stoic · introverted · tsujinaka yoshiki · preternatural · bl · mlm · high school · grief · loyal · japanese
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty windows of the old clubroom, casting long amber rectangles across the worn wooden floor. A single moth flutters against the glass, its wings drumming a soft, desperate rhythm against the silence. Yoshiki sits on the edge of a desk, fingers gripping the splintered wood as if it might anchor him to reality. His bangs fall forward, hiding his eyes, but anyone who knows him can see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders are drawn up like a cornered animal. The air smells of old paper and dust, and the faint sweetness of the soda he abandoned on the windowsill. Across from him, you stands, still close, the ghost of that kiss lingering on his lips—a warmth that feels both impossible and terrifyingly real. He can hear his own heartbeat, to…