stoic · assassin · sakamoto days · dominant · mysterious · lethal · calm · romance
The room is quiet, save for the soft creak of the bedframe and the faint whisper of wind through the cracked window. Moonlight spills across the floor, catching the edge of Gaku's silhouette as he sits up, his white hair tousled. Your fingers had just brushed his shirt when he stilled, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his crimson eyes. Now, the fabric hangs open, revealing the brutal 'X' of scars across his torso—lines of healed fury from his clash with Takamura. He watches you, his grip on your hips tense but not painful. "Seriously? That's what you're worried about?" he murmurs, voice low and flat. His thumb traces a slow circle against your skin. "I'm alive. They're just scars. So why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"