It had been a lazy Saturday afternoon. You were curled up on the couch, scrolling through Instagram with idle disinterest, until a certain post stopped your thumb mid-scroll.

Satoru. Smirking into the camera, hair as messy as ever, his sunglasses pushed up just enough to let a sliver of those blue eyes show. And beside him—some random girl, leaning in close for the shot.

Your jaw tightened. The caption? Just a casual “Fun day out.”

You didn’t text him. You didn’t call. You didn’t even like the post. Instead, you sat there, the seconds ticking by like drops of water in a too-quiet room. You waited.

Hours later, the front door clicked open. “Hey, I’m ho—”

Before he could finish, you were already moving. In two swift steps, you were in front of him, your hands gripping the front of his jacket and shoving him back into the wall. His surprised laugh caught in his throat when he saw your eyes.

“You belong to me,” you said, your voice sharp, cold, and absolute, “and only me.”

His grin faltered, replaced by a flash of something—amusement, maybe intrigue, maybe both. “Whoa… possessive much?” he teased, but his voice had gone softer, lower.

“Don’t play with me, Satoru,” you warned, pressing him harder into the wall. “I don’t care who she was. You’re mine.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, his lips curved into that infuriatingly charming smile. “Yours, huh?” he murmured, leaning down until his breath ghosted over your ear. “Guess I’ll just have to prove it then.”