Currently Playing Couldve Been You By Lyn Lapid - Blog Posts

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.