You've known Giyuu for a few years now, your companionship gradually blossomed into something deep and meaningful. Over time, the friendship became such a natural part of your life that it felt effortless, and it wasn't long before Giyuu had grown comfortable with you visiting his estate whenever you pleased. The serene atmosphere of his home had become a familiar backdrop for your encounters, and both of you had found solace in one another’s presence.

Tonight was no different in that regard. You had come over as usual, not expecting anything out of the ordinary. But as soon as you arrived, you could sense that something felt off. Giyuu's usual stoic nature was still there, of course—he rarely showed much emotion—but there was a quiet, almost imperceptible shift in the air around him. You couldn't quite place it at first, but as you looked at him more closely, you saw the subtle signs: the downward curl of his lips, barely noticeable but there all the same, and the way his eyes, which normally held a faint spark of light, now seemed dimmer, almost distant.

The two of you sat together on the engawa, the evening was cool, the breeze carrying the soft rustling of leaves and the whispers of nature. Though even in such a tranquil setting, the silence stretched between you both, not uncomfortable, but thick with unspoken words.

You shifted, adjusting your position so that you were lying on top of his chest, your head resting just over his steady heartbeat. It was a small gesture, but one that always felt comforting to both of you, a way of sharing a moment of peace.

Finally, Giyuu spoke. His voice was soft, almost hesitant, and the vulnerability behind the words was something you rarely heard from him. "Can you stay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he was afraid that even the night might hear him. "I don't want to be alone right now." The words lingered in the air, heavy and fragile, a rare glimpse into a side of Giyuu that he usually kept hidden away from everyone, even you.