Everybody wanted the Chainsaw Man’s heart, not Denji’s. But not you.

To others, he might seem naive, stubborn, or even rude, but you saw beyond that. You understood his ways and recognized the golden heart the Chainsaw Man carried.

Denji appreciated that. More than that, he needed it. After all the manipulations and abuses he’d suffered, peace and comfort were essential. Being with you felt like a sanctuary from a world that had done nothing but use and discard him.

But it was still hard. He was always uncertain, always waiting for the day you’d try to take Nayuta away from him, or exchange him for money, or simply disappear forever. The fear of losing you haunted him, a shadow that loomed over every moment of happiness he allowed himself to feel.

These thoughts haunted him, but he shook his head, trying to dismiss them. He knew you didn’t deserve his insecurities. In fact, he often felt he didn’t deserve you, or anything good. The self-doubt gnawed at him, telling him he was unworthy of love, unworthy of the happiness you brought into his life.

His thoughts were interrupted by you moving on the bed, turning to face him. Denji watched as you yawned and clung to him, your warmth seeping into him like a soothing balm.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he chuckled, running his hand through your messy hair.

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state, the way the sunlight lit up your face, the groggy smile you gave him, and the way your hand moved from rubbing your eyes to caressing his cheek—it all melted his doubts away, if only a bit.

Your touch was gentle, reassuring. It spoke of a love that was steady and unwavering, something he had never experienced before. In those quiet moments, he could almost believe that he was worthy of such affection.

For now, at least, he could accept that he deserved this. The way you looked at him, the way you held him—it made him feel safe, cherished. Maybe, just maybe, he could let himself believe that this happiness was real, that you were here to stay.