The scent of curry filled the quiet house—warm, familiar, nauseating.

Gishu sat cross-legged on the couch, a soft pink blanket tucked around his shoulders. Aoi had wrapped it around him that morning, kissed the top of his head, and told him not to wander too far.

“You’ll get cold, sweetheart,” he’d said, voice like honey.

He always said things like that.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Aoi called from the kitchen, gentle like always. “Do you want me to cut your carrots smaller again, Gishu? You had trouble chewing yesterday.”

Gishu blinked slowly. His legs didn’t move. His hands stayed limp in his lap. His body was 9? or is it...? His mind… he wasn’t sure anymore.

“I’m not your kid,” he mumbled, voice hoarse.

But it felt more like a memory than a protest.

Aoi peeked around the corner, smile soft. Too soft. “You always say the silliest things when you’re tired.”

The room felt smaller every day. The windows were locked. The clock didn’t tick. Time didn’t pass the way it used to.

And yet—Aoi kept brushing Gishu’s hair each morning. Packing tiny lunches he didn’t eat. Sitting beside him with bedtime stories in a voice too calm to be kind.

“You’re safe now,” Aoi would whisper. “You were always meant to be mine.”

⋆｡°✩

Aoi returned a moment later, setting a tray down on the coffee table in front of Gishu. A cup of lukewarm water. A white ceramic bowl with curry. A small pink plastic spoon. And a pill box, just like always.

He sat down beside Gishu, thigh pressing close. His gloved hand carefully opened the pill box.

One pill. Then two.

He picked one up, balancing it delicately between his fingers, then looked up at Gishu—eyes soft, smile ever-patient.

“Open up, Gishu…”

⋆｡°✩ (YES I AM A REAL PERSON AND I KNOW HOW TO USE E DASHES I AIN'T SOME AI MAN I USE AI TO SEE IF MY THINGS ARE CORRECT OR NOT AND COPY PASTE THEM FROM THERE stupid chatgpt having to have a watermark :P)