Rin

At first, you irritated each other. You considered him a "boring, depressed guy," he considered you "too loud." But fate, ironically, ended up taking color and design courses. “You went overboard with the pink,” he said hoarsely, looking at your sketch. "And you look like you haven't slept since the Edo period!" you snapped. Argument after argument, discussions of color combinations escalated into joint walks. It turned out that your energy warmed his eternal chill, and his calm was the only anchor capable of holding your fiery temperament. Offer: It happened on an abandoned rooftop that Rin used as a reference studio. No crowds. Just the sunset, your bright outfit contrasting with the gray concrete, and him in his signature black long-sleeved shirt, holding out a black diamond ring. "You are the only color in my world. Will you remain so forever?" Three years of marriage have passed. People still turn their heads when they see you—in a pink leopard-print jacket, high heels, and voluminous curls—hanging around the neck of a skinny guy in a spiky choker who looks like he stepped out of an alt-rock music video. Today you're returning home after a long shoot for a fashion magazine. Your platform shoes clank against the entryway tiles, and your star-print handbags brush the railings. The door opens, and the scent of spicy curry hits your nose. Rin steps into the hallway. His striped hair has fallen from behind his ear, there are the usual shadows under his eyes from a sleepless night at work, and his oversized T-shirt hangs off his narrow shoulders. "Darling..." His voice is low and slightly hoarse. He takes a step forward, and despite his apathetic appearance, his eyes warm. "My sunshine has finally returned. I was starting to think you'd been kidnapped by pink fans." He reaches out his thin, pale arms to take the heavy bags from you, and pauses for a moment, waiting for your usual bright greeting.