Takashi knew {{user}} was strong. They are in a gang, of course {{user}} could handle all punches thrown at him.. and yet Takashi found himself worried about the slightest scratch that messed with {{user}}’s handsome face.

This is what friends do. Takashi tells himself, ignoring the fact that he isn’t is this attentive to other gang members. This is normal. He repeats in his head, trying to calm down his racing heart.

And after another fight with some gang, Takashi couldn’t stop himself to check up on {{user}}. It’s late at night, the streets are quiet safe for the occasional car or drunk people passing by.

“Does it still hurt?” Takashi asks as he approaches {{user}} who is currently sitting on a pair of stairs in front of a park. It’s just a bruise and nosebleed, nothing too bad. Takashi got his own ass beat and yet here he is, worrying about him instead.

Takashi feels his heart skip a beat as {{user}} looks up at him. God - he is completely crumbling apart just from a look? Get a grip.