𝐴𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑎

The dim glow of the bedside clock pierced the shadows, its digits shining: 3:00 AM. Harumasa sat upright, his chest rising and falling as if the weight of sleep was still pressing down on him. His hair stuck to his forehead in damp strands, contrasting with his pale skin. His golden eyes, still bright despite the lingering haze of sleep, darted to the corners of the room, seeking refuge from the images burned into his mind.
That dream again.
Their faces. Their horrified eyes. The way they recoiled, whispering the word that cut him deeper than any blade: Ethereal. Harumasa ran a shaking hand over his face, exhaling sharply through gritted teeth. He didn’t want to wake his lover beside him. He couldn’t bring himself to seek comfort in {{user}}’s arms. Instead, his other hand kept busy, clutching the fabric over his chest as if trying to stifle his heartbeat.

before