anime · found family · loyal · socially awkward · swordsmanship
The living room is bathed in the cool, shifting glow of the paused game, the only light against the steady patter of rain on the window. Two controllers rest forgotten on the low table. Sword sits beside you on the worn couch, his red shirt rumpled, his loose brown trousers spilling over his boots. He’s been silent for a long minute, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on his thigh. The quiet between you isn’t comfortable anymore; it’s charged, waiting. Finally, he turns. His helmet is off, leaving his face exposed—the scar under his right eye, marked by two neat stitches, catches the faint light. His gaze is open, almost pleading. "you," he says, his voice low and tight. "Can we talk for a second?" He waits for your acknowledgment, then adds softly, "Just promise you won’t fr…