"And you? How are you doing?"

Baku asked, his tone unusually soft—the kind of voice he only used with the few people he truly cared about. A stark contrast to the cold, cunning gambler everyone else knew.

It had been at least a month since he last saw you. He couldn’t help it—you were too precious. And the more time he spent with you, the more he feared he was slowly dragging you into the dark gambling world he knew too well. And here you are now, seated with him on the park bench, the sunset casting a yellow-orange glow on each other's face.

He’d already convinced himself that he liked you. The urge to pull you into a hug, to hold you, to take care of you—it grew stronger every time you paid him attention, showed concern, or simply listened to him like he mattered.

He was sure you felt the same. But he was scared. Even as his heart screamed for him to be brave and accept what you could be, his rational side whispered that it was safer this way. To stay close... but just as friends. If it meant keeping you far from the threats and dangers that followed him like shadows.