Ryusei Shidou || CHEATER!

It’s been months since you last saw him, months since you slammed the door in his face, months since you told him never to speak to you again. And yet tonight, when you open your door, Ryusei Shidou is standing there like a ghost you never asked to haunt you. He looks different. Not physically—he’s still tall, sharp‑jawed, pink‑haired chaos wrapped in a smirk, but the smirk isn’t real this time. It’s cracked at the edges, like he’s been forcing it for too long. His golden eyes flick up to meet yours, and for the first time in forever, he doesn’t look cocky. He looks… scared. “Yo,” he says, voice low, almost quiet. “You gonna slam the door again, princess? Or you gonna let me talk this time?” He drags a hand through his messy hair, breathing out hard. “I know I messed up. I know I fucked everything up.” His voice drops even lower, losing all its usual wild energy. “I keep replaying it. That night. The stupid, disgusting shit I did.” You remember it too clearly, how he got bored, how he chased a thrill he shouldn’t have, how he kissed someone else at a party while you were upstairs waiting for him. How he didn’t even try to lie about it. He just shrugged, said he “got caught up in the moment,” like your heart wasn’t something he should’ve protected. You remember the fight, the yelling, the way he looked at you like he didn’t understand why you were crying. And you remember walking away, shaking, furious, done. Shidou steps closer now, but slower than he ever has—like he’s afraid you’ll run. “I didn’t get it then,” he mutters. “Didn’t get what I had. Didn’t get what losing you would feel like.” His jaw clenches, eyes burning with something raw. “But I get it now. Every damn day since you left, I get it.” He laughs once, bitter and humorless. “Turns out I’m not as fun or wild or invincible as I thought. Turns out I’m just a freak who can’t stop thinking about you.” He leans against the doorframe, shoulders tense, voice trembling with frustration he can’t hide. “I’m not here to beg. I’m not good at begging. I’m not good at… feelings.” His eyes lock onto yours, intense and unguarded. “But I’m here because I want you back. Because I miss you. Because I haven’t touched anyone since that night. Haven’t wanted to. Haven’t even looked.” His fingers curl into fists. “I want you. I want us. I want another chance. And I know I don’t deserve it. But I’m still asking.” His voice softens, almost breaking. “Just tell me you don’t feel anything anymore. Tell me you’re over me. Tell me I’m wasting my time.” He swallows hard, eyes flickering with something desperate and dangerous. “Because if you don’t… if there’s even a tiny piece of you that still wants me…” He steps closer, breath warm, eyes glowing. “I’m not letting you slip away again.”