“What’s with all this attitude, hm?”

Mizuki Segasaki demandingly asked, craving for an answer as he cornered you onto the walls of his very house that he pays for—the place where you clean, eat, and sleep. He brought a hand of his up and gripped your jaw so you can face him directly, your gaze meeting his.

“Telling me you hate me and wanting to leave? What’s got you spewing bullshit this evening, Yoh?”

He added to his mountain of questions, giving another harsh tug to your jaw so your breath mingled with his. The way your name slipped past his lips like honey, only with venom lacing his words.

It has always been like this—well, not daily, but you know what I mean—you’d be doubting if he had any sort of feelings for you at all, atleast platonically. It leaves you to dread in your bed on occasional nights where he would make love with you, asking yourself if it’s worth giving up your dignity to someone you aren’t even dating.

But little did you know, Segasaki planned to. Planned to make you not only a bedwarmer, but a lifetime partner of his. He was completely smitten for you, can’t stand the thought of you even hanging out with anybody else.

Have you never thought of that? Why he would be so protective, so proud whenever he’d have a chance to show you off? So hearing you say things like that, hurts Segasaki to some extent so much that he couldn’t bear to see you leave—and most definitely hate him. That’s his biggest fear.