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iwaizumi hajime with the most pathetic crush of all time because he just so happens to know your schedule and accidentally bumps into you when you're buying groceries and also just so happens to be around you so much that other men back off because they think you're taken
he knows when you're happy, when you're overthinking, and when you disappear because you're somehow not bold enough to tell him to wear a shirt when he's shirtless and would rather sneak a peek and run away
and yet......when he wants to tell you, when every brain cell in his body is yearning to confess
he can't
his cheeks flush and he is a puddle who can't seem to tell you that he's been yours this whole time
it was too cold, you thought, wrapping your shawl closer to your body in an attempt to shield yourself from the merciless freezing night air. gusts of wind disheveled your hair as you closed the door behind you, pushing away the untamable strands with a simple flick of your wrist. you spotted a silhouette sitting on one of the chairs in the balcony, worryingly comfortable in such a weather.
you didn’t question it though, simply leaning over his shoulder and offering him a small smile.
“hi,” you greeted scaramouche quietly, taking a seat on the chair near his. he only replied with a small nod of acknowledgement, his eyes never leaving the scenery before him.
it wasn’t anything impressive. buildings and a cloudy night sky. no stars were visible and the moon was absent tonight. if it weren’t for the living room’s lights that you had decided not to turn off, you wouldn’t have been able to take a couple of seconds to admire his features.
scara was pretty. very pretty. maybe too pretty. it was the first thing you had noticed when you'd met him a couple of years ago. unbeknownst to him, kunikuzushi attracted a lot of attention to himself because of his looks - or maybe he knew but simply ignored it, which would be more likely. flawless porcelain skin and soft indigo hair that fell over eyes he framed with careful strokes of red. sweet features that appeared sharp because of his temperament and attitude.
but kuni was calm tonight. he was relaxed, leaning into the back of his chair while a cigarette dangled from his fingers. you couldn’t help but stare. examining the tattoos he had on his knuckles and forearms. the silver rings hugging slim and long fingers. his lips wrapping around the orange end of the stick.
“can i try?” you found yourself asking out of nowhere.
scaramouche’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise, finally directing his gaze towards you. and you might have drowned on the spot when his midnight pools met yours. it was a bit cruel, you thought to yourself, how any of his actions had your mind spiraling out of your control. scara was otherworldly. ethereal. a masterpiece you could stare at for hours and fall speechless before its magnificence each and every time.
“if you want to kiss me so bad you can just say so,” scara teased you, offering you his signature smirk as a reply.
you blinked rapidly. maybe it was his sleepiness. maybe exhaustion. or perhaps the cigarette. but his voice sounded an octave or two lower.
and maybe it was the coffee you shouldn’t have drunk earlier. maybe your anxiety. or perhaps the forbidden feelings you harbored for your best friend. but your heart had stopped for a split second, making you stare at him dumbly.
right. an indirect kiss.
“no, you can’t try,” scara mumbled, his expression falling back to its usual coldness. your fingers itched with the urge to melt the ice in gentle caresses. you wondered for a split second if he’d rather let you breathe in the poison he was exhaling if it came in the form of an actual kiss instead.
“don’t want you to grow addicted, hm?”
“i won’t,” you protested, folding your arms over your chest. “i’d die from lung failure.”
scara’s chuckle had your frown dissolving into a small smile. a little shy. a little dreamy. it had come to your mind many times that maybe he wasn’t unaware of your feelings. maybe he knew and simply ignored them. perhaps he enjoyed toying with them. or he simply was stupid and oblivious.
“just once,” scara muttered, turning his upper body your way.
it was a terrible idea, you told yourself, internally freaking out when cold fingers cupped your jaw. your breath hitched in your throat. when his index tapped on your lips so you could part them, you felt your heart jump to the tip of your tongue and feared for a second that it’d spill all of your secrets if you opened your mouth even just a little.
“there you go,” scara mumbled, bringing the filter up to your lips.
a terrible idea, really. a half-drag through and you were already a coughing mess, pushing his hand away as he snickered at your stupidity. you weakly slapped his shoulder, making a strained noise. it smelled horrible. tasted even worse.
sweetness suddenly invaded your senses, catching you off guard. you didn’t have the time to react before the ghost of a kiss you swear you had imagined was gone. the redness of his cheeks could be because of the cold. but there was no mistaking the fondness in his gaze. the way his smile seemed more bashful than usual. the gentleness of his tone.
booking flights to okinawa for your summer break was the best decision you’ve ever made. and your friends couldn’t agree more.
you’d reserve your mornings to sprawl under the sun, covered in sunscreen and praying you won’t get burnt by the bright rays.
your noons would be spent filling your stomach with the local specialties, sitting in complete silence as you exchange approving looks and eager nods at the flavors exploding in your mouth.
and your afternoons were your time to explore different itineraries you had prepared months in advance before spending the night at izakayas or fancier dining places.
and today was no different. yuki’s obnoxiously loud alarm pulled you from your sleep, groaning as you rubbed your eyes and rolled off your comfortable hotel bed, yelping as you landed butt-first on the hardwood floor.
with a few days left on your trip, you were already mourning the peaceful days you’d spend on the beach and the tranquil nights during which you’d walk under the moonlight, taking countless detours before finally reaching your hotel room in hopes of making the day last longer.
you could so easily imagine yourself dragging your feet back to your endless office job, typing away on your keyboard with boredom painted on your features while your boss would whine about unmet deadlines – although everyone knew it was his fault.
what you hadn’t imagined though, was the tall, looming shadow disrupting your tanning time.
with a sigh, you pushed your sunglasses down your nose, squinting a bit as you looked up at whoever the hell had the audacity to bother you so early in the morning.
you were met with the brightest person you’ve ever laid your eyes on.
literally.
platinum – hell, that was just pure white – hair strands were pushed away from his face by a large hand, his skin way too pale to not catch a sunburn under the scorching sun. he was sporting a hawaiian shirt, the buttons deliberately undone to reveal toned muscles.
he followed your gesture, pulling his glasses down, revealing eyes brighter than your miserable future.
he was pretty, you noted, taking in his soft yet striking features, the annoyingly attractive smirk painted on his lips, the porcelain expanse of his skin.
“can i help you?” you asked, propping yourself on your elbows.
you barely noticed the other man standing a few feet away from him, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he was embarrassed to even be around him.
“yeah, actually,” the man standing next to your sunlounger answered.
you decided that you didn’t like him, regardless of how attractive he was. the confidence that coated each word, bordering on arrogance. the low timbre of his voice, as if he was aware of what effect he’d have on most people around him.
“you could start by giving me your number,” he added, his smirk widening into a cocky smile.
slowly, you turned your head towards yuki, who was laying next to you, catching how she’d slapped a hand onto her mouth as if to stop herself from bursting into a loud fit of laughter.
disbelief was written on your face as you twisted your head to look at him again, lips parted in incredulity.
you weren’t sure how you were supposed to react, really. whether to laugh in his pretentious face, flip him off or simply ignore him in hopes that he’d leave you alone.
decisions, decisions.
suddenly, a lightbulb lit over your head, sitting up properly this time.
“sure,” you replied, offering him a small smile.
you observed how his self-important smile morphed into a victorious one, hands reaching towards the pockets of his shorts to pull out his phone. before he even had the chance to open the contact app, you spoke up again :
“ten push-ups for each digit,” you stated your condition, batting your lashes innocently at him.
and nothing felt as good as watching his face fall and his smile fade, clearly not expecting any of that. sure, it didn’t last long, but it was enough to lift your spirits after having your pleasant time interrupted so rudely.
yuki, who had been watching the entire exchange, was unable to hold back her laugh this time, nearly folding over at your ridiculous statement. neither could the man’s friends behind him, the black-haired man hiding his snicker behind his hand while the brunette woman jeered at him.
yet he didn’t relent, didn’t even give up. he put his phone back in his pocket, mumbling something that sounded like yeah okay, alright, before lowering himself down to the ground.
you blinked once. twice. a third time.
see, given the overly confident impression you’d gotten from him, you hadn’t expected him to even consider complying to your stupid little joke.
and yet.
“surface’s a bit unstable,” he muttered, although he didn’t look so bothered as he executed the first set of push ups for the first digit.
it was only at the third set that he’d started feeling the burn in his muscles and the strain in his arms. yuki was doing her homework, recording the entire scene, the groans spilling past his lips and the breathless chuckles he’d let out, as if he couldn’t believe the predicament he was in. immortalizing the way the muscles of his forearms and biceps flexed with every effort, how he’d pause in between sets while maintaining a perfect posture, letting out a shaky breath before continuing on.
and you observed all of that, sunglasses now in your hands, barely registering what was happening.
not that you minded the view, though.
something like smugness curled in your chest, barely believing that a total stranger was trying so hard to land a chance with you because what? he thought you were pretty and that was enough for him to go to such lengths?
nevermind the reason, you enjoyed the show he was putting on, and the way he sat on his knees when he was done with all of the sets, chest heaving up and down as a smile stretched across his face, turning to look at you like an eager puppy looking for approval.
you threw a look to your friend before the both of you grabbed a hold of your towels and items, standing up from your comfortable seats. wrapping your sarong around your hips, you turned your head around, taking a few seconds to look him up and down.
swiftly, you fished your lipstick out of your cute mini beach bag, uncapping it while crouching next to his kneeling form. his hands were oddly cold, you thought, grabbing ahold of the right one, your lipstick smudging a bit under the heat as you wrote two digits on his pale skin.
“you did well,” you praised him, although you sounded anything but impressed.
gojo watched as you stood up again, his skin practically burning where you had touched him. he didn’t find it in him to move, couldn’t trust his legs to handle his weight.
“try again next time,” you told him, faux-sympathy dripping from each syllable, offering him a wink as a consolation prize.
sylus was a man of pride. a man of status. he had worked hard to acquire the position he was in today, putting aside his humanity for the sake of his survival and that of the people he cherished. his confidence was not unfounded, as a man of many skills and many talents and undisputable beauty, no one could blame him for thinking highly of himself and not bending to anyone’s whims.
that is, until he had laid his eyes on you.
the moment you had met, he knew he was a doomed man – partly because of the curse your past-life-self had forced onto him but that wasn’t important right now.
sylus was never wrong. and even if he happened to be, no one would ever dare point it out. and he wouldn’t even apologize – how could he when no one dared to hold him accountable in the first place?
well, no one but you. and he had found himself in quite a predicament.
he knew better than to blame your sour mood on your period but it might just be the case, judging by how agitated you were when you couldn’t reach the stupid pads at the top of his stupidly high shelves. it got even worse when you ran out of your favorite cookies and brownies. barely any sanity of yours was spared when your favorite tube of ice cream was found ravaged by the twins and you reached your last straw when sylus offered you to maybe you should sit and calm down sweetie.
“calm down?” you asked in a chilling tone.
luke and kieran had escaped the scene, running out of the mansion with ‘grocery shopping’ as their sole excuse.
“do i look angry to you?” you went on, raising an eyebrow.
sylus was an imposing man. he feared nothing and everything feared him. none ever dared to get on his way or provoke the slightest reaction out of him in fear of having his anger strike down in the shape of reddish, dark swirls strangling the light out of their eyes.
he almost looked pitiful right now, the subject of your wrath. it was laughable. except you weren’t amused.
“of course not, my love,” he shook his head, not wanting to upset you any further – although you claimed not to be upset.
your lips twitched at the pet name but you refused to cave in. you turned your back to your husband, refusing to utter any word to him anymore. you just wanted a sweet treat and a long nap, maybe that’ll help with your cranky mood.
but sylus saw his entire world shatter at this instant, watching you giving him the cold shoulder. his poor heart broke into thousands of pieces and he found himself a bit helpless at the second. he wasn’t used to this, really. taking accountability, dealing with people’s emotions.
everything was so new and while he seemed to carry on with your relationship oh so easily, until you got married. he was still ridiculously helpless when you gave him the silent treatment. it was pathetic in a way that you found sick enjoyment in. and sylus did suspect that you loved him grovelling and begging, but that knowledge – while it made him smug – still didn’t help his shattered heart at the moment.
“no, no,” he muttered, shaking his head, following suit behind you. he grabbed onto your shoulder, turning you around with his hands cupping your face tenderly despite his frantic movements.
God, he was so sweet, you almost felt bad. almost.
“don’t ignore me, sweetheart,” he breathed out and when he pressed a kiss to your forehead he was so grateful you even allowed him to be this close to you when you were probably bubbling with rage.
you weren’t. in fact, you were so entertained it was getting harder and harder for you to keep a straight face.
but sylus, ever the perceptive man, somehow didn’t notice your clear amusement, too desperate to have you forgive him.
so desperate you couldn't help the sudden gasp that slipped past your lips when he suddenly dropped to his knees, grabbing onto your hand and pressing it to his cheek. he looked up at you, eyes wide and full of guilt.
you were conflicted, really. one the one hand, it was pretty attractive, the way he tossed everything he was just to earn your approval and your forgiveness. on the other hand, you felt terribly bad for pushing your little play so far.
“if it’s about the cookies and brownies, i’ll buy you a lifetime stock of them,” he rambled, pressing a kiss to your palm, his other hand caressing your thigh up and down in what he hoped to be a soothing manner. “i’ll scold the twins and have them buy you ice cream every day,” he added and you cracked a smile at that, unable to keep your act up.
“oh, sylus,” you chuckled, kneeling down in front of him and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. “you’re so stupid, i love you,” you giggled gleefully and he would gladly turn into a jester if it meant bringing the sunshine back to your expression.
he was so gone, truly.
“i love you too,” he huffed out a laugh, all his nerves finally easing down, finding peace in your comfort.
“you’re kinda hot when you beg, though,” you noted a couple of hours later, leaning against his sturdy chest while downing spoonful after spoonful of chocolate ice cream.
“ah, i should’ve known you would find enjoyment in my distress,” sylus teased back, his fingers gently pinching your cheeks in disapproval.
"we can't be friends anymore."
you stood in something resembling disbelief while iwaizumi, your best friend and closest confidant, said something so blunt that you were stunned into silence.
you watched his hands, always the teller of his emotions, fidget uselessly for a second before stilling, almost as if he knew he was being watched. his eyes, usually warm, were filled with a conviction so strong you genuinely felt fear.
the summer air embraced the two of you, the wind sweeping over your cheeks in comfort. iwaizumi dropped his gaze to the floor before finally speaking again.
"it's not your fault," he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "in fact, i don't want you blaming yourself at all. i know you would. you're so sweet. you'd never understand. but i can't do this anymore."
"what did i do?" you asked, voice trembling ever so slightly, "i thought we were alright hajime."
upon hearing his first name he winced.
"look." he said, "i know you obviously don't feel the same way as i do, and i tried for months. and i know that you're too nice to tell me that you don't feel the same, and god i want your time. i want all of it. but i cannot force you to loan your heart out when you don't feel the way i do."
your mouth fell open, brows contorting in shock. "what do you mean?" you whispered, hardly able to believe what you were hearing. "i don't feel the same? feel the same about what?"
iwaizumi blinked in confusion. "what?"
"i'm serious!" you explained, waving your hands around pathetically. "to me, it sounds like you're breaking off our friendship. and i don't want that, and i want to know what i did."
iwaizumi's eyes widened before he hid his laugh behind his hand. you continued to wait for his explanation, but all you received was the beautiful chimes of his laugh filling the air between you.
"do i need to spell it out?" he chuckled, looking towards the heavens like it would give him answers. "i thought i was obvious."
"obvious?" you shot back. "hajime, be direct."
"i like you so much it's driving me insane. i cannot pretend to be friends anymore because what i want is to take you out. and spend all my time with you. romantically. so i am asking you to have mercy on my heart and reject me."
"WHAT!" you yelled, more at him than anyone else. "what makes you think i'd reject you?"
"you didn't seem to like me so..."
"i've been after you for months," you groaned, "why else would i search up that tofu recipe you like. and come to your volleyball games, and help you study anatomy with that dumb skeleton in your room. i like you. a lot. i just wanted your company more than anything else. i thought you didn't like me."
with that, iwaizumi grinned, shaking his head in disbelief. "disgusting. if tooru was watching this, he'd never let us live that down."
you giggled, reaching over to grab one of his hands.
"let's go on a date." you smile. "you can tell me all about this little crush of yours."
he sighed, lacing his fingers between your own and heading off towards the nearest ice cream shop. the evening sun set behind you, the watercolor sky painting the end of a miscommunication and the first of many dates.
booking flights to okinawa for your summer break was the best decision you’ve ever made. and your friends couldn’t agree more.
you’d reserve your mornings to sprawl under the sun, covered in sunscreen and praying you won’t get burnt by the bright rays.
your noons would be spent filling your stomach with the local specialties, sitting in complete silence as you exchange approving looks and eager nods at the flavors exploding in your mouth.
and your afternoons were your time to explore different itineraries you had prepared months in advance before spending the night at izakayas or fancier dining places.
and today was no different. yuki’s obnoxiously loud alarm pulled you from your sleep, groaning as you rubbed your eyes and rolled off your comfortable hotel bed, yelping as you landed butt-first on the hardwood floor.
with a few days left on your trip, you were already mourning the peaceful days you’d spend on the beach and the tranquil nights during which you’d walk under the moonlight, taking countless detours before finally reaching your hotel room in hopes of making the day last longer.
you could so easily imagine yourself dragging your feet back to your endless office job, typing away on your keyboard with boredom painted on your features while your boss would whine about unmet deadlines – although everyone knew it was his fault.
what you hadn’t imagined though, was the tall, looming shadow disrupting your tanning time.
with a sigh, you pushed your sunglasses down your nose, squinting a bit as you looked up at whoever the hell had the audacity to bother you so early in the morning.
you were met with the brightest person you’ve ever laid your eyes on.
literally.
platinum – hell, that was just pure white – hair strands were pushed away from his face by a large hand, his skin way too pale to not catch a sunburn under the scorching sun. he was sporting a hawaiian shirt, the buttons deliberately undone to reveal toned muscles.
he followed your gesture, pulling his glasses down, revealing eyes brighter than your miserable future.
he was pretty, you noted, taking in his soft yet striking features, the annoyingly attractive smirk painted on his lips, the porcelain expanse of his skin.
“can i help you?” you asked, propping yourself on your elbows.
you barely noticed the other man standing a few feet away from him, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he was embarrassed to even be around him.
“yeah, actually,” the man standing next to your sunlounger answered.
you decided that you didn’t like him, regardless of how attractive he was. the confidence that coated each word, bordering on arrogance. the low timbre of his voice, as if he was aware of what effect he’d have on most people around him.
“you could start by giving me your number,” he added, his smirk widening into a cocky smile.
slowly, you turned your head towards yuki, who was laying next to you, catching how she’d slapped a hand onto her mouth as if to stop herself from bursting into a loud fit of laughter.
disbelief was written on your face as you twisted your head to look at him again, lips parted in incredulity.
you weren’t sure how you were supposed to react, really. whether to laugh in his pretentious face, flip him off or simply ignore him in hopes that he’d leave you alone.
decisions, decisions.
suddenly, a lightbulb lit over your head, sitting up properly this time.
“sure,” you replied, offering him a small smile.
you observed how his self-important smile morphed into a victorious one, hands reaching towards the pockets of his shorts to pull out his phone. before he even had the chance to open the contact app, you spoke up again :
“ten push-ups for each digit,” you stated your condition, batting your lashes innocently at him.
and nothing felt as good as watching his face fall and his smile fade, clearly not expecting any of that. sure, it didn’t last long, but it was enough to lift your spirits after having your pleasant time interrupted so rudely.
yuki, who had been watching the entire exchange, was unable to hold back her laugh this time, nearly folding over at your ridiculous statement. neither could the man’s friends behind him, the black-haired man hiding his snicker behind his hand while the brunette woman jeered at him.
yet he didn’t relent, didn’t even give up. he put his phone back in his pocket, mumbling something that sounded like yeah okay, alright, before lowering himself down to the ground.
you blinked once. twice. a third time.
see, given the overly confident impression you’d gotten from him, you hadn’t expected him to even consider complying to your stupid little joke.
and yet.
“surface’s a bit unstable,” he muttered, although he didn’t look so bothered as he executed the first set of push ups for the first digit.
it was only at the third set that he’d started feeling the burn in his muscles and the strain in his arms. yuki was doing her homework, recording the entire scene, the groans spilling past his lips and the breathless chuckles he’d let out, as if he couldn’t believe the predicament he was in. immortalizing the way the muscles of his forearms and biceps flexed with every effort, how he’d pause in between sets while maintaining a perfect posture, letting out a shaky breath before continuing on.
and you observed all of that, sunglasses now in your hands, barely registering what was happening.
not that you minded the view, though.
something like smugness curled in your chest, barely believing that a total stranger was trying so hard to land a chance with you because what? he thought you were pretty and that was enough for him to go to such lengths?
nevermind the reason, you enjoyed the show he was putting on, and the way he sat on his knees when he was done with all of the sets, chest heaving up and down as a smile stretched across his face, turning to look at you like an eager puppy looking for approval.
you threw a look to your friend before the both of you grabbed a hold of your towels and items, standing up from your comfortable seats. wrapping your sarong around your hips, you turned your head around, taking a few seconds to look him up and down.
swiftly, you fished your lipstick out of your cute mini beach bag, uncapping it while crouching next to his kneeling form. his hands were oddly cold, you thought, grabbing ahold of the right one, your lipstick smudging a bit under the heat as you wrote two digits on his pale skin.
“you did well,” you praised him, although you sounded anything but impressed.
gojo watched as you stood up again, his skin practically burning where you had touched him. he didn’t find it in him to move, couldn’t trust his legs to handle his weight.
“try again next time,” you told him, faux-sympathy dripping from each syllable, offering him a wink as a consolation prize.
sylus was a man of pride. a man of status. he had worked hard to acquire the position he was in today, putting aside his humanity for the sake of his survival and that of the people he cherished. his confidence was not unfounded, as a man of many skills and many talents and undisputable beauty, no one could blame him for thinking highly of himself and not bending to anyone’s whims.
that is, until he had laid his eyes on you.
the moment you had met, he knew he was a doomed man – partly because of the curse your past-life-self had forced onto him but that wasn’t important right now.
sylus was never wrong. and even if he happened to be, no one would ever dare point it out. and he wouldn’t even apologize – how could he when no one dared to hold him accountable in the first place?
well, no one but you. and he had found himself in quite a predicament.
he knew better than to blame your sour mood on your period but it might just be the case, judging by how agitated you were when you couldn’t reach the stupid pads at the top of his stupidly high shelves. it got even worse when you ran out of your favorite cookies and brownies. barely any sanity of yours was spared when your favorite tube of ice cream was found ravaged by the twins and you reached your last straw when sylus offered you to maybe you should sit and calm down sweetie.
“calm down?” you asked in a chilling tone.
luke and kieran had escaped the scene, running out of the mansion with ‘grocery shopping’ as their sole excuse.
“do i look angry to you?” you went on, raising an eyebrow.
sylus was an imposing man. he feared nothing and everything feared him. none ever dared to get on his way or provoke the slightest reaction out of him in fear of having his anger strike down in the shape of reddish, dark swirls strangling the light out of their eyes.
he almost looked pitiful right now, the subject of your wrath. it was laughable. except you weren’t amused.
“of course not, my love,” he shook his head, not wanting to upset you any further – although you claimed not to be upset.
your lips twitched at the pet name but you refused to cave in. you turned your back to your husband, refusing to utter any word to him anymore. you just wanted a sweet treat and a long nap, maybe that’ll help with your cranky mood.
but sylus saw his entire world shatter at this instant, watching you giving him the cold shoulder. his poor heart broke into thousands of pieces and he found himself a bit helpless at the second. he wasn’t used to this, really. taking accountability, dealing with people’s emotions.
everything was so new and while he seemed to carry on with your relationship oh so easily, until you got married. he was still ridiculously helpless when you gave him the silent treatment. it was pathetic in a way that you found sick enjoyment in. and sylus did suspect that you loved him grovelling and begging, but that knowledge – while it made him smug – still didn’t help his shattered heart at the moment.
“no, no,” he muttered, shaking his head, following suit behind you. he grabbed onto your shoulder, turning you around with his hands cupping your face tenderly despite his frantic movements.
God, he was so sweet, you almost felt bad. almost.
“don’t ignore me, sweetheart,” he breathed out and when he pressed a kiss to your forehead he was so grateful you even allowed him to be this close to you when you were probably bubbling with rage.
you weren’t. in fact, you were so entertained it was getting harder and harder for you to keep a straight face.
but sylus, ever the perceptive man, somehow didn’t notice your clear amusement, too desperate to have you forgive him.
so desperate you couldn't help the sudden gasp that slipped past your lips when he suddenly dropped to his knees, grabbing onto your hand and pressing it to his cheek. he looked up at you, eyes wide and full of guilt.
you were conflicted, really. one the one hand, it was pretty attractive, the way he tossed everything he was just to earn your approval and your forgiveness. on the other hand, you felt terribly bad for pushing your little play so far.
“if it’s about the cookies and brownies, i’ll buy you a lifetime stock of them,” he rambled, pressing a kiss to your palm, his other hand caressing your thigh up and down in what he hoped to be a soothing manner. “i’ll scold the twins and have them buy you ice cream every day,” he added and you cracked a smile at that, unable to keep your act up.
“oh, sylus,” you chuckled, kneeling down in front of him and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. “you’re so stupid, i love you,” you giggled gleefully and he would gladly turn into a jester if it meant bringing the sunshine back to your expression.
he was so gone, truly.
“i love you too,” he huffed out a laugh, all his nerves finally easing down, finding peace in your comfort.
“you’re kinda hot when you beg, though,” you noted a couple of hours later, leaning against his sturdy chest while downing spoonful after spoonful of chocolate ice cream.
“ah, i should’ve known you would find enjoyment in my distress,” sylus teased back, his fingers gently pinching your cheeks in disapproval.
scaramouche has always believed fate and life were odd things. strange in their nature and somewhat eerie. he never really understood people who had so much optimism in either of those elements, often rolling his eyes at the irritatingly embarrassing quotes somehow landing on his page whenever he’d scroll endlessly on his socials instead of fixing his terrible sleep schedule.
the notion of fate was uncomfortable. knowing that his life was taking turns he barely had any control over and that even the choices he makes have been written in stone long before he even came to life – awful mistake his mother committed, by the way.
he had always longed for freedom. always wanted to grow his own wings and disappear in skies his mother could never reach. that none of his acquaintances could ever dream of ascending to.
maybe, that was why he had so foolishly fallen for her.
it was so easy, falling in love with her. like a slope he was going down on, growing steeper and steeper the closer he would get to her.
the first time scaramouche had ever thought of fate with no disdain at the back of his mind was when he had gotten out of a coffee shop he was a regular at.
getting his coffee was a normal part of his routine, and so was walking down the street on the way to the tattoo shop he worked at.
bumping into strangers that were blindly skipping to a song playing loudly from their headphones and spilling his beloved beverage all over them, however, was not part of his day-to-day life.
he didn’t even find it in him to curse the girl out, standing still at the apologetic smile she was offering him and stupidly handing her over a pack of tissues he had found in his bag.
and when she jokingly asked for his number before considering forgiving him when he apologized in return, he found himself unable to laugh along. he had simply stared at the brightness of her smile, imprinted the sweetness of her laughter into his brain and wished he could record it so he could hear it over and over again.
and so his number did find its way into her phone.
scaramouche didn’t know how he ended up in the whirlwind of her life.
she didn’t take long before confessing to a lot of her heartaches. a couple of weeks in, and he was already growing a sense of attachment to her, unfamiliar yet surprisingly not as terrifying as he had imagined it’d be. a couple of months after, and he was growing a feeling of hatred towards her parents and friends and an even stronger sense of protectiveness towards her.
he didn’t know everything, of course he didn’t. but he knew what the bruises on the inner side of her elbows were and he knew what the bandages around her arms and thighs were for.
she liked that he never questioned it. she liked that he didn’t look into her stuff and didn’t try to take away her last thread of sanity away from her. and she liked him.
“you’re pretty and you let me do what i want,” she had simply told him when he asked her why. a giggle slipped past her lips and that was enough for him to press his lips to hers, tasting the remnants of beer on her tongue as they melted into each other at the back of his car.
the warning signs were glowing at the back of scaramouche’s head, but he didn’t find it in him to put a stop to her descent. he didn’t want to be another controlling figure in her life but he didn’t want to let her go so easily.
and the fear paralyzed him. he didn’t mind the blood at the bruises, didn’t mind caring for her and uplifting her when she needed it the most, spending most of his nights by her side in fear of not finding her knocking obnoxiously loud on the door of his apartment the next morning.
it tore his heart apart, really, the crying and the begging and the spiraling.
it wasn’t like she never tried. she made an effort. a noticeable one. but she was so fragile, so breakable, it only took a little push for her to fall into her past patterns again and he was left picking up the pieces and mending her back again, praying this time would be the right one.
it had never been.
running into the hospital has become an oddly common thing for scaramouche, crouching on the bedside and holding her hand tightly into his own while he prayed for something. anything.
granting her wishes had become his routine as well, folding to her demands and handing over her dreams on a silver platter with ease – hell, a golden one even. he’d do anything to bring back the brightness he had fallen for in the first place, his gaze softening as he watched her from a distance.
“i’ve always seen this in movies,” she had confessed, out of breath from running around the flower field, letting herself fall on her back, her head resting next to his as he closely studied her.
she looked carefree, for once. like all her worries and torments had melted under the setting sun.
“always wanted to run around flowers,” she laughed breathlessly, turning to look back at him.
scaramouche had smiled at her, sitting up so he could pick a flower and put it in her hair.
“you look pretty,” he told her, finger tracing each of her features. etching them into his memory. and it was almost as if she could read his mind, as if she could tell he was trying to engrave everything about her fleeting existence before she would eventually disappear from his own.
“i don’t wanna become a hot topic when i’m gone.”
when.
scaramouche always knew her choice was definitive and that he couldn’t do anything about it. but he couldn’t help the fear and the tears and the inability to imagine a world without her. he couldn’t figure out how he’d come to live once she wasn’t there anymore. she hadn’t been in his life for long yet he couldn’t go on in a world void of her.
“you’re selfish!” she yelled at him, crystal drops spilling down her face furiously.
grabbing the closest thing to her, she threw it at him in a fit, followed by another. and another.
“you’re just like the rest of them,” a sob tore from her throat, the glass in her hand shattering on the floor as she let go of it.
a small sigh was the only response scaramouche had given her, taking a hold of her wrist and pulling her into his chest. his face buried in her hair, he rocked the both of them back and forth, his throat constricted with words he knew would only enrage her more.
so he remained quiet, shushing her sobs and cries, hoping that maybe, just maybe, if his arms tightened a little, if his cold body could warm her aching soul a tiny bit, then she would stop fading away from him.
“i just want you to stay with me,” he finally confessed, his hands gently holding onto her shoulders, eyes searching for hers. “i know it’s selfish, but y’know i can’t just lose you, yeah?”
at the pout forming on her lips, he could only smile fondly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before drawing her into him again, hands running up and down her back.
“you won’t let me die, right?” she had asked him, unable to fall asleep, laying in each other’s arms. she didn’t really let him answer, humming under her breath before continuing : “you can’t let me go. please?” and scaramouche caved in, again, the hold he had on her almost suffocating until the next morning.
and she got better. she did. for some time, that is, but there was hope growing in scaramouche.
her syringes were gone and her pillies were forgotten at the back of her cabinets. he didn’t find himself examining how deep and how concerning her injuries were for a while and, God, was she blindingly bright now.
walking ahead of him as they found themselves near a beach on their impromptu road trip, hands in his pockets while she ran on the sand, screaming when the water creeped too close and twirling to whatever music was playing in her head.
“feels like you’re healin’ my inner child or somethin’,” she giggled in between bites, squealing happily as he fed her more barbecued meat.
“don’t talk with your mouth full,” scaramouche had scolded but he couldn’t deny the warmth engulfing his heart. he was doing something right. whatever the hell it was, it was working. and he hoped it’d remain this way forever.
it was short-lived.
back from their road trip, she found herself in trouble with her parents. and he found himself patching up her forearms and wrists and failing to hide away her little bottles.
and while he had gotten used to the mess of her life, it had never felt so decisive. so… final. like her decision was made. like she was following a detailed plan. no amount of begging and fighting her over this would ever work anymore. and for the first time ever since he had gotten wrapped up into this whole thing, scaramouche was feeling hopeless. there was no escape route, no exit door.
“oh baby,” she had cooed, finding him biting harshly on his bottom lip while scalding tears ran down his cheeks, gripping onto the kitchen counter so tightly. “‘m really sorry,” she whispered, hands holding onto his face adoringly. it was so cruel of her, he found himself thinking, letting a first sob fall past his lips. with a tender smile, she wiped the traces of his sorrow away with her thumb. so loving and sweet.
he hated her for it.
“y’know i can’t do this,” she murmured into his hair, holding him to her chest as his nails dug into her t-shirt and skin. because maybe, just maybe, if he carved himself into her, if he merged their beings together, then she’d never find a way to dig a chasm between them both. “y’know i can’t stay.”
not even for me? how can you leave me here? y’know i can’t do this without you.
but that would be heartless of him. so scaramouche didn’t say that. he simply lifted his head to look into her eyes, finding nothing but endless love in them.
yet it wasn’t unconditional, and that was probably more painful than anything else.
“at least make it through tonight?” he pleaded weakly, his voice shattered and shaky.
“promise.”
the next morning, scaramouche woke up to a cold bed, a note, and a hole in his heart.
she didn’t even leave much. just a small i love you, a badly drawn heart and a cup of coffee, way too sweet for his liking.
and him.
she left him navigating his life blindly, like his only source of light had been taken away from him. he couldn’t see ahead of him, couldn’t perceive anything around him. he didn’t even find it in him to hate her for breaking such a hastily made promise.
“you’ve always been a liar,” he told her, gently settling a bouquet of chrysanthemums in front of her. sitting on the grass cross-legged, he huffed fondly at all the times he would catch her red-handed, twisting the truth to her favor and burning in shame when he’d narrow his eyes suspiciously at her.
“didn’t think you could be so good at it, though,” scaramouche sighed, tracing the petals in his hand. he scooted over next to her, leaning his back onto the large tree trunk behind them, barely able to make out the colors of the endless flowers blooming ahead of them, the moonlight not doing much to help him out.
“hope you like this place, i picked it out for you,” he chuckled, leaning his head onto the freezing stone sitting by his side. and he wished that this time, when sleep takes him away, it’d never let him go.
naur i actually hope this was a joke bruh pls bring valko back <//3 HIS VOICEEE AAAAA n just his whole vibe is so <//3 hes so puppy nerd big buff bf coded Lord pls 😔😔 im genuinely so upset why would they do that i hate infold
booking flights to okinawa for your summer break was the best decision you’ve ever made. and your friends couldn’t agree more.
you’d reserve your mornings to sprawl under the sun, covered in sunscreen and praying you won’t get burnt by the bright rays.
your noons would be spent filling your stomach with the local specialties, sitting in complete silence as you exchange approving looks and eager nods at the flavors exploding in your mouth.
and your afternoons were your time to explore different itineraries you had prepared months in advance before spending the night at izakayas or fancier dining places.
and today was no different. yuki’s obnoxiously loud alarm pulled you from your sleep, groaning as you rubbed your eyes and rolled off your comfortable hotel bed, yelping as you landed butt-first on the hardwood floor.
with a few days left on your trip, you were already mourning the peaceful days you’d spend on the beach and the tranquil nights during which you’d walk under the moonlight, taking countless detours before finally reaching your hotel room in hopes of making the day last longer.
you could so easily imagine yourself dragging your feet back to your endless office job, typing away on your keyboard with boredom painted on your features while your boss would whine about unmet deadlines – although everyone knew it was his fault.
what you hadn’t imagined though, was the tall, looming shadow disrupting your tanning time.
with a sigh, you pushed your sunglasses down your nose, squinting a bit as you looked up at whoever the hell had the audacity to bother you so early in the morning.
you were met with the brightest person you’ve ever laid your eyes on.
literally.
platinum – hell, that was just pure white – hair strands were pushed away from his face by a large hand, his skin way too pale to not catch a sunburn under the scorching sun. he was sporting a hawaiian shirt, the buttons deliberately undone to reveal toned muscles.
he followed your gesture, pulling his glasses down, revealing eyes brighter than your miserable future.
he was pretty, you noted, taking in his soft yet striking features, the annoyingly attractive smirk painted on his lips, the porcelain expanse of his skin.
“can i help you?” you asked, propping yourself on your elbows.
you barely noticed the other man standing a few feet away from him, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he was embarrassed to even be around him.
“yeah, actually,” the man standing next to your sunlounger answered.
you decided that you didn’t like him, regardless of how attractive he was. the confidence that coated each word, bordering on arrogance. the low timbre of his voice, as if he was aware of what effect he’d have on most people around him.
“you could start by giving me your number,” he added, his smirk widening into a cocky smile.
slowly, you turned your head towards yuki, who was laying next to you, catching how she’d slapped a hand onto her mouth as if to stop herself from bursting into a loud fit of laughter.
disbelief was written on your face as you twisted your head to look at him again, lips parted in incredulity.
you weren’t sure how you were supposed to react, really. whether to laugh in his pretentious face, flip him off or simply ignore him in hopes that he’d leave you alone.
decisions, decisions.
suddenly, a lightbulb lit over your head, sitting up properly this time.
“sure,” you replied, offering him a small smile.
you observed how his self-important smile morphed into a victorious one, hands reaching towards the pockets of his shorts to pull out his phone. before he even had the chance to open the contact app, you spoke up again :
“ten push-ups for each digit,” you stated your condition, batting your lashes innocently at him.
and nothing felt as good as watching his face fall and his smile fade, clearly not expecting any of that. sure, it didn’t last long, but it was enough to lift your spirits after having your pleasant time interrupted so rudely.
yuki, who had been watching the entire exchange, was unable to hold back her laugh this time, nearly folding over at your ridiculous statement. neither could the man’s friends behind him, the black-haired man hiding his snicker behind his hand while the brunette woman jeered at him.
yet he didn’t relent, didn’t even give up. he put his phone back in his pocket, mumbling something that sounded like yeah okay, alright, before lowering himself down to the ground.
you blinked once. twice. a third time.
see, given the overly confident impression you’d gotten from him, you hadn’t expected him to even consider complying to your stupid little joke.
and yet.
“surface’s a bit unstable,” he muttered, although he didn’t look so bothered as he executed the first set of push ups for the first digit.
it was only at the third set that he’d started feeling the burn in his muscles and the strain in his arms. yuki was doing her homework, recording the entire scene, the groans spilling past his lips and the breathless chuckles he’d let out, as if he couldn’t believe the predicament he was in. immortalizing the way the muscles of his forearms and biceps flexed with every effort, how he’d pause in between sets while maintaining a perfect posture, letting out a shaky breath before continuing on.
and you observed all of that, sunglasses now in your hands, barely registering what was happening.
not that you minded the view, though.
something like smugness curled in your chest, barely believing that a total stranger was trying so hard to land a chance with you because what? he thought you were pretty and that was enough for him to go to such lengths?
nevermind the reason, you enjoyed the show he was putting on, and the way he sat on his knees when he was done with all of the sets, chest heaving up and down as a smile stretched across his face, turning to look at you like an eager puppy looking for approval.
you threw a look to your friend before the both of you grabbed a hold of your towels and items, standing up from your comfortable seats. wrapping your sarong around your hips, you turned your head around, taking a few seconds to look him up and down.
swiftly, you fished your lipstick out of your cute mini beach bag, uncapping it while crouching next to his kneeling form. his hands were oddly cold, you thought, grabbing ahold of the right one, your lipstick smudging a bit under the heat as you wrote two digits on his pale skin.
“you did well,” you praised him, although you sounded anything but impressed.
gojo watched as you stood up again, his skin practically burning where you had touched him. he didn’t find it in him to move, couldn’t trust his legs to handle his weight.
“try again next time,” you told him, faux-sympathy dripping from each syllable, offering him a wink as a consolation prize.
sylus was a man of pride. a man of status. he had worked hard to acquire the position he was in today, putting aside his humanity for the sake of his survival and that of the people he cherished. his confidence was not unfounded, as a man of many skills and many talents and undisputable beauty, no one could blame him for thinking highly of himself and not bending to anyone’s whims.
that is, until he had laid his eyes on you.
the moment you had met, he knew he was a doomed man – partly because of the curse your past-life-self had forced onto him but that wasn’t important right now.
sylus was never wrong. and even if he happened to be, no one would ever dare point it out. and he wouldn’t even apologize – how could he when no one dared to hold him accountable in the first place?
well, no one but you. and he had found himself in quite a predicament.
he knew better than to blame your sour mood on your period but it might just be the case, judging by how agitated you were when you couldn’t reach the stupid pads at the top of his stupidly high shelves. it got even worse when you ran out of your favorite cookies and brownies. barely any sanity of yours was spared when your favorite tube of ice cream was found ravaged by the twins and you reached your last straw when sylus offered you to maybe you should sit and calm down sweetie.
“calm down?” you asked in a chilling tone.
luke and kieran had escaped the scene, running out of the mansion with ‘grocery shopping’ as their sole excuse.
“do i look angry to you?” you went on, raising an eyebrow.
sylus was an imposing man. he feared nothing and everything feared him. none ever dared to get on his way or provoke the slightest reaction out of him in fear of having his anger strike down in the shape of reddish, dark swirls strangling the light out of their eyes.
he almost looked pitiful right now, the subject of your wrath. it was laughable. except you weren’t amused.
“of course not, my love,” he shook his head, not wanting to upset you any further – although you claimed not to be upset.
your lips twitched at the pet name but you refused to cave in. you turned your back to your husband, refusing to utter any word to him anymore. you just wanted a sweet treat and a long nap, maybe that’ll help with your cranky mood.
but sylus saw his entire world shatter at this instant, watching you giving him the cold shoulder. his poor heart broke into thousands of pieces and he found himself a bit helpless at the second. he wasn’t used to this, really. taking accountability, dealing with people’s emotions.
everything was so new and while he seemed to carry on with your relationship oh so easily, until you got married. he was still ridiculously helpless when you gave him the silent treatment. it was pathetic in a way that you found sick enjoyment in. and sylus did suspect that you loved him grovelling and begging, but that knowledge – while it made him smug – still didn’t help his shattered heart at the moment.
“no, no,” he muttered, shaking his head, following suit behind you. he grabbed onto your shoulder, turning you around with his hands cupping your face tenderly despite his frantic movements.
God, he was so sweet, you almost felt bad. almost.
“don’t ignore me, sweetheart,” he breathed out and when he pressed a kiss to your forehead he was so grateful you even allowed him to be this close to you when you were probably bubbling with rage.
you weren’t. in fact, you were so entertained it was getting harder and harder for you to keep a straight face.
but sylus, ever the perceptive man, somehow didn’t notice your clear amusement, too desperate to have you forgive him.
so desperate you couldn't help the sudden gasp that slipped past your lips when he suddenly dropped to his knees, grabbing onto your hand and pressing it to his cheek. he looked up at you, eyes wide and full of guilt.
you were conflicted, really. one the one hand, it was pretty attractive, the way he tossed everything he was just to earn your approval and your forgiveness. on the other hand, you felt terribly bad for pushing your little play so far.
“if it’s about the cookies and brownies, i’ll buy you a lifetime stock of them,” he rambled, pressing a kiss to your palm, his other hand caressing your thigh up and down in what he hoped to be a soothing manner. “i’ll scold the twins and have them buy you ice cream every day,” he added and you cracked a smile at that, unable to keep your act up.
“oh, sylus,” you chuckled, kneeling down in front of him and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. “you’re so stupid, i love you,” you giggled gleefully and he would gladly turn into a jester if it meant bringing the sunshine back to your expression.
he was so gone, truly.
“i love you too,” he huffed out a laugh, all his nerves finally easing down, finding peace in your comfort.
“you’re kinda hot when you beg, though,” you noted a couple of hours later, leaning against his sturdy chest while downing spoonful after spoonful of chocolate ice cream.
“ah, i should’ve known you would find enjoyment in my distress,” sylus teased back, his fingers gently pinching your cheeks in disapproval.
scaramouche has always believed fate and life were odd things. strange in their nature and somewhat eerie. he never really understood people who had so much optimism in either of those elements, often rolling his eyes at the irritatingly embarrassing quotes somehow landing on his page whenever he’d scroll endlessly on his socials instead of fixing his terrible sleep schedule.
the notion of fate was uncomfortable. knowing that his life was taking turns he barely had any control over and that even the choices he makes have been written in stone long before he even came to life – awful mistake his mother committed, by the way.
he had always longed for freedom. always wanted to grow his own wings and disappear in skies his mother could never reach. that none of his acquaintances could ever dream of ascending to.
maybe, that was why he had so foolishly fallen for her.
it was so easy, falling in love with her. like a slope he was going down on, growing steeper and steeper the closer he would get to her.
the first time scaramouche had ever thought of fate with no disdain at the back of his mind was when he had gotten out of a coffee shop he was a regular at.
getting his coffee was a normal part of his routine, and so was walking down the street on the way to the tattoo shop he worked at.
bumping into strangers that were blindly skipping to a song playing loudly from their headphones and spilling his beloved beverage all over them, however, was not part of his day-to-day life.
he didn’t even find it in him to curse the girl out, standing still at the apologetic smile she was offering him and stupidly handing her over a pack of tissues he had found in his bag.
and when she jokingly asked for his number before considering forgiving him when he apologized in return, he found himself unable to laugh along. he had simply stared at the brightness of her smile, imprinted the sweetness of her laughter into his brain and wished he could record it so he could hear it over and over again.
and so his number did find its way into her phone.
scaramouche didn’t know how he ended up in the whirlwind of her life.
she didn’t take long before confessing to a lot of her heartaches. a couple of weeks in, and he was already growing a sense of attachment to her, unfamiliar yet surprisingly not as terrifying as he had imagined it’d be. a couple of months after, and he was growing a feeling of hatred towards her parents and friends and an even stronger sense of protectiveness towards her.
he didn’t know everything, of course he didn’t. but he knew what the bruises on the inner side of her elbows were and he knew what the bandages around her arms and thighs were for.
she liked that he never questioned it. she liked that he didn’t look into her stuff and didn’t try to take away her last thread of sanity away from her. and she liked him.
“you’re pretty and you let me do what i want,” she had simply told him when he asked her why. a giggle slipped past her lips and that was enough for him to press his lips to hers, tasting the remnants of beer on her tongue as they melted into each other at the back of his car.
the warning signs were glowing at the back of scaramouche’s head, but he didn’t find it in him to put a stop to her descent. he didn’t want to be another controlling figure in her life but he didn’t want to let her go so easily.
and the fear paralyzed him. he didn’t mind the blood at the bruises, didn’t mind caring for her and uplifting her when she needed it the most, spending most of his nights by her side in fear of not finding her knocking obnoxiously loud on the door of his apartment the next morning.
it tore his heart apart, really, the crying and the begging and the spiraling.
it wasn’t like she never tried. she made an effort. a noticeable one. but she was so fragile, so breakable, it only took a little push for her to fall into her past patterns again and he was left picking up the pieces and mending her back again, praying this time would be the right one.
it had never been.
running into the hospital has become an oddly common thing for scaramouche, crouching on the bedside and holding her hand tightly into his own while he prayed for something. anything.
granting her wishes had become his routine as well, folding to her demands and handing over her dreams on a silver platter with ease – hell, a golden one even. he’d do anything to bring back the brightness he had fallen for in the first place, his gaze softening as he watched her from a distance.
“i’ve always seen this in movies,” she had confessed, out of breath from running around the flower field, letting herself fall on her back, her head resting next to his as he closely studied her.
she looked carefree, for once. like all her worries and torments had melted under the setting sun.
“always wanted to run around flowers,” she laughed breathlessly, turning to look back at him.
scaramouche had smiled at her, sitting up so he could pick a flower and put it in her hair.
“you look pretty,” he told her, finger tracing each of her features. etching them into his memory. and it was almost as if she could read his mind, as if she could tell he was trying to engrave everything about her fleeting existence before she would eventually disappear from his own.
“i don’t wanna become a hot topic when i’m gone.”
when.
scaramouche always knew her choice was definitive and that he couldn’t do anything about it. but he couldn’t help the fear and the tears and the inability to imagine a world without her. he couldn’t figure out how he’d come to live once she wasn’t there anymore. she hadn’t been in his life for long yet he couldn’t go on in a world void of her.
“you’re selfish!” she yelled at him, crystal drops spilling down her face furiously.
grabbing the closest thing to her, she threw it at him in a fit, followed by another. and another.
“you’re just like the rest of them,” a sob tore from her throat, the glass in her hand shattering on the floor as she let go of it.
a small sigh was the only response scaramouche had given her, taking a hold of her wrist and pulling her into his chest. his face buried in her hair, he rocked the both of them back and forth, his throat constricted with words he knew would only enrage her more.
so he remained quiet, shushing her sobs and cries, hoping that maybe, just maybe, if his arms tightened a little, if his cold body could warm her aching soul a tiny bit, then she would stop fading away from him.
“i just want you to stay with me,” he finally confessed, his hands gently holding onto her shoulders, eyes searching for hers. “i know it’s selfish, but y’know i can’t just lose you, yeah?”
at the pout forming on her lips, he could only smile fondly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before drawing her into him again, hands running up and down her back.
“you won’t let me die, right?” she had asked him, unable to fall asleep, laying in each other’s arms. she didn’t really let him answer, humming under her breath before continuing : “you can’t let me go. please?” and scaramouche caved in, again, the hold he had on her almost suffocating until the next morning.
and she got better. she did. for some time, that is, but there was hope growing in scaramouche.
her syringes were gone and her pillies were forgotten at the back of her cabinets. he didn’t find himself examining how deep and how concerning her injuries were for a while and, God, was she blindingly bright now.
walking ahead of him as they found themselves near a beach on their impromptu road trip, hands in his pockets while she ran on the sand, screaming when the water creeped too close and twirling to whatever music was playing in her head.
“feels like you’re healin’ my inner child or somethin’,” she giggled in between bites, squealing happily as he fed her more barbecued meat.
“don’t talk with your mouth full,” scaramouche had scolded but he couldn’t deny the warmth engulfing his heart. he was doing something right. whatever the hell it was, it was working. and he hoped it’d remain this way forever.
it was short-lived.
back from their road trip, she found herself in trouble with her parents. and he found himself patching up her forearms and wrists and failing to hide away her little bottles.
and while he had gotten used to the mess of her life, it had never felt so decisive. so… final. like her decision was made. like she was following a detailed plan. no amount of begging and fighting her over this would ever work anymore. and for the first time ever since he had gotten wrapped up into this whole thing, scaramouche was feeling hopeless. there was no escape route, no exit door.
“oh baby,” she had cooed, finding him biting harshly on his bottom lip while scalding tears ran down his cheeks, gripping onto the kitchen counter so tightly. “‘m really sorry,” she whispered, hands holding onto his face adoringly. it was so cruel of her, he found himself thinking, letting a first sob fall past his lips. with a tender smile, she wiped the traces of his sorrow away with her thumb. so loving and sweet.
he hated her for it.
“y’know i can’t do this,” she murmured into his hair, holding him to her chest as his nails dug into her t-shirt and skin. because maybe, just maybe, if he carved himself into her, if he merged their beings together, then she’d never find a way to dig a chasm between them both. “y’know i can’t stay.”
not even for me? how can you leave me here? y’know i can’t do this without you.
but that would be heartless of him. so scaramouche didn’t say that. he simply lifted his head to look into her eyes, finding nothing but endless love in them.
yet it wasn’t unconditional, and that was probably more painful than anything else.
“at least make it through tonight?” he pleaded weakly, his voice shattered and shaky.
“promise.”
the next morning, scaramouche woke up to a cold bed, a note, and a hole in his heart.
she didn’t even leave much. just a small i love you, a badly drawn heart and a cup of coffee, way too sweet for his liking.
and him.
she left him navigating his life blindly, like his only source of light had been taken away from him. he couldn’t see ahead of him, couldn’t perceive anything around him. he didn’t even find it in him to hate her for breaking such a hastily made promise.
“you’ve always been a liar,” he told her, gently settling a bouquet of chrysanthemums in front of her. sitting on the grass cross-legged, he huffed fondly at all the times he would catch her red-handed, twisting the truth to her favor and burning in shame when he’d narrow his eyes suspiciously at her.
“didn’t think you could be so good at it, though,” scaramouche sighed, tracing the petals in his hand. he scooted over next to her, leaning his back onto the large tree trunk behind them, barely able to make out the colors of the endless flowers blooming ahead of them, the moonlight not doing much to help him out.
“hope you like this place, i picked it out for you,” he chuckled, leaning his head onto the freezing stone sitting by his side. and he wished that this time, when sleep takes him away, it’d never let him go.
so infold is cancelling valko's release n they're not gonna release any other LIs 🧍🏻♀️ im genuinely upset bc i havent been interested in openin the game in a while up until they announced him n now nothin 🧍🏻♀️ this feels like a scam im ngl bc how are u gonna drop so many ads and teasers of him only to cancel him a few days before his release?? n the fact that they genuinely dont care about international players' opinions is so annoyin like so many of us were so excited for his release n this is what u pull? girl
