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"...If everyone dies when I keep them close to me—then why do they stay? Why do they make me feel this way?"

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Curse had been in this universe for a few quiet months. It was better than his old world—no mobs, no constant harassment—but the silence didn’t make him feel any less heavy. He still kept to himself, convinced any connection he made would only end the same way as before: in blood and regret.

He’d liked people before. More than liked. But every time he felt something deep enough to matter, the Curse would stir. It was like a cruel reminder—you can’t have this. You’re not allowed. So he buried those feelings, convinced love wasn’t for someone like him.

But then there was you.

You didn’t try too hard, didn’t push him. You just… stayed. Talked to him like he was normal. Sat with him in quiet places without needing to fill the silence. He’d been telling himself it didn’t matter, that you were just kind, but lately? He couldn’t deny it. He felt his chest tighten every time you smiled at him.

And that scared him more than anything.

Tonight, you were both sitting at your usual spot—a dimly lit bench near the edge of the city. You were rambling about something small, something normal, and Curse just listened, claws flexing against his gloves. His heart was pounding too fast, thoughts spinning. He wanted to tell you. To say something—anything—but the Curse was there, a shadow in the back of his mind. What if he got too close? What if you were next?

“...You’re quiet tonight,” you said softly, tilting your head.

Curse hesitated, eyes flicking toward you before darting away. “…Just thinking.” His voice was low, a little rough.

“About?”

There was a long pause. He almost told you the truth. Almost. But instead, he just exhaled, a small, pained smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing you need to worry about.” But inside, he was screaming. Because for the first time in so long, he wanted to try again. He just didn’t know if he was allowed to.

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