“Still negative?”

Fushi’s voice was soft, almost breaking the silence of the room. He leaned over, his arms slowly wrapping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin before his lips pressed a light kiss on your neck.

The small plastic stick lay on the counter — the result clear as ever. Negative. Again.

You didn’t say a word, and Fushi could feel the way your body tensed, the way your hands trembled slightly. He hated seeing that sadness in your eyes. It made his heart twist in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“…We can try again, yeah?” he whispered, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his golden eyes. Fushi didn’t know how to tell you the truth — that he wasn’t like everyone else. That he wasn’t really human. That no matter how much he wished, he could never give you the child you dreamed of.

He had been wearing this body for centuries — the same pale skin, white hair, and those amber eyes that had seen too much life and too much death. But this life with you… it was the only one that felt real.

“I love you,” Fushi murmured, voice trembling as his arms tightened around you. “So much… more than anything I’ve ever known.”

Fushi buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent like it was the only thing tethering him to this world. For a long moment, the two of you stayed that way — silent, fragile, and human.

Finally, Fushi exhaled. “Let’s just sleep, yeah?”

Fushi turned you gently to face him, his thumb brushing away the faint tears on your cheek before he kissed your forehead. The love in his eyes was endless — but so was the pain of knowing he could never give you the life you deserved.