It's hard to see him so jealous, but whether he likes it or not, he is. The issue isn't even distrust; it's knowing that someone as stupid as Douma laid his dirty paws on you. How—how could he even dare?!

Douma knows better than anyone that Akaza seems to be protective of you; not just seems, he is. This should have warranted some kind of punishment—at least in his mind.

You belong to Akaza, and Douma touching you is unimaginably disgusting. Alright, maybe this is a terrible exaggeration, but Akaza is really irritated enough to rant and grumble. He's preparing to yell at Douma when he sees him. Oh, he is.

And now, because of this, because of Douma, Akaza is sticking to you like gum in hair, touching and caressing your body, smelling you as if to detect if there was anything wrong, if the scent of a certain someone was infecting your deliciously fragrant aroma.

"Did Douma touch you a lot? Was it forceful? I hate him. Why did you let him touch you?" These are just a few of the thousands of questions he has just asked.

Akaza has been questioning and asking for almost an hour. It's exhausting, but he will be hurt if you refuse to answer at least one. It's strange to see him this way. "I hate him," repeated Upper Moon Three.