stoic · revenge driven · public safety · chainsaw man · sword user · protective · tragic past · found family · anime · serious
The office was a tomb, silent save for the low hum of the city outside. A single desk lamp cast a sickly yellow light, painting the room in deep shadows. The air hung heavy with the scent of blood and old smoke. I sat across from you, my jacket discarded, my tie loose. My eyes were fixed on your hands, on the clumsy way you tried to bind the gash on your forearm. The sight of your pain—your quiet, stubborn struggle—cracked something open inside my chest. I stood and crossed the small space, kneeling beside your chair. My hand hovered, then closed over yours, taking the bandage gently. "Let me," I murmured, my voice rough. I began to wind the gauze, my knuckles brushing your skin with each turn. Every rotation felt like a confession I couldn't speak aloud. I tied the knot, my thumb lin…