#nylu has written

[ratatoilett]

"what the hell is wrong with you-"

maybe in another universe you won't be having this conversation with him. maybe in another universe satoru would just tease you and make smartass comments about how you're so pouty after he ate that one last slice of cake you saved up just to savor the taste. maybe this will all just be an ordinary day but this wasn't that universe.

no this was now.

he stopped his tracks, dragging his hands through his snow-white hair, his face unreadable. "you knew i had to make this choice right? all those plans, those chances, those what ifs-"

your nostrils flared, "and you didn't stop for a second to think about how i would feel about any of this?"

the silence that followed was deafening. he just stood there, staring, the weight of his words pressing down on this godforsaken room like an iron shroud. finally, he broke it, his voice a whisper, trembling at the edges, "this is the only—this is the only way i could see you having a good life."

bewildered was even the word. you barked out a laugh—sharp, bitter, more like a scoff—"a good life? and you can't be in it? so you've decided to make—this twisted, fucked up version of reality—where i could have a 'good life' without you in it?".

your pacing grew erratic as you fought the tears that stung your eyes, biting them back with all your strength. "tell me, did you planned this all along satoru? from the very beginning—"

he closed his eyes, a pained grimace crossing his face. "yes."

and that one word shattered something in you.

"so you think by giving up your body —letting them use you like some goddamn ragdoll to beat sukuna— is a bright idea? and then what? you just—what—throw yourself away like trash?"

you stopped pacing, your breaths coming out in uneven bursts. the plan you overheard, not from his lips, no. the moment you'd learned about it, something inside you had snapped, every nerve in your body screaming in protest.

satoru swallowed hard, stepping toward you cautiously, as though afraid you might vanish if he got too close. his hands cupped your face, warm but trembling, like he was holding on to something slipping through his fingers. "do you remember?" his voice cracked, low and rough. "do you remember what i told you? before all of this��� the curse, the missions, all this shit—how i always said—"

you choked on your own tears, already knowing the answer. "that you'd come home soon."

he nodded, his forehead brushing against yours as his own tears began to spill. "and i always meant it."

your hands gripped his wrists tightly, desperate, like holding on to him could somehow change this, change everything. "don't. don't say it. i don't want to hear it."

he pressed a kiss to your hair, pulling you into his arms, holding you so close it felt like he was trying to merge your souls. his face buried in your neck, and you could feel his tears hot against your skin. he was trembling—this unshakable man, this immovable force, was breaking apart in your arms.

and it was funny, in the most tragic way imaginable, how the two of you were crumbling together. one fighting so desperately to keep the other from slipping away, and the other fighting to let go.

his voice came again, breaking the silence like a cracked whisper. "i need you to promise me something. promise me you'll be ok."

you shook your head violently, the words tumbling out of you like a broken glass. "no. no, i can't—don't ask me that satoru, don't—"

his hands framed your face again, his eyes searching yours with desperation that cut deeper that any curse ever could. "promise me," he said, his voice stronger now, even as his own tears refused to stop. "promise me you'll be strong, promise me you'll never forget me. that you'll think of me, even just from time to time. promise me you'll remember how much i love you, how grateful i am of you. and promise me—"

his voice cracked, and the rest came out in a rush. "promise me you'll remember that i didn't want to go."

your grip on him weakened, and something in his eyes changed. he knew. he knew.

he planted one last kiss on your forehead, lingering as though trying to pour everything he couldn't say into that single moment. then he stepped back, his hands falling away like leaves in the wind.

and just like that, he let go.

[ratatoilett]

katsuki is back in town, and he already regrets coming home for christmas this year.

now he’s standing in front of your house, holding a box of chocolates he thought you’d like. the kind you used to crave after long days together. he doesn’t even know if you still like them, if you even still think about those things he remembers so well. three years have passed, and yet here he is, feeling like a fool for every step that brought him to this moment.

he rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to push down the nerves. why is this so hard? what if he’s changed too much, and you don’t recognize anything familiar in him? or worse—what if you’ve changed, and he’s holding on to someone who doesn’t exist anymore?

he’d thought it ended on a good note. that’s what he told himself all those years ago. so why is he so afraid to see you now? why does it matter so much?

fuck it, he raises his hand, giving a quick knock on the door before he can talk himself out of it. but before he finishes, he hears movement from inside, and the door opens, catching him off guard.

“oh, fuck, you scared—”

it’s you. the words die in your throat, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. even the snowflakes look suspended in mid-air as you stare at each other. he opens his mouth, but only manages, “uh—hey, I, uh… sorry.”

your expression is unreadable. he used to know every glance, every little movement, every sigh. now, you’re a stranger, and it terrifies him. why can’t he read you anymore?

“katsuki, hey—” you finally say, and he hears that voice he’s kept buried in the back of his mind, replayed on endless, restless nights. he feels an urge to reach out, just to touch you, as if that would bring back something of the past.

“i—it’s been so long, katsuki.”

“babe, who’s there?” a voice calls from inside, and he freezes again, the world suddenly colder.

“it’s just—it’s a friend! this’ll just take a minute,” you say, glancing over your shoulder, almost apologetically.

a friend. the word stings, cutting deeper than he expected. he looks down, shaking his head, and forces a small, wry smile. “sorry for interrupting. i just-was gonna give you this anyway, so—”

“no, no, you can—i mean, if you want to— you say, trailing off, eyes uncertain.

he swallows the ache in his throat. he’d known this was a bad idea. but still, some part of him had hoped, against all sense, that you might feel something too, that maybe you were still who he remembered.

“nah. m' fine. just take it.”

you reach out slowly, your fingers brushing his as you take the box from him. “thank you, katsuki.”

“t’s nothin’. should get goin—”

“how—how have you been, katsuki?”

he stops, the question hitting him harder than he thought it would. he feels the world hold its breath again.

“great.”

“why did you come back, katsuki? you never—” you hesitate, your words hanging in the air. “i’m sorry, that was—i shouldn’t have asked.”

he shoves his hands into his pockets, rocks back on his heels, the words he wants to say caught somewhere deep in his chest, tangled and painful. he wants to tell you about every night he lay awake, thinking of this exact moment, of how he’d imagined you waiting for him, of how he’d never truly let you go.

“somethin's always bringin' me back to ya, i guess.”

you blink, your face shifting, as if something in his words struck a place you’d tried to keep buried. your expression softens, and he feels something in you shift, something he hasn’t seen in years. he gestures back towards your door, a small nod.

“go inside. he’s waitin’ for ya.”

but you don’t move. you just stand there, looking at him, your expression a mix of things he can’t quite read. it’s like you’re searching for the boy you knew, and instead, seeing a man who’s weathered years without you. he wonders if you’re feeling what he’s feeling now—a kind of regret that lingers, that quietly seeps into the cracks left by time.

“gotta go,” he murmurs, the words tasting hollow as he says them. “i’ll—see ya around.”

he turns to go, but you speak up, voice catching in your throat. “wait. just—katsuki, look—”

he stops, his back to you, the words sinking into the silence between you. for a moment, he stands there, torn between staying and leaving, between the past and the present.

slowly, he turns, his eyes meeting yours, and in that gaze, everything he’s ever wanted to say seems to spill over.

“i—” katsuki starts, his voice shaking ever so slightly, like he's struggling against a tide of emotions that’s threatening to drown him. he looks at you, the words weighing heavy on his tongue. “i don’t know what i thought would happen.”

there’s a vulnerability there, one you haven’t seen in years, one you didn’t even know he still carried. it hits you harder than you expected. and suddenly, it’s like the air between you two is charged with everything you’ve been holding back—everything that’s been buried deep inside for so long.

you swallow hard, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. not because you don’t want to—because you don’t know how. nothing feels right anymore.

“you didn’t have to come back,” you whisper, but the words sound like they’ve been stripped of meaning, like they were meant to be something else, something you can’t quite reach.

“i know.” he shakes his head, frustration tightening his jaw. “but i did anyway.”

the silence that falls between you both is heavier than any words could be. it’s thick, pressing down on both of you, pulling at all the things you wish you could say, all the things you should’ve said. there’s so much left undone, so much left unsaid, and it’s suffocating.

you look at him, searching his face, trying to see the person you used to know—the one you loved, the one you lost. but instead, all you see is a stranger. a person who’s still a part of you, but someone you can’t reach anymore.

“i—” he stops himself, his hand clenched by his side, like he’s holding back everything he’s feeling. he looks at you one last time, like he’s trying to find something that will make this easier, something that will make it all right again. but it’s too late for that. It’s been too long.

“take care of yourself, yeah?” he mutters, his voice almost a ghost of what it used to be—small, broken, like the words are falling apart before they reach you.

you can feel the emptiness of it. “yeah. you too.”

it’s all that’s left to say. there’s nothing more. you both know it, but neither of you wants to let it go, even though it’s already slipping through your fingers.

katsuki turns away, his steps slow, deliberate, like he’s dragging the weight of every unspoken word behind him. the snow falls harder now, swallowing his footprints, erasing him as if he were never here at all.

but the ache stays. it’s in the pit of your stomach, twisting with every breath. the world moves on, but this—this moment—will never leave you.

you stand there for a long time, watching him fade into the distance, knowing that this is the last time. the last time you’ll see him like this. the last time you’ll ever have a chance to say all the things you wish you could.

and just as he disappears into the snowfall, your chest tightens, your breath catching in your throat. you want to scream, you want to run after him, but you know it’s pointless. the distance between you is too great now. it always has been.

but before he’s completely gone, you see him look back one last time. just a flicker. just a moment. and you wonder, for the briefest of seconds, if maybe—just maybe—he feels it too.

then he’s gone.

and all that’s left is the quiet. the snow. the space between you both, filling up with everything that will never be.

[ratatoilett]

knock. knock. knock.

the sound cut through the stillness of your apartment, pulling you away from the rhythm of your thoughts. you stopped washing the dishes, the warm water slipping off your fingers as you dried your hands on the faded flower-printed rag hanging near the stove.

for a brief moment, the world outside the window seemed distant, quiet. almost too quiet.

you took a steadying breath and glanced at the clock on the wall—time passing, just like it always did. but today—today felt different.

"coming!" you called, forcing the brightness into your voice, though it felt like a thin mask.

you padded toward the door, each step lighter than the last, even though the weight in your chest seemed to grow heavier with every breath. when you opened it, you were met with shoto, standing there with a small, familiar smile. there was comfort in his presence, like something that anchored you to the here and now, even as the past still loomed large.

"hey," you greeted, and he nodded, his lips curving upward in that quiet, thoughtful way that was so distinctly him.

"i brought some snacks. fuyumi and natsuo are gonna be a little late," he said, stepping inside and offering you that same warm hug he'd been giving you for years.

you returned the embrace, savoring the closeness, the connection. it was easy with shoto. easy to pretend that everything was okay, that life could move forward, even if sometimes it felt like you were walking through a fog.

but as you pulled away, the emptiness hit you again. this wasn't the same. it never would be.

"this is—nice," you said, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth. "it’s nice that we can all be together like this."

shoto nodded, his gaze steady. "yeah, im glad we can all be together like this too"

and yet, even as he said that, you could feel it—the hollow space between you, the unspoken grief that tugged at the edges of every shared glance, every smile.

today was the day touya had died.

the silence in the room seemed louder than ever, thick with the weight of what you’d lost. what you had lost.

you turned away, setting the table as your hands moved automatically, arranging the plates with the kind of precision that came from years of doing things alone. you tried to focus on the simple tasks—anything to keep your mind from drifting back to him, to that moment. the moment everything changed.

you didn’t want to remember, but the memories came anyway.

what if he were here now?

you froze for a moment, a heavy silence between you and the table. the thought wasn’t new—it was a thought that had haunted you for as long as you could remember. the “what ifs” never stopped, even when you tried to push them away.

what if touya had been here with you now? laughing with natsuo, teasing fuyumi about her obsession with healthy food, stealing the last piece of cake like he always did, making that smirk of his even more infuriating and charming at the same time.

what if he hadn’t been consumed by the flames of his past, the fire inside him turning into something destructive, something unrecognizable.

you could almost hear his laugh, feel the warmth of his touch, see the gleam in his eyes as he’d mess with his siblings. the air would have been full of his presence, louder than any conversation. the apartment would’ve felt full again, and not so unbearably empty.

but that was just it—he wasn’t here. he never would be again.

the absence of him sat at the edge of everything now, a void that you couldn’t erase no matter how much time passed.

but then the thought faded as quickly as it had come, slipping through your fingers like sand. the sharp ache of longing lingered, but so did the quiet understanding. he’s gone. he won’t be back.

you swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside as you turned back to face shoto. he was watching you, his gaze steady but kind. he had always known, hadn’t he? known that this day was hard for you, and yet, he was still here—present, reliable, a quiet comfort in the absence of everything that once was.

"you okay?" shoto asked, his voice softer than usual, as though sensing the weight of your thoughts.

you nodded, though you weren’t sure if you were lying to him or to yourself. "yeah. just—remembering. it's fine."

he gave a small nod, his eyes understanding. clearing his throat and spoke quietly, his voice almost softer than usual. "he would’ve wanted to be here, you know. with all of us."

you nodded, swallowing against the lump in your throat. It was a truth you didn’t need to explain.

you went on with the evening. fuyumi and natsuo eventually arrived, and the four of you sat down to eat. the laughter came easily, the teasing and small talk flowing as they always did. you all played your parts—light-hearted, familiar—like nothing had changed.

but even in the midst of it all, you couldn’t shake the thought of what wasn’t there. you could feel his absence, the hollow place in the room where he should’ve been. it wasn’t the same without him. it never would be.

shoto noticed, of course. he always did. "i imagined he’d try to rile fuyumi out," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "bet he’d laugh with you too, natsuo."

your chest tightened. it was true. touya would’ve wanted to be here, sitting at this table, sharing this meal with the people he loved. he would’ve wanted to laugh, to joke around, to argue about the best way to cook the potatoes or who got the biggest slice of cake.

but that wasn’t the world you were living in anymore. that world was gone.

the silence stretched again, but this time it wasn’t oppressive. it was shared. you all understood, even if you didn’t have to say the words out loud.

fuyumi smiled at you, her gaze kind. she reached out and held your hand. natsuo—while taking a bite of his food and waving his fork around, chuckled. "he would, and he’d just be riled up by seeing your unbothered ass."

the conversation continued, and you found yourself listening more than speaking. but you didn’t mind. you let the sound of their voices wash over you, trying to hold onto this moment, even as memories of touya slipped through the cracks.

you were here. and though it would never replace what had been lost, there was still love, still family. still the possibility of moving forward, even if the hole in your heart would never completely heal.

you didn’t want to move on, not completely. you didn’t want to forget him. but somehow, you knew you would find a way to live with the loss. and that, in its own way, was a kind of healing.

and though touya couldn’t be here, in this room with you, you knew that somehow, he would still want you to keep going. to keep living, to keep finding moments of joy, even if they were now a little bittersweet.

as the evening unfolded, as laughter and the clink of silverware filled the air, you allowed yourself a moment to simply breathe. because somehow, even without him, you knew you’d be okay.

and so, for tonight, you let yourself remember.

you let yourself remember touya, and the family he would’ve wanted to be a part of, if only things had been different.

[ratatoilett]

the rush hour subway station buzzed with chaotic energy, a tangle of hurried footsteps and muffled announcements. the metallic screech of trains coming and going filled the air, yet amidst the noise, there was a strange stillness in your chest. you had paused at the edge of the platform, eyes scanning the opposite side for no reason in particular—until they landed on a figure you hadn’t seen in years.

satoru.

even in the sea of people, he stood out like a shard of sunlight piercing through a cloudy sky. the same white hair, the same sharp features that once softened when he smiled at you, and even from this distance, those unmistakable azure eyes were now fixed on you. time slowed. the world seemed to blur around the edges, leaving only the two of you locked in an invisible thread of recognition.

your heart lurched, an old wound reopening. it had been years since the two of you had parted ways, leaving feelings and unspoken words behind. his ambitions, your fears, the inevitable collision of two paths that diverged before they could intertwine.

the ache in your chest wasn’t just pain; it was the longing for something you couldn’t quite name. the years had stretched out like an endless silence, but seeing him now felt like hearing a familiar song, one that had always lingered in the back of your mind. you’d told yourself you’d moved on, but had you really? or had you just learned to live without the light he brought into your life?

and yet, here he was. here you were. a twist of fate, or perhaps just a coincidence, but it didn’t feel random. it felt like the universe was giving you a moment you didn’t know you still wanted.

his expression shifted, the smallest lift of his lips that you remembered as his way of saying hello without words. the air between you hummed with unspoken possibilities, the kind that made your chest ache. would he cross over? should you? did he still feel it, that pull that had once tethered you both together so fiercely?

a train roared into the station, momentarily cutting off your view of him. for a second, you panicked, a desperate fear that he’d be gone when the train passed. but when it finally left, there he was, still standing there. still looking at you.

satoru raised a hand, a lazy wave that somehow carried the weight of a thousand memories. you found yourself mirroring the gesture, a tentative smile breaking through the myriad of emotions swirling within you. the distance between you was vast, and yet it wasn’t. it never had been.

on the other side of the platform, satoru's breath caught in his chest, just as yours had. his confident facade wavered, his usual smirk softening into something far more vulnerable. he could feel it too—the quiet, insistent pull of a history that had never fully let him go. his mind raced with questions, but his heart beat louder, insisting that this wasn’t just chance. it was as if time itself had conspired to bring you back into his orbit.

the overhead speaker crackled, announcing the arrival of your train. you hesitated, feet rooted to the ground as passengers surged around you. on the other side, satoru seemed equally frozen, the crowd parting like water around him. he tilted his head, a silent question in his gaze: what now?

you didn’t know the answer. not yet. but as your train pulled in and the doors slid open, you stepped forward, glancing at him one last time. he nodded, a subtle gesture that felt like a promise. on his side of the platform, his hand clenched briefly at his side, as if fighting the urge to close the distance between you, to defy the barrier of tracks and steel and reach for you.

and then, as the train doors began to close, you held onto the sight of him as long as you could. there was a weight to the moment, a heaviness in your chest that came with the certainty that something had shifted. your fingers gripped the pole beside you as the train began to move, but your thoughts stayed rooted where he was. on his side, satoru exhaled, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips as he watched your train disappear into the distance. for the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope.

it was like the air itself was charged, a hum of electricity settling into your skin. it whispered of chances not yet taken and futures still unwritten, a yearning so deep it left you breathless. the song in your head swelled, faint and haunting, like an old melody you’d almost forgotten but could never truly erase.

you glanced out the window, the station receding into the distance, and then, as if on instinct, you looked forward—beyond the reflection in the glass, beyond the present. your eyes found the truth that you’d always tried to bury. you’re seeing this, right? this is where everything shifts. this is where the ache turns into something more. you felt the silent acknowledgment of a witness to your life, someone seeing the raw ache and hope coursing through you, the quiet yearning that you’d thought had long been silenced.

the faintest of smiles tugged at your lips. something was coming. you could feel it in your bones, a truth that left you raw and alive. and it felt a lot like him.

satoru stood motionless for a moment longer. then, slowly, he turned and began to walk—but not away. not entirely. there was a lightness to his steps, a subtle hope radiating from his being, as if he, too, felt that this wasn’t the end. it couldn’t be. it was only the beginning.