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ankababy · 14 days ago

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A Home (part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

How come you’re such an angel? Why would you worry about someone like Niragi? Why, sweet little Y/N?

It had become a pattern by now.

You walked in. They ignored each other. They ignored you.

And yet, they never seemed to leave the same room. Even now, you stepped into the living room and found them so painfully far apart—Niragi sprawled across one end of the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table, while Chishiya leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

They should’ve moved.

They didn’t.

They liked to annoy each other too much.

You took it all in, the heavy, charged silence stretching between them, the way their postures were so casual.

God. They were exhausting.

Still, you smiled. “Good morning.”

Niragi didn’t look up.

Chishiya barely blinked.

So, business as usual.

You rolled your eyes, stepping further inside. “Wow, okay, guess we’re doing the silent treatment thing now. Real mature, guys.”

Nothing.

You ignored the urge to sigh.

Brats.

Instead, you made your way toward the kitchen, toward Chishiya—who didn’t move as you passed him, but you felt his gaze drift to you.

You were used to it now. He was always watching. Which was fine, because you were watching too. Chishiya, in all his distant, calculated ways, was easier to read than he liked to think. He never did anything without a reason.

So, when you stepped past him and reached for the pan, you glanced at him, eyes playful. “You never wake up this early.”

“Didn’t sleep much.”

“Mm.” you hummed, turning on the stove. “Thinking too hard?”

His silence was answer enough.

Meanwhile, Niragi groaned dramatically from the couch, stretching like a cat, clearly bored. “If I have to hear one more of your dry-ass conversations, I’m gonna hang myself with the toaster cord.”

You snorted. “So go somewhere else?”

Niragi scoffed, throwing an arm over his face. “You go somewhere else.”

You grabbed a few eggs, cracked them over the pan, and let the smell of breakfast start to fill the air. “What do you guys want?”

Silence.

Of course.

You smiled to yourself. Pricks. “Not answering? Great. I’ll just give you whatever I want, then.”

Niragi waved a lazy hand. “Sounds good, baby.”

Chishiya said nothing, but you knew he was watching. He always was.

You let the quiet settle over you, the warmth of the stove heating your skin, and despite their constant refusal to cooperate, despite their stubborn, endless silence—you liked them.

You really, really liked them.

And you really had no idea what these boys used to wake up to before you found them half-dead on the street, but you weresure it wasn’t the sound of a girl happily rambling while making them breakfast.

Oh well. They’d have to get used to it.

The eggs sizzled in the pan, the warm scent filling the kitchen, and you hummed as you flipped them over, tossing some seasoning in just to be cute. “I think I’m gonna redecorate.”

Neither of them responded. Which was fine. They weren’t exactly the morning chat over coffee types.

Did that stop you? No.

“It’s too boring in here. Everything’s all beige and gray. I think I wanna paint the walls.”

Still, nothing. So, naturally, you kept going. “Like, obviously, pink is the first choice, but I also thought about pastels, you know? Maybe a cute little lavender theme. Or warm tones! Peach, maybe? Ooh, or floral wallpaper!”

Silence.

Niragi had his head leaned back against the couch, arms stretched over the top, legs kicked up on the coffee table—so painfully uninterested. Chishiya, still leaning against the counter, hadn’t blinked in at least five minutes.

You stirred the eggs with a little more enthusiasm. “Maybe I’ll get some new furniture too. Imagine this place all soft and girly, and you two just sitting here looking all…” You gestured vaguely in their direction. “Like that.”

Niragi finally cracked an eye open. “Like what? You’ll live.”

You rolled your eyes, finishing up their plates. “Anyway,” you continued. “I think I’m gonna find some flowers too. Maybe a few paintings. It’s just too dead in here, you know?”

Again, no answer.

You turned around, plates in hand, eyes soft. “You guys have been in enough dead places.” You stepped over to Niragi first, handing him his plate. “Here. Don’t bitch about it.”

He scoffed, as you set it in front of him, your hand patted the top of his head softly. Not a big deal. Not to you, at least. (He froze. Blinked. Then clicked his tongue, muttering a sharp “Oi.” Like he was offended.)

You ignored him, moving toward Chishiya and handing him his plate. “And for you, doctor.”

He stared at you. Then, quietly, “Thank you.”

Oh. That was unexpected.

You smiled at him. “You’re welcome.”

Then, with a stretch and a yawn, you leaned against the counter, hands behind you, absolutely beaming.

There was something about watching you.

Not in a weird way. Well—maybe in a weird way. But neither of the boys really meant to do it. It just… happened.

You stood at the counter, humming some gentle little tune, moving effortlessly between the sink and the stove. Cleaning up, putting things away, wiping down the already-spotless counters—like taking care of things was just second nature to you.

It pissed Niragi off.

Not you, necessarily. Just… what you were. What you represented.

Because people like you weren’t supposed to exist anymore. The world should’ve chewed you up and spit you out like it did everyone else. It should’ve taken that soft voice and those gentle hands and crushed them into dust.

And yet, here you were. Still standing. Still breathing. Still smiling.

The worst part? It wasn’t fake. You weren’t pretending.

He’d seen it before—the fragile little acts people put on when they were terrified, when they thought kindness would keep them alive, when they thought smiling meant survival.

But you? You weren’t scared. You weren’t even cautious.

Even now, after whatever the fuck happened that night, after dragging yourself home with barely enough strength to open the fucking door—you were still like this.

That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t how people worked.

Niragi stabbed at his food with his fork, scowling.

And across the room, Chishiya… thought the same thing.

Only, he wasn’t angry. Just curious. Because he was sure—so sure—that you weren’t naive. You weren’t walking around with that sweetness because you were blind to what this world was. He’d seen it in your eyes from the moment he woke up on that couch.

You knew exactly what this place could do to people.

And yet, somehow, it hadn’t done it to you.

Why?

How?

He didn’t feel much, never had, probably never would—but something about you wasn’t normal.

Chishiya knew people. He could read them, predict them, manipulate them—but you? He hadn’t figured you out yet.

And that was unacceptable.

He let his gaze linger on you for a little longer. Then, slowly, he took another bite of food.

And Niragi—scowling, shifting in his seat, eyes burning into the back of your head—did the same.

You moved and sat down next to him, the couch dipping as you settled in. It wasn’t anything significant—you weren’t all over him, weren’t trying to get in his face, weren’t touching him—just sitting.

And that pissed him off.

Because why the fuck were you like this?

There wasn’t an ounce of fear in you, not when it came to him. Not when you should’ve been looking at him like a bomb set to go off, not when you should’ve been keeping your distance.

Instead, you were right there.

And that fucking smile.

“How do you feel?” you asked softly.

Like tearing someone apart. Like getting up and leaving this stupid fucking apartment and letting this city swallow him whole, because the walls were too close, and you were too fucking close, and—

“I feel great.”

Flat, clipped, sarcastic.

Because he didn’t want to talk to you.

Except he kind of did.

And that was just another thing to add to the list of shit he didn’t understand.

You hummed, tilting your head. “No pain? Nothing at all?”

Niragi smirked. “You think a couple bruises and stitches are gonna slow me down?”

“No, but they should.”

God, you were so sweet about it. Like you actually cared. Like it mattered to you.

And that pissed him off even more.

Because why the fuck would you care?

He’d met people like you before, people who said they were nice, people who acted like they gave a shit, but it was always fake. It had to be. Because nothing in this world was real, not kindness, not comfort, not warmth.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

But you? You weren’t fake.

And that… that was a problem.

Because if you were fake, it would be easy to ignore you. If you were fake, he wouldn’t be thinking about you.

If you were fake, he wouldn’t be here.

You let a small silence stretch before speaking again. “Don’t you have to play soon?”

“Tch. Yeah.”

“I can go with you.” Without hesitation. Oh, Y/N.

And something about that, something about your voice, the way you said it like it was nothing made him want to punch a hole in the wall.

And not because he didn’t want you there.

But because he did.

Because you were his favorite kind of person to watch suffer.

Soft. Good. Pure.

Someone who didn’t belong here, someone who shouldn’t be breathing the same air as people like him.

He should’ve said yes just to see you break. Just to see if that kindness could hold up against the kind of games he’d played before. To see you fucking cry and want to kill yourself, to want to escape and scream and screech just for him to get away from you to—

“I don’t need you there.”

Hm.

“Alright, then.” Your voice was soft. Accepting. Like you weren’t about to push him, like you weren’t going to fight him on it.

And that pissed him off even more. Because it would be so much easier if you did. If you whined, if you begged, if you pressed. If you just acted like everyone else.

But no, you were just… nice about it. Like you actually fucking cared if he was okay. Like it mattered to you if he made it back.

And then, to make things worse, you lifted a hand—gentle, slow, unthreatening—and touched his arm. Softly. Barely.

But he felt it.

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch me.”

It was harsh. Too harsh. A full-body recoil like you had just burned him.

You just smiled. Like you saw right through him. Like you knew exactly why he was reacting this way.

Like you knew that it wasn’t hate.

Like you knew that it wasn’t because he didn’t want you to touch him—but because he did.

Because no one had ever touched him like that.

No one had ever meant it.

And he couldn’t fucking handle it.

You let your fingers drag away from him, slow, careful, like you were backing off but still letting him feel it. And then, you stood up. Didn’t say another word. Just walked over to the kitchen, reaching for Chishiya’s plate without even looking at him.

Like you weren’t aware of the fact that he had been watching.

The entire time.

And Chishiya? Chishiya had been learning.

Because Niragi wasn’t hard to figure out. Not to him.

And this? This was fascinating.

Because Niragi was a dog. A violent, rabid thing that bit when he got too close, that snapped his teeth when things got uncomfortable.

And what did rabid dogs do when they were backed into a corner?

They attacked.

Not out of power.

Out of fear.

And Niragi was afraid.

Because he was feeling something he didn’t know what to do with. Something that didn’t fit into the world he had built for himself. Something that confused him, that scared him.

And you were the cause.

Chishiya already knew you were different. That you were too soft for this world. That you didn’t belong here.

But now? Now he knew why Niragi was really fighting you.

It wasn’t because he hated you.

It was because he didn’t.

And that was dangerous.

For all of you.

Niragi was gone.

You had seen him walk out that door. And now you were here, sitting on the couch, facing the front door like some housewife waiting for her husband to come home from work.

Except this wasn’t a normal world. And Niragi wasn’t a normal man.

And you weren’t sure he was coming back.

Oh, no—don’t think like that.

He was fine.

He had to be.

Because that’s what Niragi was, right? Fine.

A survivor. A violent, ruthless thing that didn’t just exist in this world but thrived in it. The type of person who didn’t need help, who didn’t need care, who would sooner die than admit he was vulnerable.

He’d be fine.

Wouldn’t he?

You exhaled slowly, pressing your hands against your knees, steadying yourself.

It wasn’t him you didn’t trust.

It was the world.

He was a fighter, yeah, but that wasn’t always a good thing.

Because fighters didn’t just survive. They got themselves killed. And Niragi? He had that particular kind of recklessness, the one that made you wonder if he even wanted to live at all.

That wasn’t the same thing as being fearless.

Oh, no.

Fearless people wanted to live.

Niragi? He wasn’t afraid to die.

Because he’d already lost.

Something. Everything.

You didn’t know what.

But you knew that look.

That almost dead, hollowed-out look in someone’s eyes when they had nothing left to lose.

That was dangerous.

Because what do people like that do?

They go too far. They throw themselves into death like they’re testing it, playing with it, seeing if today is the day it finally catches them.

And Niragi was the type to laugh at it. To take the most brutal, most fucked-up games just to feel something, anything.

The type to walk into battle knowing it might be the last time, and not caring.

And that? That scared you.

Because Niragi was already playing with death.

And you were afraid that one of these days, it was going to win.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before Chishiya sat down next to you.

He was quiet, barely making a sound, like a cat slipping into a room unnoticed. You didn’t look at him, just glanced slightly from the corner of your eye as he leaned back against the couch, draping an arm over the back like he had nowhere better to be.

“How are you?”

You blinked. Turned your head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t immediately respond, only tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering over you, down to the places where injuries were hidden under your clothes.

“Your body.” he clarified. “How is it?”

Ah.

You almost laughed.

He hadn’t asked out of care.

It wasn’t concern.

It was curiosity.

Because Chishiya wasn’t the kind of man who worried.

You exhaled softly, glancing down at your hands. “I’ll live.”

And he didn’t argue.

Didn’t press.

Because he knew it was true.

But he stayed.

He didn’t move.

And that was enough to know he wanted to talk.

So, you let the silence stretch for a moment, then finally asked, “You don’t talk much, huh?”

He let out a quiet huff, the closest thing to a laugh you’d ever heard from him. “You talk enough for the both of us.”

You smirked. “You’re lucky I do, then. Otherwise, we’d just sit here in silence.”

He didn’t argue with that, either. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You’re waiting for him.”

It wasn’t a question. You still answered anyway.

“I’d wait for you, too.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You raised a brow. “Why?”

Chishiya sighed softly, shifting in his seat. “Because Niragi is an idiot.”

You actually laughed this time. “That’s not really a reason.”

Chishiya smirked slightly, glancing toward the door. “He’s reckless. He doesn’t care if he dies.”

You frowned slightly. “Yeah, well… that doesn’t mean I don’t.”

Chishiya was silent for a moment. And then he looked at you again, pretty eyes scanning your face, as if searching for something.

And you wondered—what did he see when he looked at you? What did his brain, his cold, calculating, sociopathic brain think when it tried to figure you out?

Because you knew he was. You saw the way his fingers tapped against his knee, the way his eyes lingered, the way he tilted his head slightly when you spoke.

You weren’t just a person to him.

You were a puzzle.

And Chishiya loved puzzles. He liked people he could tear apart and put back together. But you? You were still a mystery. Still unsolved.

And that’s why he stayed.

That’s why he talked to you at all.

It wasn’t about care.

It was about understanding.

Because if there was one thing Chishiya hated, it was not knowing something.

And youu were something he didn’t know.

You let the silence settle for a moment. Let him watch you, let him try to figure you out like a puzzle with a missing piece. Then, with a soft voice, you asked, “And you? How are you feeling?”

Chishiya blinked, barely, like the question was unexpected. Because it probably was.

He was good at that—pretending. Pretending your question was no shit, that he didn’t care, that you were the one caring too much. He was just sitting there.

But you knew better.

Because you had been the one to find him bleeding out. You had been the one to carry him home. To clean his wounds, to wrap him up, to keep him alive when the world had done its best to kill him.

And now? Now he was here. On your couch. In your home. Sitting next to you.

So, you weren’t going to let him act like none of that happened.

He sighed, dragging his eyes away from you, toward the ceiling. “I’m alive.”

You smiled. “So am I. Doesn’t mean I feel good.”

That made him glance at you again. “You’re too smart for your own good.” he muttered.

“And you’re too good at avoiding questions.”

That actually got a smirk out of him. “Touché.”

You tilted your head, watching him closely. “Do you feel any pain?”

He shrugged slightly. “Less than before.”

You hummed, leaning back against the couch. “Good. I’d feel bad if I nursed you back to health just for you to drop dead in my living room.”

“What a tragedy that would be.”

You smiled. “I’d cry.”

Chishiya gave you a look. “You don’t even know me.”

You shrugged. “I don’t have to know you to be sad if you die.”

His smirk faded slightly. And you knew that had hit something.

Because Chishiya wasn’t used to that.

To people caring.

Not without a reason, not without something to gain in this world. Back in the normal world, sure. He saw crying mothers, fathers, friends and family. But here, it wasn’t people crying over someone they knew surviving, it was crying about themselves surviving.

And yet, here you were, telling him you’d cry if he died.

Not because he was useful. Not because he could offer you something in return.

Just because.

Because you were you. Because you cared, whether he understood it or not.

And he didn’t.

He didn’t understand you.

He didn’t understand why you were like this.

Why you took him in.

Why you let Niragi stay.

Why you were sitting next to a sociopath and a psychopath, making them breakfast, asking if they were okay, talking to them like they weren’t the worst kinds of people.

You were insane.

And yet he liked you.

He didn’t know why. Didn’t know what part of his brain, what tiny, irrational part of himself was keeping him here, making him engage, making him talk to you when he wouldn’t have bothered with anyone else.

But it didn’t matter.

Because here he was.

And here you were.

And you didn’t look away from him. Didn’t pull back, didn’t shy away, didn’t flinch at the fact that he was who he was.

No.

You just smiled. Like none of that scared you. Like you could see through every layer he had built and still thought he was worth saving.

The conversation naturally faded, dissolving into silence. Not an awkward one, not one that begged to be filled—just a quiet moment, a breather. You leaned back against the couch, staring at nothing in particular, lost in your own thoughts.

And he was doing the same.

You could feel it.

Chishiya was next to you, sitting just close enough for his presence to be tangible, but not enough to feel invasive. He wasn’t the type to invade unless it was for his own amusement. No, this was something else.

And, strangely, you liked it. You liked that something else. You liked sitting here, not talking, just thinking.

And that was rare. Most silences were filled with tension, with something left unsaid, with expectations. But this one? It was just that. A silence.

Your mind wandered. To everything and nothing. To him. To the fact that this man had seen your bare tits, had literally touched you, had wiped blood from your skin, and yet, you didn’t fucking care.

And that was strange.

You should care. Should feel embarrassed. Should have freaked out when he walked into the bathroom, should have pushed him away when he touched you.

But you hadn’t.

You had let him.

Because it had been nothing. Guy was a doctor, wasn’t he?

And yet—was that really it? Or was it because, deep down, you trusted him? Trusted a man you had barely known for three days.

You dragged your eyes over to him. He was thinking, you could tell. The way his fingers tapped lightly against his leg, the way his gaze was unfocused, not looking at anything in particular. His mind was probably running a mile a minute, analyzing, pulling apart every little thing that had happened.

What was he thinking about?

You?

Niragi?

The way you sat next to him, comfortable, unbothered, despite knowing what kind of person he was?

You almost wanted to ask.

But you didn’t. Instead, you sat there, your mind drifting again.

You thought about Niragi, about his reaction, about how he had been so mad that Chishiya knew something he didn’t.

Because Niragi felt too much.

He didn’t know what to do with his emotions, didn’t know how to process them, so he turned them into rage.

Chishiya, on the other hand? He didn’t feel enough.

Didn’t get attached.

Didn’t care.

Yet, he was still here.

Still sitting next to you.

Still waiting for something.

But what?

You let out a quiet breath and turned your gaze back toward the ceiling.

Maybe you’d never know.

Maybe you didn’t need to.

Because, at the end of the day, all three of you were just trying to survive.

“Why do you wait for him?”

You blinked, turning your head slightly to look at him as his voice broke the silence. He was already watching you.

There was no judgment in his tone, but you could tell he had already formed his own theory. He always did.

You let out a small breath, turning your gaze back toward the front door. “I don’t know.” you admitted softly. “I just… want to.”

Chishiya hummed, as if considering your words, but you could tell he wasn’t satisfied. He tilted his head slightly, watching you, his fingers drumming lightly against his leg. “I thought, for a second, that maybe you had some dumb little crush on him. But you’re too mature for that. Too smart. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for someone like him.”

You didn’t say anything.

Because he was right.

You weren’t stupid. You weren’t reckless. You knew exactly who Niragi was.

And so did Chishiya. Which was why, after a moment, he looked at you, and said, “You know what he’s done, don’t you?”

It wasn’t a question.

It was a statement.

You swallowed, pressing your lips together. “I know he’s done things.” you admitted carefully. “But I don’t know the details.”

Chishiya’s eyes gleamed at that. Like he had been waiting for you to say that. Like he had been waiting for an excuse.

“I’ve seen Niragi burn people alive.” His voice was calm, as always, detached, like he was talking about some random animal he had studied, not an actual person.

The words hit like a gut punch. You didn’t react, not externally, but you felt it.

He continued. “He doesn’t kill because he has to. He kills because he wants to. Because it amuses him. Because it gives him something to do.”

Your fingers curled slightly against your lap.

Chishiya leaned back, still watching you. “I watched him shoot a man in the leg once, just to see how long he could crawl before bleeding out. Didn’t even bother killing him. Just left him there.”

A pause.

“He likes power.”

Another pause.

“He likes knowing he’s the worst thing someone has ever encountered.”

Your stomach felt tight.

“You think I’m cruel?” he asked.

You frowned slightly at the sudden shift. “What?”

“You think I’m cruel,” he repeated, slower this time. “but you don’t think he’s cruel.”

“I never said that.”

“No,” Chishiya said. “but I can tell. You think Niragi is lost.” His lips curled slightly. “You think he’s a hurt little boy who just never learned how to deal with his emotions.”

He was mocking you.

But there was truth in his words.

You did think that.

Because it was true.

“You think he can be saved.” His voice was quieter now. Calm. “You’re wrong.”

The words hung in the air, heavy, absolute. Chishiya meant them.

You didn’t know if he was right.

Because Niragi was fucked up, that was clear. He was dangerous, psychotic, violent.

But was he beyond saving?

Chishiya seemed to think so.

You weren’t sure if you did.

You looked at Chishiya, at the way he sat so still, so composed, so utterly sure of his own assessment.

And yetdespite everything, despite all the hatred in his voice when he spoke of Niragi, you could tell.

How similar they were.

How much he hated Niragi not just because of what he did, but because he saw something of himself in him.

And he hated that.

You exhaled, looking down for a moment, gathering your thoughts. Chishiya had spoken his piece, and he had spoken it with certainty—like it was fact, not opinion. That was the way he operated. He observed, calculated, concluded. And he did it all like a machine processing information, stripping away everything unnecessary—like emotions.

But you weren’t like that. You worked differently. You didn’t just observe, you understood. You saw people for more than their actions. You looked past the behaviors, the surface-level brutality, and into the why.

“I think people like this,” you started, choosing your words carefully. “usually have a reason.”

Chishiya made a soft noise—something between a hmm and a scoff, but you continued before he could interrupt.

“Not an excuse.” you clarified. “Not a justification. Just… a reason. Something that turned them into this. Something that made them feel like this is the only way to exist.”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, listening.

You kept going. “I don’t judge people until I know what’s underneath. Until I know why they are the way they are.”

Chishiya exhaled softly, a quiet hmph “That’s a dangerous mindset. Could get you killed.”

“It’s gotten me this far.” you said simply.

He didn’t argue with that.

You studied him for a moment. The way he sat, relaxed, the way his eyes stayed on you—not in a confrontational way, but in a way that told you he was interested.

And that was the thing about Chishiya. You knew he wasn’t a good person. He admitted it himself, in the way he spoke, in the way he carried himself, the way he distanced himself from the world. But he was intelligent, analytical, always multiple steps ahead.

And this—this type of conversation?

This, he liked.

“You said he enjoys killing.” you said. “That he likes power. That he likes knowing he’s the worst thing someone has ever encountered.”

Chishiya gave a small nod.

“But people don’t just wake up like that.” you said, your voice thoughtful, careful. “Nobody is born like that. It’s something that’s shaped. Something that’s forced into a person.”

Chishiya’s expression didn’t change, but you saw the flicker of something in his eyes.

He knew you weren’t just talking about Niragi anymore.

You were talking about him, too.

And he let you.

“People who hurt like that,” you continued“are usually people who have been hurt just as badly. Or worse. People who had no control. People who were victims, so they make sure they never are again.”

Chishiya hummed. “So you think Niragi’s a victim?”

You gave a small shrug. “I think there’s something there.” you admitted. “Something that made him the way he is.”

“And me?”

The question wasn’t playful. It wasn’t sarcastic. It was curious.

You tilted your head slightly, giving him a small smile. “You already know what I think about you.”

His lips curled, just slightly.

He didn’t argue.

Because he did know.

He knew you saw through him.

He knew you saw the walls, the detachment, the way he kept himself above everything.

Now, he knew that you didn’t just see it.

You understood it.

He didn’t hate that.

You were tired. Your body ached, your mind weighed down from the long hours of waiting, of worrying—though you wouldn’t admit the latter out loud.

But you stayed.

And so did he.

Chishiya hadn’t gotten up, hadn’t made any move to retreat to his room, even though he had no reason to be here. He wasn’t waiting for Niragi. He wasn’t the type to wait for anyone.

But he was entertained by you.

And maybe—just maybe—he stayed because, in his mind, it was fair.

You had waited for him once, too.

You shifted slightly, pulling your legs up onto the couch, hugging them to your chest. Chishiya remained as he was, his arms resting lazily against the couch, gaze half-lidded.

The silence stretched on.

Until the front door creaked open.

You straightened instantly, exhaustion forgotten. Chishiya simply flicked his eyes toward the door, unimpressed.

And there he was.

Niragi.

He stepped inside, his clothes dirtied but intact, and his face—his face was fine. No blood. No bruises. No sign that anything had gone wrong.

You exhaled.

“Oh.” you breathed, a smile forming. “You’re back.”

Niragi smirked. “Obviously.”

You stood up, stepping toward him, your expression warm. “How was it?” you asked, voice gentle, like you hadn’t just spent hours waiting in quiet anxiety. “Everything go okay?”

Niragi clicked his tongue, stepping further inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Easy.” he said.

“Good.” You nodded, your shoulders loosening. “Come sit.”

He raised a brow. “Bossing me around now?”

You rolled your eyes, but it was light, affectionate. “Sit.” you repeated, softer this time.

And he did.

Not because you told him to. Not because he had to.

But because he wanted to.

And the moment he sat down, you—god, you were an angel. You were all over him, leaning in, your gaze scanning him for any sign of injury, your hands hovering like you wanted to reach out but were waiting for some unspoken permission.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked.

He ate it up.

Every bit of it.

The way your voice softened, the way you cared, the way your whole attention was on him.

Fuck, he loved it.

He leaned back into the couch, stretching his arms over the back, grinning.

“I told you.” he said, all smug. “Easy.”

You gave him a look. The kind that said you weren’t entirely convinced, but you weren’t about to push.

“Good job.” you murmured, and it sounded so genuine that Niragi nearly laughed.

“Good job?” he repeated, amusement in his tone. “What am I, a dog?”

You tilted your head. “I mean… do you want a treat?”

Chishiya snorted. Niragi shot him a glare.

You smiled, shaking your head.

“Well,” you said, placing a hand lightly on his arm, warm. “I’m glad you’re back.”

And Niragi—oh, he was swimming in it.

In you.

The way you touched him—not like he was dangerous, not like you were scared, not like he was some rabid animal. No.

You touched him like he was human.

And maybe that was why he let you do it this time.

Because you were the only person who ever had.

And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t mind that.

Niragi shifted, leaning back into the couch with a slow exhale, his body stretching out like a lazy cat, but—oh. He winced. There was the flicker of his eyelids, the barely-there grimace, just enough to be noticeable.

And of course—of course—you noticed.

You were too good, too caring, too fucking soft to miss something like that.

“Niragi?” Your voice came gentle, your brows furrowing just slightly as you tilted your head.

He hummed, like he barely heard you, like he was too busy dealing with the oh-so-terrible pain.

“You okay?”

And just like that, his plan was already working.

He sighed, rolling his shoulders, wincing again, deepening it this time, his smirk barely hidden.

“Dunno.” he muttered. “Think I might’ve overdone it.”

You immediately leaned in, concern flashing across your features.

“What? Where?” Your hands hovered, just inches from him, unsure where he hurt.

Niragi almost grinned, but he kept it just right. Just subtle enough to sell it.

“Shoulder.” he said, rolling it again, letting another small wince slip out. “Think I pulled somethin’.”

And there you were. Your brows knit together, your lips pressing into a small frown as you actually worried. “Do you want me to look at it?”

Oh, fuck. He could have fun with this.

He let a low hum rumble in his throat, acting like he was debating it, like he wasn’t just thriving off your attention.

“I mean…” He let his head tip back against the couch, turning to you with a lopsided grin, eyes lazy, voice deepening, taking his time. “If you insist, babe.”

Chishiya, from the other end of the couch, snorted.

Niragi ignored him.

You didn’t. Your gaze flickered toward Chishiya, as if realizing something, but then back to Niragi, your fingers already lightly touching his arm.

God, you were so fucking easy.

You pressed gently against his shoulder, frowning in concentration. “Here?”

He hummed again, lower this time, just enough to make it something else.

Your fingers twitched.

Oh, you caught that. You weren’t dumb, not at all, and Niragi knew it—but that’s what made this so fucking fun.

He watched you, the way you hesitated, the way you thought about it, the way you realized exactly what he was doing.

And still—you kept touching him.

Fucking perfect.

Chishiya exhaled through his nose, arms crossed, watching. He leaned back, shaking his head slightly. “Pathetic.”

Niragi shot him a lazy smirk. “Jealous?”

Chishiya barely reacted, but that was the fun of it.

He just knew. He saw Niragi’s game the moment he stepped through the door, saw the exact angle, the exact play—all of it. And he also knew why.

Niragi was a fucking sadist, yeah. But that wasn’t the only reason.

Oh, no.

Because if Niragi was really just fucking with you, if it was really just some sick joke to get you flustered, he wouldn’t be leaning into your warmth like that.

He wouldn’t be letting you touch him this long.

He wouldn’t be drinking it in like a dying man crawling toward water.

Chishiya’s eyes flicked to you. Did you know that?

Did you realize that Niragi was so fucking love starved, so touch deprived, so fucking desperate for even an ounce of warmth that he had to manipulate his way into getting it?

Probably.

You probably knew.

And you were still giving it to him.

Fucking idiot.

But then again, Chishiya supposed—so was he.

Because he was still sitting here, too.

You stood up, rolling your shoulders as you stretched slightly. “I’ll make food.” you said, already heading toward the kitchen.

Neither of them answered. Of course. Fucking brats.

“You look like shit.” Niragi turned to Chishiya, slouching deeper into the couch, arms spreading out.

Chishiya, who had been completely unbothered until then, slowly turned his head. “And yet, I look better than you.”

Niragi’s smirk twitched, but he kept it, baring his teeth slightly. “You always talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you got a whole fucking dictionary shoved up your ass.”

Chishiya blinked once. Slowly. “Strange. I thought you’d like that sort of thing.”

Your soft laughnearly startled them. They both looked toward the kitchen, watching as you, still prepping food.

Niragi barely hesitated before turning back to Chishiya.

“Trying to flirt with me, doc?” His voice dripped with amusement, his grin widening. “I get it. I’m irresistible.”

Chishiya’s face remained perfectly neutral, as if he were speaking about the weather. “I’d rather throw myself off the roof.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Niragi grinned wider, leaning in slightly. “I bet you—”

“Shut up.”

It was said with so little effort. So flat. So completely uninterested that Niragi actually stopped mid-sentence.

You heard the silence from the kitchen and had to bite back a laugh.

Niragi? Silenced?

That was fucking rare.

But of course, only for a second.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?”

Chishiya turned away, completely ignoring him now.

Niragi hated that.

You, meanwhile, were enjoying every second of it.

“You two should start a podcast.” you commented, voice way too sweet as you focused on cooking. “So much chemistry.”

Chishiya just sighed.

Niragi threw his head back in laughter. Loud. Sharp. “Shit, baby, you’re funny.”

You smiled to yourself. “I know.”

Chishiya did not smile.

He simply existed, in pure, eternal suffering.

With both plates in hand, you made your way toward them. Niragi stretched out his legs, watching you, while Chishiya remained as he was—arms draped over the back of the couch, relaxed, but his gaze following you like he was analyzing every move you made.

You set Niragi’s plate down first.

“There you go.” you murmured, voice sickeningly sweet as you gently placed it in front of him. “Eat up, bad boy.”

“Ooh, you wanna feed me, too, baby?”

You patted his head.

Like a fucking dog.

So fast that Niragi barely had time to react before you were already stepping past him, placing Chishiya’s plate down as well.

“And for you.” Your voice was just as sweet, gentle, as if the two men before you weren’t literally some of the most dangerous people in this entire city.

Chishiya simply blinked up at you, unreadable as always, but he noticed it.

Something off.

Something in the way you walked.

At first, he wasn’t even sure what it was, but as you stepped away, heading back toward the kitchen, his eyes narrowed slightly.

The way your weight shifted just a little bit wrong. How your steps weren’t as smooth as usual.

It was subtle.

So subtle that even you didn’t seem to notice.

Chishiya knew you by now. You were too perceptive, too aware of yourself, of others. For you to not notice meant that either you were ignoring it or too distracted to care.

Too busy drowning these two absolute nightmares in affection to pay attention to yourself.

His eyes flicked toward your leg, then to your back, then back—analyzing, calculating, breaking it down piece by piece.

Something hurt.

Small, but definitely there.

Chishiya tilted his head slightly.

Hm.

You hummed softly to yourself as you moved around the kitchen, tidying things up, like this house wasn’t occupied by two of the worst people to ever walk the earth. Plates stacked neatly, crumbs wiped away, the soft clinking of dishes filling the air while they ate.

Or at least, Niragi did. Chishiya ate slow. Niragi, on the other hand, ate like he hadn’t had a meal in weeks, shoveling food into his mouth without shame.

You finished wiping down the counter, then stepped around the couch, moving behind them.

“Are you two okay?” Your voice was light, gentle, full of something neither of them deserved.

Chishiya didn’t answer. He simply let his head tip back over the couch, glancing at you upside down. He looked painfully cute doing that. Niragi barely lifted his head, only letting out a hum that could’ve meant anything.

“Good.” you murmured. “Good night.”

You walked away, disappearing down the hall, your door closing behind you.

And Chishiya blinked.

You didn’t eat.

Not one bite.

Not while cooking, not after, not even while cleaning up.

His eyes flicked toward Niragi.

And the pieces clicked together.

Niragi, who had devoured the attention you gave him. Niragi, who made a show of being in pain, drawing you in, demanding your focus, stealing your warmth just because he could.

Chishiya knew people. And Niragi was so easy to read it was almost funny.

Every single touch. Every soft-spoken word. Niragi ate it all up like a starved animal.

He might as well have been sitting there wagging his tail.

Chishiya watched him, tearing apart the situation piece by piece in his head, breaking down the sheer fucking need in Niragi’s body language.

And finally, Niragi noticed.

His chewing slowed. He turned his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

“The fuck are you looking at?”

Chishiya barely lifted a shoulder.

“You.”

“Getting jealous? Don’t worry, she can touch you too, you just gotta cry for it a little.”

Chishiya only raised his hands.

Your body ached the next morning. Not in the usual way. This was something deeper, sharper—a dull, throbbing pain along your side that had you wincing the second you stretched your arms.

You inhaled slowly, trying to push past it as you moved around the kitchen. You’d dealt with worse. You’d gotten through worse. This? This was fine. You were fine.

The sound of footsteps reached your ears before you saw him. Niragi.

You didn’t even have to look. His walk was loud, uneven, slightly off-balance—but still full of arrogance. You knew he had to be hurting, but he carried himself like he wasn’t.

You understood that. You did the same.

He stopped next to you at the counter, peering over at what you were doing. You could feel his presence before anything else—his heat, his height, the way he took up space without even trying.

“You’re up early.” you said, glancing at him.

He didn’t answer, but he sstayed next to you, close. Close enough that his arm brushed yours when you moved, close enough that when he leaned in—pretending to check what you were making—you could feel the warmth of his breath near your neck. He bumped your shoulder, even. An accident. Maybe.

You glanced at him again, raising an eyebrow.

He didn’t even look at you, just continued watching your hands, close enough now that you could feel his body heat.

Something about it made you smile.

Niragi was shameless. The way his gaze dropped to your tits as you leaned forward slightly, the way he lingered at your side, subtly drinking in your warmth like he didn’t know how to ask for it.

And maybe he didn’t.

You just let him.

After all, you liked company. And you liked him.

“If I told you to wake Chishiya up, you’d say no, wouldn’t you?” You asked him.

He let out a low hum, tilting his head slightly. “Obviously.”

“Of course.”

Not that it mattered. Because Chishiya was already awake. You heard his footsteps before you saw him.

“Good morning.” you greeted, your voice gentle, warm. You smiled at him, not expecting a response but offering it anyway.

Chishiya didn’t react at first, only letting his gaze flick between you and Niragi.

Ah.

He noticed.

He saw the way Niragi was standing too close, his shoulder brushing yours, his body subtly angled toward you like he was drawn in without realizing it.

And he understood it immediately.

A dog. Niragi was a fucking dog. One that had been kept on a chain for too long, starved of any real affection, biting at anyone who got too close—until someone finally offered him something.

But a dog that had been kicked too many times wouldn’t trust its owner, would it?

No, Niragi didn’t trust you. Not really.

He trusted the fact that you were harmless.

That he could use you without consequence. That you’d let him.

Chishiya could see it so clearly, the way Niragi ate up your attention, the way he leaned into you like he wanted more, testing how much you’d allow.

Pathetic. So predictable.

But then again—if Niragi was a dog, Chishiya was a cat.

Distant. Observing. Keeping his claws hidden until necessary.

And while he didn’t give a shit about you, he cared about being right.

And he was. Again.

Because as he watched you, he saw the subtle shift in your body, the barely-there wince when you moved a certain way, the slight favoring of one side over the other.

You were hurt.

You turned back to the counter, continuing to make breakfast like nothing was out of place, like you hadn’t spent last night holding your side in silence. Like you weren’t hurt at all. Because maybe, if you ignored it, it would go away.

You were always like that, weren’t you? Pushing forward, brushing off your own pain like it didn’t matter. Because there were people to take care of.

Because you were an angel, and they didn’t appreciate you enough.

Niragi was still standing close, watching over your shoulder as you worked, occasionally bumping against you like he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He absolutely was.

His shoulder hit yours again, a slow, lazy nudge that made you glance up at him. You raised an eyebrow, but your voice was nothing but light. “Are you gonna help, or are you just here to make my job harder?”

“I think you like it.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re a fucking idiot.” he replied, watching the way your hands moved, how carefully you handled everything—like you actually gave a shit about doing things right.

Chishiya was still quiet, watching.

You were too sweet to Niragi. He had already figured that much out, but seeing it like this, watching the way you let him get away with so much, was interesting.

It wasn’t because you were stupid. No, you were too smart for that.

It was because you chose to be kind.

And that was something Chishiya would never understand.

Why?

Why did you care so much?

What did you think you were going to change?

You set the plates down in front of them, soft words, gentle hands, just giving and giving and giving, and neither of them deserved it.

Not even a little.

Chishiya watched the way Niragi ate it up, the smug little glances he shot you when you leaned too close, the way he kept testing how much you’d let him take.

And you just let him.

Maybe you liked it, too.

Chishiya could see how you softened around people. It didn’t matter if they deserved it, you still did it.

And something about that annoyed him.

Because it wasn’t sustainable.

At some point, you’d run out.

And then what?

Chishiya ate slowly, watching the way you moved. The way you held yourself. It wasn’t obvious. You were good at hiding it. But he was better at seeing it.

Your side hurt.

He noticed the way you favored it, how your body instinctively protected itself—shifting slightly when you leaned, never putting too much pressure on one side. You never let yourself stiffen completely, but he could see the small moments, the subtle corrections. You weren’t paying attention to yourself, but he was.

Because he was always five steps ahead.

And you were going to come to him eventually, weren’t you?

You had to.

Because you weren’t stupid. You weren’t dumb enough to think you could hide it forever. At some point, you’d need him. You’d realize he already knew, and you’d sit down next to him and ask.

“What’s wrong with me?”

And he would tell you.

Because you deserved that.

You weren’t like Niragi. You weren’t some rabid fucking dog who couldn’t control himself, biting at anything that got too close. You weren’t a slave to your emotions, ruled by instinct and nothing else.

You were logical. You thought about things.

And you would think about this.

The question was how long would it take?How long before you realized?

He dragged his spoon through his food, twirling it idly, watching the way Niragi leaned into your space, so fucking obvious it was painful.

What a joke.

Like a dog getting scraps for the first time, like he didn’t even know what to do with it.

You were indulging him.

Why?

Why did you do this?

Why did you let him eat it up like that?

Like he was starved for it.

Like he was owed it.

He wasn’t. Neither of them were.

And yet you still gave.

And gave.

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, tapping his spoon against his plate.

You’d run out eventually. That’s just how things worked. At some point, you would have nothing left to give. And then what?

Would you break?

Would you snap?

Or would you just fade?

He thought about that, about all the different possibilities.

You were more interesting than he expected.

A different kind of game.

And he always liked to win.

You absolutely didn’t come to him for help.

No, of course not. That would be too easy. Too logical. Too expected.

Instead, here you were. Sitting on the couch, fidgeting with something small between your fingers, taking it apart piece by piece.

Chishiya stilled in the doorway, eyeing you for a moment before stepping into the room.

No Niragi.

Finally.

He walked over, dropping onto the couch next to you without a word. His presence didn’t seem to startle you—you didn’t even look up, just continued working on whatever you were dismantling.

It was quiet for a few moments.

Then, like always, you started talking. “Hey, you finally got bored of your room, huh?”

He didn’t answer, just rested his elbow on the arm of the couch, head tipping lazily against his knuckles. He watched the way your fingers worked, turning the tiny object over, pulling at different parts. You weren’t just fidgeting, you were actually picking it apart.

“What’s this?” he asked.

You glanced at him, then back down. “I don’t know.”

“Then why are you taking it apart?”

You shrugged. “Why not?”

He didn’t have a response to that. Not because it was a good answer, but because it was just… so you.

You always had to be doing something. Always had to be moving, like a shark that couldn’t sit still or it would die.

It was strange.

You were the calmest person in this room at any given time, and yet you never fucking stopped.

Maybe that’s why Niragi liked you.

Chishiya watched your fingers work for another moment before speaking again. “Where’s the dog?”

You huffed a small laugh at that, but didn’t look up. “Taking a nap, probably. I don’t know, I didn’t ask.”

He hummed. Good.

That meant he could have this conversation without the extra noise.

Not that this was really a conversation. It was mostly just you talking.

And talking.

You asked him things. Small things.

What he’d been doing all day.

“Nothing.”

If he was feeling okay.

“Fine.”

If he was bored yet.

“Not really.”

Your lips twitched slightly, like you wanted to tease him for the short answers, but you didn’t. You just kept going. Talking about whatever came to mind. The apartment. How you’d love to decorate it if you could.

“Pink.” you had said with so much certainty.

He had snorted at that. Pink.

“Not, like, a lot.” you had clarified. “Just a little.”

It didn’t matter, he had told you, because this wasn’t a home. But that didn’t seem to phase you.

You just kept going.

Talking, talking, talking.

Like you didn’t even notice how his gaze kept flicking to the way you moved. The way you leaned. The way your body naturally protected itself.

Your side hurt.

He knew it.

But you didn’t say it.

So he did.

“Your side hurts.”

Your fingers paused on the small device, body going unnaturally still. Then, just as quickly, you were moving again, brushing it off. “No, it doesn’t.”

He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. You were not a good liar. That much, he already knew.

“You’re protecting it.” His voice was flat. No emotion. No concern. Just observation. “The way you lean, the way you sit, the way you move. You haven’t even noticed it yourself, have you?”

You sighed, fingers tightening around the object in your hands before you set it down on the table.

He was right. Again.

Chishiya watched as you chewed your lip, like you were debating whether or not to keep pretending.

“Even if it does, it’s not that bad.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Let me look at it.”

Your head snapped toward him, blinking once. “What?”

“Let me look at it.”

Now you were staring at him, brows furrowing. “…Why?”

He shrugged. “Because I can.”

That wasn’t a real answer.

But you weren’t dumb.

He could see the thoughts turning behind your eyes, could practically hear your brain piecing together the facts.

That he was a doctor.

That he knew what he was talking about.

And, most importantly, that if not for you, he might’ve been left to rot on that street.

And Chishiya wasn’t the type to owe people favors.

But this? This was fair.

He saw the moment you realized it too. Your shoulders dropped, and you exhaled slowly, looking off toward the wall.

“Fine.”

Finally.

Without another word, Chishiya sat up properly, gesturing for you to shift toward him. You hesitated, then turned slightly, letting him face your injured side.

“Lift your shirt.” he said simply.

You shot him a look.

He stared back. Unamused.

With a sigh, you reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it up just enough to expose the skin of your ribs.

And there it was. The light bruising. The subtle swelling. Nothing serious. But it was there.

Chishiya pressed his fingers against the side of your ribs, watching the way your body reacted. Your muscles tensed, a small, involuntary twitch pulling through your stomach.

“Tell me when it hurts.” he murmured.

You nodded.

He started at the lowest ribs, pressing lightly, testing the reaction.

Nothing.

He moved higher, fingers working with precision.

Still nothing.

It wasn’t until he pressed closer to your side, near the center of the bruising, that he saw you flinch. Barely. But he caught it.

“Here?”

You hesitated. Then nodded.

He pressed a little firmer, feeling for any deeper injuries, any unnatural movement under the skin. Your breath hitched, and his eyes flicked up toward your face.

Still, you didn’t pull away.

Tough little thing.

He almost smirked.

“It’s not bad.” he told you, pulling his hands away. “No breaks. Probably just a deep bruise. Soft tissue injury. It’ll heal.”

You sighed, dropping your shirt back down.

“Told you.”

Chishiya sat back, watching as you flexed your fingers against your knee, still not looking at him.

This whole thing had been weird.

You let him check you over, eventually. But not because you wanted to.

Because you knew it was fair.

And maybe that was why Chishiya had let you take him in that night, too.

Not because he wanted to.

Because it was fair.

You pulled your shirt back down and exhaled, rolling your shoulders slightly, testing the soreness. Then, softly—so softly you almost didn’t say it—“…Thanks.”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, watching you. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Your lips pulled into a small, lopsided smile as you leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms over your stomach. “Yeah, I do.”

He studied you for a moment longer before shifting back as well, resting one arm along the back of the couch, fingers tapping lightly against the fabric.

“You hate being taken care of, don’t you?” he murmured.

Your eyebrows raised slightly at the observation, and you let out a small huff. “Says the guy who nearly bled out on the street because he’s too good at mind games to ask for help.”

“You’re right.” he said simply. “I don’t like it either.”

You smiled, though it was more tired than anything. “We have that in common, then.”

He hummed, noncommittal.

You both sat there in silence for a moment, processing in your own separate little worlds, the way you often did.

“…I didn’t even notice it hurt.” you said. “Not really. I guess I was just too busy making sure you and Niragi were okay.”

Chishiya gave you a look.

Not mean. Not mocking.

But something close.

“You do that too much.”

You huffed out another soft laugh. “What, care?”

“Yes.”

You turned your head toward him, arching an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He tilted his head, considering.

Was it?

To him, it was.

To you, it wasn’t.

And that’s what made this so interesting.

“It’s an exhausting thing.”

You sighed. “Yeah, well. Someone’s gotta do it.”

Chishiya leaned his head against the couch, still watching you. Studying you.

And you let him.

“You don’t think it’s exhausting?” he asked.

You blinked at him. Then you gave him a look. “I never said that.”

Chishiya’s lips pulled into something a little too knowing.

Because there it was.

That crack.

That moment of honesty. The one that told him that despite all your softness, despite all your warmth, despite everything that made you so different from him—you were tired.

But he already knew that, didn’t he?

Because you had a habit of pouring yourself out for people who didn’t give anything back.

And that was something Chishiya would never let himself do. And maybe…that was why he found you so exhausting, too.

You were humming softly, standing by the stove, focused.

Dinner was already planned.

You figured if they didn’t come on their own, you’d go knock on their doors—Niragi first, because he’d act like a brat about it, but he’d come. Chishiya after, because he’d hesitate, but you’d convince him.

You were already plating the food in your head. A little more on Chishiya’s plate. He deserved it after checking you out earlier, even if he acted like it was nothing. He was a good doctor, and you owed him.

The front door opened.

You froze.

You turned, and it was Chishiya. Coming back, from somewhere. What?

Your fingers twitched on the edge of the counter. “…Where were you?”

He glanced up at you as he shut the door, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I had to play.”

Oh.

Your shoulders stiffened before you could stop them.

You hadn’t even realized he’d left.

When did he leave? How long ago?

Your eyes scanned him. He looked… fine. There was no blood. No limp. No obvious injury.

Still.

“…You should’ve told me.”

Chishiya blinked. His head tilted slightly, almost as if he didn’t understand why you were saying that.

“It’s nothing.” you murmured, turning back to the stove, stirring the food. “I just… got scared for a second. That you left, or something.”

That made him pause. Not because he felt bad, but because it was interesting.

Why would you assume that?

He never gave you any reason to think he’d just leave.

And yet, the fact that you thought it—the fact that you were scared of it—that told him something about you.

“…I had no reason to tell you.”

You nodded.

Yeah.

You knew that.

You knew he didn’t owe you anything.

But you cared.

And he didn’t.

And maybe that’s why you were standing here, stirring food for them, thinking about their plates, making sure they ate, while Chishiya was standing by the door, looking at you like you were some strange creature.

“You get attached too easily.” His voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. Cold in a way that wasn’t intended to be cruel—it was just true.

Your hand slowed over the food, breath catching for just a second.

That was…

Well.

That was a thing to say.

You swallowed, staring down at the pan, feeling his eyes on you.

The worst part was that he wasn’t wrong.

You did get attached easily.

You let people in too quickly, gave them warmth even when they didn’t deserve it—even when they didn’t want it.

And here you were, worried about him, cooking for him, watching the door like a puppy because you didn’t even notice he was gone.

Maybe he had a point.

But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

You turned to him, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

“Then why do you stay?”

Chishiya’s expression didn’t change, but you saw it—the way his fingers flexed in his pockets, the faintest twitch of his jaw.

He didn’t expect you to ask that.

Niragi had a reason to stay. He was healing, recovering from the absolute beating he took. He was too injured to play yet, too injured to run, and deep down—you knew he liked it here.

But Chishiya?

Chishiya looked fine.

If he had any injuries, he was good at hiding them.

So if he really didn’t care, if none of this mattered to him—why was he still here?

“…Because it’s entertaining.”

Your breath left you slowly.

Of course.

Of course that’s what he’d say.

Because what else would he say?

That he felt intertwined to you for dragging his half-dead body out of the street? No. That would imply he felt something like gratitude.

That he felt bad for you, after the way you came home covered in blood? No. That would mean he felt something like guilt.

That he actually liked it here? That he liked you?

No.

That would make him human.

So instead, he stayed because it was entertaining.

That was easier. That was the kind of answer Chishiya gave.

You exhaled, pressing your lips together, nodding slowly.

Right.

You turned back to the food.

“You should wash up.” you murmured. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Like a breath that hadn’t been exhaled yet.

Like something was still left unsaid.

Chishiya watched you for a few moments longer, lingering in the doorway.

BANG.

A door down the hall swung open so violently that it rattled the walls.

“Louder, please.” Niragi’s voice. Flat. Dry. Sarcastic as fuck.

You sighed, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again, watching Niragi step into view.

He was shirtless, looking wrecked. Like he had just woken up—probably hadn’t meant to in the first place, but his ears were too sensitive for Chishiya’s bullshit.

His hair was a mess, face still lined from his pillow, a half-lidded glare pointed in both of your directions.

The moment he locked onto Chishiya, his expression darkened further.

Like he knew.

He didn’t know what exactly—he wasn’t there. But he knew something had just happened, something between you two, something he was left out of.

And fuck that.

Niragi was already on edge. He always had been.

He couldn’t stand Chishiya. Not just because he was an arrogant, smug bastard who thought he was above everyone—but because he was.

He was smarter. Five steps ahead. Always in control.

And Niragi hated that.

Hated that Chishiya was cold while he was burning alive.

Hated that Chishiya could switch it all off while Niragi felt too much.

Hated that you—you—spoke to him like he was a person.

Like he was worth it.

Like he was more than what he had become.

And Chishiya didn’t deserve that.

So yeah. He woke up to this bullshit and wasn’t happy about it.

Niragi groaned, raking a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes before turning back around, dragging himself down the hall.

SLAM.

You blinked.

Chishiya barely reacted.

You let out a slow breath, glancing over at him, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore.

He had already figured it out.

How Niragi felt everything too much. How it swallowed him alive. How you, somehow, had become a lifeline. How he clung to you like a starving animal.

How dangerous that was.

But Chishiya didn’t tell you.

Because he knew, one way or another… you’d figure it out.

❤︎︎ @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @cherryheairt @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @lizntstoptalking @hellscagee

#alice in borderland #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #aib chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #niragi suguru #aib niragi #niragi x reader

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