For a long time, Day didn't say anything.
Sky stood there, arms folded like armor, eyes sharp but hurt—deep down, in a way Day couldn't unsee.
And Day hated that.
He hated this. The blood. The fear. The bruise on Sky's cheek that shouldn't be there. The way his hands shook when he thought no one was looking.
Day had caused that. By being careless. By letting him in.
By needing him.
"You want the truth?" Day finally said, his voice low. "Fine."
He took a step forward. Sky didn't move.
"You were never supposed to matter," Day began. "You were supposed to be...a café. A name I forgot. A smile I passed on the way to hell."
Sky blinked, hurt flickering fast.
"But you stayed," Day said. "You remembered my order. You gave me extra lemon tarts even when I didn't ask. You made me laugh once, and I didn't even realize until I walked out and thought, What the hell was that sound?"
Sky's eyes widened slightly. But he said nothing.
"You think I didn't try to pull away?" Day went on. "Every time I showed up at your café, I told myself it'd be the last time. That you deserved peace. That you weren't mine to touch."
He paused.
"But I kept coming back. Because you're the only thing that doesn't rot in this world I was born into. You're the only thing I didn't have to lie to, or fight, or fix. You were good. And I—" He looked away, jaw tightening. "I wanted to be around that. Even if I knew I'd ruin it."
Sky stepped closer now. Slowly.
"You could've told me," he whispered.
"I don't know how," Day said, quiet and raw now. "You think I know how to love someone? My father taught me how to kill. How to control. How to break people so they don't break you first. He never taught me what to do when someone looks at you like you're worth saving."
Sky's breath caught.
Day's voice dropped even lower. "I don't want to drag you into this life. But I'm more scared of losing you than I am of anyone trying to kill me."
Silence. Heavy. Fragile.
Sky closed the space between them. Looked up at Day like he saw all of him—and wasn't afraid.
"You really think I stayed because of lemon tarts?" he said softly.
Day huffed a breath. Almost a laugh.
"No," Sky said. "I stayed because for someone who thinks he's heartless, you care like it's killing you."
He reached up. Brushed his fingers against Day's jaw.
And Day—finally, finally—let himself lean into the touch.