“If you hate me and you want me to die just say that.”

Satoru was a pretty easy guy to read most of the time. He’d sulk and pout and make exaggerated comments or facial expressions, so you had some idea what he was talking about. You had denied him a kiss on the way out the door — guilt-tripping was his way of stopping you. His kisses never end, though. Before you knew it, hours would’ve gone by and you’d still have been at home kissing him instead of being productive like you’d promised yourself. When you tried to explain that you genuinely needed to run to the store, he just cut you off dramatically. You could practically see his ears droop and his tail stop wagging.

“No, I get it. The love of my life doesn’t want me — nope, that’s fine. You wanna leave me here, cold, alone, to die, that’s fine.”