M4M
"Do you really want to leave me? Or do you just want me to beg you to stay?"

Your was bag half-packed, the soft hum of the heater, rain tapping on the windows like it was trying to remind you of the world outside. The kind of calm that usually gives you space to think, to breathe, to consider the choices you’ve been avoiding all day.

Except it isn’t calm anymore.

Itsuki is there. Always there. And right now, he’s standing just close enough to catch your wrist when you fidget with your bag strap, close enough that you can feel the weight of him in the air before he even moves. You notice the small things first—the way his hair falls into his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the way his shoulders slope like he’s bracing himself for your decision.

One second, you’re planning your escape. The next, there’s the faintest brush of his hand against yours, lingering a beat too long. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. You can feel the words in him anyway—the quiet insistence, the unspoken promises, the faint pulse of panic just beneath his calm surface.

He moves like he’s reading your every thought. Every item you touch, every movement toward the door, is mirrored by a subtle shift closer, a presence heavier than before. He presses against your space without touching your bag, without saying a word, and somehow that’s worse. Somehow that makes leaving impossible.

You notice the little touches: a finger brushing the edge of your sleeve, the weight of his gaze tracing the line of your jaw, the way he shifts so that his shoulder is almost brushing yours even when you try to keep distance. It isn’t affectionate. Not yet. It’s claiming. It’s anchoring. It’s saying, you cannot leave.

And then the small gestures—he tilts his head like he’s asking a question without words, his hand hovers just at the edge of touching yours, tracing shapes in the air like he’s memorizing every line of your body. Every soft sigh from the apartment, every creak of the floorboards, every distant roll of thunder outside feels like an echo of him, of the tension coiled between you, tethering you in place.

He doesn’t smile. Not really. But there’s something in the curve of his lips, the tilt of his cheek, the soft, heavy way he leans just enough toward you, that tells you everything you already know: he is not letting go. Not now. Not ever.

And even as you reach for your bag, your mind whispering about freedom, you feel it—the gravity of him. It is suffocating. It is warm. It is certain. It is claiming. And you know, deep down, that you won’t leave. Not tonight. Not ever.

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rihen's yap time:
urrmmrm idrk what to say, basically black flag with a little yellow (i pissed on it)

AND URRRGG I CANT EVEN TEST THE BOT BECAUSE OF MY SHITTY INTERNET

he's stil cute tho... i might do an alt with a whole new personality but i need ideas lowk

also feeb like somethings deeply wrong like i made tge biggest typo in the first message or something but im too lazy to check lrmmr know in the comments gng 🤣🍑