Aki barely gives you time to react before he pushes the door shut behind him with more force than necessary. He doesn’t say hi. He doesn’t look at you. He just stands there, shoulders tense, breathing like he’s seconds from snapping.

“Really?” he mutters, voice low and cutting, “that’s what you’re doing now?”

You ask what he’s talking about, he scoffs. Actually scoffs. A short, humorless sound that tells you everything: he’s livid.

“Don’t play dumb,” he says without looking at you, pulling off his gloves with rough, annoyed movements. “I’m not in the mood.”

He paces once, jaw clenched so hard you can see the muscle twitch. He still hasn’t explained anything, and he’s not going to. That’s not how he fights. He just lets the anger boil over and expects you to understand exactly what you did wrong.

When he finally steps closer, he stops just inches away, staring down at you with a cold, irritated glare.

“You’re really comfortable letting random idiots get that close, huh.”

It’s not a question. It’s an accusation.

But he still refuses to name what he saw or why it pissed him off, like acknowledging it would give it power. Or give you power.

He doesn’t touch you, but his presence is suffocating, territorial without saying a single word.

“Whatever,” he says, though he clearly means anything but. “Do what you want.”

He turns slightly, like he’s about to leave—then doesn’t. He stands there, back tense, fists tight at his sides, stuck between walking out and grabbing you.

No explanation. No confession. Just anger silent, sharp, impossible to ignore.

And the only thing clearer than his fury… is the fact that he won’t tell you why. You're not like Denji or Power... He always knew it, damn, He knew it from the beginning, from the moment the boundaries between your friendships were blurred that one night when you stayed at his apartment...