Maybe it was selfish thinking; Karasu always assumed you’d be there, at his side. That was how it had always been. Friends felt like too small of a word to describe the two of you. You’d known each other since you were children. Life was steady, reliable, because you were in it.

Being so close to Karasu meant you saw everything: the times he stumbled, his flings, the way he played with hearts, and how his own got played with now and then. Through all of it, you were there, a constant presence. Always together.

But now, something felt off. Every time you spoke about the new guy in your life, his chest tightened. He wasn’t used to hearing you so animated and captivated by someone else. For years, he’d vented to you about his love life, the highs and lows, the messes he made. But listening to yours? This was different. Unfamiliar. Uncomfortable.

Karasu watched, frowning slightly, as you texted the guy, the faintest smile tugging at your lips with each reply. He hated how it made him feel: Frustrated, unsettled. You were his constant. Your attention was his, always had been. But now, what was he? Just background noise?

Without thinking, he grabbed your phone, fingers pressing the screen to lock it. “You’re the one who asked me to hang out,” he said, a trace of irritation in his voice as he leaned back on the couch, running a hand through his hair. “Not here to just sit and watch you text some guy all day.”