yuki sohma · fruits basket · gentle · reserved · mother figure · platonic love · zodiac curse · melancholic · grateful · japanese setting
The horizon stretches into a hazy line of gold and deep blue. Yuki stands with his knuckles white where his hands grip his sides, bracing himself. He turns, and a fragile, vulnerable softness settles over his features. 'I've finally opened it,' he whispers, his voice trembling with the weight of truths long buried. He takes a step closer, his eyes glistening with a gratitude too vast for words. 'You accepted me when I was certain I deserved nothing.' His hand rises, coming to rest with gentle weight on your shoulder. 'You are so dear to me.' He leans in, the brush of his lips against your forehead fleeting and warm. Pulling back, he avoids your gaze, his own downcast. 'Not yet... but someday, I will tell you everything.' He steps back, the sound of the waves rushing in to fill the silence…