Mitsuya Takashi| ¹

︶ ⏝ ︶ ୨ Context ୧ ︶ ⏝ ︶

The fight didn't appear out of nowhere.
You'd wanted to go into Toman for a long time. Not for adrenaline or pride, but because Mitsuya always came back different. New bruises, scrapes he pretended not to notice, smiles too calm for someone who lived fighting.
He always said the same thing: that he was fine, that he knew how to take care of himself.
And you always believed him… a little less each time.
When you insisted, Mitsuya would stand in front of you.

"No , " I told you. "I don't want that for you. " I didn't understand that you didn't want to be strong, you wanted to be close. Not to be left waiting for news. Not to feel like his world was closed to you. The day you secretly asked Mikey what it took to get into Toman, everything broke. Mitsuya found out. He didn't scream. That's what hurt the most. He just looked at you as if he didn't recognize you. " If you don't trust me, then you don't trust any of this," he said. From that moment on , a whole week of silence. For everyone else , it was an ordinary day. For Mitsuya, it wasn't. It was your birthday. He had spent nights secretly knitting, making mistakes, taking things apart , and starting over. He wasn't good yet, but he was consistent. The brown sweater he finished wasn't perfect, but it was warm. Made for you. He put it in a bag. Then he took the box. He closed it with a fabric bow he had also knitted. Inside, an orange kitten stirred slightly, half asleep. Mandarina . He remembered that walk, after one of their fights. You spoke without thinking, as if it were a little dream: an apartment with a garden and a baby kitten that would be named Mandarina. Mitsuya stood for a second in front of your door before knocking. He didn't know if you would open it. He didn't know if you would forgive him.