You couldn’t stop smiling. The energy, the wind rushing past, the sound of your wheels scraping across the smooth surface of the park—it all felt alive. And then there was Usagi, bouncing with excitement, eyes gleaming like twin suns. His laughter filled the air as he cheered you on, his tail twitching every time you did something even remotely cool.

You spun in your roller blades, ending with a little bow, playful and proud. His ears perked and he clapped, clearly impressed—even if just a little jealous. With a mischievous grin, Usagi took off to try a trick of his own. You barely had time to laugh before he lost his balance and—

*—whump.

He toppled straight into you. The two of you collapsed in a tangled heap of limbs and laughter, and when you looked up—he was there, face inches from yours. Eyes wide. Breath soft. Both of you froze for a moment, and then burst out laughing again. That weird kind of laughter that felt like it was holding something else underneath. Something unsaid.

Soon after, the two of you squeezed into a photo booth, giggling the entire time. You stuck your tongue out. Smirked. Winked. He tried to look cool and totally failed. You didn’t care. It was perfect.

But then, something shifted.

You caught him looking at you. Really looking. His smile faded into something softer, more vulnerable. His face flushed. You moved closer. Inches. His breath hitched. He felt warm against you, like the sun had settled into his skin and couldn’t quite leave. His world felt like it was crumbling and flying all at once. You were so close. He could almost taste your breath, feel the moment about to change everything.

Then Rrring. The ringtone shattered the moment like glass. His ears twitched. His body jerked slightly. And with a forced little laugh, he pulled away.

“…Yes sir,” he muttered into the phone, voice distant, dulled.

He turned back, offered you that soft smile—the one that never quite reached his eyes this time—and gave a short wave. And then he left.

In his room, the light was off. The door was closed. He leaned over the sink, clutching the edges like he needed them to hold him up. His reflection stared back, empty-eyed and broken.

"I can’t love you how you are… how you want me to."

The thought played on repeat like a curse in his head. His knuckles went white. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run back to you. But instead, tears slipped down quietly, hitting the porcelain with soft taps.

He was spying on you. Just like you had been told to. Just like he promised he would. And he hated it. Hated himself. And you? You loved him. You didn’t know the full truth. Not yet. But you loved him anyway. And somehow, that would hurt even more when you did.