Insecurities

(Akane's PoV)

—

I stood perfectly still as the front door clicked shut behind him, still holding the wooden spoon in my hand like a knife. 

More than one million different questions were flowing through my mind, but all of them had one thing in common: Jealousy.

Shin didn't move either. He kept his hands loosely in the pockets of his navy trousers, his eyes tracking my outline in the dim hallway light, calm and steady as always, as if he hadn't just walked through the gates of hell.

A loud silence filled the entire house.

I didn't even offer a single word of greeting. I simply stepped forward, my bare feet making no sound against the hardwood, and closed the distance between us until the hem of my oversized gray sweatshirt brushed against his knees.

Then, I tilted my head up, my jaw locked into a tight, rigid line, and leaned directly into the lapel of his blazer.

I took one deep, sharp breath.

And, almost instantly, my chest violently seized.

A strange, uninvited sweetness hit my nose. That certainly wasn't the clean, familiar scent of his skin, and not the light, powdery floral scent of that student council idol.

This was something entirely different. It was heavy, synthetic, and aggressively loud, smelling of cheap peach perfume, sweet tobacco, and high-maintenance hair product. Disgusting.

After that, I took two fast steps backward, with my bare heels digging into the floorboards. My face pulled into a look of pure, unadulterated disgust, my fingers tightening around the handle of the wooden spoon until the timber let out a faint, cracking groan.

"You carry a disgusting scent," I whispered, my voice dropping into its absolute lowest, driest register, with a cold heat flaring behind my teeth. I forced my lips to stretch into a massive, terrifyingly sweet smile as I tilted the wooden spoon straight at his throat. "And it belongs neither to me nor to that pristine idol from the council office. With whom exactly have you been spending your afternoon block, my deeply adored and precious fiancé, who is currently standing on the very precipice of the afterlife? 🥰"

Shin didn't flinch under the threat, of course. He just let out a low, slow breath, his eyes softening with that patient clarity that always made my defensive armor feel entirely too heavy.

"Akane," he began, his voice a calm, gravelly rumble that immediately tried to anchor the room. "Put the spoon down. I'm going to explain everything from the beginning."

I didn't lower the spoon right away, but as he spoke, the absolute honesty in his face began to have an effect on me.

So, I let the wooden weapon drop to my side, eventually tossing it carelessly onto the kitchen counter behind me, and then wrapped both of my arms tightly across my chest, my fingers locking around my own biceps as if I were physically trying to hold my ribs together, and glared at him through the dark fringe of my hair, waiting for his explanation.

"The second I arrived at the courtyard," Shin explained, his posture completely relaxed against the front door, "Fujimoto-san was already waiting with the visiting representative from Seiryō University. It was the exact same blonde girl who was speaking with Kenji."

My eyes narrowed into two razor-sharp slits, a sudden, cold shudder running straight down my spine.

Kenji. Of course.

"Her name is... mmh... Tsubame Yamamoto," Shin continued, his tone entirely calm and unbothered as he watched the tight contraction of my jaw. "Fujimoto-san introduced us to talk about the logistics for the orientation stalls. We discussed the booth perimeters and the electrical layout for about ten minutes before she shifted the subject to their university's pop-rock club. Apparently, they're executing a mini-concert block on the outdoor stage next Saturday."

He reached up, his fingers casually scratching the back of his head with a look of genuine, mild irritation.

"Yamamoto-san is the lead vocalist for the performance. She claims the faculty board is being incredibly strict about the soundcheck parameters, and since Fujimoto-san is completely buried under the main council paperwork, she requested my assistance to oversee the audio setup next week. I'm required to attend their private rehearsals to give the final administrative clearance."

A black, suffocating wave of pure, unadulterated fury violently detonated behind my ribs.

"Basically, she wants you to see her 'private performances' because she's gonna have another concert at the school festival. Great." I sighed, feeling venom in my words.

'I am going to hunt that blonde viper down and murder her in the middle of the courtyard,' the thought screamed through my consciousness, loud and bloodthirsty. The mental imagery of some gyaru bitch university girl flashing her painted nails near my boyfriend's face, singing songs into his ears while I was stuck in a classroom across the building, made my knuckles turn a bloodless, stark white against my sleeves.

But I didn't let a single word come out of my mouth. I forced the rage to stay buried beneath the surface.

I refused to let my possessive madness overflow into his space; I didn't want to make him feel a single milligram of unearned guilt for something he didn't ask to do.

"And that wasn't the end of it," Shin murmured, his dark eyes tracking the violent stillness of my posture. "She took my contact before she left, because she said that she needs to send over the lyrics files and the audio arrangements so I can verify the lengths before the rehearsal shift begins."

'She has his number.'

The wire in my chest tightened until it felt like it was going to slice through my lungs.

I wanted to grab his phone and smash it against the tiles, to rip the navy blazer off his shoulders and burn it in the kitchen sink just to eradicate the smell of her cheap perfume from our sanctuary.

But I managed to remain perfectly stone-still, my breathing shallow as I forced my entire soul to listen to his words without screaming.

"Then, after the Seiryō group cleared the gate," Shin said, taking a slow step down the hallway toward me, "Tsubame blew a theatrical kiss toward the courtyard. That's likely where the scent originated. I stepped away, but the wind must have carried the residue."

'Oh no, that bitch will be dead in three days,' I thought, my fists clenching involuntarily.

"She is lucky," I purred through my teeth, my voice sounding like broken glass, "That I wasn't there. I would have handled her vocal cords permanently."

After my words, Shin let out a soft, quiet chuckle, but his expression quickly shifted back into a serious, heavy register as he closed the remaining distance between us.

He stopped exactly two feet away, respecting the boundary of my crossed arms.

"On the other hand, Fujimoto-san was completely falling apart after they left, Akane," he murmured, his voice dropping into a lower, more intimate frequency. "She confessed that she's been feeling intensely observed by a stalker for the last few days. And right before the block finished, Kenji and his athletic friends saw her, and made some incredibly disgusting, explicit 'compliments' about her body that put her into a state of total panic. She was genuinely terrified of walking alone. That's why her voice was trembling in the lounge... and that's why I escorted her frame back to her apartment."

A sharp, painful jolt of pure, physical jealousy bit into my stomach, my heart sinking like a stone.

She walked beside him, leaning into his steady, warm presence while the evening sun went dark.

The terrifying, parasitic fear of losing him—the deep-seated insecurity that some beautiful, perfect angel like Sora Fujimoto would eventually make him realize how fundamentally ruined and defective I was—began to twist my thoughts into an ugly, suffocating knot. Once again.

In that moment, I didn't care about the important part of what he said about the guys making bad "compliments" about her. That clearly was sexual harassment. But, for some reason, I just wanted to rip my hair out and scream in the empty hallway.

But as the panic reached its peak, Shin took another half-step forward, his eyes boring straight into mine with an absolute, unyielding clarity.

"And... right before she was about to enter her building, she explicitly stated that she wants to become real, sincere friends with both of us," he said softly, the words landing in the quiet hallway like a sudden, unexpected weight. "She said we are the only two human beings in the entire school who treat her like an ordinary human being, instead of some unapproachable idol. She was sincere, Akane. And she specifically asked me to extend her warmest greetings to you."

After his words, my eyelids flew open, my eyes widening in complete, unadulterated shock.

My jealousy was gone, leaving my brain entirely short-circuited. 'Friends? With both of us?'

That... was unexpected. I had fully prepared myself to fight an elite rival, but instead, the perfect idol just wanted to be friends with me?

The confusion lasted for only a fraction of a second before the entire weight of my anger rearranged its target, focusing its full, lethal intensity back onto the true source of the wreckage.

Kenji.

If that disgusting, predatory monster hadn't violated Kurone in that karaoke box, if he hadn't validated the disgusting behavior of his varsity friends, Sora wouldn't have been terrified.

Shin wouldn't have been dragged into the courtyard, and that blonde viper wouldn't have touched his sleeve.

Every single drop of poison entering our sanctuary was all because of him.

The realization made my teeth grind together with a sickening friction.

'Gonna talk with Sora tomorrow. I need to ask some specific questions to her,' I thought.

Then, I took three long, deep preparation breaths, forcing the air into my tensed lungs until the frantic pounding of my heart began to calm. I dropped my arms from my chest, my eyes burning through the gloom as I pointed a single, unyielding finger toward the bathroom door.

"Go directly into that shower and wash your skin, Shin," I commanded, my tone dropping into its driest, most arrogant lone-wolf register to mask the tremble in my throat. "For the rest of this evening, we are going to focus exclusively on us. I require my absolute daily dosage of your affection, and I refuse to tolerate another second of that disgusting, synthetic stench on your shoulders. I will not grant you a single kiss until every single micro-drop of that viper's presence has been thoroughly eradicated from your body."

Shin let out a low, deeply amused rumble, a brilliant grin splitting his handsome face. Then, he took a sudden step forward, with his arms reaching out as he attempted to pull my frame against his chest to force a playful kiss onto my lips.

"Get away from me!" I shrieked, my bare feet skittering across the floorboards as I violently ducked beneath his reach, my face flushing a deep, furious pink. "I am entirely serious, ghost boy! Do not cross the boundary!"

After my words, Shin brought his momentum to a halt, a soft, helpless sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head with an expression of complete defeat. "Alright, alright. You win, boss. I'm going to take a shower."

Then, he unbuttoned his navy blazer, hanging it carefully on the entryway rack, and disappeared into the bathroom, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind his heels.

A second later, the loud, steady hiss of the rainfall shower began to echo through the apartment wall.

The idea of undressing and sneaking into the shower with him was too inviting, but I managed to keep myself 'calm' in some ways, despite the urge to be with him as soon as possible.

I then let out a long, ragged breath, my shoulders sagging completely as the silence of the kitchen reclaimed my senses.

I walked over to the stove, retrieved the wooden spoon from the counter, and began to stir the simmering pot of dashi mechanically.

Then, I moved the lacquer bowls to the low table, folded the linen napkins into precise, symmetrical squares, and arranged the chopsticks with absolute accuracy.

But no matter how hard I tried to focus on the domestic routine, the volatile, suffocating rage inside my chest refused to fade away.

That was a physical, burning weight behind my ribs: a desperate, clawing need to claim his body entirely for myself, to mark his skin so deeply that the rest of the world would never dare to look in his direction again.

Without realizing it, my left hand abandoned the spoon.

My fingers reached up, catching the thick gray wool of my right sleeve, and I slowly, deliberately dragged the heavy fabric all the way up past my elbow, exposing the pale skin of my left forearm under the bright, sterile kitchen light.

In that moment, I froze, with my breath catching sharply in my throat as I saw the raw damage documented on my own skin.

Running from the curve of my wrist all the way to the crook of my elbow were dozens of thick, angry red tracks.

The skin was completely inflamed, swollen, and raw. Evidence of a frantic, obsessive scratching session that went on throughout the entire afternoon.

While Shin had been standing in that courtyard, surrounded by perfect idols and blonde singers, my mind had been trapped in a terrifying, unchecked spiral, imagining every single catastrophic scenario where he realized he didn't need a broken freak like me anymore.

I had clawed at my own flesh until the skin was on the verge of bleeding, using the physical pain as a brutal anchor to keep my system from completely losing its sanity. The worst part was that I didn't even realize what I was doing.

I stared at the red lines, my lips trembling as a single cold, heavy tear broke over my lash and slid down my cheek, splashing onto the linoleum floor.

The dirty, violent blood of my father was pulsing through my veins, demanding total submission, total control, and absolute surveillance over the person I loved.

"For how much longer..." I whispered into the empty, quiet kitchen, my voice a broken, pathetic whimper that sounded completely hollow in the dark. "For how much longer am I going to resist this madness before I completely turn into him...?"

I hated the marks and the sickness inside my head.

But as the shower continued to hiss behind the wall, I dragged the gray sleeve back down to my wrist, hiding the wreckage from the world, and forced myself to keep stirring the pot, desperately waiting for the only boy in the universe who knew how to make the storm go quiet.

'I must endure it... for our own good...' I thought.