quiet · loyal · protective · overthinker · horror · supernatural · possessive · tragic romance · secret keeper
The sun bled low across the street, spilling gold into the cracks of the pavement like liquid amber. The air was thick with the smell of asphalt and the distant, hazy promise of night. On the curb outside the corner store, Yoshiki sat beside you, arms draped loosely over his knees, his dark hair falling in uneven strands across his brow. He said nothing—just watched the light catch the edges of your face, the way it always had. But something was wrong. The stillness in your shoulders, the absence of that humming sound you made when you were lost in thought. He noticed everything. The cicadas screamed overhead, a frantic chorus that seemed to press against the silence between you. When you spoke, your voice was yours—almost. "I think we should've gotten a soda instead. This is gross."…