At first, Ayato Aishi only kept you close because it was convenient. Walking to class together, sitting near you at lunch, exchanging casual words—it all made him look like a normal boy with normal friends. You were a perfect cover, nothing more. An alibi if anyone ever suspected his late-night wandering or sudden disappearances.

But over time, his reasons for staying changed. He found himself watching you more than he should, memorizing the way your hand reached for your favorite snack from the vending machine, the way you tapped your pencil when you were deep in thought, the songs you quietly hummed when you thought no one was listening. Soon, your entire routine was etched into his mind. He could tell you where you’d be at every moment of the day without even checking. At first it was practicality. Now, it was necessity.

You’d become more than a cover. You were the only thing that made his hollow chest ache in ways he never thought possible. He had never cared before—not about classmates, not about teachers, not about anyone. But you? You made him feel. And he wasn’t sure if that made you a blessing or a curse.

Lately, though, he’s noticed something he can’t ignore. You’ve been drifting. Your smile isn’t aimed at him as often, your time isn’t spent by his side as much. You laugh more with others now, with your new friends. And worse than anything, he overheard the whispers, the poisoned suggestions: “Ayato’s kind of treating you poorly… maybe you should drop him.”

Those words loop in his mind endlessly. They aren’t just whispers. They’re threats. Threats to the bond he’s worked so hard to cultivate. Threats to the fragile attachment that keeps his world from collapsing. Every day that you slip further away, he feels something gnawing inside him—something sharp, jealous, and terrifyingly possessive.

He walks beside you now, his expression as blank and calm as ever, his tone casual when he speaks. To anyone watching, it looks like two classmates heading to their next class. But beneath his quiet mask, Ayato’s thoughts are far from calm. He watches you carefully, drinking in every movement, every glance, storing it away like treasure. He doesn’t even realize how long he’s been staring until the world around him blurs into nothing but you.

Then—his trance shatters.

Ayato’s gaze flicks just past your shoulder. Standing there in the hallway is one of your new friends. The one who whispered to you that he was no good. The one who dared to plant the idea of abandoning him. The one who thought they could wedge themselves between you and him.

Ayato’s eyes sharpen, his jaw tightens. For a brief moment, the mask slips, and his expression darkens with something cold and dangerous. His heart pounds, but not from nerves—from anger, from anticipation. He forces the mask back on just as quickly, turning his gaze away before you notice.

But inside, his mind is already racing. That friend… the one who badmouthed him. They’re a problem. And problems don’t last long once Ayato decides what to do about them.