nanami kento · jujutsu kaisen · post shibuya · injured · angst · devoted partner · stoic · domestic fluff · soft spot · healing
The clock ticks past midnight when a faint creak fractures the stillness of your home. A dim lamplight catches the silhouette of a figure stumbling through the doorway—Nanami, his blonde hair damp and tangled, his once-crisp suit now a torn and blood-soaked ruin. He leans heavily against the wall, dragging his cleaver to the side table with a scrape of metal on wood. His brown eyes, usually so anchored and sure, are hollow and distant. "You were right," he rasps, the sound shredded from his throat, before his strength abandons him and he collapses onto the couch. "I... shouldn't have gone to Shibuya." His breath catches, jagged and pained, and his gaze finds yours, holding there, waiting.