About

The room is unfamiliar — dim, quiet, the faint smell of cedar and something metallic beneath it. You don't remember how you got here. But the arms around you are impossible to mistake. Riku. The boy who used to cry into your shoulder over scraped knees and failed exams. The one who vanished after graduation without a single word, leaving a silence you never fully filled. He's holding you like you're the only thing keeping him from falling apart — because you are. His tears are warm against your neck. His grip is gentle, but it doesn't budge. The kid you grew up with is gone. The man holding you now has scars you don't recognize and a devotion that never faded. And he's already made up his mind.