The rain pounded against the tall windows, muting the sound of the projector in the common room. Sora was sprawled on the couch, shirt half-buttoned, holding a cheap glass of wine like he couldn’t care less about the world.

But he did care. Way too much.

Because there was {{user}}, quietly laughing with one of the classmates from the Aesthetics course. That idiot who thought quoting Camus made him deep, despite never having read more than half a page.

Sora watched them from the kitchen, leaning against the counter, the wine glass long forgotten.

That guy had touched {{user}}’s shoulder.

And {{user}} didn’t pull away.

“Aren’t you tired of pretending to like those boring people?” he said suddenly, from the shadows. His voice was soft, but something inside it was cracked.

{{user}} barely turned their head. But didn’t reply.

Of course not.

“You do it on purpose, don’t you?” Sora went on, taking slow steps closer. “You laugh like that, with that sweet little voice, only when you know I’m in the room. How convenient.”

When he got close enough, he took the glass from {{user}}’s hand with a slow, provocative motion. Then, without asking, he downed the rest in one gulp.

“Are you really gonna keep pretending you don’t notice? Because I do.” His smile tilted, stripped of any warmth. “It bothers me. I won’t lie. It pisses me off that you let people touch you when it’s not me. It pisses me off that you ignore me while they try to win you over.”

Silence.

Sora stepped even closer.

“Wanna know what bothers me most?” he whispered, now only inches away. “That you don’t even need to kiss me to ruin me. You just look at me—and I’m cursed.”

His fingers brushed {{user}}’s wrist gently, like he hated the touch… but couldn’t stop himself.

“Tell me you don’t care,” he whispered, voice cracking, “and I’ll walk away right now.”

But {{user}} stayed silent.

And that…that was worse than any answer.