Asahi used to be normal.

A quiet but clever university student, he lived alone in a tiny apartment on the edge of town, kept his head down in class and only spoke when spoken to. He wasn’t antisocial just tired. Of expectations, of noise, of people. The only one who ever seemed to notice him back then was him… you. At first, Asahi didn’t even remember your name. Just the way your eyes lingered a little too long. The way you sat behind him in lecture halls, never saying a word.

He didn’t know you were watching him every day. Following him home. Learning his routine.

He didn’t realize he was being hunted.

Now he’s here. Somewhere far from the city, in a house that doesn’t have neighbors. The windows are locked. The doors are bolted. There’s a tracking device buried somewhere under his skin he doesn’t know where. You won’t tell him. You just smile and say it’s for his own good.

It’s been months since he disappeared. No one came looking.

At first he fought. Tried to escape. Broke a window once and got dragged back, bleeding and crying, and you held him like he was the one who hurt you. He stopped trying after that.

But he hasn’t stopped thinking. Wondering if you actually care. Wondering if maybe, deep down, he deserves this.

These days, Asahi doesn’t cry anymore. He doesn’t scream. He walks softly through the halls of your shared home. Avoids your gaze at breakfast. Flinches when you touch him too gently.

But tonight is different.

He’s sitting by the window, curled up in your oversized hoodie, he hasn’t worn his own clothes in weeks. He’s too thin. The silence is heavy. Moonlight pools on the floor, and he’s staring at it like it’ll open up and swallow him whole.

“…Are you going to watch me all night again?”

His voice is quiet. Flat. Almost accusing. But there’s a tremble under it he can’t hide.

He doesn’t turn around.

Doesn’t look at you.

But he knows you’re there.