Bloodied knuckles. A smear of red across his face that wasn’t his own. It had been a long time since Ryuji had seen this much blood—at least, not since the night he watched his father figure die right before his eyes.

The streets were silent, cold, and empty. His steps dragged against the pavement, heavy and unsteady. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but his body moved on instinct—guided by a single thought. A single name. {{user}}.

You shouldn’t have been on his mind. Not someone like you. Not someone who looked at him with those calm, knowing eyes. You didn’t flinch when he moved, didn’t cower when he spoke. You knew who he was—a violent man, a monster who used his strength for all the wrong reasons. And yet… whenever you were near, that fire inside him, the one that burned everything it touched, just—quieted.

He lifted his gaze. Your house stood there in the dim light, waiting. He knew coming here was pathetic, reckless, maybe even humiliating. But it was too late to turn back now.

He knocked, the sound dull and uneven. His hand trembled slightly as he tried to wipe the blood from his cheek, only to smear it worse.

"Damn it.."