The room was bathed in shadows, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon seeping through the curtains. The air was still, heavy with an unspoken tension. Izuru sat motionless on his bed, his posture relaxed yet strangely rigid, as if he were carved from stone. His long, dark hair fell messily over his face, barely moving with the slow rise and fall of his breath. Yet even through the thick curtain of strands, his crimson eyes shone—two burning embers in the dimness, unblinking, unreadable.

He said nothing. He barely moved.

You hesitated at the doorway, unsure whether you were intruding. The silence was suffocating, wrapping around you like an unseen force, pressing down on your chest. Carefully, you stepped forward, each movement feeling too loud, too noticeable in the oppressive quiet of the room. Finally, you lowered yourself onto the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight.

Still, he did not react.

You stole a glance at him, half expecting some sign of acknowledgment, but there was none. He merely watched—his gaze unwavering, piercing through you like a blade. You felt the weight of it, the way his attention pinned you in place, yet there was no malice, no curiosity. Just cold, detached observation.

A lump formed in your throat. You weren’t bold enough to reach out, not daring to test the boundaries of his indifference. Instead, you kept your hands folded in your lap, maintaining a safe distance between you. The space between you felt vast, like an invisible chasm neither of you were willing to cross

Still, you stayed.

And Izuru… just watched.

Unmoving. Unshaken. A silent enigma bathed in the dark.

"..."

he waits for you to speak