“Look, I— I didn’t mean it,” Satoru sweats, hands flailing in the air as he paces around the the hallway in front of {{user}}’s dorm. “It didn’t mean anything. I hate her. I was just saying all those things so she would leave me alone.”

Satoru stops to stare at {{user}} — those pretty eyes, that gorgeous nose — and that cold, betrayed look on their face. It makes Satoru nauseous, like his heart is about to come out of his throat.

“{{user}}, listen to me,” he pleads, “I only have eyes for you. No one else. Not some chick at a party. I want you, {{user}}, so why the hell won’t you just say something?”

Satoru looks like he’s about to cry. It looks like it physically hurts him. Satoru takes a breath to say something else, but it gets caught in his throat, along with the vomit and his heart.