into the field. Your laughter would fill my ears as you ran around, my book in your hands and myself steps behind you.
You would surprise me with my favourite dark chocolate, flower crown which I would pretend to discard but they always remained in my drawers. Little Ray couldn’t understand why, but he had a sense to hold on to these.
Little ray who could solve the hardest of equations and find a solution to any situation, would still be confused for the butterflies he would feel fluttering in his stomach. His unconscious smile which would equip his face while watching you read stories to our siblings.
You were clumsy, sometimes stupid, and I would lightly scold you for the Mistakes yet those were the least of your problems. You focused on happiness, finding peace and joy in the smallest things, while I saw only the bad in things, the mistakes, the imperfections.
Is that why I never recognised your qualities.
I still remember the day, when I saw the files of Mama, the news of the next shipment. I remember wanting to scream, tear everything apart, burn this wrecked world for the fate.
I ran as fast as my legs could take me and reached you, on the podium of the mansion. I had swore to keep the house secret remain in its secrecy, but I couldn’t let you get to your fate, couldn’t let you be on the face of death.
And I spilled out, told you all about the demons. Your grades had always been so good, so why were you being shipped out so early, were my calculations wrong?
All thoughts stormed in my mind as i told you all of it.
When my mouth came to a rest, I looked up to see you looking out into the long stretch of trees, which surrounded the orphanage.
You still had that signature smile but it wasn’t like the smile you normally wore. Which was full of mischief, always up to some pranks.
It was a soft smile.
You eyes didn’t hold that glint of naughtiness, it held just peacefulness, like the ocean. Just as how we could hear the waves of the water in the ocean hitting the shore, I could look into those amber eyes forever.
You didn’t say anything but your atmosphere, your aura, just you, was saying so much.
“Aren’t you scared?”, I said with nervousness visible in my voice. I admit that you were chaotic at times but serious when needed. But never would I expect someone to be welcoming death with open arms as you were.
“No, I have lived the best life I could for these 11 years Ray. I am grateful for everything I have become while in this house. Don’t get me wrong, I am definitely shocked, but I guess we should just accept things”, you stood up and walked a couple of steps forwards, and admired the house. The very house we have been lied about for years.
But why didn’t you mind.
“Have you gone insane?! We have to save you! We can hide you in the forest or anything which works”, I was furious at that time, too blinded to see the salty, hot tears which fell from your eyes, coating your cheeks and lashes.
You were hurting just as much as I was.
But in so different ways.
I screamed and kicked a bucket from anger. ‘Why were you giving up?’ ‘Why don’t you wanna at least try?!’ ‘Why was it you?’ ‘Why wasn’t it me?’ ‘Why…’, all these thoughts clouded my mind as I didn’t think of my words.
“You’re pathetic.”, I didn’t even think about my words and just spat them in your face. Little Ray walked away, from someone he now called “a gone case”.
I didn’t think about my words, cursing you in my mind for giving up.
And the only time I thought was when you were going away. The day of your shipment, the day when those disgusting beasts would have you, the day you would walk out that gate,
The day you would enter my heart.
My heart hurt a lot, to see you in that top hat and uniform. Ready to leave. As you said your goodbyes, promising the little ones to write letters.
Letters which wouldn’t even reach us.
You stepped in front of me, my eyes darted to the floor, I couldn’t bear to see you, not in this state.
Suddenly I almost lost my balance as I felt tears on my shoulder and your hair under my chin.
You embraced me and hesitantly my arms rose, wrapping around your figure. My body, my heart treasuring this moment.
And soon you were gone. No longer in the house, no longer on the orphanage, no longer in my arms.
My heart felt as empty as the house now did.
Not seeing you every morning beside my bed, not seeing you while preparing for breakfast, your spot now empty beside me on the table, no more interruptions in the libraries.
On many of the sleepless nights, I would be found in the library, your blanket wrapped around me as it got stained with my tears. Curling myself into a small ball, I would try to hold onto those memories we made. Try to have hope that maybe you escaped. When I knew you didn’t.
Sometimes I would lay awake in the bed, afraid to close my eyes. Afraid that I would see that image again, the image of you being dinner to those monstrous creatures. Images of your smile, you calling my name to play outside.
And every day I would drown myself in guilt. For my last words to you being the ones I disagreed with most.
You weren’t pathetic. Not at all.
But I was consumed with so many emotions at that moment that I couldn’t stop.
I treasured everything. Those flower crown stored in my drawer, the paintings you made, the memories we held, the moments that I could trade the world to have again.
And as I stand here, on the edge of the wall, separating me and the freedom but many more difficulties to face, separating us from the house and the outside world, I think of you.
How would you have felt at this moment? And I hope that you are overlooking the victory of your siblings.
We may never be together again, but I will always have a special part for you in my heart.
The one which I know bring we deepest joy and many sorrowful nights.
For the girl who made the stone hard kid of Grace Field Orphanage melt:
Mirabel: Okay, but imagine if fruit or vegetables were actually alive and SCREAMED every time we bit into them but to us their screams come off as crunch.
Summary: you are very much done with sanzu, his drugs, alcohol, partying, bonten. You have been watching your “haru” slip away for months, when one day you snapped
Characters: Bonten!Sanzu; Y/n (female but not implied)
Warning: angst with no comfort, swearing, mentions of drugs and alcohol
[the picture doesn’t belong to me]
Song used: maniac by Conan Gray
Not proof read btw
You had been worried sick for hours, calling sanzu god knows how many times. Clearly he wasn’t at the Bonten Headquarters as you had called the secretary.
All the horrible thought were swarming your mind.
Has he been cheating? What if he is injured?
This is the life of sanzu’s partner. He doesn’t come home at sane hours. When he does, usually stays in his office to do work for his boss, Mikey.
Oh how you started to despise mikey, sanzu being his loyal mad dog had left you cold in the sheets every night, waiting for Haru to come home, dinner you cooked kept in the fridge. Which you once desired to enjoy with him.
‘Haru’ you don’t even remember the last time you called him that
You were with your friends, partying; when the alcohol kicked in
You suddenly heard the ringing of your phone, immediately picking up, a bit of energy coming into you.
It was sanzu.
You immediately picked up the phone and brought it close to your ear.
Party music entered you ears and so did your ‘lover’s’ drunk voice, and you connected the dots
He was partying, as usual, drinking till he would pass out and the Haitani brother would call you, as usual, while you sat in your once shared penthouse, just hoping to have a hug.
Said you wanted me dead, so you showed up at my home
All alone, with a shovel and a rose
“Omg why have you been calling for so long, seriously I’m just here at the club, gosh you should just die, probably would with all that stress babe”
Your eyes darkened as you really heard his voice, he wasn’t even that drunk..
You had experienced drunk and high sanzu countless times, so you caught it in a second
“You should just die”, yet you really wished that you had caught it wrong
…
Soon you heard your doorbell ring
It was sanzu
You knew cause, this wasn’t anything knew
As your feet slowly took you to your door, you ran this situation in your head, it was predictable at this point for what was about to happen.
The door opened with a creek and you were met with him. You didn’t even bother showing your smile, just got to the side so he could get in.
“Where the fuck were you?” You asked as you crossed your arms and stood in front of him. Sanzu didn’t even bat an eye towards you as he drugged his coat off, another one stained with blood. Gun in hand he walked to the kitchen.
“I AM TALKING TO YOU HARUCHIYO” You were frustrated with him, him with his ignorant antics. He didn’t give you the respect that should be mutual with condition in a relationship.
How many things you could point out that was hurting you right now
And the source of those things, those nightmares, those thoughts, those voices, was standing in front of you, cleaning his gun.
“What the fuck is that attitude”, sanzu said has he lowered his hand and slowly looked at you. Gave you a gaze, a gaze that was once filled with sweetness, now only with bitterness.
“Haru, we have to talk about this, I never know where you are, I never know what you’re doing, I never know if you’re safe. Fuck, I feel like I don’t even know who you are anymore”, you said as the colour from your eyes started to become darker. This couldn’t go for long
“Y/n, I’m warning you right now, shut the fuck up”, he said as he slowly moved towards you, long legs still covering the distance in short time.
“No Haru, I am tired of just shutting up. This relationship isn’t healthy at all, this same thing has happened before, I know that if I breakup then you will just get me back. And I’m not going to hurt myself anymore. Either talk about this or we end this for good”, you were not afraid to say anything anymore.
Fear is an emotion and by the way sanzu had treated you. Made you feel like trash, constantly calling you names, being ignorant, had really pushed those emotions down.
You didn’t have tears left to let out, as all were let put on those winter nights, where you would snuggle in the blankets. No matter how many you brought, none gave you warmth. You would look at your phone every minute, hoping for an update.
Oh how you were pitying yourself
“SHUT UP, you are nothing beside me, you always came crawling back to me, not the other way around. And I’m a fucking adult, I can do what I want, now get the fuck out of my way”, deep down, in his heart, somewhere, Sanzu knew
He was wrong
He pushed you aside and walked up the stairs, as he loosened his tie.
You have seen Sanzu’s chats with his executives, heard his calls. And every-time you wish You were deaf, as you see and listen to him, disrespect me, laughing with his comrades about how trash you are, how your manipulative, how you make him wanna blast your brains out.
And everytime you have to shut the voices in your head, constantly telling to finally walk out. But you never could
But now, those voices have become one, and that’s your voice.
“I fucking hate you sanzu”
Sanzu stops in his tracks, he hasn’t heard you call him sanzu for ages. Slowly his sober self comes back as the colour from his face drains. And he sees you, down the stairs, face blank
No emotion, no smile that he once fell in love with, no affection in your eyes, no warmth which would engulf him.
As he realises how much he has messed up
“Y/n- what- U didn’t mean any of it”, sanzu tries to explain as he comes down the stairs.
He comes near you and try to cage you in his arms until you put a hand out.
Do you think I’m a joke? ‘Cause
Eyes filled with angry tears, you let out your frustration with words from your heart.
“People like you always want back what they can’t have, but I’m past that and you know that. So you should turn back to your rat pack, tell ‘em, I’m trash”
You lift your head as you look sanzu dead in the eyes as you pull up his phone which you got from his coat and showed him the sickening messages of him and his executives
Which you tried to forget just to get sleep at night.
Sanzu’s eyes dilute as his hands fall to his side
“Tell all of your friends that I’m crazy, and drive you mad. That I’m such a stalker, a watcher, a psychopath. And tell them you hate me and dated me just for laughs. So why do you call me and tell me want me back? You maniac”
The room is left silenced as you remove the bracelet sanzu gave for your first date and throw it in the trash.
You walk up to him and shove a small journal in his chest.
Grabbing your suitcase from the couch, you had prepared for this
You head for the door until a rough hand grabs your wrist.
“Pls baby, give me one last chance…”, pathetic pleads leave his scarred mouth.
“Don’t call me baby.” You snatch your wrist from his grasp and leave the house which had brought you comfort and joy but now only toxicity and coldness.
Flashback:
You just went too far
Wrecked your car, called me crying in the dark
Now you’re breaking my heart
You were in your apartment, finishing up college work. Alarmingly you get a phone call, it’s from haruchiyo.
“Hey love, is everything okay? You’re calling at 2:25 am”, you ask as you close your laptop. Your heart breaks as you hear sanzu crying and rain.
He tells you how he had crashed his car accidentally and when he came home, he couldn’t find you anywhere. Your heart shattered hearing about how he got so worried and was looking everywhere for you.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry love, I completely forgot to tell you that I was gonna have some relatives over so I was at my apartment, I’m really sorry but are you okay though?”, you say as your hurriedly got into your car and started to drive to his place.
So, I show up at your place, right away.
Wipe the tears off your face
As you beg me to stay
Haru said he was okay and that he forgave you but you knew better so you got to his place as soon as you can and walked in to find sanzu covering his eyes, sitting on the foot of the couch.
You instantly rush to his side and put his head near your chest.
Silent sobbing fill the room and you pat his head and repeat “I’m here”
“Pls don’t go…” “I’m not going anywhere”
Flashback ends:
Sanzu’s knees give up as he kneels on the floor.
Remembering that memory really made him see what these 8 months couldn’t show him
He saw how much you cared for him, how you were always there for him.
And how he blames himself, curses at himself for making that beautiful smile fade away
He regrets
He regrets a lot
And this time
There is no way he will get you back
That with some flowers and a lame sorry, you will forgive him
Even the last time you forgave him, your eyes had shown tiredness and remnants of tears
And now
As he opens the journal you gave him
He is brought to the harshest of reality
He flips the pages and looks over all the photos, the letters you guys shared, the sweet memories of the good ol’ times
And he reaches the last page
And it is decorated with pink, matching his hair and blue, matching his eyes
And the words hit him in the heart, shattering it
As tears starts to drip down the carpet
He reads:
Happy anniversary Haru, really thought this could work out.
- Techno will be receiving the Courage Award from the Sarcoma Foundation of America in September for his dedication to the cause. You can read about it here.
- A Mojang Community Manager on reddit has confirmed that Mojang is thinking of ways to honour Techno, but without any details as to how they will be doing so. Link to their reddit comment.
- Techno’s channel hit 12 million subscribers on YouTube! That means he’s overtaken Tommy again.
- Phil has built a monument to Techno in his hardcore world. It consists of a diamond sword rammed into an island, with Techno’s cape hung from the hilt. A Friendship Emerald hangs from one side of the sword’s hand guard. Techno’s crown sits around where the sword meets the earth, with Phil having tried to replicate the scuffedness of the gems as best he could. A trident named “Technoblade Never Dies” is hung in an item frame on the crown. There is a bell on an emerald block and 2 pigs tethered next to the monument.
─ The two of you have argued before, there was nothing new or strange about it. Sometimes, though not very often, you'd get upset at something he had said or done. He’d act without thinking, or speak without consideration; words sharpened by negligence, actions spurred on without thought.
Like a wheel that is fated to see no end, spinning and turning on its axis — over and over, again and again — you watch the cycle of anger unfold. He’d drag a hand across his face and tell you to stop overreacting. You’d get irritated and he’d change his tone with you. Lower. Stricter. Harsher.
“This was nothing” or “That didn’t mean anything,” — “You’re overthinking,” he’d say.
And though it was a vicious cycle, patient and damning, you’d learned to adapt to its maliciousness; to the parts of it that drew out the worst in you. You’ve molded yourself to its shape and tried to understand where it stemmed from. Twisting and turning, pulling and pushing — the worst parts of him met the miserable parts of you.
You tried. You really did try.
But the carelessness in which he'd started to approach said arguments was new, and his dismissive manner was starting to thin your patience.
He ignores you as you walk behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides in the heels you’d worn for the night.
“Why won’t you listen to me?” You plead with him as he stops abruptly at the penthouse door, shoving the key into the slot aggressively. You were getting tired of arguing about the same thing — worn out from having to bring it up so often. Why wouldn’t he listen? Why did he refuse to understand?
The door had just barely closed behind you, when he turns around, slamming the wall beside your head with a heavy hand.
“Enough.”
Ran’s eyes are filled with fury and impatience as he stares down at you. A terrible rage fills his lavender hues and you hesitate. There was no room for your anger in this house. No room for you when he was so domineering and present. He’s never been this loud with you — has never been so upset or mean. His tone startles you.
And though you’ve argued before, though you’ve disagreed at times, you find that you don’t know how to deal with his anger — anger that has never been directed towards you to this extent. You just don’t know.
It’s unsettling. There's a hole in your chest that is torn open, a passiveness settling inside.
You’re upset that he has consistently brushed you and your concerns off to the side. You’re upset that your worry had been interpreted as childish jealousy. You’re upset that the only time he had decided to take you seriously was to yell at you — to shut you up.
He runs a hand through his hair as he pulls back and heads to the kitchen, shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it onto the couch. He leans against the counter and lights a cigarette in an attempt to calm his nerves.
He'd expected you to start crying — half expected you to apologize even. You never liked fighting with him. He was never one to blow any argument out of proportion either. But this — this had to stop. No matter how many times he’d dismissed it, no matter how many times he’d told you not to worry about it, you still brought her up. Enough was enough. He looks up at you briefly, eyes flickering towards you as he exhales.
There's a blank look in your eyes, a fragmentation he couldn’t understand. It felt as though you were looking through him. The parts of you that sought to intertwine with him and understand — that hollowed themselves out to make room for him — they fall back in defeat.
Your eyes aren't glassy; they don’t even sparkle.
He clenches his jaw and looks away. Guilt and haunt reach for his throat, as he shakily exhales the smoke.
You turn around, hand reaching for the wall as you bend to unclasp your heels. The right shoe comes off first. The left one follows after. He watches as you walk away with the shoes in your hand, fingers threading through the straps.
You don't say a word. He doesn't hear you make a sound.
The cold air of the restroom makes you aware of the slight wetness on your cheek. You stare at your reflection and you can’t help but wonder if the woman in the mirror was in the wrong. Were her feelings misguided by insecurity? Was her envy so green and her thoughts so vile? You tell her not to worry; that it’ll all be alright. You stare at your bruised toes as you fidget and sigh. You don’t even have it in you to cry.
You spend time with the other woman, washing away her fury; cleaning her anguish. Her breathing has steadied and she watches you from beyond the mirror as you wipe at your face, baring yourself to her. She’s satisfied and you turn your back on her temporary satisfaction, slipping into a loose dress and finding your place on the bed.
He hasn’t bothered to come check up on you. To apologize to you.
You push her nagging voice out of your head, stretching your legs out and picking up your phone instead. You scroll mindlessly for a minute or so before you decide to call a friend. It’ll help distract you, you think. You’ll call your dearest friend and she’ll make you laugh. You’ll laugh and you’ll smile and the filth encompassing your heart will wither away at your joy.
Yes, that’s it. That’s exactly what you’ll do.
“Hello?” She says.
“Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
Silence from your end.
A minute. Then two.
“Ah, I get it. Do you want me to pick you up? We can go eat somewhere.”
“Yes, please.” You aren’t hungry at all. She knows that too.
“Give me 20 minutes, I’m finishing up a shift right now.”
“Okay.”
More silence, this time from her end. Another minute. Another two.
“Did he…he didn’t hurt you, right?”
You shake your head, the rustling making its way over to her end.
“No, never. Not physically at least.” You try to smile, but the other woman insists on tugging at the corners of your mouth, pulling them down.
‘Break,' she says. ‘Break and ruin,' she wants to scream.
You hear a dramatized sigh of relief through the phone.
“Ah, thank God. That bastard scares the shit out of me, honestly. But I’ll kill him if he ever lays a hand on you, you know that, don’t you?”
You laugh and she smiles.
“He wouldn’t, I promise. He isn’t so bad.”
“You’re not seriously defending him right now, are you?”
You find it in you to laugh a little harder. She bids you a temporary farewell and you feel a little lighter. This is okay. It'd be okay if you both took a break…if you were separated from one another for a little — just until you were both able to calm down and think things through.
You stand and rummage through your nightstand, putting a few things in the nearest tote bag and pulling it up over your shoulder. A light cardigan is folded over your arms as you quietly leave the bedroom. Ran is still in the kitchen, leaning over the island as he wipes a hand over his face. There's a glass of water beside him. You think he's trying to sober up, even though he didn't drink much at all.
He looks up at the sound of your feet against the tile and his eyes soften at the sight of you. He’d been waiting for you to come out of the room, not wanting to push you too far. Still, you won't meet his gaze.
It’s then that his line of sight falls to the bag on your shoulder. Panic fills the emptiness he’d been left with since you’d walked away.
"What're you…No, wait a second. Hold on —"
He rounds the corner and slowly approaches you.
"Wait, we can talk about this."
Your brows furrow as you slip on your shoes, voice soft as you respond.
"You said you didn't want to anymore."
Defeat, he thinks. Defeat is what laces your tone…like you’ve given up on him. On you and him.
"No,” He shakes his head as he steps a little closer to you. “We can talk about it. Let's talk about it, baby."
His eyes are trying to read you in a panicked frenzy, but still, you won't look at him. You take a step back, grip tightening on the strap of your bag.
“I think,” you bite your lip, brows furrowing as you try to find the right words. “I think it's best if I spend the night somewhere else."
“Fuck no.”
You hold a hand out, a weak attempt at stopping him from getting any closer. He steps forward. You step back. He reaches out for you and you deny him.
“Come on, love. Please.”
What you say next comes out of you so quietly — so dismissively — had he not been so close to you, he might’ve missed it. You find it in you to finally meet his gaze as you utter the word.
"Enough."
His karma comes in the form of six letters — the ones he’d spat at you so harshly less than an hour ago. But you’re still kind, even now. How quietly the word tumbled from your lips, how beautiful you were in all your anguish. His karma grins at his misery, and rejoices at his self-induced tragedy.
"Please," he begs.
How pitiful. How cruel.
He grips your wrist when you turn to open the door, caging you in between his arms.
"Don't," he pleads.
You try to turn in his arms, tugging at his rolled-up sleeves, nails scratching at tattooed skin. His biceps flex as he holds you to him tighter. Closer. Don’t go. Don’t leave. You feel the rise and fall of his chest behind you — the racing of his heart as he holds you against him. You sigh, deciding to ease his mind.
"I’ll come back, Ran. Just one night.”
"No, no. Don't walk out on me."
He shakes his head at the thought, in misery and denial at its implication.
“I'm sorry."
He apologizes and you freeze in his hold, fingers stilling against his forearms.
“I'm sorry," He says again. "I won’t raise my voice at you again. I'll never talk to her again. Won't even look at her, baby. I’ll cut all ties right now. Please just don’t go."
He keeps one arm wrapped around you as he reaches for his back pocket, pulling his phone out in the process. You blink, watching as he brings the device over to you, his fingers unlocking the screen as he looks over your shoulder, chin propped against you. You watch as he removes her from his Facebook. You watch as he blocks her on Instagram. You watch as he goes to delete her number. It’s then that you start to cry. You cry so hard, your shoulders tremble and your hands shake. You cry and you cry until you're overcome with the urge to vomit.
“Don’t cry, love. Don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
How did he let it get this bad? To ignore the pleas and worries of the one that gave him reason and meaning for the sake of maintaining a business relationship he didn’t give a shit about ─ To brush your pain off for the sake of an organization that only brought him misery...The twisted cynicism was almost laughable. Over and over, you'd asked him to listen to you. And over and over, he’d dismissed you.
It's his fault. It's all his fault.
No one else but him.
His arms fall to his sides and he stands there, watching you.
You wipe at your cheeks haphazardly. His hands tremble as you step back.
"All I asked was for you to establish clear boundaries with her."
Your hands shake as you point an accusatory finger at him. Your breathing falters, salty tears meeting your tongue as you try to find your words.
The other woman licks at your wounds. 'Destroy him,' she says. ‘Leave him,’ she whispers. You dig your nails into the skin of your palm at the violence of her words.
"But you made me seem like I was crazy for wanting that."
His eyes widen as he stares at you.
No longer covered in the green of her envy and guilt, she lines you with her red. You become one with your sorrow and fury.
"Why couldn't you establish one simple boundary until I was about to walk out? What kind of girlfriend is supposed to be okay with seeing another woman press herself up against her boyfriend?"
You quiet for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand and his heart breaks at the sight of your stuttered breathing and tear-stained face.
"Cutting her off means nothing. Not when you brushed me off every time I brought it up.”
“Love ─,”
You cut him off, mumbling to yourself as you pick at the skin of your nails.
"God forbid someone even looks my way. But with you —" you snort and it's void of any emotion.
His face darkens at that.
"Watch your mouth," He steps closer.
You look away.
Lithe fingers grip your jaw tightly, forcing you to look up at him — into his eyes. Eyes that only desire you, that only love and lust after you. You, you, you. Always you. Only you.
She was nothing more than an old Bonten business partner, but you? You were everything.
He presses his lips to yours. Neither of you wavers in closing your eyes, the haziness of his own meeting with the anger in your irises, but he kisses you anyway. He kisses you and he kisses you. You don't kiss back.
The bag slips off your shoulder and you move to lift it back up. He refuses to let go of your jaw, lips moving against yours as he speaks.
"I love you."
"Liar," you whisper against him.
He groans and kisses you harder.
"God, I love you."
You shake your head in his grip but his hands are firm, squeezing your cheeks lightly, forcing your lips into a subtle pout.
"Get this shit off already." He pulls your bag down to the floor and throws you over his shoulder.
“I don’t want to stay here tonight.”
“Yeah? Where exactly were you gonna go?” He squeezes your hip as he walks towards the bedroom. He knows the answer, knows you would’ve been safe had you actually left. You might have smiled more tonight had he let you go with your friend; might’ve been spared of the tears you’d shed instead. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let you go.
You rub at your eyes in exhaustion.
“I’m not sleeping beside you. I don’t want you.”
He smacks your ass harshly before sliding a palm beneath your slip, stroking the skin gently.
"You're a liar, baby."
Please be lying, baby.
You grip his shirt to keep from falling.
"I hate you,” You whisper out.
He tightens his hold on your waist.
"No, you don't, princess."
His voice is low, strained. He prays you don’t hear the tremble in his tone.
He sits you down onto the bed, kneeling before you on the floor. You go to pull your legs up but he stops you, palms gripping your ankles as he places his forehead onto your knees.
“Don’t leave me.”
The room is quiet, save for the low hum of the humidifier he’d forgotten to turn off before the two of you left. It’s a steady sound — soothing in its own right. You don’t say anything as his fingers rub at your calves, as he nuzzles his face into your skin.
"I’ll do anything.”
You’re stunned into a deeper silence, staring down at him in shock. It’s laughable really, how terrifying he is to others. Tall and threatening, dark eyes and a prideful smile — the Bonten executive’s standing was respected by most. Feared by all.
And here he is, kneeling before his girlfriend, begging her to stay.
You bring a hand down to brush through lavender strands, releasing a shaky breath, as you play with his hair. You speak and your voice is soft, not disturbing the still air around you. He freezes, listening intently.
“She’s in love with you.”
He can’t help the slight sound of indignation that he lets out.
“No, she’s not. She’s just-”
“Just a business partner. I know.”
There’s a tremble to his hands as he leans forward on his knees, hiding his face in your lap as he grips your waist tight.
“I’ll talk to the rest of the executives tomorrow, we’ll find someone else to ─”
You shake your head.
“That’s not what I’m asking from you.”
He looks up at you in confusion, fingers tight against your hips.
“Then what?”
“I can’t —” You whimper and his heart breaks. “I can’t be with you if she’s going to disrespect me like that, if you’re going to let her disrespect me like that, every time we see her.”
He watches you with a certain softness in his eyes as he climbs up onto the bed beside you.
“What’re you talking about, baby?”
“Is it okay for her to touch you like that? You’re okay with that?”
You pull away from him, folding your legs up to the side as you pick at a piece of lint on the comforter.
He hadn’t thought much of it. The woman in question had been a long-time Bonten business partner, she’d known most of the executives for a decade. Her behaviors and antics, they were all used to it by now, aware that they had to put up with it to build a false sense of trust, to lul her company into an aura of security. Of all the execs to take a liking to, she’d chosen your boyfriend. Expensive nails that didn't belong to you were often wrapped around his bicep during events, and you’d watched off to the side ─ hoping, wishing that he’d say something. Anything.
But nothing ever came out. Nothing was ever said.
And you’d taken the brunt of it. Time and time again.
“I can’t ruin Bonten’s relationship with her,” He had said once, the first time you ever brought it up. “Her company is a pivotal part of our projects.”
Watching her wipe the wine stain from his lips tonight, with you seated right beside him ─ it made you wonder how far she’d gone when you weren’t around. How far she was willing to go? How far would he let her go?
You look away at the thought. The light catches onto your tear stained cheeks and he hates himself.
He furrows his brows as he stares at the pattern you were making on the comforter, the trail your fingers created and left behind. He eyes the bruised skin of your cuticles and the chipped paint of your nails — a telltale sign of your anxiety. How had he missed that? He eyes the missing ring on your right hand and his breath hitches. When had you taken that off?
He feels sick. He’d noticed that you’d declined to go with him to Bonten events as of late. You stopped attending, telling him you were too tired. Too busy. “Another time,” you’d say. “Another time,” he’d smile and agree, kissing your forehead before he made his way out and left you alone.
You’d lied to him to keep from arguing about this anymore, to keep yourself from doubting him. You’d lied and he’d fallen for it — thinking nothing strange of your behavior. And when you’d finally given in, deciding that you missed your boyfriend and that it was well within your right to go out to dinner with him — you had to sit and watch idly as she sat on the other side of him. On this cruel and unforgiving evening, you’d watched as she touched him and stared at him. You’d listened as suggestive jokes were exchanged and loud laughter was thrown across the table. You'd watched with a quiet that only the broken could understand. He’s a fool for not pulling your hand back into his once you’d pulled it out — an idiot for not following after you when you’d excused yourself to go to the restroom. He’s a moron for not seeing the hurt that you were in and the knives that dragged through your skin as he turned a blind eye.
Cold metal is pressed to your skin and you shiver at the feeling of his rings against your cheek. His eyes carry a sadness you don’t recognize.
“You’re my woman. You.”
“Then act like it.”
You move to your side of the bed, turning off your light as you send your friend a text. You’ll explain everything when you see her, you say. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.’
—
You sleep with your back facing him that night. Ran can’t find it in him to sleep at all. He’s scared, terrified that you’ll try to leave in the middle of the night — that you’ll leave just as wordlessly as you let your pain settle into your bones, and that he wouldn’t notice again.
He’d been too careless with you recently. Too comfortable and neglectful.
You turn in your sleep, unconsciously facing him, and he leans up on his arm to watch you. Carefully, gently, he lifts your hand up to meet his lips. Soft kisses are pressed to your knuckles and cuticles, to your palm and wrist.
You don’t stir.
He leans over to press a kiss to your forehead before it becomes too much for him. He’s overwhelmed and it hurts. It hurts to know that you hurt, and it hurts to know that you hurt because of him.
Ran sits up and heads over to the living room, closing the door behind him quietly.
He leans his head back against the couch, arm coming up to cover his eyes. A part of him thinks it’s ridiculous for a man of his power and standing to get worked up over his girlfriend like this. The other part of him doesn’t understand. He’d never been one for long-term relationships. Commitment had never been the issue either. They were just too much. Too much to deal with, too much work to be done — to care and to have to care, to trust, and to be trusted. It was all too much. He never bothered with the matter in its entirety.
But then he met you. And he’d asked you to stay. So you did.
Caring came naturally to him then. Loving was even easier.
He sits alone in this dark room and thinks about you and him. He thinks and he hurts, and he's reminded of the words Sanzu had thrown at him last night. Ran is more than ashamed.
—
“You’re losing her.”
“What’re you on about?” He had said, lighting his coworkers cigarette before leaning back to light his own.
Sanzu had gestured to where you were standing, away from the crowd. You had an arm loosely wrapped around the street pole as you watched the Tokyo night traffic, waiting for your boyfriend to take you home.
“She doesn’t look too happy.”
He frowns at Sanzu’s words, irritated by his comment. For an outsider to speak on his relationship with you, for another man to act like he could read you (and for him to be right about it too), Ran’s blood boils as he crushes the cigarette between his foot. He'd turned to look at you then, at the blank look on your face, wondering briefly just how much you kept to yourself. You had smiled weakly when he took your hand and led you to the garage. You said nothing else for the rest of the car ride. Until he prodded at you. Until it was too much for you to ignore. Until you came to the conclusion that should he want any other woman, you’d rather he let go of you first. Let me go, let me go, let me go. If I’m not enough, please let me go.
He’d gotten pissed at you for that and had sped up his walking once the two of you got out of the car. The front desk personnel lowered their gazes as the two of you walked into the building, and you had quieted down out of respect for your relationship.
─
His stomach churns and he soaks in his self-hatred. You could've reassured her. Could've held her hand a little tighter, could've kissed her a little longer. You fool. He hopes it isn’t too late. He groans and leans forward, running his hands through his hair aggressively as he covers his face with his palms.
He’s too in his own head to notice that you’d woken up — that you’d been standing nervously at the end of the hallway, watching him. He lets out a choked sound and your heart falls victim to his silent pleas. You make your way to him, silently asking to be let into his arms and onto his lap. He startles but quickly makes room for you, staring at you with wide eyes as you place yourself onto his thighs, settling against his chest.
Loving arms wrap around his neck as you turn your face to his chest. Undeserving palms stroke your back, pulling you in by the waist, ever closer.
“I’m sorry.”
He stares down at you in shock at the words you’d chosen to utter.
“What? What’re you –?”
You look at him and the darkness accompanying his eyes ─ at the lilac hues rimmed with red and purple, and subtle traces of blue as his veins surface beneath his skin. He was tired. So tired. Fragile fingers stroke his cheek, finding their way to the fine lines around his mouth. His stubble pricks your palm as he nuzzles his face into your skin. It's fascinating to watch a man of his stature — a man of his strength and power — fall weak to your touch. He wonders if you knew that he’d give up all that he was for a chance at forever with you. The money didn’t mean shit and his position was for naught if it meant you were hurt — if it meant you would leave. ‘If you leave, take me with you,’ his core wants to cry out. His arms wrap around you tighter as he hides his face in your neck and you blink in surprise.
“Why the fuck are you apologizing?”
Your hands find the hairs at the back of his neck, twisting the black and lavender strands, tugging them gently beneath your fingers.
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
He freezes. Your voice muffles against his hold.
“I know you have obligations. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Or worse, you want to say. I don’t want to get you killed over something so…
You shake your head at the thought.
Even now, you’re still thinking of him? Even now, you’re putting him before you? He thinks it’d be fitting if he were to dig through the earth and call out to the devil himself. With bloody fingers and a dirty face, he’d call out and he’d say, ‘Come get me, come take me. This woman is too good for me.’
“I love you, I trust you. I won’t bring it up anymore.”
You press a kiss to his throat, directly onto his tattoo, before you wrap your arms tighter around his neck, broad shoulders comforting you. He falls in love with you all over again. He keeps one arm firmly wrapped around your waist while the other trails up and down your thigh.
“Baby.”
You hum in acknowledgment, waiting for him to continue.
He pries you off of him, gently setting you down in his place on the couch while you look at him in confusion. You settle into the warmth of where his body once was, watching him curiously.
Ran kneels before you for the second time that night. His head is bowed slightly and his palms are flat against the cotton of his pants
“This is all on me. Not you. I’m sorry, love.”
“Ran, get up.”
You sit up, anxiously reaching for his arms but he shakes his head.
“Please just listen." He swallows, gaze fixed on the ground. "I’m a real shit boyfriend. Put you through so much shit you shouldn’t have to deal with. I know you deserve better.”
So much better.
“But I love you. I need you. I’m selfish and fucked, but I need you. ”
You tilt your head at him as your lip quivers. His shoulders tremble slightly and you reach for his cheeks, hands on either side of his face as you lean forward.
You kiss him then, for the first time all night. A languid kiss. ‘Feel all of me,’ it says. ‘Feel what you do to me.’ His brows furrow as he squeezes the skin of your thighs. You whimper against him and he smiles against your mouth, teeth touching, bones aching.
He pulls you off of the couch by the waist and onto his lap as he embraces you. The two of you find refuge in the floor of the apartment.
You stay on top, seated right on his hips as your tongue meets his. He bites the column of your throat and you tilt your head back in need, giving him access to the skin he wanted to mark.
“I belong to you,” he whispers against your skin. You sigh, fingers in his hair as he kisses and bites, as he licks and whines. He reaches for the palm you had spread against his jaw, moving it to his hips.
“Ah, fuck.”
He groans in your ear at the feeling of your skin against his, at the raw affection exchanged between the two of you. He missed you, he missed you — he doesn’t deserve you. You snap his train of thought in two as you slip your hand into his pants, watching the rise and fall of his sternum. You trail your eyes back to his face and find that he’s already staring at you. One arm reaches back for the collar of his shirt, and you fixate on the flex of his bicep as he tugs it off to reveal his chest.
“My woman,” he grunts.
You nod distractedly, cheeks heating up at the intimacy. Something in him snaps when you slip the straps of your night dress off, lifting the hem to expose your underwear to him.
“Shit, you’re —” He cuts himself off to slip the flimsy cloth to the side. You stroke him as he prods into you, moaning into each other's mouths, staring at each other with desperate eyes. Love and lust and need and want. He wants to fill you with all the words he couldn’t properly say. Again and again, he'd find you. Should he be damned to a fate where you aren't beside him, he'd spend forever looking for you ─ for the home he'd found within you. Never again would he let it get this bad. Never again will he make you feel unwanted or unloved.
“So fuckin’ beautiful.”
He kisses your chest, words vibrating against the skin as he speaks.
“I’m sorry, pretty. I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you.” you cry out as he touches you deeper, rubs at you faster.
“Real shitty guy, aren’t I?” He lets out a strained laugh as your hand falters against him. “Not good for you, am I?”
You shake your head, eyes shut tight as a familiar feeling washes over you.
“I – oh,” You cry out, unable to finish your sentence as you collapse in his arms. “I love you. Please, please.”
“Please what, baby? What is it?”
He lays you down, hovering over you as he bites at your lower lip, appreciating the curve and swell.
You spread your legs and he swears.
“Please.”
“Yeah. Shit, yeah. Anything for you.”
He can’t find it in him to strip you completely. You don’t care enough that his pants are still somewhat on. But with each snap of his hips, he finds you and you find him.
He’s a sorry excuse of a person, a vindictive, hurtful soul. A damaged man with the world at his feet and his heart in your hands. He’d handed it to you himself with a hammer in tow. Should he ever go too far — crush his very spirit and rid of him of whatever is left of his soul.
But he knew. He knew that he’d be forced to sit and watch as you tenderly held the flesh. He’d sit with his legs crossed and his cheek in his palm, watching as you soothed the erratic pulsing.
‘What about the dark spots?’ He had wondered. ‘The filth and the corrupted gloom. How will she handle that? Will she throw them out? Look at them in disgust and try to change them?’
(He receives his answer time and time again — answered over and over by the one person who didn’t realize they were even being questioned.)
He'd watched as you held his heart, with all of its twisted calamities, and placed it right against yours — as if it wasn't stained, as if it wouldn't taint you for as long as you stood. And for the first time in a long, long time, Ran Haitani had resisted the urge to cry.
—
He doesn’t let you go as you try to get up from off the floor.
“I didn’t pull out,” He mumbles. “That’s my bad.”
“I know,” You whisper back, into the darkness of the room.
“Are you baby trapping me?” He lifts an eyebrow, cracking one eye open as he grins at you.
“You’re the one that wouldn’t let me go, perv.”
You flick his forehead and he laughs beside you lazily. The two of you are eye to eye and a complete mess at that.
“I need to go clean up,” you say when he shoots his hand out to your wrist to stop you from standing.
“No, I want to go again.”
“You’ll fall asleep midway.”
He grins and you laugh.
“Hey.”
“Hm?” There’s still a hint of a smile on your face as you pull your gown back into place.
“Tonight…” he turns to face you, eyes heavy with sleep. “I won’t let that happen again.”
You don’t look at him as you fiddle with the straps, tugging at them till they seem somewhat right.
“Look at me.”
He sits and tilts your chin towards him. Hesitance. Worry. (And though you’ve forgiven him, there’s still pain in your eyes.)
“I was in the wrong, and I hurt you for a long time. It won’t happen again.”
You stare back into his eyes — into the aftermath of your apocalypse. You want to tuck him into your ribs, to cage him in and hold him tight. And though he was older and had lived a life that had picked him apart more times than he could count, you don’t think you have it in you to surrender him to the darkness. Your naivety has you following after him eagerly — no matter where he takes you, no matter where you go. You’d pick up the parts he threw out on the way, and you’d ease yourself into the emptiness of his soul. You’d placate his hunger for love and give him a place to belong.
He stares at you, anxiously waiting for a response. All you can do is nod.
He sighs in relief. You kiss his nose softly before you stand, giggling as he groans at your insistence on leaving the confines of his arms. He lays back down as you steady yourself, eyeing your hips before he reaches up to lift the hem of your nightgown, whistling when he eyes the damage he’d done.
“Nasty old man.”
He laughs and it’s full of life – filled with love and joy and you.
“You're into nasty old guys?”
You laugh as you walk away, turning to look at him as he grins at you.
“Just this one.”
He groans as he gets up, long legs chasing after you as you run away. It’s late, much later than he ever liked to stay up. But he’s home. He’s in your arms as he lets you fall back onto the bed, rejoicing in your laughter as he attacks your stomach with sporadic kisses. You’re here, and he’s home.
You lay on your side, holding him to you, as he nods off against your chest. A tattooed arm is thrown over your waist while the other falls slack near your thigh. The pain of the night lingers idly, wondering what will become of itself. You’ve killed the envy inside you, held hands with the fragility of the red woman that had insisted on coming out of you.
Ran Haitani is a large man, not small by any means. But underneath the prying moonlight, you think he looks vulnerable. Men of hurt will only know hurt, while the good of the world remains a foreign entity. He’s lucky, in that sense. There is a woman to hold him as he sleeps, a woman he trusts enough to fall victim to. And if he came home to you covered in blood from head to toe, covered in the sin of the world, baring the weight of their tragedy, he’d stare at you and say “Disgusting, isn’t it?” And he’d watch you shake your head, ‘No’.
Ran: *pointing at Izana* I love everything about you
Ran: *pointing at Rindo* and you
Ran: *pointing at Mucho* and you
Ran: *pointing at Kisaki* and not you
Ran: *deliberately leaves Sanzu*
Ran: *points three times at Kakuchou* you, you, youuuuu. I love youuuu
Ran: *changes finger to middle one at Hanma* A big F.U. to youuuu
I've already seen some artists and writers saying they will stop drawing Technoblade and not write about him now to respect him.
Don't.
This is how you not forget people. We, the community, are Technoblade's legacy. We are here to make sure he is never forgotten and to show our love for him.
Of course you should take a break when it's too much right now. But please don't stop drawing fanart of him. Don't stop writing about C!Technoblade. Don't stop writing sbi stories like passerine. (Unless the other sbi-members say they will uncomfortable about this now)
I am sure Technoblade loved this about us, he liked the fanart you all drew of him, his characters, his friends. I am sure he loved knowing what awesome stories people wrote about the Blood God who never dies.
We are the voices and we are here to make sure this legend will be remembered.
