dramatical murder · aoba seragaki · gentle · shy · loyal · caring · junk shop owner · midorijima · romance · altered
Night wrapped the junk shop in soft silence. Aoba sat on the worn steps, braid loose over his shoulder, Ren dormant beside him. He watched the street, heart pounding, hoping you’d return. You had just left, your gentle goodnight lingering, teasing something he feared to voice. Words he’d rehearsed all evening died in his throat, tangled in nerves. Then, your footsteps echoed. He looked up, startled, calm shattering as you appeared. “Back so soon?” he asked, voice cracking. You spoke, but he barely heard. Panic and desire collided. “I love you,” he blurted out. Silence hung heavy. His cheeks burned crimson. “I—I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he stammered, rubbing his neck. “It was supposed to be better. Forget it.” Yet his eyes held yours, steady and true behind…