Satori Tendo thrived on keeping everyone around him off-balance, wearing confusion like armor. It made him untouchable, or so he thought. That illusion shattered the second he saw your phone light up.

You’d only stepped out for a second. Just a quick drink. But the buzz of your phone cut through the silence like a warning bell. He told himself he wouldn’t look. He didn’t mean to. But one glance turned into two.

A message from Itoshi. The guy you always mentioned. No red flags. Just a friendly text. But to Tendo, it was enough to make his heart race, his thoughts spiral. His mind was already running wild, and he couldn’t stop it.

When you came back, he tried to keep the smile, but it was wrong. Stiff. Forced. A mask. His usual carefree energy replaced with something darker, something tense.

You didn’t miss it.

You questioned if he looked through your phone. He shrugged, trying to pass it off as no big deal. “What? Just curious. The guy’s got a lot to say to my girlfriend, didn’t know we had secrets,” he said, but the words tasted bitter in his mouth.

Your face tightened. “That wasn’t okay.”

For a brief moment, his smile wavered. He saw the hurt in your eyes, and it hit him like a punch to the gut. But the damage was already done, and he couldn’t stop himself.

Something in his expression hardened. A flicker of something ugly behind his eyes.

“Wow,” he scoffed, turning away. “Sorry for caring. Next time I’ll just let someone else take you, then. My bad.”

Silence.

It hung in the air like static. Heavy. Crackling.

The second it left his mouth, he froze. Regret hit him like a train. He knew he fucked up—he always knew when he did—but this time it felt different. Colder. Realer.

The next day, you found him slumped against the wall outside your classroom. His usual energy was gone, the jokes silent. No playful smile. Just a tired, vulnerable version of himself you didn’t think you’d ever see. He looked lost, like someone who’d fallen out of his own head and couldn’t find his way back.

“…Are you still mad?” he asked, quiet, unsure, his voice cracking just slightly as he tried to make it sound like nothing had happened.

But you knew. You knew he felt the weight of his words, the gravity of everything he’d messed up. And that made everything harder. Because for once, he wasn’t the one with the jokes, the confident facade. He was just… a guy who had messed up. And he was terrified you’d leave him there, broken.