The night before the wedding was supposed to be peaceful, a time for rest and reflection before the big day. But for both Sanemi Shinazugawa and Giyuu Tomioka, sleep felt like an impossibility. As the moon hung high in the sky, casting its silvery light over the quiet estate where the wedding would take place, doubts began to creep in-doubts they had both tried so hard to suppress.

Sanemi lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling with a scowl etched deep into his face. His thoughts were a whirlwind, racing through every mistake he had ever made, every fight he had ever picked, every harsh word he had ever said. The tension in his chest was building, tightening like a vice, and no matter how much he told himself to stop overthinking, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was on the verge of ruining everything.

What the hell am I doing?

He knew he loved Giyuu. There was no doubt about that. But Sanemi had never been good at handling his emotions-his temper, his anger, his stubbornness. How was he supposed to be someone worthy of Giyuu? Someone as calm and controlled as him deserved better, didn't he? Someone who wouldn't blow up at every little thing, who wouldn't push people away the second they got too close.

Sanemi clenched his fists under the covers, frustration boiling up inside him. He could still feel the weight of all the things he'd said and done-especially to Genya, his own brother. If he couldn't even hold his family together, how was he supposed to hold onto Giyuu?

Meanwhile, across the estate, Giyuu sat on the edge of his bed, his expression as blank and unreadable as ever, but his mind was anything but calm. His doubts ran deep, clawing at him from every corner of his mind. He had never been good at expressing himself-his emotions, his thoughts, his desires. He had always been quiet, withdrawn, the type to keep his feelings locked away where no one could reach them.

And Sanemi... Sanemi was fire-passionate, raw, intense. Giyuu often wondered if his own quiet nature was too much of a contrast, too much of a burden. Sanemi needed someone who could match his energy, someone who could meet him in the heat of the moment. Was Giyuu enough? Could he be enough?

Giyuu's hands rested on his knees, his fingers twitching with a nervous energy he couldn't quite contain. He had never doubted his feelings for Sanemi, but he doubted himself. What if I'm not what he needs?

The weight of their impending marriage was starting to settle over both of them, and it felt heavier than either had anticipated.

Sanemi's growing frustration was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. He let out an irritated sigh, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "What is it?" he snapped, not in the mood for company.

The door creaked open, and Mitsuri peeked her head inside, her usual bright smile softening as she took in the sight of Sanemi's tense posture. "Sanemi... can I come in?"

Sanemi grunted, running a hand through his hair. "If I say no, will you leave me alone?"

Mitsuri giggled softly and stepped inside anyway, closing the door behind her. "Nope."

Sanemi huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as Mitsuri walked over and sat down beside him on the bed. He could already feel the lecture coming, and part of him wanted to shove her out the door, but the other part-the part that knew she was right-let her stay.

"You look like you're about to punch a hole in the wall," Mitsuri said gently, her tone full of warmth and understanding. "What's going on?"

Sanemi scowled, glaring at the floor. "Nothing."

"Sanemi," Mitsuri said, her voice soft but firm, "I know you're worried."

"I'm not worried," Sanemi grumbled, though even he didn't sound convincing. "I just... I don't know if I'm cut out for this."

Mitsuri tilted her head, watching him with kind eyes. "Cut out for what?"

"This," Sanemi said, gesturing vaguely to the room, as if the weight of the entire wedding was pressing down on him. "Marriage. Relationships. All of it. I'm not... I'm not the kind of guy who does this."

Mitsuri reached out and placed a hand on his arm, her touch gentle but grounding. "But you love him, don't you?"

Sanemi's jaw tightened, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. "Yeah. Of course I do."

"Then that's what matters," Mitsuri said, her voice full of certainty. "You don't have to be perfect, Sanemi. You don't have to have all the answers. You just have to love him, and let him love you."

Sanemi let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "I don't even know how to do that. I don't know how to not screw things up. All I do is get mad, say the wrong thing, and push people away."

"But you haven't pushed him away," Mitsuri pointed out. "Giyuu's still here. He's still with you. He loves you, Sanemi, just as much as you love him."

Sanemi swallowed hard, his throat tight. "What if I ruin it?"

"You won't," Mitsuri said softly, squeezing his arm. "Because you care. And that's what makes you different. You've spent your whole life fighting, but you don't have to fight this. You can let yourself be happy."

Sanemi stared at her, his chest tight with emotion. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that he could be someone worthy of Giyuu's love, that he could make this work without destroying everything. But the doubt lingered, gnawing at him from the inside.

Mitsuri gave him a soft smile, her eyes full of warmth and affection. "You're stronger than you think, Sanemi. And Giyuu knows that better than anyone."

Sanemi looked away, his hands clenching into fists. "He deserves better."

"He deserves you, " Mitsuri said firmly. "And that's exactly what he's getting. Don't forget that."

Across the estate, Tanjiro stood outside Giyuu's room, hesitating for a moment before knocking softly on the door. He wasn't sure if Giyuu would want company, especially not tonight, but something in his gut told him that his friend needed someone to talk to.

"Come in," Giyuu's voice called out, quiet and composed as always.

Tanjiro pushed open the door and stepped inside, offering Giyuu a small, nervous smile. "I hope I'm not bothering you."

Giyuu glanced up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his expression calm but slightly surprised to see Tanjiro. "You're not. What is it?"

"I just... I thought you might want to talk," Tanjiro said, closing the door behind him and walking over to sit in the chair across from Giyuu. "About tomorrow."

Giyuu's eyes flickered with something unspoken, but he didn't immediately respond. Instead, he looked down at his hands, his fingers tracing the edge of his haori absentmindedly.

Tanjiro, always attuned to the emotions of others, sensed the tension in the air. "You're nervous, aren't you?"

Giyuu's lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't deny it. After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice soft and measured. "I don't know if I'm what Sanemi needs."

Tanjiro blinked in surprise, leaning forward slightly. "What do you mean?"

Giyuu's gaze remained fixed on his hands as he spoke. "He's... fiery. Passionate. He feels things intensely. And I..." He trailed off, his brow furrowing slightly. "I don't express myself the way he does. I don't know if I can give him what he needs."

Tanjiro's heart ached at the vulnerability in Giyuu's voice. He had always known that Giyuu was more reserved, more introspective than the others. But this-this doubt-was something Tanjiro hadn't expected.

"I think you're exactly what Sanemi needs," Tanjiro said gently, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

Giyuu glanced up at him, his expression unreadable. "Why?"

"Because you balance each other," Tanjiro said, his eyes full of warmth and understanding. "Sanemi's fire, and you're the calm that keeps him grounded. He might be loud, but he listens to you. He trusts you."

Giyuu's gaze softened, but the doubt still lingered. "What if it's not enough?"

Tanjiro shook his head, his voice gentle but firm. "It's more than enough. You love him, right?"

Giyuu nodded slowly. "Yes."

"Then that's what matters," Tanjiro said with a bright, reassuring smile. "Sanemi's not the easiest person to get close to, but you're the one who managed to break through his walls. That's not something just anyone can do."

Giyuu looked down again, his fingers still tracing the edge of his haori. "I'm afraid I'll let him down."

"You won't," Tanjiro said softly. "Because you love him, and he loves you. That's all you need."

For a long moment, Giyuu sat in silence, the weight of his doubts still heavy on his shoulders. But as he looked at Tanjiro's earnest expression, something shifted inside him. The fear, the uncertainty-it didn't disappear, but it began to loosen its grip.

"Thank you," Giyuu said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tanjiro smiled warmly, his eyes full of affection. "You're going to be just fine, Giyuu. And so is Sanemi."

Hours later, long after everyone else had gone to bed, Sanemi found himself standing outside Giyuu's room. He had told himself that he would leave Giyuu alone tonight, that they needed their space before the wedding, but his feet had carried him here anyway.

He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the door. He could still hear Mitsuri's voice in his head, reminding him that he didn't have to be perfect, that he just had to let himself be loved. But it wasn't easy. Nothing about this was easy.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sanemi knocked softly on the door.

Giyuu's voice came from inside, quiet but unmistakable. "Come in."

Sanemi pushed open the door, stepping inside to find Giyuu sitting on the edge of the bed, still dressed in his haori, as if he had been waiting for something-though Sanemi wasn't sure what.

"Can't sleep either, huh?" Sanemi muttered, closing the door behind him.

Giyuu shook his head, his eyes soft as they met Sanemi's. "No."

Sanemi stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. His heart was pounding in his chest, the doubts from earlier still lingering at the edges of his mind. But as he looked at Giyuu-calm, steady, his -something inside him settled.

Without another word, Sanemi crossed the room and sat down beside Giyuu, his shoulder brushing against Giyuu's in a way that was both familiar and grounding.

They sat in silence for a long time, the weight of the night pressing down on them both. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It was a quiet, shared moment, filled with the unspoken understanding that only they seemed to have.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Sanemi turned to Giyuu, his voice low and rough. "Do you ever wonder if we're making a mistake?"

Giyuu was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching Sanemi's face. "No," he said softly, his voice filled with certainty.

Sanemi's throat tightened. "Even with all the crap I put you through?"

Giyuu shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "I love you."

The simplicity of the words, the quiet conviction behind them, made Sanemi's heart ache in a way he wasn't used to. He had never been good at expressing himself, at letting people in. But Giyuu-somehow, against all odds-had found a way into his heart, and now Sanemi couldn't imagine life without him.

"I'm not good at this," Sanemi muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not good at... being with someone."

"You don't have to be," Giyuu said softly, his hand reaching out to gently brush against Sanemi's arm. "You just have to be you."

Sanemi let out a soft, bitter laugh. "That's the problem."

But Giyuu's hand remained steady on his arm, a quiet reminder that he wasn't alone. "It's not a problem. It's why I love you."

Sanemi's heart clenched at the words, and before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pressing his lips to Giyuu's in a slow, tender kiss.

It wasn't desperate or hurried. It wasn't about lust or passion. It was about the quiet, steady love that had grown between them, the love that had weathered every storm, every fight, every doubt.

Giyuu's hand slid up to cup the back of Sanemi's neck, his fingers tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling Sanemi closer. Sanemi responded in kind, his hands slipping under Giyuu's clothes, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingertips.

The kiss grew more intense, more urgent, as the need to be close- to feel -overwhelmed them both. Clothes were quickly discarded, their movements growing more frantic as desire took over.

Sanemi's breath came in short, ragged gasps as he pressed Giyuu back against the bed, his hands roaming over the smooth planes of his chest, his lips trailing down Giyuu's neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in his wake.

Giyuu moaned softly, his head falling back against the pillows as Sanemi's mouth found a sensitive spot on his collarbone, his teeth grazing the skin just enough to leave a mark.

"Sanemi," Giyuu whispered, his voice filled with both desire and need.

Sanemi's heart pounded in his chest, the heat between them growing unbearable as he leaned in, capturing Giyuu's lips in another searing kiss.

It was raw, unfiltered, and everything they both needed.

Hours later, long after their bodies had finally settled, Sanemi lay beside Giyuu, their limbs tangled together under the covers. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft, steady rhythm of their breathing.

Sanemi's head rested against Giyuu's chest, his hand tracing lazy patterns across his skin. For the first time all night, the tension in his chest had eased, replaced by a deep, quiet sense of contentment.

"Tomorrow," Sanemi murmured, his voice low and rough, "we're really doing this."

Giyuu's hand gently stroked Sanemi's hair, his voice soft but steady. "Yes."

Sanemi closed his eyes, the warmth of Giyuu's body lulling him into a peaceful haze. For the first time in a long time, he felt at peace.

And as sleep finally began to claim him, Sanemi allowed himself to believe that, no matter what happened tomorrow, everything would be alright.

Because, in the end, they had each other.