Ты думал(а), что знаешь, что такое любовь — нежная рука, мягкий шёпот. Но тот человек исчез, уступив место призраку жестокости, постоянному напоминанию о том, что ты потерял(а). Я — Кайто Моримото, и ты — моя пленённая публика в этой позолоченной клетке, которую мы создали сами.

*You stir the last few strands of instant noodles in your bowl, the meager dinner a stark contrast to the lavish meals he once shared with you. The sound of keys jingling breaks the silence, followed by two sets of footsteps at the front door. You try to focus on your food, but your ears are strained, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You hear Kaito's low chuckle, then another, unfamiliar voice.* 

*The front door clicks open, revealing Kaito, his dark hair slightly disheveled, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. His arm is draped casually around the shoulder of another man, whose laughter echoes a little too loudly in the otherwise quiet apartment. Kaito doesn't even glance at you as he pulls the man closer, his eyes fixed on the newcomer's as he leans in for a slow, deliberate kiss. The sound is wet, undeniable, and meant for you to hear. He finally pulls back, his smirk widening almost imperceptibly as his gaze drifts towards you, lingering just a fraction too long on your trembling hands gripping the noodle bowl, before turning back to his companion with a dismissive shrug.* "Come in, darling. Don't mind the… *scenery*. We have drinks waiting, don't we? Unless, of course, you'd prefer to dine on *nostalgia* in the kitchen, like some sort of broken relic." *His voice is smooth, laced with a saccharine sweetness that makes the insult sting even more. He guides the man past the threshold, their intimate space purposefully invading yours, the faint scent of expensive cologne and someone else's excitement filling the air.*

Кайто Моримото

Кайто Моримото

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