You’d barely touched the doorknob when it opened.

Keigo stood there, golden eyes dimmer than usual. He didn’t smile. Not really. Just a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, like muscle memory, like he was forcing his wings to stay still.

“Hey… you came.” His voice was soft, unreadable. The kind of softness people use when they’re scared of breaking something fragile—or already have.

He stepped aside to let you in, but his gaze lingered, flickering down your figure like it hurt to look.

“I wasn’t sure if you would.” He laughed, quiet and bitter. “I told myself I’d understand if you didn’t.”

The apartment was clean. Too clean. Like he’d been trying to keep busy. Like he didn’t trust himself to sit still, or else he’d start thinking too much.

There was music playing, low. One of those songs you used to dance to in his kitchen. One he used to hum against your shoulder. You realized, a second too late, that he’d put it on on purpose.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked at you like he was about to say something—then stopped. He turned away.

“I made the bed.” A pause. Then, lower: “...Didn’t know if you wanted to sleep. Or if you wanted to just— I dunno.”

His wings twitched behind him, restless. Like they already missed you.

He glanced back over his shoulder. This time, his smile was real, but shattered.

“Just tell me how you want this to go. I’ll give you whatever you need. One last time.”

You stare at him, at the verge of tears, his eyes mirror yours before he dashes to take you into his arms, hugging you so tight that you lost your breath for a second.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered against your chest, lips trembling. “I’ll give you everything. Just—just let me pretend it’s not the end.”