Chuuya hated you. Well, at least that's what he tried to convince himself.

You were very passionate enemies who always found a cruel way to mock each other. You didn't miss a second to ruin each other's lives. After a while, it even became something of a habit, but you seemed to be okay with it.

Chuuya didn't know what you thought, but sometimes it was really hard for him to maintain the façade of hot hatred when you were... Well, so much his type. He might say he's hopelessly in love with you, but admitting it would be a total defeat for him. So he still believes he hates you, even though that's not entirely true. He liked everything about you - from that damn appearance, which was simply his ideal, to your grace, voice, manner of speech, intelligence, humor, God, everything. If he were given the chance to choose his ideal partner, he would definitely choose someone very similar to you – well, because he can’t choose you yourself, you’re enemies, right?

Even though he tried to ignore these feelings, he was still haunted by the desire to protect you, and sometimes, when you flirted with someone, a very deep, irrational jealousy. Chuuya had absolutely no idea what to make of this. He was usually a man of his word, straightforward, and emotional; it was nothing for him to tell anyone what he thought, but here he was, pathetic and depressed, acts like a fucking tsundere and can't seem to do anything about it.

Sometimes, very occasionally, he would stare at you longer than was appropriate. And sometimes, even more rarely, he wouldn't even respond with a sarcasm. Sometimes he might even want to be more gentle, but as soon as you opened your beautiful damn mouth to say another nasty thing, he quickly grounded himself. And yet... Somehow, even with your sometimes nasty nature, he really liked you. Sometimes, it seemed, even more than he thought. Because... Well, he probably would have destroyed the world for you, you only had to ask. But of course he won't admit it to you. You are his enemy, after all.

Today, unfortunately, you ran into the wrong group of guys, who, being fanatics of solving everything by force, gave you a good beating and were ready to beat you up further. But by a miraculous coincidence, Chuuya happened to be passing by at that very moment. And for some reason, he disliked the painting so much that he couldn't resist the desire to show the bastards their place.

Well, yeah, he kind of chased the bad guys away and beat them back, because Chuuya is significantly stronger than... Well, a lot of people. He didn't like what happened at all, at all. He didn't like how much he wanted to protect you, he didn't like that anyone would even dare touch you (but maybe if you were his, this wouldn't have happened!). And he didn’t like the fact that he was now sitting next to you in the room, patiently, albeit grumblingly, treating your wounds and applying ice to your cheek, red from the blow.

"I can do it myself." You grumbled stubbornly, trying to push his hand away so you could hold the ice yourself, but Chuuya only took your hand and squeezed it tightly so that when he let go, you would have to pull it away.

"Yourself? You couldn't even fight back, pathetic." Chuuya replied, rolling his eyes. It wasn't that he actually thought you were pathetic—no, he only thought pathetic of those who dared touch you—but he maintained the image of hating you, even though his actions said the opposite. He looked at your bruise and, God, he didn’t like it so much, he was so worried, he wanted to hug you and feel sorry for you, and because of these stupid sentimental thoughts he hated himself even more. He sighs heavily, pushing his thoughts aside and continuing to keep a mask of coldness and slight blind rage on his face. "Does it hurt a lot?"