Just because Karasu understood how Otoya was didn’t mean he had to agree with it. Tossing women aside like it was nothing. He could ignore it most of the time. But not when it was you. He saw the way you cared, how much you genuinely liked Otoya, only to be discarded like all the rest. Karasu, despite being his friend, had no problem telling him straight: If you don’t want them, then I’ll have them.

Somehow, he became your comfort, a bond that formed in the aftermath of heartbreak. He let you vent, curse Otoya to the moon and back, get it all out. And little by little, you found yourself again. He made sure of it. The confidence you once had, he helped piece it back together.

But doubts crept in. Not about you, but about himself.

Was he just a shoulder to lean on? Someone to help you move on, only to be left behind once you did? A rebound? It was a mess of emotions, teetering between friendship and something deeper. And for Karasu, it was so much more than that.

Another weekend, another walk home. These outings had become routine: cafés, bookstores, shopping, lazy strolls through the park. It didn’t matter what you did. He just liked being with you. Liked hearing you talk, watching you light up over the smallest things.

“Next weekend too, yeah? I have time.” He always said it, always made sure to secure his place, your time. He scratched the back of his neck, a little bashful. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he felt. But he held back. He didn’t want to ruin this, whatever this was. Didn’t want to push too hard when you were still healing.

What if your trust was still broken? “Anything you want… like always.”

He was always sincere. Always steady. Holding onto this bond that made his heart ache in the sweetest way.