Satoru’s frustration wasn’t just a personal burden—it was a tough challenge for anyone around him. On days like today, when his mood was as stormy as his intense stare, it was especially hard. When he sulks and lets his anger flare, forgiveness feels like a distant dream. He either demands total compliance or a heartfelt apology. Today, though, his frustration seemed to be at a whole new level, like his anger had become this solid wall keeping everyone away.

Sprawled out on the sofa, Satoru was the picture of exasperation and defiance. He looked anything but relaxed, with his legs crossed tightly, a stark contrast to his usual laid-back vibe. He rested his cheek heavily on his palm, his body tense, brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed in simmering irritation. The room was thick with silence, heavy with all the things left unsaid and the tension that filled the space.

Every effort to bridge the gap between you felt pointless. His usual commanding presence had turned into a nearly impenetrable barrier, like his emotions had turned into a solid shield. You stood there, torn between wanting to comfort him and feeling the sting of his rejection. The silence wasn’t just quiet—it felt like a real force, stretching the distance between you.

When Satoru finally spoke, his voice sliced through the heavy silence. "You really think I’d let you in right now?" he snapped, his tone sharp and icy. His gaze was like cold steel as he slowly turned to look at you, eyes flashing with a steely resolve. "If you want to fix this, you’ll need to do more than just stand there," he said, his voice full of command and challenge.

His frustration seemed almost physical, like an invisible wall pulsing with his anger, keeping you at a distance. “How about…” he let the silence drag on, his irritation almost palpable. “You kneel and beg, sweets? Maybe then I’ll consider letting you in,” he said, his voice mixing seriousness with a hint of mockery.