One Day at the Dorm Room
Flip…
The sound of the page-turning echoes softly in the quiet room, a comforting rhythm that fills the otherwise still air.
I turn another page, then another, my fingers brushing against the crisp, slightly rough paper. My eyes scan the lines, absorbing each word, but the steady flipping of pages might make you curious.
What kind of book could possibly have me so captivated? What story could keep me here, cross-legged on my bed, completely unaware of the passing time?
It's a romance—the serious kind.
Not the airy, lighthearted kind that feels like a warm breeze on a sunny day.
No, this is the kind of romance that digs deep, that pulls at something within you, leaving a knot in your chest that tightens and loosens with every chapter.
It's the kind of story that doesn't just make you believe in love—it makes you ache for it.
Flip…
My breath catches slightly as I read a line that cuts too close.
The characters are raw, broken in ways that feel so real it's almost intrusive, like I'm reading their private journal entries.
There's nothing sugarcoated here—no perfect kisses in the rain, no neatly tied happy endings in sight. Just messy, complicated emotions that bleed onto the page.
As I read, fully absorbed in the heavy, emotional romance unfolding on the pages, a knock at the door pulls me back to reality.
Knock. Knock.
I sigh, reluctantly lowering the book. The characters' raw emotions had felt so real, so consuming—but now I'm back in my messy dorm room, surrounded by the faint hum of dorm life and the sharp knock of someone on the other side of the door.
"Takuya! Can you get the door for me?" Akikatsu's voice calls out, muffled but urgent.
I glance over at him. He's hunched at his desk, as usual, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose, eyes locked on the screen of his laptop. Papers are everywhere—on the desk, on the floor, even tucked into the folds of his sweatshirt.
His notes are scrawled hastily, arrows pointing to revisions, question marks littering the margins. His thesis has consumed him completely, as it often does.
I roll my eyes, muttering under my breath, "I should charge for this." Setting my book down with a sigh, I get up and stretch before dragging myself to the door.
When I open it, I blink in surprise. Standing there is Kana.
"Kana," I say, my tone softening almost instinctively. "What's up?"
She gives me a polite smile, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Konbanwa, Takuya-kun."
Kana. Akikatsu's girlfriend.
She looks as stunning as ever, her pink hair cascading over her shoulders, her casual outfit—just a simple blouse and jeans—highlighting her effortless elegance.
But there's something different about her tonight, something quieter in her expression, like she's carrying a weight she's not ready to share.
"Uh, konbanwa," I reply awkwardly, stepping aside to let her in.
She walks past me into the room, and as always, the faint floral scent of her perfume lingers in the air.
She glances around, taking in the organized chaos of our dorm—the textbooks piled on Akikatsu's desk, the ramen cups stacked precariously on the trash bin, and my half-open book lying on the bed.
"Takuya, who is it?" Akikatsu calls out without looking away from his screen.
"It's Kana," I reply.
At the sound of her name, Akikatsu finally swivels around. For a brief moment, a flicker of warmth crosses his face, but it's fleeting.
He stands, pushing his chair back, and runs a hand through his disheveled hair.
"Kana," he says, his voice softer now, though still carrying that edge of distraction. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be home."
She holds up a small bag I hadn't noticed before. "I brought you dinner. I figured you'd forget to eat."
"Ah." Akikatsu takes the bag, his lips twitching into something that might have been a smile. "Thanks. You didn't have to do that."
"You always say that," she replies quietly, her tone gentle but with a hint of something sharper underneath.
I stay silent, pretending to be absorbed in straightening the edge of my bedspread. This feels personal, but it's not the first time I've been stuck in the middle of one of their exchanges.
"You've been so busy," she continues, her eyes lingering on him. "I thought... maybe we could talk for a bit."
Akikatsu hesitates, glancing at his desk where the glowing screen seems to beckon him back. "I've just got so much to finish tonight," he says, his voice apologetic but firm.
Her smile falters, just for a second. "Right," she says softly. "Of course. I understand."
The silence that follows feels heavy, uncomfortable. She glances at me briefly, and I try to look as neutral as possible, though I can't help but notice the faint sadness in her eyes.
"Oh, I also brought this," she says, holding out a small envelope. "It's an invite from the literature club. They're hosting a poetry reading next week. I thought maybe… you might want to come. Both of you."
I step forward and take the envelope from her. "Thanks, Kana. That sounds interesting."
She nods, her gaze shifting back to Akikatsu. "You should take a break, Akikatsu. Even for a little while. You've been working so hard."
He exhales, a mix of frustration and guilt flickering across his face. "I will," he says, though the words feel hollow. "Just not tonight."
"Not tonight," she echoes, her smile returning, though now it looks practiced, like a mask. "Of course. I'll let you get back to it."
"I'll walk you out," I offer quickly, sensing the tension.
She looks at me, surprised, then nods. "Thank you, Takuya-kun."
I follow her to the door, and as she steps into the hallway, she pauses.
"Takuya," she says quietly, her voice almost a whisper. "Take care of him, okay? He doesn't know when to stop."
I nod, unsure how to respond. "I'll try."
She smiles faintly, though it's tinged with sadness. "Goodnight, Takuya-kun."
"Goodnight, Kana," I reply, watching as she walks away, her silhouette shrinking into the dim hallway.
When I close the door, I glance at Akikatsu, who's already back at his desk, his attention consumed once more by his thesis.
The room feels quieter now, emptier. I pick up the book I'd been reading, but the words blur on the page.
Kana's expression lingers in my mind, her voice echoing softly:
Take care of him.
I wonder how much longer she'll keep showing up, hoping for a moment he'll give her, before she stops coming altogether.
As the door clicks shut behind Kana, I stay by the entrance for a moment, rubbing the back of my neck.
Something about the way she left doesn't sit right with me.
Turning back, I see Akikatsu already glued to his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard like nothing happened.
I flop onto my bed with an exaggerated sigh. "Aki, you should at least give her some time, you know?"
Without looking up, he mutters, "I don't have time for this conversation, Takuya."
"Well, clearly, you don't have time for anything that doesn't involve a deadline and a bibliography," I shoot back, rolling onto my side to face him.
He stops typing and turns to me, his expression one of mild annoyance. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," I say, sitting up and gesturing broadly, "that Kana came all the way here, brought you dinner, tried to have a moment with you, and you basically gave her a corporate meeting reply. 'Thanks for your time, we'll circle back to this.'" I mimic him with an exaggeratedly stern face.
His jaw tightens. "Takuya, do you have any idea how much pressure I'm under right now? This thesis isn't going to write itself."
"Oh, trust me, I know," I reply, smirking. "You've been talking about it nonstop for weeks. But here's the thing, Aki: your thesis doesn't have feelings. Kana does."
He exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair. "This isn't a joke, Takuya. If I don't stay on top of this, I fall behind. Falling behind isn't an option. Kana understands that."
"Does she, though?" I ask, tilting my head. "Or is that what you hope she understands so you don't have to deal with it right now?"
He glares at me, but I can see the wheels turning in his head.
"Look," I continue, leaning forward now,
"I get it. You're all about efficiency, structure, hitting those milestones. And hey, that's great! But people don't work like thesis projects. Relationships aren't something you can put in a to-do list and 'revisit after graduation.'"
He crosses his arms. "So what am I supposed to do? Ignore my responsibilities and go frolic in the park with her?"
"Whoa, whoa, no one said frolic." I grin, knowing the word will irritate him. "But you could take, like, an hour. Maybe go to that poetry thing she mentioned. Let her know she's as important to you as all of…" I gesture at the chaos on his desk, "…this."
"Poetry isn't exactly my thing," he mutters, running a hand through his hair.
"Newsflash, genius: it's not about the poetry," I say, standing up and pacing dramatically around the room. "It's about her. She invited you because she wants you to be part of something she cares about. That's the priority here, not whether you're secretly a closet Shakespeare fan."
"I'm not," he deadpans.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. You're all spreadsheets and deadlines," I tease, waving him off.
"But Kana didn't look like she was okay tonight, Aki. She's patient, sure. But you can't keep pushing her to the bottom of the priority list and expect her to just wait forever. Even the best people have their limits."
He's quiet for a moment, staring at the floor. Finally, he speaks, his voice softer than before. "You really think I'm screwing this up?"
"Not yet," I say, plopping back down onto my bed with a grin. "But you're teetering on the edge. The good news is, I'm here to pull you back. So, here's the plan."
"Oh, you've got a plan now?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.
"Of course I do! I'm basically walking solutions," I declare proudly. "Step one: text Kana and tell her you'll go to that poetry thing. Step two: actually show up. Step three: listen. Don't analyze, don't problem-solve, just listen to what she's saying and let her know you care."
He leans back, sighing. "You make it sound so easy."
"That's because it is," I reply, grinning. "You're overthinking it, as usual. You don't have to write her a thesis; you just have to show up and be there."
Akikatsu shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're exhausting, you know that?"
"And yet, you'd be lost without me," I shoot back, flopping dramatically onto my pillow. "Now, get on it before I have to start practicing my 'I told you so' speech."
He chuckles, pulling out his phone. "Fine. I'll text her. But if this thesis falls apart because of you…"
"Blame the poetry," I interrupt, smirking. "Not me."
As he types out the message, I watch him out of the corner of my eye. For all his rigid plans and schedules, Akikatsu is capable of bending when it matters. He just needs a little push now and then.
"Thanks, Takuya," he says quietly after a moment.
"Don't thank me yet," I reply, picking up my book again. "Thank me after you make her smile."
As Akikatsu begins typing his message to Kana, I lean back, feeling a rare moment of self-satisfaction. Mission accomplished—at least for now. I pick up my book, flipping to the page I'd left off, ready to dive back into the world of serious romance and all its complicated twists.
And that's when it hits me.
My eyes widen as I glance at the clock on my desk. The hands seem to mock me, ticking away precious seconds. My stomach drops.
"Oh no," I mutter. Then louder, "Oh no, no, no!"
Akikatsu looks up, startled. "What's your problem now?"
I jump to my feet, nearly knocking my book to the floor. "I just remembered—I have an evening lecture in five minutes!"
Akikatsu raises an eyebrow, his tone deadpan. "Don't tell me you forgot your own schedule again."
"Guilty as charged,"
I admit, scrambling to grab my bag and stuff random notebooks inside.
"It's not like the class is riveting, okay? But the professor definitely notices when you're late—or worse, not there at all. And she loves pop quizzes. Loves them."
He shakes his head, clearly unimpressed. "Maybe if you spent half as much time keeping track of your responsibilities as you do lecturing me about mine, you wouldn't be in this mess."
"Not the time for a life lesson, Aki!" I retort, fumbling with my laptop charger. "Do you think this is why Kana brought me dinner? To give me the energy to run across campus like my life depends on it?"
"You're ridiculous," he says with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.
"And you're a terrible roommate!" I yell over my shoulder as I dart toward the door. Then, remembering, I turn back for a moment. "Oh, and if you forget to text Kana, I'm coming back to haunt you. Thesis or no thesis."
He waves me off. "Go before you make an even bigger fool of yourself."
Without another word, I fling the door open and sprint into the hallway. My heart pounds as I weave through the dorm, dodging slow-walking groups of students and clinging to the hope that I can make it in time.
"Five minutes," I mutter under my breath. "Five minutes is plenty. Right? Right?!"
Spoiler alert: it wasn't.
2 HOURS LATER...
Sigh
I drag myself into my room, finally free from the clutches of the lecture.
Of course, I got scolded for being late, but I made it through without any major disasters.
I even avoided the dreaded pop quiz. Small victories. Still, I feel like the professor might've tried to burn a hole through me with his stare. Whatever, though. I'll take it. I did my best to look innocent, and hey, it worked—mostly.
Now, I can finally relax... well, almost.
I glance at my phone and check the time—7 p.m. Another thing on my to-do list. Asahi's probably already at the photography club, fussing over details that don't even matter, and I promised I'd help him.
"Great," I mutter, rubbing my temples. "I can barely manage to keep track of my own life, and now I've got to help him set up his photography nonsense."
But it's Asahi, the club president, and, despite his eccentric ways, he's one of the few people whose projects I actually respect.
The guy's got an insane mind. He's the kind of person who can talk about the theory of lighting for an hour without ever really touching a camera.
Honestly, half the time, I don't know if he's leading a photography club or conducting an experiment. He's so wrapped up in his head that sometimes I'm not even sure he remembers what he's doing, let alone what we're supposed to be accomplishing.
Still, I agreed to help him out, and it's probably better that I get this over with.
I check my phone again.
"Well, no time like the present."
I grab my bag, slipping my laptop inside, though I'm not sure why I'm bringing it—maybe Asahi will need help with something random, like creating a detailed plan for the next shoot. The guy loves over-analyzing everything.
As I walk toward the door, a thought crosses my mind.
Did I even eat today?
The thought is fleeting, though—no time to think about food right now. Asahi's probably already lost in his latest photographic theory, explaining why we should shoot with five different light sources or why the lens needs to be focused a certain way based on the phase of the moon.
I swear, sometimes I think he'd be happier running a lab than a club.
Still, I know better than to show up late. I'll get there just in time to help with whatever random technical detail he's fixated on today.
Walking across campus, I can already feel the tension in the air.
Asahi's been planning this photo exhibition for weeks now, and he's probably thinking about it in some abstract way that no one else understands.
His ideas aren't bad, but his delivery? I don't think he realizes that the club is full of people who just want to do the work, not get stuck in endless theory.
He'll explain the "meaning" of every photo like it's some grand philosophical statement when, really, most of us are just trying to make sure the lighting is right and the focus isn't messed up.
By the time I reach the clubroom, I'm ready for the typical Asahi experience: too many ideas and not enough execution. Sure enough, the door is cracked open, and I hear him talking to himself inside.
"If we shift the angle of the light by five degrees and adjust the contrast by 13.5%, the photo's emotional depth should… no, wait, that might mess with the shadows. But what if the shadows are the key to it?"
I roll my eyes as I step inside, where Asahi stands hunched over a camera, muttering to himself about the "perfect exposure" like it's some divine truth.
"Hey, Asahi," I say, leaning against the doorframe. "You're still stuck on that, huh?"
He doesn't even turn to look at me, too absorbed in adjusting the camera settings.
"Ah, Takuya. Good, you're here. I need your input. I've been thinking about the lighting for the shoot tomorrow, but I'm not sure if the softbox will work with the tungsten light. The color temperature seems off, but—no, wait. Maybe it's more about the angle. What do you think?"
I let out a small laugh, pushing myself off the frame and walking over to where he's adjusting everything. "I think you're overcomplicating things, Asahi."
He finally glances at me, blinking in mild confusion. "How so?"
"You're thinking too much. You know how this goes—if the light doesn't look right, we just fix it. We don't need a five-page dissertation on light diffusion, okay?"
He tilts his head as if considering it for a second.
"Hmm… perhaps you're right. But then, it's not just about the light; it's about the mood. The light creates the mood, and the mood impacts the message of the photograph, which will affect how people feel when they see it. But I suppose that's secondary if the light's not right…"
He trails off again, clearly deep in thought.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "You do know the club just wants to get the photos done for the exhibition, right? They're not all trying to become the next Ansel Adams."
Asahi doesn't even acknowledge that, too caught up in whatever theory he's obsessing over. "The thing is, if I don't get the lighting just right, the entire mood will be off. I can't have that happen. You know how important this is."
I can't help but smirk at him. "I know. You're going to make this the most overthought photo shoot in history, but fine, I'll help. Just tell me what to do, and I'll pretend I understand."
Asahi smiles faintly, looking genuinely relieved. "Good. I need someone to handle the equipment setup. I'll handle the concepts."
The evening stretched on far longer than I'd anticipated, but that's the thing with Asahi—time seems to lose all meaning when he's in his element.
We started by setting up the lighting, and from there, it spiraled into a full-blown project of its own. I swear, the guy could spend hours discussing the philosophical implications of light angles.
We got through the technical stuff quickly enough—adjusting the tripods, setting up the backdrops, and making sure everything was in its designated spot. But then, of course, came the real work: Asahi explaining his grand vision for the shoot.
"At this angle,"
he said, positioning a lamp like it was the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe,
"the shadow falls just right on the subject's face. It's not too harsh, but it gives just the right amount of contrast to create depth. This will symbolize the tension between light and dark, the constant push and pull in human nature…"
His voice trailed off as he stared at the scene, lost in thought.
I was trying to keep up, but my mind was already on autopilot.
"Uh-huh, right. So, where's the camera again?" I asked, half-heartedly peeking over his shoulder.
"Oh! Here," Asahi said, snapping out of his reverie.
"But wait, we need to adjust the ISO first. If it's too high, the noise will make the image lose its purity. We need sharp clarity."
I gave him a blank look, but I could see the excitement flicker in his eyes. When Asahi was in his zone, there was nothing else for him but his theories and ideas. It was both impressive and exhausting to watch.
By now, I'd given up trying to comprehend all the technical jargon.
I was there to help with the equipment and assist where I could. The club's president might have been obsessed with perfecting the minutiae, but I'd learned long ago that, in the end, it was Asahi's passion that made the photos special.
Hours flew by. Asahi would occasionally turn to me for validation—asking if the lighting looked right, if the backdrop was too distracting, if the angle made the shot "feel" the way he envisioned. Meanwhile, I was mostly just setting things up, holding the light reflectors at odd angles, and trying not to get in his way.
At some point, I stopped trying to ask questions. Instead, I just followed his instructions, moving from one task to the next. It felt like being a stagehand in some grand, slightly chaotic production where the spotlight was always on Asahi and his never-ending analysis.
When the clock hit midnight, I could feel the exhaustion setting in. My stomach rumbled, and my feet were sore from standing so long. Asahi, however, seemed to be running on pure energy, pushing through despite the late hour. It was only when I saw him staring at a photo on his camera screen for what felt like the hundredth time that I realized how much he'd immersed himself in the process.
I looked over at him, noticing how his eyes were almost glazed over from hours of focus. "Hey, Asahi…" I started, rubbing my eyes. "Maybe we should take a break?"
"Huh?" He blinked, seemingly startled by the suggestion. "Oh. Right. I suppose we've been at this for a while."
"You think?" I quipped, leaning back in my chair. "If you stare at that photo any longer, you might end up convincing yourself the shadows are alive."
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, maybe I got a little carried away there. But we're so close to getting the perfect shot. I just want everything to be perfect."
I gave him a knowing smile. "Asahi, it's already perfect. You've got the lighting, the framing, everything. The rest is just nitpicking. Let's call it a night before you start rethinking every angle."
As we pack our things something came in my mind
"Hey, Asahi," I said, breaking the silence, my voice a little too awake for this time of night.
"Before we head out, can you explain the mood of this photo? I'm curious. Why is it even important?"
He didn't respond right away. Instead, he looked at the photo, studying it like he was dissecting a puzzle. I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he adjusted his glasses.
"The mood in a photo is everything," he said, his voice quieter than usual, almost like he was speaking to himself.
"It's the emotional undertone that guides how we see the scene. It's what makes the photo feel like more than just an image."
I raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "Right, but isn't it more than just feelings? I mean, the mood probably has to do with context too, right? Or how we see it, the way we interpret things?"
He gave me that look—the one where I knew I'd hit the mark.
Asahi was always quick to jump into the intellectual side of things. "Exactly. Context is huge. Take this alley, for example. You could look at it and think it's creepy, like some bad scene in a movie. But if you knew it was in a quiet part of town, it could feel completely different—peaceful, even nostalgic."
I sat up a little straighter, my curiosity piqued. "So the mood isn't just about how we feel emotionally—it's how we interpret it, right? Like, it's a lens through which we make sense of everything?"
Asahi nodded, tapping a finger on his knee. "That's it. The mood shapes everything. The lighting, the colors, the way the photo is framed—they all pull you in a certain direction. It's like there's an invisible hand guiding your thoughts."
I smirked and glanced back at the photo, now feeling a bit more intrigued. "Hmm, so the mood is like... the unsung hero of the photo? Without it, it's just a picture. But with it, everything changes?"
Asahi leaned back a little, his gaze softening. "Exactly. Without the mood, a photo is just a frozen moment in time. But with it? It tells a deeper story. You start to feel something you weren't expecting."
I couldn't help but laugh softly, the idea clicking in my head. "Ah, I see now. It's like the mood adds depth. It's what makes the photo mean something, right? Without it, it's just a snapshot. But with it, there's a whole world behind it."
Asahi's lips curled into the smallest smile. "Exactly. It's what gives the photo weight, something more than just the surface-level image. It's how we connect with it."
We then call it a night.....
The next day, I stumbled out of the lecture hall, my mind still foggy from the exhaustion of the previous night.
The lecture had felt like it dragged on forever, my thoughts constantly drifting back to last night's photo shoot with Asahi. The mental exhaustion from trying to keep up with his endless ideas and technical jargon had taken its toll.
As I walked through the campus, my steps were slow, my body craving rest, but I had to power through. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over everything, and I squinted as I made my way down the corridor.
Just as I was about to head to the dorms for a much-needed break, I spotted Kana, standing with a group of friends near the courtyard.
She was laughing at something one of them had said, her voice ringing out across the open space, and for a moment, I just stood there, watching her.
Kana was hard to miss—she always had this effortless way of commanding attention, not by force, but with the kind of confidence that seemed to radiate from her. Her presence was undeniable, her smile lighting up the entire space. As she chatted with her friends, her laughter was infectious, the kind that made you want to smile without even realizing it.
But as I observed her from a distance, I couldn't help but notice something.
There was a hint of something different in her eyes—a kind of restlessness, maybe?
A far-off look that didn't quite match the carefree laughter she shared with her friends.
It was almost as if she was distracted, as if something was weighing on her mind. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it seemed... out of place, considering how easygoing she usually was.
Her friends noticed me standing there and waved me over with casual enthusiasm. "Hey, Takuya! Come join us!" one of them called out, grinning brightly.
I blinked, startled out of my thoughts, and walked toward them.
As I got closer, Kana's eyes met mine, and she gave me a warm smile, though there was something behind it—a flicker of recognition that quickly faded.
Maybe I was imagining it, but it felt like she had been waiting for me to approach, yet there was an underlying tension in the way she carried herself, almost as if she was unsure of how to act around me.
"Hey Kana, how's it going?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation casual despite the slight unease that had settled in my chest.
"I'm good," she said, her smile widening a little, though there was something faintly strained about it. "How about you? You look like you've been through a lot."
I chuckled softly, rubbing my temple. "You could say that. Long day in lecture, then the whole photography thing last night. I'm running on empty right now."
Her expression softened in understanding, but her friends quickly jumped into the conversation, eager to pull me into their group chat.
They were talking about everything from upcoming exams to weekend plans, but despite their lively chatter, I couldn't shake the feeling that Kana was a little distant, her mind clearly elsewhere.
"Have you and Akikatsu been busy with school stuff too?" one of her friends asked, and Kana's expression shifted for just a moment, like she'd been snapped out of a daydream.
I watched her closely, trying not to make it obvious that I had noticed. She nodded, but there was a hesitancy in her response. "Yeah, he's been caught up with his thesis work," she said, her voice a little quieter than usual. "It's been... a lot, honestly."
I caught the subtle shift in her tone, and it didn't go unnoticed.
I could tell there was something more to that than just the stress of schoolwork. Her relationship with Akikatsu had always seemed solid, but lately, there was this unspoken tension whenever I saw them together.
They were still clearly close, but the cracks in their relationship seemed to be slowly appearing, at least from what I could observe.
"How's he holding up?" I asked, trying to be casual, but the words felt loaded as soon as they left my mouth.
Kana hesitated, and for a split second, her eyes dropped to the ground before she looked back up at me, her smile flickering. "He's doing fine, just... really busy. You know how he is."
I nodded, pretending not to notice the quiet discomfort in her voice, but inside, I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to the story.
Kana had always been such a straightforward person, but today, there was something different about her—something unspoken, like there was a weight she wasn't sharing.
"Alright, well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm around," I said, trying to lighten the mood. I didn't want to push her too hard, but I couldn't shake the feeling that things weren't as simple as they seemed.
Kana's smile was softer now, a little more genuine. "Thanks, Takuya. I appreciate it."
I wasn't sure if she meant it or if it was just a polite response, but either way, there was something about her that left me with a sense of unease.
She turned back to her friends, and the conversation shifted back to more lighthearted topics. But the lingering feeling stayed with me as I stepped away, heading in the opposite direction.
I turned back for a final glance at Kana and her group of friends, my mind still a little tangled in the events of the morning. They were chatting, laughing, and carrying on like any group of university students, but there was something about the way Kana had been acting that lingered in my thoughts.
Just as I was about to turn away, something—or rather, someone—caught my eye. Standing off to the side of the group, leaning casually against a bench, was none other than Hiroshi. My heart skipped a beat. Hiroshi.
Seeing him there, casually leaning back with his arms crossed and laughing along with Kana and the rest of the group, something didn't sit right with me.
I mean, I never remembered Kana being particularly close to Hiroshi. Sure, they were both in the same social circles, but they were never the type of friends I thought would hang out together.
My curiosity piqued, I couldn't help but feel a knot of suspicion tighten in my stomach. The idea of Kana and Hiroshi being friends, especially without me ever noticing, felt... off. I wasn't sure why, but it did. I tried to shake the feeling off, but I couldn't.
There was something about the way Kana interacted with him that made my instincts twinge—was it just me, or was there a certain... familiarity there? Maybe I was reading too much into it, but the more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable I became.
looked around quickly, trying to come up with a plan. There was no way I could just walk away now, not when I had this strange feeling gnawing at me. I needed to know what was really going on between them. And while part of me hesitated—feeling like it was none of my business, that I shouldn't be snooping around—my curiosity got the better of me.
So, I made a decision. I was going to follow them.
Quietly, discreetly, just to see what was happening. Not in a creepy way, but in a way that would help me piece together whatever the hell was going on. I didn't even realize how much my mind had already started to turn the idea of them into something more than just innocent curiosity.
I couldn't deny it anymore: something about Kana and Hiroshi hanging out together didn't sit right.
I took a deep breath, looking around to make sure no one noticed my hesitation. I couldn't let them see me following them. So I stayed a few steps behind, walking at a distance, doing my best to blend into the flow of students.
The group started moving toward the campus cafe, their laughter echoing as they walked. Kana was still at the center of it, but now, Hiroshi was right beside her, talking in low tones, making her laugh in a way I hadn't seen before.
There was something off about it all—some quiet tension in the way they interacted, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
I stayed a little farther back, keeping to the side of the path, my heart pounding slightly in my chest. This wasn't like me. I wasn't the kind of person to spy on others. But right now, all I could think about was the strange feeling in my gut.
What was going on between them? Was I just overthinking it? Or was there something more happening beneath the surface?
I shook my head, trying to focus. Whatever it was, I had to know. I had to find out. And if it meant following them for a little while to get some answers, then so be it.
As they reached the cafe and started to head inside, I slowed my pace, careful not to make my presence too obvious.
I could see Kana now, her head tilted slightly as she talked to Hiroshi. They were both smiling, but there was something in the way they looked at each other—a certain familiarity—that made me feel uneasy.
I quickened my pace, trying to make it look like I was just another random student on my way to grab a coffee, but in reality, I was more focused on Kana and Hiroshi.
I kept a safe distance, just far enough that they wouldn't notice me, but close enough to hear their conversation. The feeling in my stomach was growing—nervous energy mixing with a strange sense of discomfort.
They reached the cafe, and I hovered near the entrance, casually walking by like I was just passing through. I noticed them finding a table near the back, away from the main crowd. As I approached, I subtly slid into a seat behind them, pretending to scroll through my phone. But in reality, my eyes were fixed on them, listening carefully to every word.
Hiroshi leaned forward, his tone relaxed but with an edge that I couldn't quite place. "So, how's everything with Akikatsu?" he asked, his voice low enough that it felt almost like he was deliberately trying to pry without being too obvious about it.
Kana hesitated for a moment, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. "It's... it's fine," she said, but there was an unmistakable heaviness in her voice, a sadness that made the words seem hollow. "I mean, he's always so busy with his thesis.
It's hard to even have a normal conversation lately." She sighed, her eyes drifting out of the window as if she were lost in thought. "I get it, you know? He's focused on his future. But sometimes, it just feels like I'm not even in the picture anymore."
I watched Kana closely, her expression pained, but Hiroshi didn't seem fazed. In fact, he looked almost too calm—too comfortable—as he gave her a sympathetic smile.
"Well, you deserve more than that, Kana," Hiroshi said, his words smooth and almost rehearsed. "You deserve someone who's going to be there for you. Someone who appreciates you for everything you are, not just as an afterthought when things settle down."
His eyes were intense as they locked onto hers, and I could tell he was putting on that familiar act—pretending to be the guy who understood her pain, the one who could provide the comfort Akikatsu apparently couldn't.
Kana didn't respond right away. She just stared at her coffee, the silence between them stretching out. "I know," she whispered after a beat, almost like she was admitting something she hadn't fully allowed herself to acknowledge before. "I feel like I'm invisible sometimes."
"Don't say that," Hiroshi replied quickly, his voice soft but firm, almost too smooth. "You're not invisible. You're too amazing for that. You deserve someone who'll really see you, Kana. Someone who'll make you feel... important."
His gaze was fixed on her, the kind of gaze that seemed too intense for just a casual conversation. I could almost hear the hidden message in his words, his intentions wrapped in that false kindness.
I shifted in my seat, trying to keep a neutral expression, but something about the way Hiroshi spoke made my blood boil. It was subtle, but it was clear—he wasn't just offering comfort. He was planting seeds.
He was trying to make Kana doubt her relationship, trying to wedge himself into the gap that was growing between her and Akikatsu.
Kana looked up at him then, her eyes a little misty. "I don't want to be selfish, Hiroshi," she murmured, though I could tell her voice wavered. "I love him, I really do. But sometimes I just feel so alone." Her words felt like a confession, raw and vulnerable, and Hiroshi seemed to be soaking it in, like he'd been waiting for this moment all along.
"I get it," Hiroshi said, his voice taking on that familiar smoothness that made it sound comforting, even though I knew it wasn't.
"You've been doing everything you can to support him, right? And where does that leave you? Alone, waiting for him to notice how much you care. You're worth more than that, Kana."
His words felt like they were laced with sugar, sweet enough to make anyone feel special, but there was a bitterness to them, too. Hiroshi knew exactly how to manipulate this moment, how to exploit Kana's vulnerability for his own gain. He was the type of guy who thrived on the emotions of others, the kind who could read people like books and knew just which page to turn to make them doubt themselves.
Kana's fingers clenched around her cup, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something, but the words didn't come. For a moment, I could see the conflict in her eyes—the pull between loyalty to Akikatsu and the warmth Hiroshi was offering her.
"You deserve to be happy, Kana," Hiroshi said, leaning in closer now, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
"And if Akikatsu can't give you that, maybe it's time to think about what you really need. I'm here for you, anytime. And I'll always make sure you're not alone."
I had to bite my tongue to keep from intervening, from standing up and confronting Hiroshi right there. But I held back, watching silently as Kana looked at him, her expression still conflicted, as though she was trying to process his words but also wondering if they were what she truly wanted to hear.
"I don't know," Kana murmured, her voice barely audible. "It's just hard, you know?"
"Of course it is," Hiroshi said, his voice smooth, almost affectionate now. "But you don't have to go through it alone. You don't have to wait for someone who doesn't have time for you. I can give you the attention you deserve, Kana. The attention you've been missing."
Kana stayed quiet for a long moment, her gaze flicking back and forth between Hiroshi's intense eyes and her own hands, folded around the coffee cup.
It was clear she was torn, but I couldn't help but feel a wave of disgust wash over me. Hiroshi wasn't just comforting her—he was preying on her vulnerabilities. He was slowly positioning himself as the better option, trying to pull her away from Akikatsu.
I wanted to confront him right there.
I wanted to make him stop, tell Kana what was really going on, but something inside me held me back. The more I listened, the more I realized that this wasn't just about comfort. Hiroshi was trying to steal Kana away, to slip into a role that wasn't his, and I wasn't sure if Kana even realized it.
I leaned back in my seat, my fingers tightening around the edge of the table, my mind racing with thoughts of what I should do next.
Should I intervene? Or should I keep watching, hoping that Kana would come to her senses?...
FUCK IT
could feel the tension building as I watched Hiroshi and Kana continue their little performance. It was sickening. The way he was trying so hard to manipulate her, to worm his way into her life—he was playing her, and she didn't even know it. But I knew. I could see it clear as day. And I wasn't about to let it slide.
I had no patience for this nonsense. If she wanted to play the victim, fine. If she wanted to be led around by someone like Hiroshi, let her. But I wasn't going to stand there and watch it happen. Not when I could do something about it.
I stood up, cutting through their conversation like a blade, my voice loud enough to cut through the air.
"KAAAAAAAAAAAANAAAA CHAN!!!" I shouted, dragging her attention away from Hiroshi's toxic charm.
Kana jumped at the sound, her eyes wide with surprise. Hiroshi didn't even flinch. He was calculating, his eyes narrowing, his mind working overtime to figure out how to salvage his little game. But I knew better. He wasn't going to win this round.
"Are you busy? Because I need help with something!" I said, the words casual but laced with an edge. I wasn't going to let her think for a second that this was a friendly request.
Kana hesitated, glancing over at Hiroshi. He was still trying to keep his cool, but I could see the flicker of irritation in his eyes. That was good. It meant I was on the right track.
"I don't know…" Kana trailed off, unsure of what to do. But I wasn't going to give her the luxury of taking her time. Hiroshi's manipulation had been going on long enough.
I leaned in a little closer, just enough to make it clear I wasn't going anywhere until she came with me. "Trust me, it'll only take a second," I said, my voice smooth, almost too smooth. I made sure she heard the unspoken threat there. The implication that if she didn't leave now, she'd be caught up in Hiroshi's web even deeper.
Hiroshi opened his mouth, but I cut him off before he could say a word. "Sorry, but I need Kana for a moment. It's important."
He wasn't going to argue. He couldn't. If he pushed too hard, his game would be exposed. Instead, he just stared at me, his lips pressed into a thin line, but there was nothing he could do to stop me. I had already taken control of the situation.
Kana stood up reluctantly, and I could see the moment her mind started to crack. She wasn't sure anymore. She wasn't sure about Hiroshi, or about anything.
I led her a few steps away from the table before I turned to her, my gaze sharp. "Do you even realize what's happening?" I said, my voice low but firm. "You're letting Hiroshi manipulate you."
She blinked, clearly taken aback. I wasn't playing games here. I wasn't trying to be nice. She needed a wake-up call, and I was more than happy to deliver it.
"He's not just being a 'good friend,' Kana," I continued, keeping my tone cold and calculated. "He's taking advantage of you. You've been so desperate for attention and reassurance that you've let him slip in. Every time Akikatsu pulls away, Hiroshi steps right up, doesn't he? Giving you just enough to make you think he cares."
Kana opened her mouth to speak, but I wasn't done. I wasn't going to let her interrupt me now. "You're falling for it, Kana. All of it. You think he's helping you, but he's just playing the long game. He's been trying to get close to you for weeks. Every moment Akikatsu isn't around, Hiroshi's there, offering comfort. But that's all it is—comfort with an agenda."
Her face twitched, a flicker of doubt crossing her features, and I knew I was getting to her. I could see it in her eyes. The little cracks were appearing in the image she had built for herself. She was starting to see the truth, but she didn't want to admit it.
"He's preying on your insecurities. He knows you feel neglected, and that's exactly what he's exploiting. Hiroshi is like a parasite. He's feeding off your loneliness. He's not your friend, Kana. He's a predator."
Kana stepped back, as if I had physically struck her. She wasn't prepared for the truth, but that's exactly why I had to say it. She couldn't stay blind any longer.
"You don't need him. You don't need someone who only shows up when it's convenient for them. And if you can't see that, if you can't see what he's doing to you…" I trailed off, my voice hardening. "Then maybe you don't deserve to be in a relationship at all."
That was a low blow, but I didn't care. It was the truth. If she was too stupid to see it, then maybe it was time to knock some sense into her.
I wasn't here to be nice. I wasn't here to coddle her emotions. I was here to force her to wake up.
Kana looked away, her face flushed with a mix of shame and anger. She didn't say anything at first, but I could see the wheels turning in her head. I knew she was considering everything I'd just said. Good. I wanted her to question every word Hiroshi had ever spoken to her.
"You need to stop fooling yourself," I added, my voice low and cold. "This isn't about love. It's about control. Hiroshi is trying to replace Akikatsu, and you're letting him."
Kana swallowed, her throat tight. She wasn't sure how to respond. She was caught between the comfort of the lie she had been living and the harsh truth that I had just laid out for her. I could see it in her eyes—she was terrified of what that truth meant.
But I didn't care about her feelings right now. I was done watching her get played.
I leaned in closer, speaking just a little more quietly, but with far more authority. "You don't have to make any decisions right now, Kana," I said. "But you need to think long and hard about what you really want. Because if you stay with Hiroshi, you'll lose everything. You'll lose Akikatsu. You'll lose yourself. And I'm not going to stick around to watch it happen."
I stood up straight, letting the weight of my words settle in the air between us. I didn't need her to thank me. I didn't need her to appreciate it. But I knew that, deep down, she'd be thinking about everything I'd said. I'd planted the seed of doubt in her mind, and that was all that mattered.
Kana stood there in stunned silence, her eyes wide, her lips trembling with the weight of the truth she had just been forced to confront.
I turned and walked away.
Phew. I can't believe I managed to deceive you all into thinking I didn't see it coming. You thought I was just some clueless bystander, right? Like I was some random guy, just watching this whole drama unfold, without any idea of what Hiroshi was up to. But guess what? I knew.
I knew Hiroshi's game from the very start. That smug, kangaroo-looking dude, all lanky limbs and that crooked grin of his. You think he's playing it smooth, acting all concerned and thoughtful, stepping in like some knight in shining armor, right? You couldn't be more wrong.
Everything is according to plan....
TO BE CONTINUED....