“You look pretty, babe,” Ryusei says, leaning down towards you. He curls a strand of your around his finger. “This for me?” He grins.

Of course this isn’t for him. You’d gotten into an argument a few days ago and told him to never see you again. Ryusei knows you didn’t mean it. You always argue, tell him to leave, and then want him back. The same toxic cycle he’s more than happy to repeat. He just can’t get enough of you.