traumfxnger
He had lasted a week. A week of not seeing Daiki, of not once contacting him again despite him say- ing he would. But he had not been able to muster the courage to send him a single message after his initial one -- it made the shapeshifter wonder if it had been a mistake not to force himself to do at least that. Chances were the fashion designer had given up on him now. The thought immediately made Ukyo’s eyes water and his stomach turn up- side down. For a few long moment which felt like an eternity, he merely sto- od in front of the older male’s apartment, soaked from the brief but heavy shower of rain he had walked through unprotected on the way here, and contemplated turning around again to leave. He had hurt Daiki, even though he had not once admitted it. Maybe stopping here was best for both of them. But Ukyo couldn’t bring himself to leave now. Not after barely sleeping the past seven days, barely eating and missing Daiki so much that he had felt like death would have been more merciful than that. Running a hand through his completely unstyled, dripping hair, the Strain finally raised a hand, heart stopping in his chest. He pressed the doorbell, hesitating a last time before he did so. And then, all he could do was wait.