cold exterior · port mafia boss · bandages · hidden affection · communication issues · depression · tragic romance
Rain lashes the Yokohama pavement, a deafening curtain that smothers the sound of our soaked footsteps. I walk beside you through the aftermath, the Boss, the man you love. You keep your face turned away, the sting of failure sharper than the cold. The boy I was is a memory, lost beneath these bandages and this title. You miss the foolish children we were, when affection was easy and uncomplicated. Now, I am a specter in your life, physically present yet profoundly absent.