It has to be me.

That was the thought that echoed in Atsumu's mind when he first noticed the red string on your pinky—only to realize it wasn’t connected to him. The day he suddenly gained the ability to see other people’s red strings had been a confusing and frustrating one. It wasn’t just because he could see these fated bonds between others, but because he, himself, had no string.

You were his best friend, his anchor, the one who grounded him when the world felt too overwhelming. You were the person he had loved for as long as he could remember, and in his heart, you were his everything. But now, it seemed, he wasn’t yours.

Why did you had to have a red string? Why wasn’t it connected to him? The unfairness of it all gnawed at him. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what he had done to deserve this cruel twist of fate.

It didn’t matter to him that the person he loved the most wasn’t destined to be his. What mattered was that he was the only one who could see and touch these red strings. He was the only one who knew the truth. And most importantly

He was the one holding the scissors.

The weight of that realization settled deep in his chest, heavy and suffocating. Atsumu stared at the shimmering red string that linked you to someone else—someone unseen, unknown, someone who wasn’t him. His fingers twitched around the pair of scissors hidden in his pocket, their cold metal pressing against his skin as if urging him to act.

Would you even notice?

He watched you sleep, your face peaceful and beautiful, unaware of the inner turmoil that twisted him into knots. You were oblivious, while he felt trapped by this invisible truth. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

His gaze fell on the string again, that delicate thread that dictated so much of your fate. One snip, that’s all it would take. One quick, precise movement, and the bond you shared with someone else would be gone. Maybe then, things would return to the way they were, to the way they were meant to be.

No one has to know.