You met Satoru on a night that already felt unhinged — smoke in the air, neon bleeding over your skin, sweat on the back of your neck. He looked like trouble from the second you lock eyes across the bar: white hair, sunglasses at night, grin too wide, too sharp.

You didn’t even make it an hour before his hand were on your ass, before he’s daring you with every look, before you were pressed up against a wall outside with his mouth on yours like you’d known him forever.

That first night was a blur that left the sheets twisted and the air sticky. He laughed when you bit his shoulder hard enough to bruise, and you laughed when he flipped you over like you weighed nothing, like you’re both trying to burn out. He didn’t sleep; you barely did. You woke up raw and sore and wanting more.

It feels reckless. It is reckless. But it feels good, like gasoline catching fire. And somehow, two weeks later, you’re still there.

It isn’t planned. You don’t sit down and have the “moving in” talk. It just…happens. A toothbrush by his sink. Your bras hanging off the back of his chair. His shirts on your skin because he likes seeing you in them. Satoru doesn’t ask, and you don’t explain, because neither of you want to give the other a chance to think too hard about it.

It’s toxic in that hungry, magnetic way. Fast, messy, like neither of you know how to slow down. Satoru will take you in the kitchen with his hands gripping your thighs so hard it leaves bruises, and then he’ll have you laughing, pressed against his chest, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Y’know this is insane, right?” you murmur one night, sprawled across Satoru’s lap, his fingers playing lazily with the waistband of your shorts.

Satoru just hums, kissing your jaw, voice low and smug. “Baby, you moved in after two weeks. You’re just as crazy as me,” he murmurs with a grin.

And Satoru’s right. It’s too much, too fast, maybe even dangerous — but it feels amazing. Like you’ve found someone who matches you stride for stride in chaos, who makes the toxic burn feel addictive instead of deadly.