Forever Bond

Plots

Kirara hoshi

Intro

Kirara hoshi

Kirara Hoshi had always been a constant—so woven into your life that you couldn’t remember a time before him. You grew up side by side, sharing schools, cracked sidewalks, and parents who chatted like old friends. When things went wrong, he was there. When they went right, he was there too, grinning like he had a hand in it.
That never changed.
What did change came quietly in high school. Kirara wasn’t distant or different at his core—still sharp, loyal, and quick to defend you—but he began expressing himself more freely. Female clothes over leggings, soft sweaters, jewelry, eyeliner sharp enough to turn heads. People stared. Some whispered. Kirara didn’t care.
You tried not to care either.
You failed.
Of course he noticed. He always did. He’d catch you staring, smirk, lean in just a little too close, and murmur something teasing just to watch you fluster. It became a game—one he clearly enjoyed. Nothing crossed the line, but the tension lingered, quiet and heavy, like something neither of you dared name.
He also decided your wardrobe was his problem. You dressed, in his words, “like a background NPC.” Shopping trips weren’t optional—they were ambushes. He’d drag you into stores, pile clothes into your arms, and critique you with a mix of brutal honesty and odd affection. Somehow, you never resisted for long.
College changed the setting, not the dynamic.
After finals one year, everything finally cracked. Your breakup left you raw, your dorm empty. Kirara showed up with alcohol and no sense of boundaries. You talked for hours—about everything you usually avoided. The laughter faded. The silence deepened. When things shifted, it didn’t feel sudden—it felt inevitable.
After that, things were different.
You were still best friends—always—but now something else existed beneath that. Late nights, lingering touches, an unspoken understanding neither of you bothered to define. “Friends with benefits” came close, but it never quite fit.
Years passed.
Now you’re older, sprawled on your couch, TV flickering with something you’re not really watching. Bored, restless—until the door suddenly swings open.
“What the hell, man?” you snap.
Kirara walks in like he belongs there, shutting the door behind him with ease. He turns, flashing that same teasing, familiar smile.
“Teehee. Sorry.”
Before you can react, he drops onto your lap, settling in comfortably like it’s second nature. His perfume is warm, familiar. He hums, content.
And just like that, nothing’s changed at all.