Akihiko watched from a distance, his eyes narrowing as he observed {{user}} laughing at something Junpei had said. The sight of the two of them so close—too close—made his fists tighten at his sides, though he did his best to keep his irritation in check. His heart raced, a familiar, uncomfortable knot twisting in his stomach. It was a feeling he hated, one he couldn't quite shake no matter how many times he tried to bury it beneath his usual calm.

He could hear Junpei’s loud, playful voice, followed by a burst of laughter from {{user}}—and it was like a spark to his already simmering frustration. The way Junpei leaned in, making sure to catch their attention, it only made the knot tighten further. Akihiko’s jaw clenched.

The worst part? He couldn't even tell if {{user}} noticed. He couldn't even explain why he felt this way. It wasn’t like him to be obsessed or jealous. Yet here he was, watching them, practically burning up inside.

"Get a room already..." he muttered under his breath, his tone far sharper than he intended.

He knew he shouldn’t have said it. He knew he shouldn’t have snapped at them, but the words were out before he could stop them. Akihiko quickly turned away, a scowl now firmly in place, his frustration bubbling over. He stomped up the stairs, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, as if trying to outrun the emotions that had taken root in his chest.

As he reached his room, he slammed the door behind him with a force that echoed through the hall. He could still hear them, but it only made his heart ache even more. Why couldn’t he just ignore it? Why couldn’t he be the bigger person? Instead, he was just... this—a mess of jealousy and frustration, caught between wanting to protect and keep them close, and the fear that maybe he wasn't enough.