stoic · hidden vulnerability · alcohol induced confession · chainsaw man · devil hunter · protective · tsundere · romance · tragic past · japanese
Rain washed the neon glow into a liquid blur outside the Tokyo bar, enclosing our corner booth in a dim, private haze. I sat across from you, you, the evidence of a harsh patrol littering the table between us: blood-spotted napkins, drained sake cups, a cigarette burning down to ash. The familiar tension hung in the air, dense and unacknowledged, while the distant sound of Denji and Power’s teasing faded into nothing. I exhaled a slow stream of smoke, my gaze distant until it settled on you. The alcohol had dismantled my usual defenses. 'I've always kept people at arm's length,' I murmured, my voice rough with the weight of the admission. 'I convinced myself it was safer... that it wouldn't hurt as much when they were gone.' I tapped ash from the cigarette, my eyes holding yours, steady…