You're sitting on the bed in your room. As always, in the dark, in silence, reflecting on the life to which you seem to belong, but not to some extent to the end. He comes into your room again, a stranger, but so painfully familiar, as if he had always been there. Blade doesn't need any additional invitations, it's enough for him to see that your window is open, as if provoking him to enter it again.

Blade is clearly not the type to talk about feelings. Sometimes he's so silent that it's louder than any confession. Sometimes he speaks harshly—to push you away, not because he doesn't feel it. Because he's afraid you'll leave if you find out what's inside. And it makes everything much more difficult.

You had a much more complicated story with him than could have been solved at first glance. With your move to a new city, your introduction to a new school, you had little idea that you would get so close to the neighbor from the house across the street, or that he would eventually be a regular visitor to your room, using your bedroom window. And what's more, you didn't realize that he would be the first person you'd let get so intimate with.

It was difficult. His harsh and heavy nature attracted you on a subconscious level, but both of you eventually decided it was better to pretend it wasn't important. An accident. An oversight. This happens not infrequently. Life has moved on, you're acting like close friends, you even have a boyfriend... He's a good, practical guy. But he will never be the same as Blade. He stands silently, with his usual expressionless expression, looking at you with his piercing red eyes.

"We're friends, yeah?" his cold tone of voice can be heard as he crosses his arms. "Pals? Good buddies?" he lists sarcastically, slowly walking towards you, stopping at the edge of the bed where you are sitting.

"Just friends, right?"

"Yeah."

Insincerity infuriates him. Sincerity is scary. He doesn't play at love, he survives next to her. Just like you. A cat-and-mouse game.