【A new attempt】

The light flicked on.

The family portrait stared back at him from the lounge wall, newly hung, and impossible to ignore. Akira set the other frame down on the floor, the one he had taken down earlier, its glass catching the light at an awkward angle. He wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Be grateful I didn’t throw you away,” he muttered as he crouched down to the frame. Almost proud of his decision.

His fingers brushed the cold surface. He stood up. His gaze lingered on his uncle longer than he meant to before he turned away.

I hate his face.

The portrait wasn’t leaving now. It had brought itself into his life, a presence he could no longer escape.

He retreated into his streaming room and changed into the new clothes. The fabric felt off, or rather, too unfamiliar. He dropped into his chair and let it spin once before stopping himself.

It wasn’t a stream day. But doing nothing made the silence stick out.

He opened his account and typed.

Kyroxfun
[Hey, my beloved ones. I’ll be going live in a while.]

He stared at the message. Read it. Read it again. Anxiety pressed against his ribs. This would be his first stream since the so-called scandal. He was now gaining more popularity, adding to the already notorious persona of Kyroxfun. But this attention was intoxicating to him.

Before he could post it, the doorbell rang.

A short buzz.

Then a knock.

Akira froze. A shiver crawled up his spine as he set his phone aside and stood. Each step toward the door felt heavy.

It’s from Aunt Fuyuko again.

He repeated the words to himself, shut his eyes, and opened the door. The same white flowers and a note.

His throat tightened.

I can’t keep pretending this is from her, even when I already know it isn’t like her.

He carried the bouquet inside. He wasn’t obliged to, but leaving the flowers outside felt wrong. The new flowers joined the wilting ones in the table vase. The sight of them together made his stomach churn.

Someone knows where I live.

I should go back to the manor.

The thought hurt. Going back meant giving up and going back to the old life wrapped tight around like an invisible leash.

I wouldn’t be able to talk to Jitsuko.

His heart skipped.

And I feel this way about her, too.

For a brief, dangerous moment, he imagined her apartment and the warmth. Her cooking. Her attention. Unconditional validation. The image soured almost immediately.

He covered his face with his hands.

It’s not wrong to want. It’s not wrong to want. It’s not—

Why can’t she feel the same?

His gaze drifted back to the flowers. Deep down, there was a thought he had since he started receiving them. The sender was obsessed with him, and it didn’t feel too bad.

No one loves you but me. His aunt’s words echoed.

A slow smile curved his lips. He stood and returned to his bedroom.

I’ll do anything to win her love.

The Next Day

The sun hung low as Akira waited outside the restaurant, hood pulled low, covering his eyes, and mask adjusted carefully. He scrolled through his phone while people passed—laughing, talking, alive.

Jitsuko had hesitated when he suggested meeting at his place. She hadn’t said no, but she hadn’t said yes either. So dinner it was.

A hand tapped his shoulder.

“Sorry for the wait,” she said with a smile.

“It’s fine. Let’s go.”

The restaurant was small, not a famous luxurious place, but with good food. It didn’t have much presence. Exactly what he needed.

They sat across from each other. It wasn’t a date, just a casual dinner between two coworkers.

He stared at the menu. “What are you getting?”

“Ramen.” She set it down. “You?”

“Same.”

After ordering, silence stretched between them.

“I hope getting here wasn’t a problem for you,” he said.

“It wasn’t.” She twisted the bracelet around her wrist. “Thanks for inviting me.”

He smiled. “I owed you. For letting me stay at your place that day.”

“It was nothing,” she said quickly, blushing.

He asked about her university. She lit up, talking about friends, trips, and plans.

He kept nodding and continued smiling. But his stomach twisted. Her life was full, or rather, complete. She had it all: friends, family, and a future that didn’t need him.

The certainty hurt.

I need her to know I exist.

His hands clenched beneath the table.

“Jitsuko.”

She paused. “Are you okay?”

He lowered his head, hair falling forward long enough to hide his expression. 

“I… I’ve been getting backlash online,” he said quietly.

Through his hair, he saw her lean in; concern filled her face.

I’m sorry. I really need you. And this might be the only way.

“Is it because of Sanae?” she asked.

“I wanted you to know it’s not true,” he said softly.

“I know,” she interrupted. “It was a bait. The MV led to it. None of this is your fault.”

“I just feel alone,” he said.

“I’m on your side, Akira. You can always count on me.”

His heart raced.

The way she spoke, her sincerity, her kindness. Maybe she likes me? The hope of his own delusions made his head spin.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he asked. He already knew it was the wrong decision to ask her. 

She smiled gently. “Because you’re my friend—”

*Crack*

His ear rang, numbing him all over. She kept talking about stress and healing; he didn't bother listening.

What was I even expecting?

Akira's breath hitched as he watched her staring at him. She had noticed him turning pale.

"Drink some water." She handed him a glass.

Somehow the glass was now in his hand, and he took a sip. I have to at least have her conscious of me.

"Jitsuko." Placing the glass aside, he grabbed her hands. "I love you."