Away From Home Ft. Wakatoshi Ushijima

🎁 v- 풍경: the day's precious glow as i gather each and every fragment of the moonlight for you.

JJK BOYS + WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I DIED?

[includes] gojo satoru // ryomen sukuna // fushiguro megumi [warning] ment. of implied suic1de (megumi’s part) [notes] i feel like i gave realistic answers?? i did gojo too serious LMAFO

— GOJO SATORU

“‘toru, what would you do if i died?”

your plethora of questions started from boredom, having nothing to do on a humid wednesday afternoon so you decided to randomly interrogate your boyfriend. tiny questions about his favorite color or dessert evolved into meaningful ones that had him quiet for ages, gathering his thoughts to give you a truthful answer. though this one, he didn’t hesitate much answering.

“my place in the jujutsu world wouldn’t let me grieve for long, so i’d probably be forced back to work. but.. i’ll never be the same. i’ll do my job, but the life in me would go.”

you really didn’t know how to react other than stare at him silently, watching the sincerity in his eyes before smiling and lightly shaking your head. “well”—bringing himself up from his position on the couch, he slides down to accompany you on the floor, dragging the blanket down with him for the two of you to share—“you don’t need to worry about that. i’m the strongest after all.”

— RYOMEN SUKUNA

you could see that slowly, your lover was getting irritated by your questions. maybe it wasn’t the best idea to settle down and ask dozens of the most random things that pop up in your head while your boyfriend works, but you knew when to or not tease him and right now seemed like it was an okay time.

“sukuna, what’s your go-to line to say?”

“prepare to die.”

“fair enough. what’s your favorite time of the day?”

“when you’re asleep.”

“hey!” you fake offense at his snapback, maneuvering your way so that your head was on his lap and both of your hands were wrapped around his bicep, squishing the muscle. “sukuna, what if… i died?”

“what type of question is that.”

“just answer it,” you grumble at his nonchalant attitude, not once looking up from whatever paper he was writing.

“you can’t die, i won’t allow it.”

“never mind that! answer the question: what would you do if i died?”

“i would make sure that person or curse will never see the light of day again. i’ll take the roughest form of revenge and give them a slow, painful death.”

maybe you struck a nerve, because when he looked down at you in his lap, you couldn’t really depict the look in his eyes. “like i said, i’ll never allow it.”

“the universe doesn’t need your permission. what if i died in my sleep?”

he ruffled your hair in response, stretching his back before putting his focus on his papers once more. “i don’t like thinking about stuff like this.” and that was his attempt of showing his feelings. you know it’s hard for him to express, and you got the message he was trying to send, so you decided to not push any further, smiling to yourself silly for the rest of the day.

— FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

it was late. way too late to be snuggled next to your boyfriend, your hair tousled from the jump you had to make to sneak in. at this point you would’ve left, but tonight was different. moonlight dripped from the open window, adding an extra layer to the intimate moment you both were having, spilling out your darkest secrets to each other in the confinement of his little dorm room. you fell into comfortable silence, providing solace with touch rather than words.

“megumi, what would you do if i died?”

the thought popped in your head like any other, and you were pretty much unfiltered with your boyfriend so you didn’t hesitate to ask. he studied you for a few seconds, letting your question sink in before saying, “guess i’ll go down with you.”

you blinked. “what. don’t say that!” ogling at him in disbelief, he simply stares back before lacing your hands together underneath the sheets. “my life would be nothing without you.” he mutters.

“we’re sixteen, i think after a few months you’ll move on—”

“you dont have any idea. ive been best friends with you my whole life and your lover for six months. my heart cant take another loss.” he was talking about yuji on the last part, you realized. you were quiet once more, drinking in every curve and bump of his face as if you were trying to engrave it in your mind. “well then, you’re now stuck with me for a looong time.” you grinned.

and he grinned back, “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

@ httpmiriko 2021 - all rights reserved.

“Wasn’t that the definition of home? Not where you are from, but where you are wanted.”

— Abraham Verghese

ding!

. . . tsukishima kei. sweeter when i’m with you.

“did you even use a recipe—“

“yes, tsukishima. i did.” you answer.

continuing to apply frosting to your freshly baked cupcakes, you did your best to ignore the man in front of you. culinary class was fun, especially if your class was tasked with making a simple dessert for a graded activity. however, it was not that fun when you have a snarky middle blocker who always had a way to get through your nerves—watching you work throughout the process of creating such a sweet dessert.

even your sweet desserts would turn salty whenever he was around.

kei hums, amused by your response. “did you now?” he replies with that all-knowing smirk plastered on his stupidly good-looking face. “and what happened to calling me by my first name?”

“i changed my mind, that’s all.” you shrug, and he has the audacity to be the one frowning in this conversation. “it’s better to keep things professional, tsukishima. wouldn’t you agree?”

he huffs. “whatever,” he murmurs, propping his elbows on the counter, his head resting on his palm as he gazes up at you—just . . . admiring how you skillfully worked with the fluffy strawberry frosting—not that he’d ever admit it out loud, no way.

with the silence that followed, he quickly grew bored. “can i have some?” kei asks, eyes darting toward the strawberries you had cut specifically in the shape of little hearts for decorations.

“i don’t know, can you? what’s the magic word?”

“fuck you.”

“that’s not the magic word,” you coyly said to him. “i guess i’ll just give these extra strawberries to the volleyball team,” the thought wasn’t a bad one either, “maybe even have hinata or kageyama try these cupcakes i made once it’s graded.”

“no,” he says, slightly glaring at you.

now, it’s your turn to be amused. “no? did i hear that correctly, tsukishima?”

“it’s kei to you,” he corrects, softly this time. his expression was no longer stern, but this time, rather, it was one of slight annoyance and even pouting. “and . . . can i please have the extra strawberries?” he tries again, and for the first time in all the time you’ve known him, he looks at you with this soft, endearing look—as if he were some sort of kicked puppy by the street, begging to be adopted.

“see? it doesn’t kill you to be nicer to me,” you say, feeding him a strawberry or two—which he didn’t mind.

from the other stations, your classmates watched with either surprised or puzzled expressions after they’d witnessed your interaction with kei. even your teacher couldn’t help but ask, “are those two. . . ?” to which your classmates couldn’t answer either.

kei is definitely sweeter when he’s with you.

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

ding!

. . . tsukishima kei. observant boyfriend things.

kei’s an observant person. he’s the type of person who knows there’s something wrong, even with the most subtle clues. it’s safe to say that there will never be a day where you successfully hide something from your boyfriend, not when he can read you like an open book in broad daylight.

“what’s with the sour look on your face?” he asks, though it’s quieter than he meant.

“nothing,” you reply with an uptight smile.

“you look constipated.”

“hey!”

he sighs. “how’d your volleyball tryout go?”

kei remembers a couple of nights ago when you told him that your school was holding tryouts for an upcoming sports week. he also remembers the time you told him that you used to play volleyball in middle school, and it didn’t take much to convince him that you were a decent middle blocker.

“i’m gonna die of embarrassment.”

“it didn’t go well, then,” he concluded with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“kei, i made a fool of myself!” you whine, letting him carry your bag. “my serves were sloppy, barely making it above the net—which was set too tall, by the way—my receives were lacking, and my blocks—they’re left unspoken of.”

“what’s wrong with your blocks?” kei asks you. “they were fine when you forced me to practice with you.”

“force is a strong word,” you counter, poking his arm with emphasis.

“i simply bribed you with snacks!”

“which i paid for.”

“and lots of kisses.”

“those are already a given in this relationship, idiot.”

“stop being mean, beanpole.”

“not my problem; i grew and you didn’t.”

you nudged at his side, earning a slight and playful groan from your boyfriend. “i am not that short! whatever, let’s just not talk about my blocks.”

“mm. let’s stop by a pharmacy, too.” he says, noticing how you fiddled with your bruised fingers. those were nasty for something as simple as volleyball tryouts. if anything, he would’ve assumed that you got them from an actual match against a prestigious school like shiratorizawa.

“yeah, it hurts,” you murmur.

“that’s because you're fiddling with them; quit it,” he scolds you with a sigh. “i’m sure you did well. if you could block those volleyball idiots’ quick, you already did well.”

“you know, kei, it’s nice when you care,” you smile.

“i always care.”

“and you always carry my bag as you should.”

“i care, y/n. i think you’re the one who needs glasses if you can’t see that.”

“oh, and when you’re attentive or observant too.”

“are you even listening?”

“nope, but i love you.”

“mm.”

“say it back! please! i know you care lots about me and i’m now listening, so say it back!”

noomon © 2023. do not copy, modify, or translate my work.

let go of the idea that you have to be the best or do the most to be worth something.

NANAMI KENTO || yours

request: bestie i saw that you’re open for request so hear me out 👀 what about a husband’s duty but with Nanami? 😳 I’d like to think there must be people around thinking that he is a stoic as he is with his s/o when we all know he’s a soft, gentle lover 🥰

(I hope i don’t sound pushy in my request. I really LOVE your writings especially the domesticity ones Nanami 💕)

note: domestic!nanami is always in my head because the man is a comfort character and my standard when it comes to husband hunting - like pls sir 🥲🥲 give my crusty ass a chance. 

pronouns: them/they, afab!reader/use of kimono (traditional female clothing)

nanami kento masterlist  |  jujutsu kaisen masterlist

“Who do you think got married to Nanami-san?”

It was that time of the year again - where sorcerers gathered at the grand hall located at Jujutsu Tech; everyone mingling between one another in hopes of rubbing shoulders while also getting the latest scoop of Curse and Curse Users activities alike. Rumours flew about as usual - who would get married next, who was the sorcerer who blew up the other side of Kyoto two weeks ago, and which poor soul was being harassed by Gojo Satoru. However this time around, there was whispers of something more exciting; some say scandalous, even.

“I don’t know…but whoever that person is, they must have a few screws loose,” One of the men seated at the corner of the ballroom admitted to his companion, both of them sharing a laugh before they returned to their attention to the crowded ballroom before them. Or more so, to a specific blonde sorcerer who was nursing a glass of whiskey at the other end of the ball room.

Nanami leaned his elbow on the edge of the standing table beside him, ignoring the whining Gojo that was nested on his side as his dark brown eyes glanced around the room without a specific target in mind. Like any other day he was dressed in a suit; creaseless and almost too perfect for how much movement his job requires. The only thing that truly stands out on his day-to-day outfit would be the silver wedding band that rests on his ring finger; silver polished so well that it shone even at his slightly of movements.

When Nanami’s marriage had been revealed to the jujutsu world (courtesies of Gojo), it sent shockwaves throughout. Not only are weddings huge social events, where you invite everyone you can think of to increase your contact building, it’s also shocking that Nanami even chose to get married while still being an active sorcerer. Of course, Nanami had chosen an intimate and private service, which had angered many of the older generations; since they felt almost entitled to go to every wedding that happens in their world. 

But Nanami had never really cared of what others’ opinions; hence his calmness from the moment he entered the hall filled with people whispering and staring at him expectantly.

Keep reading

Happy birthday, Nanamin! 🥖👔 07/03 !

this was beautifully painful. nanami my love, YOU DID MORE THAN ENOUGH 🫵🫵😭🏃

and if my wishes came true ⊹

pairing. nanami kento x gn!reader

content/warnings. 2.9k+ wc | fluff to angst | narration heavy! | mentions of alcohol | minimal proofread | tw death

in which: nanami’s last seven minutes of brain activity was filled with his wishes, his regrets, and you.

Legend has it that in the final minutes before one's demise, a lifetime unfolds in a rapid reel before their eyes. 

As Nanami faces his imminent end, he can attest with certainty that the scenes playing out are not just a chaotic montage. For Nanami, those final scenes are a reel of memories – vivid memories painted with the colors of you.

And in his last breaths, he swears it's a life worth watching.

[MARCH 09, 2012]

The first time Nanami laid eyes on you, it happened in the pulsating atmosphere of a nightclub he never intended to visit. From his vantage point, the allure of your presence hit him like a tidal wave.

Your aura, a blend of magnetic charm and elusive mystery, transformed the mundane night he was having into a vibrant spectacle. The way you moved through the crowd was like poetry in motion, and Nanami couldn't help but be drawn into the orbit of your enigmatic presence.

He wasn't accustomed to losing himself in a few drinks, but he swears, one look at you was enough to make the room spin.

In his conscious mind, he found himself wishing to see you again—in a much more dignified situation, perhaps. Some place where he wasn't lost in liquor, and where you wouldn't mistake his intentions for anything less than pure.

So, he sat still on his bar stool, sipping the last ounces of scotch in his glass.

“It’s rude to stare at someone.”

Yet, as fate would have it, you were suddenly seated on the stool beside his own.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to,” he admitted.

You chuckled at his seriousness, clearly not expecting how seriously he took being pointed out. He’s the serious type, you noted.

You shrugged at his apology, swiftly turning to the bartender to order a drink. “Not having a great time?” you asked, turning to him.

Not anymore, Nanami thought. “You could say that. And, you? Do you not find yourself enjoying the night?” 

Nanami blamed the alcohol (he had a high tolerance) for his sudden chattiness. Even he was surprised by the plethora of words he was spouting.

“Maybe. You could put it that way, too.” you said, taking a sip of your drink. Nanami watched as you winced at the bitter taste. Clearly not a drinker, he noted.

“May I know why?” he asked. Again, he swears it’s the alcohol.

“It’s my friend’s engagement party,” you started, “I don’t know why but I feel left out of the conversation. I excused myself, and can you believe me they encouraged me? They said it’s about time I try.”

You turned to him, a complete stranger, if you'd forgotten. Because from the way you babbled to him, it seemed you'd forgotten he was one.

Bashful, you turned your gaze away and gulped the drink in front of you. “Sorry, I’m babbling.”

“I don’t mind,” he assured.

“How about you? Are you out with friends? Don’t you have someone at home, waiting?” Before you even realized the implication of your probing questions, you saw a subtle upward tug of this man’s lips, and oh, was he gorgeous.

“Co-workers,” he corrects you, “And no, I don’t have someone waiting at home.”

Nanami might have had a scant amount of dating history, but he wasn’t clueless about what you were implying. Being around two (loud) men who often prided themselves on their ‘charisma’ would teach you exactly how to ask someone if they were single.

It was a relief, you thought, knowing this about him. You only hoped you had done a good job of drawing out the information and expressing your relief in a better way.

Before either of you realized it, minutes slipped into hours, and the night deepened with the two of you exchanging stories and innocent details of each other’s lives.

Nanami learned that you were freshly out of college with a degree your younger self was passionate about. You were on your first corporate job, and haven’t yet found the best footing on how to keep up with the fast-moving world of adulthood— a sentiment Nanami nodded in agreement with, having once found himself lost as well.

In return, you learned that Nanami was much older than you. Not too old, but just the right amount of years ahead to know he wasn’t as corporate clueless as you are.

Later, you couldn’t recall what had prompted the deep conversation with a man you now knew as Nanami Kento. But, in your defense, he was surprisingly easy to talk to, and never once did the conversation take a suggestive turn toward a room and a bed.

“What do you want in your life?” he asked. It wasn’t invasive, given the nature of the conversation unfolding in a nightclub, a place where such discussions were said never to happen.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, laughing at your own cluelessness. “I want my family to be happy, does that count? I want them healthy, safe, and –”

“What do you want?” 

Momentarily stunned, you blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“What do you want for yourself?” he repeats the question to you, seemingly clarifying that he was asking a question you misunderstood.

You realize what he was referring to and you will be lying not to admit that it didn’t do things to your heart. “I want the simplest things in life. I want to travel as much as I can and take as many pictures, I want to learn more, I want to laugh more, and I want to love and be loved for the rest of my life.”

It came straight from your honest thoughts. It was as candid as you can be. “Your turn. What do you want?”

“A proper date with you.”

You stilled at your seat with your glass hanging mid-air, unable to reach the rim of your lips. Turning to him, you met his gaze, finding a hopeful shimmer.

“May I take you out to somewhere less crowded, perhaps? Would Friday night do?” he continued, his voice an octave lower than before. You could only hope your face didn’t betray the shiver running down your spine.

“I’d love that, Nanami.” you replied, and to Nanami, it seemed as though his wishes had been granted by some benevolent force.

[AUGUST 01, 2014]

“Love, come here.”

Nanami's toned arm snaked around your waist, leading you away from the lively swirl of carnival lights and the enticing aroma of cotton candy to take you to his place of interest. What could be more interesting than cotton candies and popcorn?

Apparently, your boyfriend thought a wishing fountain was.

“You don't even believe in things like these,” you pointed out to him.

But he was hellbent on his purpose. He handed you a penny after kissing the side of your face, right between your temple and the apples of your cheeks. “I believe in everything you believe in,” he whispered.

“You love me that much, huh?” you playfully quipped, though your flustered cheeks betrayed the truth.

“Yes,” he responded, a declaration that needed no secrecy. Every day, in every way, Nanami intended to remind you of that love—as long as you'd let him. And he wished that would be a long, long time.

Perhaps, two years weren’t enough – no, two years was more than enough time for Nanami to realize that life was worth living with you in it.

He first realized it after the first proper date he took you. It was a lovely night in an Italian restaurant, graced with your smile that put famous paintings to shame.

You were breathtaking, a masterpiece in your own right.

From shy touches to the silence on the way home, the date after that night, and the one after. And may it be far-fetched, but in every moment you spent with him, he knew – it's you. 

It had to be you.

“Stop being mushy, mister. Here,” you handed him the penny, “How about you make a wish, then.”

“I don't know what to wish for.”

“Come on! There's got to be something you want.”

He pondered about it for a few seconds, his gaze flicking to you and back to the penny. “I might have thought of something.”

“Okay, don't tell me about it. It's bad luck. Just close your eyes, hold the penny like this,” you took his hand holding the penny and placed it inches away from his face, just below his nose, “And say it. Only in your mind, love.”

Nanami did exactly as you said. As he closed his eyes, you allowed yourself to linger on him.

What a beautiful soul, you thought. He was just so… “Mine,” you whispered.

“Yours,” he breathed as he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a tender softness replacing the usual stoicness. Seconds passed, and the next thing you knew, the love of your life was giving you a tender kiss. So tender, you knew it was one that would linger forever.

And in between soft kisses and whispers of sweet nothings, there you were — thinking two years with him were more than enough time to realize that Nanami Kento was the reason why it never worked out with anyone else.

That he was meant to be yours in the most perfect time, and that he made the trying and waiting time so worth it.

Because not to be oh-so-hopeless romantic, but you like to think he was it for you. 

And he is. Or at least, he wishes he is.

He threw the penny into the fountain before leaving, sealing an unspoken wish for forever.

[APRIL 11, 2016]

Yet, it seems, forever was just wishful thinking. Just a word that once echoed in the enchanting glow of a wishing fountain, now stood shattered in the harsh light of reality.

“Ken, I don't like where this is going.”

“It’s for the better,” he lies through his teeth. It was a blatant lie.

But Nanami – he resists, and stubbornly persists. It is for the better. 

“Don’t pull that shit on me,” you hissed in gritted teeth. Tears threaten to spill free, and you feel every fiber of your being pulsating with anger. 

Was it anger, truly? It’s not. How could it be, when it was Nanami who stood before you? You can never be mad at him, even when he’s hurting you.

“You said– you said you were just having problems at work, and I understood that.” a sob escaped you, “I... I gave you space, time to think. I've been supportive, have I not? It was just some problems, you said.” 

“But now, suddenly you're breaking up with me yet you can't even look me in the eye.” you continued, voice becoming more and more incomprehensible from crying, “Just tell me what problems you're having, and we'll figure it out. We'll figure it out like we always do. Just– just don't do this to me.”

Bargaining and pleading echoed in the hollows of your shared space. Yet, one look at his resigned face told a story of endings, not new beginnings. It was enough telltale that there's no figuring your way out of this. 

“I can't give you what you want.” Not when he will be bargaining with death every waking day. It's the life of a jujutsu sorcerer, it's nothing he can't change. But yet again and again, he wishes to.

“What I want?”

“The simplest things in life. I won't be able to give you that.”

“Then I'll take whatever you can give! Fuck what I want. I only want you!”

It's comforting, at least, to know he's been enough to you. But until when? 

Would you want him still when he couldn't come home because he was on missions where lives hung in precarious balance? Would you want to spend your nights pacing through the quiet of your house, your mind a tempest as he failed to return before dinner? Would you want him when he was all bloodied, half-dead, half-breathing?

“There's more to it. You're not telling me something, Kento.”

You saw through him, as you always did. Every time, he told you everything. But not this time.

He can’t just tell you about cursed spirits. He can’t just tell you about the life he lived before that fateful night in the bar. He just can’t tell you because that means your life will change.

And none of those changes aligned with the simplest things, none of them were what you truly wanted.

Being a jujutsu sorcerer– it was his choice. Choices come with prices, and Nanami loves you too much to subject you to the inevitable pain of being a sorcerer's lover.

“What are these problems, Kento? Why do you have to do this? Have I– Have I become one of your problems, too? Is that why you can't tell me?”

You asked, you pressed, and you demanded. Only to be met by silence from the blonde. Silence was always comfortable with him. But now? It sure was not.

“I’m sorry.” is what he managed to say.

 Two words spoken in a language of finality. Two words too plenty to know it’s over.

“Leave.” you fumed, tears freely streaming down your face.

With whatever was left of him, Nanami turned his back on you to leave. He would leave, do everything you wanted.

He shut his eyes tight before closing the door of your once shared abode.

It's for the better, he desperately wished himself to believe. This way, you would never be subjected to the haunting memories of grief for the rest of your life if he stayed with you, and the day would come where he couldn't come home anymore.

It's for the better, continuously and endlessly, he chanted in his head. Maybe the more he said it, the faster it would be true.

[OCTOBER 22, 2018]

What are dying memories if not intertwined with regret? Of all the memories, it had to bring forth this one.

Two years had slipped through Nanami's grasp since he chose to reenter the world of curses. Two years, and still, none of it was for the better. Losing you was never for the damn better.

Not when each day began waking up alone. And especially not when he was less than twenty meters away from you.

Who could have foreseen that staying overtime, grappling with curses in the quiet hours, would lead him to the flickering street lamp casting its dim glow on the bus stop where you waited?

Across the street, there stood you at the bus stop, a silhouette against the city’s canvas. Nanami’s gaze drank in the details— the way your hair caught the soft glow and the way it kissed the edges of your cheekbones, the subtle curve of your shoulders, and the rhythmic dance of your head in sync with the melodies streaming into your ears.

Your eyes, unaware of his silent vigil, held a vibrancy and depth that once intertwined with his own. Your eyes, they were magnetic and alive, and held stories Nanami wished he could still be a part of once more.

Have you lived the life you craved? The slow mornings you wished for, the tranquil nights of self-discovery— are they your reality now? He wishes, and he hopes, you are living the life he once thought he could give.

He can’t have that for himself for the way he chose to live, but it’s enough to know that you will.

Needless to say, you look... happy. And that's good, he wants to remember you happy.

For the first time in a while, Nanami didn’t mind working past beyond his normal work hours.

As the bus sighed to a halt, a mechanical exhale preparing for its nocturnal journey, his heart sank. He trailed your figure as you boarded, fingers twitching with a phantom ache — a desire to reach out, to rewind the clock and script a different narrative for your shared history.

But before he could do so, the bus pulled away, carrying you into the night and leaving him alone with the shadows of what could have been.

[PRESENT]

Nanami, for the most part, isn't one to regret his decisions.

This battlefield, this life — it was all worthwhile, he thought. Yet, as the cold grip of finality tightened, an unbidden thought surfaced — a flicker of regret for the one decision that echoed through the corridors of his last seven minutes of memories: letting you slip away.

Oh. You. Why is he thinking of you? Where are you? 

Where was he, in the first place? 

“You can say your last wishes, sorcerer,” a venomous, spectral voice pierced the air.

Last wishes?

Oh. That’s right. He was here, engaged in a desperate struggle. The students, are they safe? He has to get back at them. They need help.

But he can’t move. It hurts. Everything hurts.

Tired… I'm so tired. 

“I don't believe in wishes,” he managed to rasp.

More so, he no longer believed in them.

I’ve done enough, haven’t I, Y/N?

Nanami isn't one to regret his decisions, but the moment he thought of your name, he began to spend his last minutes wondering what could have been if his last wish came true.

Because if it did, it would've been you. It would be just you and him, wandering lost somewhere in Malaysia.

And he wouldn't be here. Instead, he would be coming home to you.

If wishes do come true, it would be just a life with you.

Yet, in the face of the harsh truth, wishes don’t always come true. Still, those seven minutes— the final seven minutes of memories with you— it’s enough consolation.

It was a life worth watching.

note. i love him, tenderly. he deserved the best things in life. in my mind, he's alive.

“I will surround you with a love too deep for words.”

— Mumford & Sons // Rose of Sharon