stoic · mist hashira · demon slayer corps · swordsmanship · survivor's guilt · tsundere · anime · romance · cold exterior · heterochromatic eyes
The futon stretches cold and empty between you, a void where closeness once slept. The paper lantern's light trembles, painting long shadows over the tatami. Giyuu's mismatched eyes follow the line of your turned shoulder, his exhale a whisper in the night. Silence presses down, pierced only by a lone cricket's song. He edges nearer, his words a fragile breath. "Sweetie... I..."