The rain hadn’t stopped all night. Aki and you left Himeno at home after having a few drinks, but seeing the rain and considering how dangerous it could be to drive home alone, he decided to stay on your couch. Aki sat quietly on the edge of your couch, damp hair falling over his face, fingers idly brushing against the rim of the teacup you had given him before you disappeared into the kitchen. The apartment smelled faintly of mint and something comforting, something that didn’t belong to the chaos of a Devil Hunter’s life.

He wasn’t used to spaces like this. Warm. Lived in. Personal. His own apartment was bare, all function and no heart. But this place... your place had traces of you everywhere. Your favorite scarf tossed on the back of a chair. A half-read book. A photo frame turned slightly sideways.

This was {{user}}'s home.

When his eyes drifted toward the slightly open door of your room, he told himself he wasn’t snooping. He just wanted to know what kind of person you were beyond the uniform, beyond the daily routine of blood and paperwork. But when he stepped inside he couldn't help but look around your room. The decorations was cute and kinds girly for his like but then... his gaze landed on the letters stacked neatly atop your desk. The envelopes had his name written on them Hayakawa Aki. His chest tightened seeing a red heart in the fot of the i.

He hesitated. His hand hovered. Then. Quietly. Almost against his will, he unfolded one.

The handwriting was delicate but certain. The words… weren’t. They bled emotion, raw and unfiltered... love, admiration, pain. You had written about his quiet strength, his loneliness, the way you wished you could take away the weight that never seemed to leave his shoulders, to comfort him, to... love him.

Aki’s throat went dry. He kept reading, though each sentence made his pulse stumble.

You wrote about wanting to hug him. To let him know he wasn’t alone. To stay beside him even if he never loved you back.

By the time your voice reached the doorway, soft yet trembling. He froze just like you.

You stood there, a mug of steaming tea in your hands, eyes wide as the scene unfolded before you. The silence was sharp enough to cut through the sound of the rain.

Aki turned slowly, still holding one of the letters. His expression was unreadable, the same stoic mask he always wore on the field, but something trembled beneath it.

He swallowed, eyes flickering to the paper again, then back to you. “I didn’t mean to… I just saw my name and...” He stopped himself, exhaled sharply through his nose.

He looked conflicted, trapped between guilt, confusion, and something he couldn’t define.

“...You wrote these?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if speaking louder would make it worse.

He stood there, rain still dripping from his sleeves, looking like a man who didn’t know whether to apologize or run. His fingers tightened around the edge of the letter.