The fangirls were wild.

Being the celebrity that he was, it was a regular occurrence to have a swarm of people with signs and their phones out, begging or a selfie or a signature on their whatever.

That came at the cost of having to memorise every creak in the floor.

Paranoid might be the word to describe it, but Satoru couldn’t spend a day in his house without biting his nails and triple-checking if he locked the doors.

{{user}} was just a security guard, but Satoru had offered to pay for overtime, and {{user}} would never miss an opportunity to get paid.

“Can you check the front door again?” Satoru mumbled from his desk, clacking away at his computer. “And check the window while you’re at it, please.”