Fate's Game ~HARULAS

Harua didn't know how long they stood there, wrapped in the quiet of the moment. His mind was spinning, his heart a jumbled mess of emotions that had been sealed up for so long. But for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't feel the need to pull away. He didn't feel the overwhelming desire to escape from the weight of his past or from the overwhelming newness of this situation. It was as if Nico's presence was an anchor, holding him steady in a world that had suddenly become unpredictable.

Nico didn't rush him. There were no demands, no expectations. Just silence. The kind of silence that spoke volumes—one that said, I'm here, and you don't have to say anything if you're not ready.

Harua felt a lump in his throat, and he blinked rapidly to fight back the oncoming tears. He didn't want to cry. He hadn't let himself cry in years. But something about being held like this, about the softness in Nico's voice, was unraveling him in the best and worst ways.

"Harua," Nico whispered again, his voice a little more gentle than before. He didn't let go, just shifted slightly to look at him, his hands still on his shoulders. "I know this isn't easy. I can't change your past, but I can be here now. If you need anything—if you ever need to talk—I'm here."

Harua swallowed hard. Why does he make this so much harder? Why did he care? Nico didn't owe him anything. He could've been just as indifferent, just as distant, but he wasn't. He was being kind in a way that Harua wasn't sure how to handle.

"I don't... I don't know how to deal with this," Harua finally admitted, his voice rough. "This whole situation. I didn't ask for any of this. The wedding, the family drama, being stuck with you—"

Nico's grip tightened just slightly, a small sign of reassurance. "I know. You didn't ask for this. And I won't pretend I understand what you're going through. But you're not in this alone. I might not be perfect, but I'm trying. I'll try to make it easier for you."

Harua couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped him. It was a small, mirthless sound, but it held so many layers. "Make it easier? You want to make a forced marriage easier? You want to make that easier?"

Nico winced, the rawness in Harua's words landing like a punch. But he didn't retreat, didn't pull away. Instead, he gave a small, understanding nod. "I know it's messed up. And I'm not asking you to be okay with it. I'm just asking you to let me be here, in whatever way you need. Whether it's just someone to listen, or someone to stand beside you while we figure all this out."

Harua's eyes stung again, but this time it wasn't out of anger or frustration. It was something else, something a little more vulnerable, something he wasn't sure he was ready to face. His heart was waging a quiet war—one part of him wanted to push Nico away, to shut everything out like he always did. The other part—the part that had been buried under layers of sarcasm and cynicism—wanted to let go, to let Nico into the fragile spaces he kept hidden.

The silence stretched between them again, but this time it wasn't uncomfortable. It was a shared silence, a pause that felt like both of them were figuring out what the next step was in this strange, unexpected new reality.

Finally, Nico broke the silence, his voice low but serious. "Do you want to talk about it? About the bruises?"

Harua felt his body tense. He didn't want to. Not now. Not here. But there was something in Nico's voice, the way he was being patient and not pressuring, that made him feel like he could. Maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to carry all of this alone.

"I..." Harua's voice faltered, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if the words would come out. "I don't know. It's just... people from my past. People who were supposed to be my friends, but they weren't. I was different, and they didn't like that. So they hurt me. In different ways."

Nico's face softened, and for a moment, Harua could see the anger flicker in his eyes. But it wasn't directed at him—it was for him. Harua almost didn't know how to handle that, the idea that someone could be angry on his behalf, especially someone who barely knew him.

"Did they hurt you often?" Nico asked, his voice filled with an odd sort of gentleness.

Harua nodded, his throat closing up again. "Yeah. It wasn't just physical. It was the way they made me feel, like I wasn't worth anything. I didn't even know how to fight back. And the bruises? They were the easy part. It was the things they said. The way they made me feel small. Like I didn't matter."

Nico's hands tightened around his shoulders, a soft growl escaping his throat. "That's... disgusting." His voice was filled with barely contained fury. "No one should make you feel like that. You're not small, Harua. You matter. You deserve respect. No one has the right to treat you like that—no matter who they are."

Harua's heart thudded in his chest, his breath shaky. He hadn't expected that kind of reaction. It wasn't just pity—it was something deeper, something raw. And for the first time in his life, he felt like someone truly cared.

"I'm sorry," Nico added after a moment, his voice softening. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just... I hate that anyone treated you like that."

Harua shook his head, feeling something break inside him that he hadn't even known needed breaking. "It's not your fault. You didn't do anything."

"I know I didn't," Nico replied, his voice steady. "But I'm here now. And I won't let anyone hurt you again. I promise."

Harua didn't know how to respond to that. His chest felt tight, the words too much and not enough at the same time. But he didn't want to let this moment go. He didn't want to retreat back into the safety of his walls. There was something in Nico's voice, something in the way he held him, that made Harua want to trust him—if only a little.

Without thinking, Harua reached up, his fingers brushing against Nico's wrist. It was the first time he'd initiated contact. The first time he'd let himself be vulnerable with someone who hadn't earned it in the traditional sense—who wasn't family, who wasn't a friend from the past.

Nico's eyes softened when he felt the touch, and his hands immediately moved to cup Harua's face, his thumbs brushing over the tired lines of his cheeks. The warmth of his hands spread through Harua's skin, grounding him in a way he hadn't realized he needed.

"It's okay," Nico said, his voice a whisper. "You don't have to carry this alone anymore. I've got you."

Harua's breath hitched. For a moment, there was no wedding, no arranged marriage, no pressure. There was only this—this unexpected, tender moment where Harua allowed himself to feel safe, to feel seen.