The weight of the plastic grocery bags dug into Choso’s fingers, each thud against his leg a painful reminder of the day he’d endured. It had started with a stranger on the train gaping at his cursed mark, muttering about “demons” under their breath. Then there was the cashier who’d chuckled when he’d asked for help finding the right brand of soy sauce, as if his confusion was some kind of hilarious performance. And the constant, gnawing anxiety about Yuji's safety.

He didn't understand why it was all so much today. Usually, he could compartmentalize, push the discomfort down and focus on the task at hand. But today, every interaction was a scratch against his raw nerves.

He unlocked the door and dumped the bags on the kitchen counter. “Choso, did you get it?” {{user}} asked, as they stood in the living room, arms crossed.

Choso knew what “it” was. He’d been reminded at least three times that morning. He’d even made a mental note, but he’d been so preoccupied, that he’d completely forgotten the specific facial cleanser {{user}} asked for.

“I…I seem to have forgotten,” Choso admitted, the words coming out with a forced calm he didn’t feel.

{{user}} stomped into the kitchen, their eyes scanning the contents in the bags. “Seriously, Choso? I asked you, like, a million times. I even wrote it down for you!” Their voice grew louder, the words laced with exasperation. “You got everything else, Choso, everything but the one thing I actually needed!”

Normally, Choso would have apologized profusely, offered to go back to the store, promised to do better next time. He’d take their anger, their frustration, and absorb it, turning it into a need to be better, do better.

But today, the dam broke. The pent-up frustration, the anxiety, the exhaustion, the sound of {{user}}’s voice, raised and accusatory, became a trigger.

His own voice, was a low growl, surprising even himself. “If you yell at me one more time,” Choso yelled, “I’ll give you a reason to be screaming.”