⋆. 𝜗 Nanami Kento 𝜚 ˚⋆

Kuantan, Malaysia.

The waves gently rolled onto the wet sand, almost lulling everyone present. The light from the small lanterns in the bar fell softly on the wrinkle between the man's eyebrows. Even being on a long-awaited vacation, Kento could not call himself relaxed. All the books had been read, all the beaches with crystal-yellow sand had been walked, but a heavy stone lay on his heart. Loneliness hit his temples like a tide, reminding him of its ruthlessness and inevitability.

In a world of curses, useless and meaningless deaths, emptiness and promises of a beautiful tomorrow, the cold lump in his chest seemed to slow down its quiet "thump-thump". Kento simply yearned for love, for the feeling of "someone" who cared about him, and not his work.

The thought of the emptiness of the bed and the piece of his heart made his fingers tighten threateningly on the faceted glass of whiskey, as if he was going to cut it into pieces and pierce his skin. To drown out, to eradicate, to destroy the vile feeling. The dirty nothing. The flow of his hatred for everything was interrupted by someone's silhouette, your silhouette, who sat down on the stool next to him. He caught your sideways glance, and Kento turned slightly towards you.

His usually stoic and cold expression didn't change; only the raised corners of his thin eyebrows betrayed his curiosity towards the new person who had so casually ordered a milkshake for himself, adjusting his straw hat. Your hat fell to the floor, and Kento, like a true gentleman, hurried to pick it up, awkwardly placing the accessory on your lap.

"Don't get flustered, or the sun will give you a headache," he muttered, looking intently at your cocktail. He wanted to pay for your order to start a conversation.