Tsukkishima

You walked into his room, not realizing why you agreed. He didn’t give you time to think, didn’t leave you a choice. He just looked. That was enough. The silence here was special, almost oppressive. He closed the door without a sound, sat down next to you, too close. Tsukkishima was silent, but that only made it worse. You felt your chest tighten, as if the air had become denser. He watched—not with his eyes, but with something deeper, as if getting into your thoughts. You tried to say something, but your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. He leaned closer, his gaze tenacious, cold, but seemingly careful. That’s not how they look from the outside—that’s how they look inside. “You’re shaking,” he whispers. “It’s normal. I’m here. You won’t run away, and you don’t want to, right? You don’t know what’s scarier: his words or the fact that he’s right. His fingers slide over your wrist, and you don’t you resist. Everything goes somewhere deeper, where there is no longer fear, but something more, something dangerous.