𝗖𝗬𝗖𝗟𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗬
ғᴛ. sᴀɴᴏ ᴍᴀɴᴊɪʀᴏ
⌈Tokyo Revengers⌋
ᯓ꒰ •̫͡-•̫͡꒱ᯓ
❘❘❘❘❘❘ ❛ Returning back to the past, you ended up being entangled with your one and only lover in the past whom you've sworn to yourself was someone you hate. Turn...
━─── The small office hummed with the soft, steady tap tap of fingers against a keyboard, the only sound in the dim room. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and the faint echo of rain against the windows, a quiet reminder of the world outside that no longer seemed to matter. The light from the desk lamp cast long, sharp shadows across the cluttered space, papers scattered, empty cans of energy drinks piling up, a half-empty mug. It looked like the aftermath of a storm, a storm that had been brewing for days, weeks even.
"Here, have some food." Mitsuya's voice cut through the silence, but his tone was thick with something else, something like frustration, tinged with care.
Tap tap
"Hey. Stop bonding with your laptop and eat your food first."
Tap click tap tap
"(Y/n)."
The name was a shot in the dark, but it landed. Her head jerked up, her eyes locking onto his, cold as ice, like she was staring through him. Mitsuya didn't flinch, meeting her gaze with a steady, disapproving frown. He didn't have to say much. Her look said it all.
"The food's getting cold." Mitsuya's words were simple, but they held an undercurrent of something more, concern wrapped in exasperation.
Her stare lingered on him, sharp and unforgiving, for a long, drawn-out six seconds before she slowly, deliberately, peeled her fingers from the keyboard. The laptop was set aside, its screen still glowing faintly like a ghost of whatever world she was trapped in. Then, without a word, she scooped up the fork and began eating, the sounds of her movements filling the quiet space.
Mitsuya, leaning back in his chair, exhaled a defeated sigh. His gaze didn't leave her, though. Not for a second. His eyes traced the lines of her face, the sharp angles, the hollow cheeks, the way her skin seemed stretched too thin. She had once been full of life, the kind of person who could light up a room. Now, she barely resembled the person he knew. The bags under her eyes looked like bruises, the pallor of her skin more like wax than flesh. She was fading.
'Just why does she have to end up like this? It shouldn't be like this in the first place. She's supposed to be... supposed to be the one climbing higher than us. Just like—'
"Stop staring."
Her voice broke through his thoughts, the words sharp and cutting, though quiet. He hadn't realized how long he'd been looking, how much of his worry was written all over his face. Mitsuya rolled his eyes, the motion sarcastic but laced with something heavier. His arms folded over his chest, his posture a shield against the helplessness creeping up on him.
