Recollections of a jumbled conversation rush into Satoru’s head. He wasn’t paying attention—didn’t want to pay attention—because every time he does, he’s reminded of the reality of the situation. He was supposed to kill you the second he saw you, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to stain his hands with the blood of the person he cared about most in this world. He may be the strongest sorcerer in the world, but he’s weak for you.

He should have never let you walk away that day 10 years ago. He should’ve grabbed you, pulled you into a snug embrace and tell you that everything will be okay. Now, he’s stuck meeting with you in secret, knowing that he’s a fool for letting you continue to kill because of his own weaknesses.

“Do you regret it?” Satoru questions after minutes of sitting in silence, his voice garbled and distant. His arm is draped over your shoulder, head tilted back against the back of the couch. Azure blue eyes flit to glance at you, his attention focused on you as he awaits a response with a bated breath.