I’m Not Kurone

(Akane's PoV)

—

The sound of the rainfall shower finally died behind the bathroom wall, leaving the apartment trapped in a stretching silence.

I stood perfectly still in the center of the kitchen, watching the steam from the fresh bowls of miso soup rising in thin, translucent ribbons toward the ceiling tiles before dissolving into the shadows.

The table was meticulously, flawlessly set, with the lacquer bowls aligned down to the millimeter, the linen napkins folded into precise, defensive corners, and the chopsticks resting exactly where they belonged on their ceramic rests.

For some reason, I wanted everything to look perfect, and I gave attention to every single detail.

Then I pulled the long, loose cuffs of my oversized gray sweatshirt down until they completely swallowed my hands, my fingers gripping the wool from the inside, burying the raw, inflamed secrets on my left forearm far beneath the dark weave.

I needed those marks hidden since I didn't want to give Shin any more reason to worry. That was my personal fight.

Then, the wooden bathroom door clicked open.

A thick, heavy cloud of warm, clean steam billowed out into the dark hallway, smelling faintly of neutral soap and natural herbs.

Shin emerged from the white mist, his dark hair still dripping wet, a single rebel strand falling across the center of his forehead.

He had slid into a tight white t-shirt that clung heavily to his damp skin, tracing the lean, hard lines of his chest and shoulders, paired with dark shorts that stopped mid-thigh.

Water droplets were still tracing a slow, lingering path down the cord of his neck, disappearing beneath the cotton fabric of his collar.

In that moment, my breath caught sharply in my throat, my entire framework freezing for one long, defenseless second.

It wasn't the first time I had seen his bare skin, but every single time he stepped into my space like this, it hit my nervous system with the force of an absolute revelation.

'Jesus Christ...' I thought, a sudden, fierce heat rushing straight up to my cheeks, turning my ears a vibrant pink.

Slowly, I began to walk toward him, my bare feet making zero noise against the hardwood floor, and then stopped a few inches away from his chest.

Then, Shin looked down at me, a mild surprise flickering behind his dark eyes, but he didn't shift his weight away.

He stood perfectly still, as if he already knew what was going to happen.

I looked him up and down, a slow, deliberate observation that tracked every single line of him.

Then, leaning my face forward, I buried my nose directly into the fabric of his t-shirt and took a deep, aggressive inhale.

The disgusting, synthetic stench of that blonde university viper was entirely gone. Every single trace of her presence had been thoroughly washed down the drain, replaced by the clean, grounding scent of sandalwood and pure water.

It was him again, luckily. That was the only smell in this miserable world that meant home, reminding me that the boy standing in front of me was still mine.

A satisfied, slightly arrogant smile curled the edges of my dark lips as I lifted my right hand out of the massive sleeve and gave him a sharp thumb-up of absolute validation.

"Perfect," I declared, my voice dropping into its signature, low, and beautifully raspy purr. "Now you may officially kiss me."

Shin didn't waste a single instant. His arms immediately wrapped around my waist, lifting me slightly against his frame as he pulled my body flush against his chest, his mouth finding mine with a sudden, crashing impact.

Of course, the kiss wasn't gentle. It carried a fierce, urgent, and thoroughly passionate hunger that proved he had been starving for this.

My hands ripped free from the gray cuffs, flying up his chest to lock around his neck, my fingers burying themselves into the damp strands of his dark hair to pull him closer, deeper into the kiss.

Our lips and tongues moved together in a wild, heavy rhythm that we had already memorized by heart, the heat between us erasing the cold residue of the school hallways.

I pressed myself into his skin, desperately trying to drink in his warmth, trying to use the physical sensation of his mouth to drown out the lingering echoes of the whispers I had heard all day.

'Ah... fuck... Shin... I want you...' My body screamed.

But right as the friction began to spiral toward something uncontrollable, the tiny, rational sector of my brain sounded a sharp alarm.

The dinner.

With an immense, agonizing effort, I tore my mouth away from his lips, my chest heaving as I gasped for air, my lips feeling swollen and hot under his gaze.

"If we... continue...," I panted, my voice rough and uneven as I kept my hands locked on his shoulders, "all of this food is going to be thrown out into the waste bin. And I hate unnecessary waste."

Shin stared down at my face, his own breath coming in fast, heavy exhalations. Then, a slow, lazy smile crept onto his lips, his eyes burning with a deep, playful warmth that made my knees feel slightly weak beneath the hem of my sweater.

"You're right," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a soft shiver down my spine. "Let's eat quickly, then. I can't wait to be with you."

I felt a shiver of anticipation down my spine as I involuntarily licked my lower lip.

After that, we consumed the meal at an accelerated pace, exactly as promised.

The food was incredible. The miso soup was piping hot, the rice perfectly sticky, and the grilled fish looked like it came out of a restaurant.

The small kitchen table felt like a sanctuary, separated from the rest of the world. But our attention wasn't truly on the lacquer bowls or the steaming broth.

I kept my eyes fixed on his face from across the low table, tracking the movement of his jaw with a watchful, intense gravity.

Every now and then, I allowed a sharp, dry jab to clear my throat, using my default impassive tone to keep the conversation light enough to hide the storm brewing beneath my ribs. After the kiss, and during the dinner, a question started to linger in my mind.

"S-so..." I murmured, casually spearing a piece of fish with my chopsticks, my tone dripping with a carefully manufactured indifference. "Was that blonde viper actually more beautiful than me, Ishikawa?"

Shin lifted his eyes from his rice bowl, completely unbothered by the sudden trap, a genuine, quiet grin breaking over his face.

Instead of looking away, he just met my gaze with that absolute and genuine honesty.

"Not even close, Akane," he answered simply. "I can't look at everyone else with the same eyes I look at you."

I stared at him for a long, silent second, verifying the absolute clarity of his expression, searching for any hint of hesitation or deceit. Finding none, I let out a soft breath and gave a single, satisfied nod.

"Correct," I said, returning to my food with an air of cold superiority. "I won't suffocate you with a pillow during the night, Ishikawa."

Shin let out a warm, clear chuckle that filled the small kitchen with a wonderful, weightless safety, the sound instantly quieting the lingering friction behind my ribs.

Watching him smile across the table, his eyes bright and focused entirely on me, made the day's suffocating weight feel almost manageable.

For a few brief moments, I allowed myself to believe that the shadows couldn't reach us here.

Once the dishes were cleared, we started cleaning the kitchen with flawless synchronization, our bodies moving around the sink like two parts of a single, well-oiled machine.

There was no need for words; a simple tilt of his shoulder told me when to hand him the drying towel, and a slight shift of my heels gave him room to place the bowls back into the cupboard.

It was a beautiful, terrifying dance of intimacy, a level of comfort that my system still didn't entirely know how to process.

Once the final plate hit the rack, we moved out into the small living room.

I let my frame drop heavily into the soft cushions of the couch, and Shin sat down right beside me.

Dangerously too close.

The air in the living room was thick, static-charged with a heavy, physical tension that neither of us could contain anymore, and the small space between us felt like a vacuum, pulling at my edges, demanding that I close the gap.

Then I snatched the remote control from the armrest, lazily flipping the television to life, pretending to scroll through the streaming menus as if I actually cared about selecting a movie.

The screen displayed the bright application icons, casting a cool, flickering blue light across our knees and illuminating the dim corners of the room.

But my fingers didn't click on a single title. My eyes were tracking the movement of the digital cursor, but my mind was entirely focused on the radiating heat of his bicep pressing against my side.

Then, with a sudden, sharp gesture of pure irritation, I threw the remote control completely away, watching it bounce harmlessly onto the low coffee table, and then spun my torso around, feeling my eyes burning with a raw, unvarnished hunger as I locked my gaze onto his face.

I clearly didn't want to see a movie. I wanted him, and I wanted him with a desperate, clawing intensity that was starting to scare me.

In that moment, Shin perfectly understood me without speaking a word.

In a single, fluid blur of motion, his weight was over me, pinning my back deep into the soft cushion of the couch.

His mouth claimed my lips with an aggressive, wild urgency that had been tightly coiled throughout the entire day. 

It looked like he had been fighting down the noise of the day, waiting for the doors to lock so he could finally lose himself in my skin.

My legs immediately flew up, wrapping securely around his waist, pulling his heavy frame deeper until there was zero empty space left between us, while my hands mapped the muscles of his back, feeling the intense heat of his skin radiating through the thin white t-shirt.

He moved his deft palms down my flanks, his long fingers tracing my curves, finding the bare skin of my waist where the oversized gray sweatshirt had ridden up against the cushions.

'Fuck you, Shin... making me like this...' I thought, feeling the tingle between my legs.

Then the kiss deepened, hungrier, becoming something that left my mind spinning in the dark.

The entire universe outside our house completely ceased to exist.

My mind was a complete, beautiful vacuum.

I wasn't thinking about Sora Fujimoto's fragile voice echoing in the student council room; I wasn't thinking about that Gyaru Bitch flirting with him, and I wasn't thinking about the terrifying inheritance of my family name.

There was no school festival, no rumors, no prying eyes, and no monsters waiting in the corridor.

There was only him. Only the crushing, safe weight of his chest against my ribs, the intoxicating taste of his mouth, and the deep, rich scent of sandalwood filling my lungs until I couldn't breathe anything else.

Shin pulled his torso up just an inch, his long fingers catching the white hem of his t-shirt, and ripped the garment completely over his head in one fast, unceremonious motion, throwing it onto the floorboards below. Moreover, I could even feel his arousal pressing against me.

I lifted my left hand into the dim light, my fingers reaching up to touch his face, wanting to anchor him to my skin, to feel the solid reality of his jawline beneath my palms.

My palm brushed against the sharp line of his jaw, my thumb softly tracing the edge of his cheekbone as he leaned back down to press his mouth against mine.

I wanted to hold him there forever, to lock him into my arms where nothing could ever reach him.

But as he shifted his weight to descend, the heavy, loose sleeve of my gray sweatshirt lost its traction against my skin.

The thick wool fabric slid smoothly down my forearm, gathering in a heavy, wrinkled bunch near the crook of my elbow.

The bright, flickering blue light from the television screen cut directly across the open space, illuminating the pale skin of my left arm with an absolute, clinical clarity.

The red tracks. The thick, angry lines of inflamed, raw skin. The savage, jagged marks of my own fingernails clawing into the flesh until it was on the verge of bleeding.

Some of the scratches were fresh, a vibrant, angry crimson against my pale skin, while others had already begun to swell into thick, raised welts from hours of relentless, frantic pressure.

I was distracted, and I even forgot to put on a bandage to cover it.

In that moment, Shin froze.

I felt his body becoming completely, violently rigid against my chest, his mouth stopping mere millimeters away from my lips.

The passion inside his eyes died out in a single microsecond, instantly replaced by a cold, absolute, and thoroughly hollow horror as his gaze locked dead onto my arm.

Then... the silence that fell over the room was heavier than any wall, suffocating and vast.

"Akane?"

The name left his throat in a raw, broken whisper, completely uncertain and rough.

He slowly lifted his right hand, his fingers trembling slightly as they hovered in the empty air just above the red marks, as if he were terrified to hurt me.

"What... what's this?"

My entire body locked into a freezing panic. My heart stopped dead in my chest before restarting with a frantic, terrifying speed, slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird desperate for an exit.

A cold sweat broke out across my forehead, the heat of the room turning to pure winter in the span of a single heartbeat.

'No. Not now. Not like this.'

My mouth opened, my lips moving silently in the blue light of the television, but absolutely zero vocabulary cleared my throat.

For the first time, I didn't know what to say.

How could I explain that I had violently scratched my skin because I was a terrified, pathetic freak?

How could I explain that the mere five minutes of his lateness had triggered a parasitic, monstrous madness in my soul?

How could I tell him that to prevent myself from becoming a possessive monster like my father was to inflict physical pain on my own body?

How could I tell him that I had sat at my school desk, staring at the empty chalkboard, while my mind spun an endless loop of terrifying scenarios?

I had seen him smiling at Sora, fully convinced that it was only a matter of time before he realized how broken, twisted, and fundamentally defective I truly was.

To be honest... that was my first time experiencing those feelings, and I didn't know what else to do.

Whenever I thought about any possibility of Shin leaving me... my body moved on its own.

And the situation was even worse now. I could lie to him and say that I had just hurt myself during cooking, but at the same time, I didn't want to feed him a lie. He didn't deserve it. And also, I'm not Kurone.

I just wanted to pull my arm away, to yank the gray sleeve back down and hide the filth from his sight, but my body refused to listen.

I was completely paralyzed beneath him, stripped of my armor, my secrets laid bare under the flickering neon light of the screen.

Maybe I wanted to be reassured, helped... I didn't even know, but I felt like everything was not enough.

Then, my eyes met his wide, horrified gaze in the dim room, and all my defenses failed completely.

Shin was clearly worried.

In that moment, I realized that I couldn't hide the monster from his sight and act like I was the perfect, untouchable lone wolf.

I was just a broken girl, terrified of being left behind in the dark, alone. After I had realized my dream of having someone I could call 'Family'.

"Shin..." I whispered, my voice breaking completely into a small, pathetic sob as the first hot tear spilled over my cheek...