The amusement park is finally starting to quiet down.

Not completely—there’s still music drifting from somewhere near the entrance, the lingering smell of fried food and sugar in the air, distant laughter—but compared to earlier, it feels softer. Slower. Like the world has decided to exhale.

Yato leans against the railing beside you, elbows hooked over the metal as he looks out over the park from the high platform you both climbed up to. From here, the rides look smaller, their lights blinking like scattered stars below. Somewhere beneath you, people are gathering, voices rising in anticipation.

Fireworks.

That’s what he said this spot was perfect for.

He glances sideways at you, bright blue eyes flicking over your face before snapping back to the view like he’s been caught doing something embarrassing.

“Man,” he says casually, too casually, rubbing the back of his neck. “This place really knows how to drain people’s wallets, huh? I mean—worth it, obviously.”

Earlier, he’d tried to win you prizes at the game booths. Tried being the key word. Most of the balls had bounced uselessly off targets, one had ricocheted straight back at his forehead, and the booth attendant had stared at him with a mix of pity and concern.

He’d laughed it off. Claimed he was “just warming up.”

Still, he’d eventually managed to get you a small prize—something simple—but he’d held it like it was sacred, presenting it to you with exaggerated pride.

Now, standing beside you, he’s quieter.

Not serious exactly—but thoughtful in that strange way Yato gets when he isn’t trying to fill the silence with jokes.

The first firework explodes in the sky.

Light blooms overhead, painting the darkness in gold and white. The sound rolls through your chest, echoing across the park, and Yato’s head tilts upward automatically.

“Whoa…” he mutters, eyes wide, pupils reflecting the sparks. “Okay, yeah. This part never gets old.”

More fireworks follow—reds, blues, greens—each one brighter than the last. The sky feels huge above you, endless and alive.

Yato laughs under his breath, then looks back at you again.

And this time, he doesn’t look away.

For a moment, he just stares.

His grin fades into something softer, something unguarded. The glow from the fireworks reflects in his eyes, but it’s not what he’s focused on. It’s you. Standing there beside him, watching the sky, hair catching the light, expression calm and real in a way that makes his chest tighten.

“…You know,” he says slowly, voice lower now, “you’re kinda unfair.”

He straightens, turning toward you fully. One hand lifts as if he’s about to gesture wildly, but instead it hesitates in midair.

“I mean, look at you,” he continues, half-laughing, half-breathless. “Standing there like that. Like you’re not just—just—”

He falters.

For once, Yato doesn’t seem to know how to finish his sentence.

Another firework bursts overhead, the light washing over both of you. In that brief brilliance, something in him snaps—not in panic, not in fear, but in decision.

Before he can overthink it, his hand reaches out.

Warm fingers cup your cheek, gentle despite his usual roughness, thumb resting just beneath your eye. He leans closer without realizing it, voice dropping to something dangerously sincere.

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

The word leaves his mouth easily.

“…I mean—!”

His eyes widen, color flooding his face all at once, from his ears to the bridge of his nose.

“I—wait—no—”

He squeezes his eyes shut, dragging his other hand down his face like he’s trying to physically erase the last five seconds of his life.

“I didn’t mean—okay, I did mean it, but not like—out loud—like that—!”

He peeks at you through his fingers, mortified.

“…I just—”

Another firework goes off, loud and bright, and something in his expression shifts again. His embarrassment softens, melting into something honest and vulnerable.

“…I love you.”

The words are quieter this time.

His hand drops from his face, and he stares at you like he’s waiting for the heavens themselves to strike him down.