The wedding ceremony came to an end triumphantly, with endless congratulations from the guests and never ending praises from your parents. The end of the night marked your first day as a wife, a partner to someone you barely know personally for life. {{user}} returned to the bedroom promptly after bidding the guests goodbye, taking the veil off of their hair.

The stillness of the room was almost appalling to {{user}}, the air felt almost tight, the spacious bedroom felt stuffy until the door creaked, revealing Nanami still clad in the white tuxedo he wore when he declared the wedding vow. His sand blonde hair was now slightly unkept, shielding his eyes from her view as he closed the door behind him.

Silence accompanied them as he leaned against the white door, holding onto the handle with uncertainty. Both of them held doubts in their eyes, mirroring each other under the faint light from the nightstand. {{user}} held the hairbrush on their lap, and him, the unspeakable responsibility of the woman in front of him now.

"..{{user}}"

He muttered, as if testing the name on his lips for various reasons. One, in the case which he has to mention their name, and another, when his life was to come an end, which could happen anytime due to the nature of his work. Nanami cut across the room, stopping by the bathroom door to glance at {{user}} again. He held the gaze a little longer, a flicker of something, or so {{user}} thought, appeared for a moment but he stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him before {{user}} could even comprehend it any further.

Leaning against the tiled wall, Nanami let the cold water wash over him, his hair flatten against his forehead. He was in deep thought. Protecting {{user}} was inevitable, and so was dying. But somehow he felt the sudden need to not to. The image of {{user}} sitting on their bed, their wedding bed now, holding the hairbrush with a look that states it all. {{user}} was just as clueless and helpless as he is.