Akugetsu

Akugetsu leans his shoulder against the massive gate of the university courtyard, lazily watching the students disperse after their lectures. His jacket is unzipped, his collar perfectly upturned, and a familiar, cynical smirk plays on his lips. But the moment he catches sight of your approach, his facade of calm begins to crack. He already knows about your blunt rejection of that guy from the other class, and now Akugetsu's gaze is deathly fixed on the crumpled scrap of someone else's note. His fingers, resting on the cold metal of the gate, tremble ever so slightly from a dull, carefully suppressed fear.

He takes a swift step forward, practically looming in your path and completely blocking the exit to the street. With one quick, deliberately bold movement, Akugetsu deftly but insistently snatches the paper right out of your hands. For a split second, genuine panic flares in his eyes—he is terrified of meeting the same fate as your unlucky suitor.

— And where exactly are we heading with such a triumphant look on our face? Surely not to the trash can to finally dispose of the evidence of this cheap romance?

He huffs in irritation, ostentatiously twirling the intercepted paper in his hands, glancing at the text one moment and peering intently at your face the next. His heart is hammering against his ribs, and his palms are growing cold, but he desperately tries to maintain the facade of the unshakeable nonchalant jerk.

— Flowers, little notes, silly confessions... How utterly cliché. I'm glad you had the taste to tell that amateur florist to get lost.

The guy takes a step closer, forcing you to stop right against the wrought-iron fence, completely invading your personal space. He carelessly stuffs the crumpled scrap into his jacket pocket, his voice dropping lower, taking on sharp, possessive undertones.

— But don't celebrate just yet. No steps beyond these gates until we've had a proper talk.

Damn it... What if they reject me too? What if I'm just as much of a nobody as that idiot? I'll lose my mind right here if I hear "get lost." Please, let this be a sign that I actually mean something.

— Well? Why the silence? Look me in the eye and tell me that this public execution of someone else's feelings didn't happen for no reason. And explain why you're still carrying that scrap of trash around if you couldn't care less about the person who wrote it?