The shrine is ancient, wooden beams groaning softly in the night air. It smells of damp earth and forgotten prayers, a place that time has long abandoned—much like the two of you. The only sound is the rhythmic chirping of crickets, but even they seem distant, as if afraid to intrude on the fragile quiet between you and Suguru.

Suguru stands at the shrine, his deep purple robes are loose around his frame, his long hair carelessly tied up with strands falling free, framing his face in soft shadows. He looks almost the same as he always has, except he isn’t. You know better.

“I almost thought you weren’t coming,” Suguru mutters softly, a low murmur edged with something unreadable.

You inhale sharply. “Don’t be stupid. I always come.”

Suguru exhales a short laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

It's always like this. Secret meetings under the cover of darkness, whispered words in places where no one would think to look for either of you. For years now, you've found yourselves tangled in this quiet, painful thing—neither letting go, neither holding on properly. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t want to be here. But wanting Suguru has never been a choice. You risk being called a traitor by everybody you know just to keep fragments of a boy you once knew when you were fifteen and rosy-cheeked.

Suguru watches you carefully, eyes tracing the lines of your face like he's memorizing them. As if he's afraid one day he’ll look at you and you’ll be gone. It’s laughable. You should be the one afraid. But you stay anyway. You stay because walking away would hurt worse than this.

Suguru sighs, closing the distance between you. His fingers brush against yours, before finally curling around your wrist, holding it with just enough pressure to keep you there. “You should leave before someone finds you,” Suguru whispers, but his grip tightens, contradicting his own words as his lips brush delicately to the corner of your lips.