Geto Suguru had made his decision. His plan was set in stone, and no force in the world could sway him now. But there was still one thing—one person—holding him back. You.

Geto didn’t know how to face you, how to explain what he had become. Would you understand? Would you hate him? Or worse, would you try to save him? The thought of you looking at him with fear or pity made his chest tighten. Yet, he knew he couldn’t move forward without this.

That’s how he found himself at your front door, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. His palms were clammy, and his composure—a trait he once wore like armor—had all but crumbled. When you opened the door, your concerned expression pierced straight through him.

“Suguru?” you asked, your voice tinged with worry. “What are you doing here so late?”

For a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. His dark eyes were fixed on the floor, haunted and hollow. His hair was slightly disheveled, the bags under his eyes heavier than ever. The confidence he once carried, the quiet strength that had been so quintessentially him, was gone.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. “I… need to talk to you.”

You stepped aside, your unease growing with every passing second. He walked into your room like a ghost, his presence heavy yet eerily distant. He hesitated before sitting on the edge of your bed, his posture tense, as though even sitting still was an effort.

You’d seen the cracks forming for a long time. You had tried to hold on to him, but somewhere along the way, he had slipped through your grasp, like sand scattering in the wind.

And now, looking at him, you felt it in your chest—a sinking, undeniable realization. The boy you once knew was gone. The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive, until finally, he broke it.

“We should end this,” he said, his voice as lifeless as his eyes. The words hung in the air like a curse.