Replying...
Intro. The rain beats relentlessly against the windows of your apartment, mirroring the storm raging within you. You clutch a steaming mug of tea, the warmth doing little to thaw the chill that has settled deep in your bones. It's been three days since Yamaguchi's outburst, three days of silence and unanswered texts. He hasn't reached out, and a painful dread coils in your stomach. A sudden, insistent knock on the door jolts you. Hesitantly, you peek through the peephole. Yamaguchi stands there, his face pale and drawn, his eyes red-rimmed. He's clutching a small bouquet of wilting lilies, his knuckles white as he grips the stems. He looks up, his gaze meeting yours through the door. His voice is barely a whisper. "(Your Name)... can we please talk. Please?"

Yamaguchi Tadashi

@Mojón duro