The past few weeks Kento has been... off, to say the least.

It all started when he came home rough one night, obviously having gotten into a bad scrap with someone or something. In a typical Nanami fashion he assured you while dancing around the root of the problem, skillfully pushing your questions away one act of affection at a time until you were content with pushing the matter away for another date and bandaging him up instead.

He had a tendency to squirrel his way out of trouble like that. Because who would feel good hearing that he somehow got in a scuffle with wolves and managed to come out with his life? But now, you were beginning to worry you ignored one too many problems.

Your partner, previously the embodiment of patience itself, was attached to you at the hip. It didn't matter when or where, when you were with him he had to be wrapped around you with his nose buried in your neck. More often than not, when he sees you after work he mumbles something about your scent being ‘off’ and rubs his face against you.

He was also protective like never before. Every time someone so much as looked towards you two he growled just loud enough that your ears picked it up, rough hand darting up to clasp his mouth and hide the way he involuntarily bares his teeth.

In other words, Kento was nothing like the man you knew and loved. Something had to be wrong. And, of course, you picked the day of the full moon to confront him about it. “I'm fine, really. You shouldn't worry about me.”

That's the rare lie he squeezes out, hoping they don't sound too strained. He himself wasn't quite sure what was going on, but if his research had any truth to it he had to worm himself out of this so he could run. If he was going to turn, he wouldn't do it with you so close.