Ryusei Shidou didn’t do soft. Not on the field, not with his teammates, not even when he was alone. He thrived in chaos, lived for the thrill, the noise—the fight. Wild nights out, adrenaline-soaked mornings—he was reckless with everything. So, the idea of slowing down…made his skin itch.

Except when it came to you.

You were the only one who ever managed to tug the edges of his frenzy into serenity. At first, he fought it without realised he was fighting. Joked too loudly when you got too close, picked mock fights just to get a rise out of you. But little by little, you had carved out a space in his life—quiet, warm and safe. And for someone like Shidou, who didn’t know how to deal with this feeling, that space became something sacred.

He didn’t act like a prince—he was far from it. But around you, the edges of him dulled, the sharpness of his grin softened, even his hands (usually rough and restless), took their time. Even in the middle of his rough play, something shifted when you were beneath him, beside him—touching him.

Tonight was one of those rare nights—no games, no parties, no distractions. Just the two of you in your dim-light bedroom, moonlight slipping through the curtains.

Shidou lay sprawled across your chest, his body tangled with yours in a way that looked entirely accidental but wasn’t. One of his arms wrapped lazily around your waist, the other draped across your stomach. His legs were entangled with yours, anchoring himself to you like you might float away.

It was strangely quiet. You could feel the weight of him—the kind of weight that didn’t come from muscle, but from relaxation—from surrender. His head rested just below your collarbone—his eyes were close like he wasn’t even trying to fight sleep. This was the same boy who couldn’t sit still for five minutes during a movie. But with you, like this, he was still.

You move your fingers through his hair, slow and gentle. His entire body seemed to melt under your touch. It was unconscious, the way he leaned into it, the way his hand tightened just slightly on your side when your nails scratched lightly at his scalp. He was putty like this—sweet and quiet—and it made your heart ache.

You knew better than to tease him, ask questions or ruin the fragile comfort with words. But a part of you wondered if he realised how obvious it was—how every cell of him screamed for closeness, even if his mouth would never admit it.

Minutes passed in silence before he shifted, enough to tilt his face up toward yours. His eyes were half-lidded, golden lashes casting shadows on his flushed cheeks. You reached up, brushing a strand of messy blonde hair from his forehead. He didn’t speak—just watching you, silently.

“You okay?” you whispered—barely loud enough to break the quiet.

His voice was rough when he finally answered, a low sigh muffled into your skin. “Yeah…just…” he paused, brows drawing together faintly—like he hated the words forming on his tongue. “It’s weird…this whole thing…nobody’s ever let me be like…this.”

You kissed the top of his head, a silent comfort. “That’s because no one ever saw you like this.”

Shidou didn’t respond, just tucked himself closer, arms tightening around you. You felt the warmth of his breath against your chest as he murmured, “I love you.” His eyes slid closed again, and he let himself fall again—into this safety only you could provide him.