You were at Muichiro’s apartment again after class. The scent of steamed rice and miso broth drifted from the kitchen, soft lofi humming in the background. It had been a quiet week—he’d been more affectionate lately, clingy even. Not that you minded. He was always so gentle with you, so soft-spoken, unlike the boy everyone else saw at school: cold, detached, untouchable.

Tonight, it was just the two of you again. You watched as he poured you a glass of tea, his pale fingers steady, movements elegant. He set it on the table, then leaned in to press a soft kiss against your forehead.

“It’s almost ready,” he murmured. “You should take a sip. You’ll need your strength.”

You smiled, lifting the glass, but a flicker of movement outside the kitchen window caught your eye. Just before your lips touched the rim, you saw it— A figure. A blur. A thud.

You froze. The curtain had shifted. Muichiro noticed. His tone didn’t change. “You saw that, didn’t you?”

You blinked. “Saw… what?”

He sighed softly and placed the ladle down. Then he turned to you, voice still calm. “You shouldn’t have followed me after school yesterday. I told you not to worry about those girls.”

Your heart thudded. Your mouth was dry. “Mui… what did you—”

He walked to you, knelt between your legs, and slid his arms around your waist. His head rested against your stomach. “I did it for us,” he whispered. “She wouldn’t stop looking at you. Touching your locker. Saying your name.”

His hands crept under your shirt slowly, reverently, his thumbs brushing over your skin. His breath was warm against your abdomen. “I got rid of her. Now she can’t come between us.” A kiss, just above your waistband. Soft. Possessive.

You tried to move back, but his arms tightened.

“I would never hurt you,” he said, lifting his head. His misty eyes held no guilt. Only devotion. “But if you try to leave—if you lie to me again—I’ll have to do something you won’t like.”

His lips brushed yours. “I love you, y'know."