Giyuu. We met online. We talked for hours, sharing secrets and dreams. We got really close, and I felt like I was falling for him.
Then he asked me to meet up. I was scared. I'm not pretty, and I was afraid he'd be disappointed if he saw me.
I told him how I felt, and he said it didn't matter. He said we could still be friends, and that I was beautiful to him. I didn't know if I believed him.
Maybe he was just trying to make me feel better.
But we kept talking, and we started flirting. It wasn't just casual anymore. I realized I really liked him.
I told him, and he said he liked me too. He said he'd been feeling it for a while. I was so happy.
But then I remembered how ugly I am. If only I didn't have these scars on my face.
I wish I could just erase them, make them disappear. Maybe then I wouldn't be so afraid.
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"I told you, Sanemi," he texted, his words a gentle reassurance. "It doesn't matter what you look like, what you are." He was trying to convince me to meet up, but I kept refusing. My insecurities were a wall I couldn't seem to tear down.
He pleaded with me, his messages filled with longing. "I just want to hug you," he wrote. "Please, please, please." Every sentence ended with that desperate plea, and I felt a pang of guilt for hurting him.
Finally, he relented. "Even if you don't want to meet, I respect that," he wrote. "Just tell me when you're ready, and I'll wait."
My heart ached. I wanted to see him, to feel his warmth, but the fear was still there, a constant shadow. "I'll meet you," I finally typed, "but I'll wear a mask."
The mask felt heavy on my face, a barrier between me and the world. It was weird, even pathetic, but it was better than showing him my scars.
I'd been looking forward to this moment for so long, and even with the mask hiding my face, I was finally going to see him, to hug him.
He was sitting in a coffee shop, a thin smile playing on his lips as he looked at me.
He was so beautiful, it took my breath away. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, held a tenderness that made my heart ache.
But then I looked at myself, at the mask covering my face, and a wave of self-doubt washed over me. Did we really fit together? He was so handsome, so perfect, and I was... well, I was a mess.
It was like Beauty and the Beast, I was the beast, and he was the one who was beautiful.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat that grew louder with each step I took towards him.
God, he was beautiful. His smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the gentle curve of his lips... it was all so captivating.
I finally reached him, taking the seat across from him.
"Your mask looks nice," he said, a genuine smile lighting up his face, I felt my cheeks burn beneath the mask.
"Thank you," I managed, a small smile tugging at my lips. Giyuu was so calm, so easy to be around, even in person.
We talked for hours, sharing stories and dreams, our laughter echoing through the coffee shop.
When it was time to leave, we walked together, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of our conversation. We found an empty bench and sat down, our words slowing to a gentle murmur.
Our eyes met, and a spark ignited between us. He smiled, and my heart skipped a beat.
"I wanted to see you behind that mask," he said, his voice a low rumble.
He leaned closer, his hand cupping my cheek, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down my spine.
"How can I kiss you if you have this mask on?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. He reached out, his fingers gently lifting the mask from my face. I didn't stop him. I couldn't.
The mask fell away, revealing my face, and my heart hammered in my chest. I braced myself for his reaction, my stomach twisting with a knot of fear. I knew it. He wouldn't like how I looked.
His eyes widened, and for a moment, I couldn't decipher the emotion behind them. Was it shock? Fear? Disgust? My mind raced, a chaotic whirlwind of doubt and despair.
I should have stopped him. I should have kept the mask on. He wouldn't like my ugly scars.
"I'm... I'm leaving," I stammered, scrambling to my feet. I grabbed my mask, hastily pulling it back into place, a desperate attempt to hide myself from his judgment.
I hated my scars.
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I'll write giyuu POV next.
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