Author's note : Sorry for the slight delay, I hope this can compensate for missing a week of posting ! Leave a review if you feel like it ! Thanks to all of you for reading, favoriting, following or otherwise just enjoying this story, it means a lot to me ! Enjoy !

Chapter 7 - Friday nights

Obanai checked his appearance once more in the mirror. His hair was loose and it felt better this way - it felt more like him. His outfit was all black, a classic for him, a habit he had taken a long time ago. That too, felt natural, almost comforting. He needed things to be comforting in a way, he needed to be in control of some things at least. He had learned the hardest way that control was a beast and that sometimes he shouldn't have to try and reign everything in, and just let go of some weight.

He rolled his sleeves back a little and cast a quick glance at his wrists. He hadn't had the urge to hurt himself ever since that party - which had only served as a dire reminder of his own weaknesses and vulnerabilities. He had too many of those, in his opinion. The scars weren't that visible, still, he pushed down his sleeves and tugged on them to cover as much of his hands as possible. Another one of his disconcerting habit that he couldn't quite shake.

Obanai knew the reason behind his newfound and brutal nervousness. It seemed to overtake him every Friday night, at least it had for the past few weeks. Friday nights had become the most dreaded yet most wonderful nights of his life, week after week. Yes. Having Mitsuri Kanroji in his vicinity on campus had been a challenge before… Having her inside of his apartment and sitting on his couch, eating whatever he made for her, drinking soda and being outright comfortable in his presence… Well, this was a whole other story.

The first time, he couldn't even fathom the idea that she would actually come. He had berated himself for his nervousness all day long that first Friday, wishing himself to be less anxious, less of an overthinking mess, less everything that made him who he was - basically. He had gotten ready, cleaned his place and carefully picked a movie that he imagined she would like… And waited. He had sat on his couch, still as a statue - and he couldn't remember for the life of him how long this had lasted.

Yet she came. At 8pm sharp, she had knocked on his door, wearing that enchanting smile and that sweet, heady perfume that never failed to make his head spin and his insides burn.

The first time that the evening had drawn to a close - too soon in his opinion - he couldn't help but ask her if she'd come back the next week, so they could watch another movie, so they could spend one more night where it'd only be the two of them (and Kaburamaru when he decided to leave his terrarium). And she always said yes. The next week, he'd repeat the same routine, go through the same phases of nervousness, despair, and utter bliss once she arrived.

Yet every time, he'd ask her to come again the next week. Because he had taken the decision to stop letting things pass him by whilst trying to remain unaffected by them. Because he had decided that he would not allow himself to let Mitsuri Kanroji pass him by when she held in her hands a fragile piece of him that he hadn't even realized had already been given. Maybe it had simply belonged to her the whole time, patiently waiting for her to come and take it, take everything he had to give.

Now, even when his heart was beating out of his chest and blood was sure to invade his cheeks, he still asked her for one more night together, because he had to, because he wanted that and so much more. The fact that she never denied him should have given him the confidence to be less stressed out about asking her the next time, but it never did. Because Mitsuri was the woman he wanted to kiss, the woman he wanted to hold, the only person on this planet with whom he'd share his every secret.

He wanted that and so much more, but when he found himself next to her, just the thought of them touching hands sent him spiraling, the very few times it had happened had made him question everything he knew about feelings and desire and passion.

Obanai focused once again on his reflection in the mirror, standing in front of him, with haphazard eyes and a weak physique, how could he pretend that he'd be able to kiss Mitsuri and rise in her the same desire he struggled to contain every time they touched ? He took off his black mask and stared at his mangled face, his scarred and ugly lips - who would want to see that ? Let alone kiss that, for that matter. He himself couldn't tear his eyes from the wounds of his past, the very same he got to see every day, how could he ask of someone else, anyone, to look at it and feel passion ?

He heard the distinct sound of knuckles rasping on the wood of his door, the mask was back on his face just as soon. His heart was beating in his throat when he walked closer to the door. When he opened it, he felt like the hero in some rom-com movie, playing a scene in slow-motion, but everything was just in his head and he was definitely overreacting to all of it. She's been coming here every Friday night for literally weeks… Get a fucking grip on yourself. There wasn't much he could do to control his reaction upon seeing her, though, even after having known her for a few months now, it was always the same, always.

"Hi!" Mitsuri cheered from the entryway and Obanai froze at the sight of her. She was wearing sweats and an oversized jumper with some sports team name on it, her hair was up in a messy bun and she had little to no makeup applied on her face. His breath caught in his throat. He had never seen her like this… And he only ever wanted to see her like this from then on.

"Hi." He finally managed to blurt out something and moved aside so she could come in. He kept staring at her, not quite believing the reaction she seemed to cause in his body every time they found themselves face to face. Like a volcano ready to erupt, like a storm ready to burst, a tornado about to ravage everything in its wake… All of it happening all at once inside his head and body.

"Sorry," she started saying, "I kinda look like shit." What ?

"No you don't !" Obanai couldn't keep the words inside of his mouth, and he didn't regret saying them. "You look great, actually." Fuck but how was he supposed to keep it together when she was looking like this ? When she was standing in his home, looking like this ? "Rough day ?" he ventured to try and keep his mind off of the delicious sight of her.

"Rough week," she emphasized. He could see that she looked tired, her face carried less of the carefree and joyful expression it usually did and more of an exhausted look. She was still just as beautiful, in his eyes, but he could see that she seemed to be feeling low.

"Do you want to cancel our movie night?" he tried to sound sympathetic and not too disappointed, even when this was the last thing he'd ever want to do, her well-being came first in his mind. Ever since he had witnessed her experience vulnerability and anxiety on that night where it had only been the two of them - and the infinite night sky full of stars - he had understood that she struggled, just like him, with demons residing inside of her head and messing with her life. He had felt closer to her than ever before, in that moment, because he knew what that felt like, what losing control and losing yourself felt like, and he had tried to help her as best as he could.

But sometimes help wasn't enough, and some other times you just happened to be alone when the panic attack strikes and there is nothing you can do to calm yourself down. Yes, Obanai also had his fair share of rough days and rough weeks, where he couldn't even face his friends let alone interact properly with other people; where getting out of his bed in the morning felt impossible and he walked with the impression of carrying a giant, invisible boulder on his shoulders until he could finally go back home and lay down in his bed.

So no, he didn't want to cancel their movie night, it had become the highlight of his week, of his entire fucking life, even; but Mitsuri's health and well being was the priority, now and forever.

"No I don't!" she had exclaimed the words and was now looking at his face - for reassurance, maybe ? "Movie night is exactly what I need, right now, actually" she was stammering a bit and her cheeks had turned pink. Obanai couldn't have looked anywhere else, even had he tried to - and he sure as hell didn't try to.

He decided to let her off the hook and simply took her answer at face value. Because he wanted her here, and she appeared to want to be here as well, he wouldn't compromise that even if the world depended on it. He smiled and hoped she could see it, when she smiled back, he dared to think that she did. Her smile was small though, nothing like what he was used to getting from her. Concern lit like a candle in his heart and he just wanted to take care of her, he was gonna try his best to do just that tonight.

"You can go sit on the couch, if you want, and I'll bring everything over." He told her and watched as the small smile on her face deepened. She didn't protest - another clear indication that she wasn't feeling her best - and went right to the couch.

Obanai tried not to stare too long, but the sight of her sitting there always caught him off guard. He was so used to being on his own, he had always been more than fine with it… He had never even invited anyone here, because his space was a sanctuary where he always felt safest. Seeing Mitsuri taking it up though… She just looked like she belonged. She belonged in this place, on his couch, every time she came, a small piece of her stayed behind, something for him to find later. Sometimes it was the smell of her perfume, it always made him stop right in his tracks, always brought him back to that time he had held her as close as possible, but never close enough. Other times it was the laugh of her that seemed to echo on his walls, when he was watching a movie by himself, and found that it didn't feel the same when she wasn't sitting there, enjoying it with him.

Every day or so, he'd find himself spacing out, thinking about her slowly invading every corner of his life, he never even tried to resist any of it.

He came back with the sweet popcorn that she liked and the soda that she constantly drank when she was here. It all just felt so… familiar. His heart stretched inside of his chest at the idea that they could be doing that for as long as they wanted without ever getting bored, it rang true. He wanted her so badly, wanted to hold her close and kiss her lips and have her stay over instead of coming back to her place every time; but he'd settle for anything she was willing to give, even if his very soul screamed that this would never be enough.

Obanai set everything up on the coffee table in front of them and sat next to Mitsuri. She was fiddling with her sleeves, picking on loose threads that she only was seeing. She hadn't even noticed him sitting beside her, or the snacks that she usually marveled about when he gave them to her. Obanai angled himself towards her, one leg bent on the couch and his hand laying on the backrest.

He carefully considered his words. He wanted her to talk to him… yet he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable with him. He wanted to share and hear everything she'd let him know about her life, her personality, her interests and her worries or even anxieties. But he didn't want to push her, because he knew that were the roles reversed, he probably wouldn't be able to share what made him tick on his bad days. He just couldn't look too much into it, it'd only serve as a reminder that everything in his life that made him who he was had been fucked up - and he as a result was fucked up because of it.

What if Mitsuri asked him to share ? Would he shut her down ? Would he run and never look back ? He didn't know, didn't even want to think about it.. But he had to do something for her, because this was not how she should be, it wasn't how happy she deserved to be.

She kept worrying her fingers on her sleeves, she was twitchy, her movements betraying the slight tremble in her hands. Obanai just couldn't stand it anymore.

He slowly reached his hand, hoping to not startle her - praying she wouldn't reject him - and gently pried her right hand from her left. She froze and turned to him, seeming to only realize then that he had been sitting next to her the whole time. She didn't resist the contact, though, which he took as a good sign. He kept his gaze fixated on his hand taking hers, because he didn't feel like looking at her eyes right now, they always made every conscious thought derail from his brain. He decided on the simpler course of action and slowly interlaced their fingers before letting their joined hands fall on the couch.

The twitching had stopped the moment they had touched, her hand was cold in his and he hoped he'd get to warm her up a little, at the very least.

After a few excruciatingly long seconds of him not being able to look up to her, he tried to speak. "Do you wanna talk to me about it ? About anything ?" he tried to sound calm and reassuring, none of which he actually felt deep inside.

She took a deep breath and he heard the air catching in her throat. He raised his eyes then, because he had to see her, had to let her see him too, so she'd know that he was feeling scared as well but that he was there for her anyway. He didn't expect to see her smile, though. It derailed his train of thought for a moment - only until he caught her eyes looking at him with tears threatening to spill. The smile was wobbly, and it didn't last long, because Mitsuri was about to crumble right in front of him - and nothing had ever hurt just as much.

"I just…" her voice cracked as she spoke and Obanai couldn't sit there and do nothing like the useless piece of shit he had been raised to be. His breath caught in his throat, too, and he scooted closer to her.

He didn't think, couldn't afford to if he ever wanted to go through with this without backing down. The arm that was on the backrest of his couch encircled her shoulders and he pulled her to him. She immediately went with it and burrowed her head in his neck. Her arms went around his body and squeezed, so he took the liberty - one more at least, because he was greedy and holding her made him feel so much better as well - to bring his other arm around and bring her ever closer to him.

She didn't cry, though, but she stayed like that for a while, slowly breathing in and out, he could feel it on his skin, he had become hyperaware of it. His left arm was still encircling her and his right hand was drawing small patterns on her back, hoping to bring her comfort, in whatever form she needed it.

They remained sealed together, two bodies hanging on to each other to keep the demons at bay, to stay afloat when they were navigating a sea of overwhelming feelings that threatened to take them under. Obanai didn't speak, he couldn't find the strength to. He realized then that this hug.. he had needed it too, he had needed her. To take the pain away, to clear the dark sky hanging above his head, to feel like this life was worth it.

Mitsuri shivered in his arms, he reached behind her and grabbed the blanket he always left around, because she liked to wrap herself in it when they were watching a movie, and he liked to see her like that, carefree and cozy on his couch. He kept an arm around her and used the other one to unfold it and wrap it around her body. He felt the warmth seep into them and heard her sigh deeply in the crook if his neck. He knew they couldn't stay like that much longer, his heart was probably beating out of his chest, somehow it hadn't calmed down, it never did when she was that close, and she would back down any minute now, leaving him with the emptiness that came along every time they parted.

"Can we just… watch a movie, like we use to ?" she whispered close to his ear as she tried to raise her head. He loosened his hold on her, and it cost him - a lot. "I just need…" you, he thought, I need you. "… to think about something else." She finished instead.

"Alright," he murmured back and let go of her body, desperately trying to suppress the shiver that was threatening to rack over him and the loss of her warmth.

Her arms slipped from his frame, leaving a fiery trail in their path and their bodies separated for good, but she remained close. They looked at each other then, her green eyes searching his for something, he didn't know what, and he had never wanted to kiss her as much as he did then.

Her smile was genuine now, while still smaller than he wanted it to be, she looked at his eyes, and her eyes dropped to his mask. He wanted it off, he wanted it to disappear, more than ever before, he wanted to be free from it. Because if he was free, then he could hold her face and bring her closer, then he could feel the scent of her perfume overcome his senses, then he could put his lips on hers and he'd be free.

His hand spasmed and he wanted all of that so fucking much that it resonated all over his body and it hurt. He wouldn't do that, he couldn't bear to see the disgust on her face when she saw him and that was it. He let his eyes roam over her features one more time, it wasn't like he could help it anyway - she was just perfection in the shape of a pink-haired woman - and he turned sideways once more, bringing even more space between the two of them.

He took the tv remote and switched it on, working on autopilot because his mind was still very much elsewhere - elsewhere being right next to him, still very close and very quiet. He set up the movie that they had chosen to watch when talking this week. It was the best excuse he could find to text her every time the urge to talk to her took him over. He'd randomly send her movie names or directors, asking for her opinion, offering her the choice to either reply of leave him expecting. She always replied, and always gave him some time of her day to pick together what they would watch, leaving him with a fluttering heart and a growing restlessness to see the week come to an end so that it'd be Friday night again.

This time, they had picked up 'Back to the Future', they both had already seen it but shared a common particular fondness for the movie's characters - and plot of course. Not long after the start of the movie, Obanai felt Mitsuri move imperceptibly closer to him. He noticed because they were still closer together than they usually were, and he was attuned to her every move. She moved closer again, until their arms were only a hairbreadth away from touching, she took the blanket that was laying on her shoulders and draped it over both of their backs.

Obanai immediately caught on her action and thanked her quietly, even though he was much more likely to shiver from her closeness than from the room temperature. She laid her head on his shoulder then, just like she had done that one time they were outside on the grass, in front of the whole world to see. He didn't dare move and disturb her, he didn't want this moment to end, not ever. So he tried his hardest to focus on the movie playing in front of them, and he succeeded, surprisingly. He had always liked this movie and it felt reassuring to watch it again, he felt calmer now than when the night had started.

After a while, he noticed that Mitsuri seemed quieter too, she hadn't spoken any remarks about cheesy dialogue or funny special effects from the 80s, and her breathing had become deeper and deeper. She's asleep, Obanai realized. He was happy for her because she had looked so very tired upon arriving here, like she hadn't had a good night's sleep in way too long, and now he simply had to not wake her up.

As gently and minutely as possible, he tried to move his body to the side without shaking her awake. He kept his breathing slow and moved, inch by inch. The task took a while, but he managed to angle his body in a similar position than the one he had been in when they were holding each other. Mitsuri's head slowly drifted from his shoulder to the crook of his neck again. He froze for a couple of seconds, waiting to see if she woke up… When she didn't, he let out a quiet sigh and kept on moving.

Before long, he had drifted both of their bodies to halfway lie on the couch. His head on the armrest and her upper body curled up on his torso. He draped the blanket over the both of them and went back to watching the movie. At some point, he felt her stir a little, and waited for her to draw back away from him in shock when she took notice of the way they were practically meshed together.

Instead, she lifted her feet from the floor and put them up on the couch as well. She was fully lying down on him, at this point, and she only burrowed deeper in his chest, wrapped in his blanket and basically using him as a human mattress. Obanai didn't complain for one second, the feel of her so close to him, trusting him to hold her and to watch over her as she slept was more than he could ever ask for, more than he ever deserved.

Mitsuri woke up feeling more rested than she had all week. She was still tired - it looked like it was the middle of the night - but still, her sleep had been undisturbed by the weird dreams or even nightmares that had plagued her for the past few days and she felt grateful.

Of course, the reason for her feeling even remotely better now than she had for so long was laying underneath her - sleeping - from what she could guess when she heard the deep breaths coming from him and the steady beat of his heart in his chest. Yes, she felt better now. Because Obanai had taken one look at her and known that something was off. Because he had taken her hand in his and shaken her to her core with his eyes that saw her and his words that spoke to her soul. Because he had held her, when she had needed it the most, when she had been too vulnerable to do anything else but rely on him to just be there for her. Because he hadn't let go of her for who knows how long, holding her like everything would be alright again, until she had started to believe it too.

And then she had fallen asleep. Something she had struggled with so much for the past week, when her mind was plagued with memories of the life she used to live, of the people who used to hurt her, of the life she could have had in that moment if she hadn't left it all behind.

Then she had fallen into a dreamless sleep, filled with the warmth of the body that sat next to hers, lulled by the voices from a movie she used to love, she had fallen asleep, and she had rested her mind and body for the first time in what felt like forever.

Obanai hadn't pressed on her to tell him what had been wrong with her, he had listened to her and understood, that she wasn't ready to speak about that, yet. He hadn't judged, he had only given her a shoulder to rest on - literally.

Now she found herself pressed even closer to him than when he had hugged her. She was half-laying on his couch, half-laying on his torso, covered in the softest blanket in existence - she always stole it from him on their movie nights, it was just so soft ! She had slept with her head resting in crook of his neck and her arms snuggled against his chest and fuck but it had felt good. So good in fact that she didn't want to leave this position - like, ever.

The tv was emitting a very dim light, Mitsuri realized, probably because Obanai had fallen asleep as well without turning it off. She tried to rise as slowly as possible and felt his hand tighten on her waist. Only then did she start to feel the small weight of it against her. He had held her in every way possible tonight, had even let her use him as her personal human mattress for hours and had even fallen asleep with the weight of her probably crushing him a little - she was far from light, in her own opinion.

She rose a little bit more, his hand still on her, burning her skin even through layers of clothing. She looked at him then, with the help of the small light coming from the screen, she couldn't see him as much as she would want to, but she'd take anything by that point, anything to give her a clue of what she was supposed to do, now.

The light was casting shadows under his closed eyes, they were accentuated by the long, dark lashes that framed his enigmatic gaze. The mask was still covering his mouth, but it had slipped a little and revealed a straight nose, just like she had imagined he had. He was so beautiful, she craved to see all of him - she prayed he'd someday trust her enough with all of him. Because Mitsuri would settle for nothing short of everything.

She glanced at the chest on which she had been sleeping for the past few hours, the muscles were very obviously there, she had felt them for herself, and were made even more visible by his shirt being plastered to his body. Mitsuri couldn't help but feel the heat rise to her cheeks, because she wanted to trail her hands on the skin of his torso and feel these muscles with her fingers, experience the smoothness of his skin with her own.

She dreamt of it some nights, of seeing him undressing himself before her… Only when she undressed herself too, he'd back down with a disgusted look on his face, like her body had offended him somehow. She'd wake up then, feeling like shit and hating herself for being so fucking ugly.

'You look great, actually.' Yes, Obanai had told her that earlier that night, when she had come looking like an absolute mess, and feeling even worse. And she believed him ? Maybe a little… Maybe she wanted to believe that he thought she looked great when she obviously didn't. Maybe she wanted him to kiss her, she had thought she could see it in his eyes, boring down on hers, when they had been facing each other on the couch, so close yet so far away still. Maybe she wanted him to undress her like she dreamt of some restless nights - mostly after they had spent a few hours together and she felt particularly edgy when they had been so close to each other - which they were, most of the times.

Fuck. This is not what I should be thinking about right now. Mitsuri berated herself on the inside, even though she kept looking at Obanai's sleeping form, imagining herself waking him up with a kiss.

Shit. I really need to go, like right now ! Mitsuri quickly detangled their limbs and climbed off the couch, hoping she wouldn't wake him up in the process. His hand left her waist and she felt ever colder without it.

She put the blanket back over him, she knew that she should wake him up, say goodbye properly and leave him to go sleep in his bed, it had to be more comfortable than the couch, right ? But she couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't bring herself to say another goodbye without taking his face in her hands and kissing him with all the passion that she felt inside of her. She couldn't bring herself to just say, 'See you next week' when she felt like she'd burst if she spent another minute so distantly far away from him.

No, Mitsuri had to go now, before doing something she'd deeply regret. Like saying I love you to a guy she barely even knew that well, like asking him to get rid of the mask and kiss the life out of her like she fantasized about way too often for it to be healthy.

She turned the tv off and turned one last time to him, even though there was barely any light left in the room, she could still see the contours of him. Before she could think any better, she leaned her body until her face was barely an inch from his. Thank god for the mask, she thought, because she would have kissed him then if it hadn't been there. She settled for his forehead, instead. She gently brushed aside loose strands of hair with her fingers and softly pressed her lips again his skin. Good night, she thought but couldn't risk to say the words out loud.

She felt the heat rise up to her cheeks and turned back without another look. She closed the door of his apartment behind her and pressed her back to it, catching her breath like she had just been running a fucking marathon. She took a few seconds to compose herself and went back home.

Inside the apartment, Obanai's eyes were still open, crystal clear in the darkness of the night. His breaths were coming out short and his heart was hammering in his chest. His hands were squeezed so tightly he thought he couldn't feel his fingers anymore. He rose into a sitting position and tried to catch his breath, but to no avail.

I love her, he thought then, and the thought, like his gold and teal eyes in the dark, was crystal clear.