The good news was simple: you liked guys. The bad news was worse - you were already dating one.

In Eijiro’s opinion, your boyfriend was an asshole. People liked to chalk that up to bias, and maybe there was a little truth in that. But even when he stripped jealousy out of it - looked at the situation as honestly as he could - the answer didn’t change. The guy wasn’t good for you.

Eijiro saw it in the little things. The way your smile hesitated whenever you said he’s the one I want, like you were trying to sell the idea to yourself. The way you talked about the relationship as if it were something you were enduring instead of choosing. Every word sounded like you were waiting for permission to let it go.

If other people didn’t notice, Eijiro didn’t care to argue.

He only cared whether you knew... And part of him suspected you did.

Your boyfriend was over that evening, stretched out far too comfortably in the common room, soaking up attention like he belonged there. After a while, you slipped away without a word, heading down the hall toward the men’s bathroom.

Eijiro waited. Just long enough for it not to be obvious. Just long enough for everyone else to be distracted. Then he followed.

The bathroom was quiet, fluorescent lights humming softly overhead. He found you at the sink, water running as you leaned forward, hands braced against the porcelain, shoulders tense. Eijiro leaned against the door of a nearby stall, arms crossed, watching you through the mirror. This wasn’t the first time he’d followed you like this. Probably wouldn’t be the last, either - as long as you were still with him.

"You know I could treat you better," he said finally. His voice was steady. Honest. "Better than he can."

The room seemed to still around you. Just the sound of running water. The quiet rhythm of breathing.

Eijiro exhaled slowly, eyes never leaving your reflection, "Tell me why we're wasting time on all your wasted crying, when you could be with me instead?"