"Kyoya... maybe we should call this off."
Dino's words echoed in Hibari's mind, a sharp, relentless refrain. He sat still in their dimly lit room, his usually composed demeanor cracking at the edges. Not that he didn't want to respond then—but the weight of Dino's words had left him utterly at a loss.
Hibari rarely struggled with words; he had no use for them unless they served a purpose. But now, every question he wanted to ask, every sharp retort he wanted to hurl at Dino, choked in his throat. Confusion roiled in his chest, tangling with the faint sting in his bandaged hand.
Why?
Dino's sudden shift gnawed at him. Dino, the one who had chased after him so persistently, practically begged for Hibari to let him in, who always claimed he wanted to be close to him—was now asking for a breakup? Without even a proper explanation?
Hibari's eyes wandered to the picture frame on the nightstand. It was a rare photo of them together, one Dino had insisted on taking. Hibari had been scowling, irritated at the time, while Dino's arm slung lazily over his shoulders, smiling like an idiot. The contrast was ridiculous, yet Hibari hadn't been able to throw it away.
So what now? Hibari thought bitterly, gripping the edge of the nightstand. Did he find someone else? Did I bore him? Is that why he's leaving me like this—like I'm nothing more than a stray cat he fed out of pity?
Hearing the faint jingle of keys and the front door closing, Hibari clenched his teeth. Dino had left without saying another word. His absence only deepened the hollow ache in Hibari's chest.
--
Dino sat in his car, parked in the dimly lit lot just beneath their apartment building. He wasn't going anywhere; he just couldn't stay in that apartment, in their home, not after saying what he had.
He rubbed his temples, feeling a deep weariness settle over him. The sight of Hibari's stunned, silent expression replayed in his mind over and over again. It was unbearable—watching Hibari, who was always so composed, so strong, suddenly look so lost.
But what could he do? He felt like he was suffocating in their relationship, torn between wanting more and not knowing how to ask for it. Dino had convinced himself that maybe ending things would hurt less than continuing like this, but instead, the ache in his chest only grew sharper.
At some point, exhaustion overtook him. He leaned back in the driver's seat and closed his eyes, the steady hum of the city lulling him into a restless sleep.
--
The early morning sun streamed through the windshield, harsh and unrelenting. Dino stirred awake, groaning as his neck protested against the awkward angle. His phone buzzed in the cupholder, Romario's name flashing on the screen.
"Boss, we've got a mission," Romario informed him after Dino answered. His tone was professional but tinged with concern, likely because Dino didn't sound like himself.
"I'll handle it," Dino replied after a pause, rubbing his face.
After hanging up, he sighed and turned the engine off. With a heavy heart, he made his way back to the apartment. His fingers automatically punched in the familiar password—the date of their anniversary. As the door unlocked with a soft click, Dino's lips curled into a bitter smile.
--
The apartment was quiet, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Hibari was still asleep, lying on his side with his back turned toward the door. Dino paused in the doorway of their bedroom, his steps hesitant.
He approached the bed slowly, his heart twisting at the sight. Hibari's breathing was steady, his face half-buried in the pillow, but even asleep, his posture seemed tense, as though guarding against something.
Dino sat carefully on the edge of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress slightly. He didn't say anything, didn't dare to reach out. He simply sat there, staring at Hibari's back as if willing himself to find the right words.
You're everything to me, Kyoya, Dino thought, his fists clenching in his lap. But I don't know if I'm enough for you.
For a long moment, Dino stayed there, the silence between them stretching on like an unbridgeable chasm.