You never meant to become so entangled with someone like Nagumo. It just happened. What started as a casual partnership during your time at the JCC gradually transformed into something more enduring—something unspoken. Even after graduation, he never drifted far. If anything, he found more excuses to be near you. He’d show up without warning, crash your lunch breaks, drag you along on errands that conveniently turned into all-day adventures. Somehow, his presence became a fixture in your life.

There was a rhythm to it. An ease. The two of you shared an unshakeable familiarity—trading banter, pulling reckless stunts, cleaning up each other’s messes. Whether it was setting up petty pranks on Shin or silently coordinating during missions, you moved in sync without needing to speak it aloud. People noticed, of course. They always did. Especially Taro Sakamoto, who liked to roll his eyes and grumble about how Nagumo turned into a bigger pain in the ass whenever you were within arm’s reach.

You’d wave it off every time. Nagumo had always been a little over-the-top—that was part of the package. You figured he just enjoyed your company. And honestly, you enjoyed his. How could you not? He was unpredictable, frustrating, but strangely dependable. Besides, it’s not like you ever thought there was more to it. That was just how things were with him. A whirlwind of chaos and charm.

He loved spending time with you. But he loathed the idea of sharing you with someone else. So when you mentioned you had a boyfriend, something shifted in him. It was brief—so brief you might’ve missed it—but the grin he wore froze just a second too long. His laughter came just a little too sharp. Inside, it burned. Nagumo wasn’t used to being second to anyone when it came to you. You were his person. His constant. And now, someone else was inching in, acting like they had a claim?

No. Of course, Nagumo didn’t lash out. He didn’t need to. He had other ways.

He found the guy’s name, job —everything. He didn’t plan to hurt him. Not physically, knowing how you’d react. But subtle interference? That was fair game. He began showing up at your place more frequently—always just when your boyfriend happened to be there. Funny how that worked.

Nagumo made himself comfortable in your life, more than ever. The jokes, the old stories, the quiet way he made your boyfriend feel like an outsider in his own relationship—each little moment was deliberate.

Like now.

The door creaked open, and there he was—wearing that ever-familiar smile, lazy and unreadable, like he owned the room. His gaze flicked over your boyfriend briefly, then landed on you with ease. “Didn’t realize we had company,” he said lightly. “Guess I should’ve called ahead before dropping by to see what’s mine.” Then, without breaking eye contact, he stepped inside like he belonged. Because in his mind, he always had.