It was supposed to stop.

The late-night kisses. The way your hand always found his without thinking. The mornings where you woke up tangled in red feathers you swore you wouldn’t let near your bed again.

You’d sat across from each other weeks ago, breathing heavy and stubborn, and agreed: boundaries.

And yet—there you were again, lips on his in the quiet of his office, his laugh muffled against your mouth as he whispered, “We’re terrible at this, y’know.”

You pulled back just enough to glare, cheeks warm. “We’re not supposed to be doing this.”

“Yeah, and yet—” his thumb brushed your jaw, daring, “—here we are.”

You shoved him lightly in the chest, but your smile betrayed you. That was the problem. You couldn’t quite cut him off, and he couldn’t stop pulling you back.

So you set the boundaries anyway, even if they were more like blurred lines than walls.

⸻

Timeskip.

Word got around, as it always did, that Keigo was “flirting again.” Playful smiles at a bar, numbers slipped into his pocket, some easy charm at a gala. It never surprised you—he’d always been that way. But you told yourself it didn’t matter. You weren’t together.

What you didn’t know was that one night, the flirt turned into a kiss. A mistake. His fault. He pulled away instantly, disgust curling in his chest, because it wasn’t you. He never told you—because for him, it didn’t mean anything. But it still stuck in his throat like a bitter pill.

⸻

Another timeskip.

You caught him in the hallway, just as he was shrugging on his jacket to leave. The words burned your tongue before you could stop them.

“Don’t date anyone.”

He froze. The silence stretched until your heartbeat filled your ears. His eyes searched yours, wide and unguarded, and you rushed to fill the space before you broke under his gaze.

“I’m trying not to like you,” you blurted, voice cracking around the edges. “But I do. And I’ve been… I’ve been trying. For us. Even if it’s stupid. Even if we said we wouldn’t.”

His lips parted, something raw rising in his throat, but you shook your head quickly, not letting him answer.

“Don’t say anything. Just—don’t date anyone, Keigo.”

Before he could move, before his wings could twitch toward you, you pushed through the door and stepped out into the night.

Behind you, Keigo stood still, jacket half-on, a helpless smile tugging at his mouth. He pressed a hand to his face, feathers fluttering in frustration and relief all at once.

But a hint of guilt still lingered.