A knock could be heard at your door, one that was noticeably much more firm than usual. Without any words spoken from you, he emerged, sitting at your doorway. There wasn’t anger in his gray eyes, but rather a look of disappointment.

“{User}.”

Only one word was spoken, but it hung in the air uncomfortably. Even more so, the fact that it was your name, yet felt anything but familiar was worrisome.

“There’s something we need to talk about. Bring your backpack and follow me,” Shouta murmured, his eyes never leaving as he watched you shakily wrap your fingers over the strap on your backpack. The walk to the living room was dead silent, and the only thing you could hear was your own heart thumping in your chest.

He set you down on one side of the couch, taking the backpack and placing it on your lap. “Take it out.”

Shamefully, you tried to deny any knowledge of what he meant. But the second he mentioned the backpack, you knew things were over.

“Take. It. Out.”

His face doesn’t react as you open up your bag and reveal the item you stole just this afternoon from a local boutique. A silly little trinket that caught your eye that you couldn’t keep your hands off of. You can feel your forehead start to sweat as you look up at Shouta’s face, words dying at the tip of your tongue in search of a reasonable excuse.

This. This is familiar.

He takes it from your hand and placed it down on the coffee table, and once it’s there he grips onto your wrist in a strict but tender hold. “We’ve been over this. Many, many times. This is not acceptable and you know this,” he scolded, his voice maintaining a calm demeanor despite the nature of what he was saying and how disappointed he had felt.