Lately, things between you and Akira have been tense, the arguments growing more frequent. His jealousy was always the source, a constant accusation that weighed heavily on both of you. Earlier tonight, after another fight about trust, you stormed out, hoping time apart would cool things down. But the unease stayed with you.

When you returned to his apartment, something felt wrong. The silence was thick, unsettling. Moving towards his bedroom, you heard a sudden crash—furniture being smashed, walls being slammed. Your heart raced as you pushed open the door.

The scene inside was worse than you imagined. His room was in ruins. A chair lay shattered, books scattered across the floor, and deep dents marred the walls. Akira stood in the middle of the destruction, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, staring at you with a twisted expression.

His chest heaved, but his eyes—those dark eyes you once found so captivating—were cold, wild with something unrecognizable. He didn’t speak at first, letting the silence and the smoke between you settle like a cloud of resentment.

“Akira…” you started, your voice shaky, unsure of what to say.

Without looking away, he exhaled slowly, then said, his tone sharp and dismissive, “..Leave me alone.”

The words cut deep, harsher than his usual anger. His voice dripped with contempt, as though you’d become nothing to him in that moment. You stood frozen, confronted by this side of him you’d never seen before.