Yu had gotten used to waiting. The tick of the clock, the dim hum of the refrigerator, the faint rustle of the curtains when the wind crept in through the window—those sounds had become his companions while he sat, patient and smiling, until Taichi came home.
But tonight, the waiting was heavier, restless.
While tidying the closet, Yu's hand brushed across a skirt shoved into the back. He remembered buying it months ago, only to shove it away in embarrassment when he realized just how short it was. Now, curiosity—no, something deeper—made him pull it free.
The fabric slid up his pale thighs, hugging close before stopping indecently high. Yu looked into the mirror, breath catching. His legs were bare, his skin practically glowing in the low light. The skirt left nothing to the imagination.
A shiver ran down his spine.
He rummaged further, pulling out a sheer blouse. Then, after another pause, he dug into the drawer where he hid things he rarely wore:
Red lace bra and panties that had felt too daring before. He slipped them on, layered the blouse, smoothed the skirt.
The mirror showed him something he had never quite dared to see before.
It wasn't shy, clumsy Yu reflected back—it was someone alluring, magnetic. The combination of lace and translucent fabric draped over his delicate frame made him look unearthly, tempting in a way that almost startled him. He could picture it:
Any man—his man—falling to his knees at just one glance.
"DK01…"
Yu whispered, cheeks hot.
"D-Do you think Taichi will like it?"
The system, quiet for so long, stirred with its usual detached tone.
[If Taichi Arifukua sees you like this, the probability of him taking your virginity tonight is one hundred percent.]
Yu flushed deeper, hands pressing to his burning cheeks.
"D-Don't say it like that…!"
But he didn't change. He didn't fold the skirt away again or reach for something safe. He sat down, legs crossed delicately, blouse half-buttoned to reveal just enough lace beneath. His heart pounded in his chest, nervous and eager, but the decision was already made.
Tonight, he would wait—not just as Taichi's warm, smiling haven. Tonight, he would wait as temptation itself, ready to see how far Taichi's self-control could stretch.
Yu sat rigidly perched on the couch, legs crossed delicately, the short skirt brushing against his thighs with every fidget. His fingers toyed nervously with the sheer hem of his blouse, smoothing it down only for it to ride up again, revealing flashes of red lace. Every second stretched, heavy with the sound of his own heartbeat.
The clock ticked. The refrigerator hummed. But none of it could drown out the frantic chorus of thoughts spiraling through his head.
'What if he laughs? What if he thinks I look ridiculous?'
He pressed his palms to his burning cheeks, wishing the heat would fade, knowing it wouldn't. His body trembled—not just from nerves, but from something sharper, more electric, humming through his veins.
'I want him to see me. I want him to…want me.'
Even thinking it made him want to curl in on himself, but he didn't move. He stayed right where he was, shimmering like a secret unveiled, waiting for Taichi's key in the door.
And as the familiar sound of Taichi's footsteps and keys approached the door, Yu's pulse quickened, his body taut with anticipation.
When it finally came—the soft scrape of metal, the familiar click—Yu's stomach lurched. He scrambled to sit straighter, his hair falling in loose, silken waves around his flushed face. His heart thudded like a trapped bird.
The door opened.
Taichi stepped in, setting down his bag as he called casually.
"I'm home."
And then he looked up.
The words died in his throat. His eyes widened, his entire body going still as though struck by lightning. Yu sat there on the couch, every inch of him illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp—legs pale and smooth, blouse sheer enough to reveal the teasing red lace beneath, skirt so scandalously short it felt like a sin to even look.
For a moment, silence ruled the room.
Yu's lips parted, breath shaky, eyes darting away.
"…W-Welcome home, d-darling."
The sound of his own voice—small, trembling, and yet laced with intention—was enough to break the air between them.
Taichi's bag slipped from his hand, forgotten, as he crossed the room in slow, measured steps, his gaze locked unerringly on Yu.
Taichi froze in the doorway, his chest rising and falling as if he'd just run a marathon. Yu, though seated, felt more exposed under that gaze than if he'd been standing on a stage before a thousand eyes.
He watched Taichi's face carefully—every flicker, every twitch. First confusion, brows furrowed as if trying to puzzle out whether this was real. Then, the sudden flush creeping from his neck to his ears, so vivid Yu could almost feel the heat radiating from him.
"What… what are you doing?"
Taichi's voice cracked low, breathless. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white.
"Wearing… something like that—"
His eyes darted over Yu's thighs, the sheer blouse, the lace peeking through. His throat bobbed, struggling.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous you look right now?"
Yu's lips trembled, but he forced himself to meet Taichi's gaze.
"I… I know…"
He whispered, his voice both shy and steady. His hands fidgeted on his lap, smoothing the skirt that barely covered him.
"But… tonight… I want to go further with you."
The air itself seemed to shatter with those words.
The look in Yu's eyes—so timid, so vulnerable, yet burning with resolve—was the final spark. Taichi staggered forward as though pulled by invisible chains, his composure snapping.
"Damn it, Yu…"
His voice was raw, guttural.
His hands seized Yu's face, rough but reverent, and he crashed their lips together. Yu gasped, then melted, clinging as Taichi pressed him back into the couch. The kiss was searing, deep, stealing every breath, every thought, until Yu could only moan into him, trembling under the onslaught.
Taichi shed his jacket, his shirt, tossing them carelessly aside, never once breaking contact. His bare chest pressed flush against Yu, hot and grounding, their hearts hammering in unison.
"Mine."
Taichi growled against his lips, the sound more plea than command, and Yu whimpered, nodding as he clutched fistfuls of Taichi's hair.
The world blurred as Taichi pulled Yu into his arms, lifting him effortlessly. Their kisses never broke as they stumbled toward the bedroom, bodies flush, breaths mingling, desperate to close every last gap.
When Yu's back hit the bed, Taichi hovered above him, their foreheads pressed together, eyes blazing.
"Are you sure?"
Taichi asked, voice trembling now.
"If I start… I won't be able to stop."
Yu, cheeks crimson, hair splayed like a halo, whispered back.
"I don't want you to stop."
And with that, the last of Taichi's restraint crumbled.
Yu trembled beneath Taichi, his lithe body pinned to the sheets, breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. His skin was flushed a deep crimson, spreading from his cheeks down his neck to his chest, and his full lips parted in silent anticipation, words caught in his throat. This wasn't mere nervousness—it was the profound weight of surrender, the first time in this life, and even in the one before when he'd reigned as the Incubus King, he'd never bared himself so completely, never allowed another to claim him like this.
Taichi's large hand glided over Yu's slender side, fingers tracing the curve of his hip with a grounding, possessive warmth. He'd prepared meticulously for this—researched every detail, asked intimate questions he'd blush to voice elsewhere, all to ensure he could worship Yu properly, to make this perfect for him. Every gentle caress, every pause for consent, was a testament to his unwavering devotion.
"Trust me."
Taichi whispered, his voice a husky rumble laced with reverence. He coated his fingers generously with lube he bought and kept in the nightstand—for such a time—the cool slickness warming against Yu's skin as he circled the tight, virgin entrance of Yu's ass. Slowly, he pressed one finger inside, feeling the hot, clenching resistance yield bit by bit. Yu's grip on the sheets tightened, knuckles white, his breaths turning ragged as Taichi worked him open with patient, scissoring motions—adding a second finger, then a third, stretching him carefully until the initial burn softened into a fuller, aching need.
Only when Yu's body relaxed, his hips subtly rocking back against Taichi's hand, did Taichi align himself. His thick cock, hard and throbbing with restrained desire, nudged against Yu's prepared hole. He pushed forward inch by inch, deliberate and unhurried, the slick head breaching the tight ring of muscle.
Yu gasped sharply, his eyes squeezing shut as a jolt of pain ripped through him—raw, intense, his untouched body protesting the invasion. His face contorted, a single tear slipping from the corner of his eye. Taichi froze immediately, his own muscles quivering with the effort to hold back, the primal urge to thrust deep warring with his love. He couldn't bear to hurt Yu. His hand cupped Yu's flushed cheek, thumb tenderly wiping away the tear.
"I'm here."
Taichi murmured, pressing his forehead to Yu's, their sweat-dampened skin sticking together.
"I'll stay right here until you tell me otherwise. Breathe with me."
Time stretched taut, the air heavy with their mingled scents—musk, lube, and arousal. Yu's body clenched instinctively at first, the stretch overwhelming, a fire that threatened to consume him. But Taichi's steady presence anchored him—the warmth of his body, the gentle kisses peppered along his jaw, the soothing strokes down his thigh. Gradually, Yu experimented, shifting his hips in small circles, adjusting to the thick fullness buried inside him. The pain ebbed into a manageable ache, laced with sparks of pleasure as Taichi's cock brushed sensitive spots within.
Finally, Yu nodded, his eyes fluttering open to lock onto Taichi's—dark, vulnerable, filled with a silent plea:
More. Take me.
Taichi began to move, thrusts shallow and agonizingly slow at first, each one a careful question. Yu's responses came in soft, wavering whimpers, his hands clawing at Taichi's broad arms, nails digging crescents into the skin. The slick slide of Taichi's cock dragging against his inner walls drew out breathless cries, Yu's voice fracturing on Taichi's name.
"Tai–chi… ah!"
That broken plea shattered Taichi's restraint. His pace quickened, hips snapping forward with growing urgency as Yu's own slender legs wrapped around him, heels digging into Taichi's back, urging him deeper. The room echoed with the lewd, rhythmic slap of skin on skin, the wet sounds of lube-slicked thrusts, their gasping breaths and moaned names blending into a symphony of raw need.
What could have been awkward or frantic transformed into something sacred: tender yet fiercely passionate. Taichi's breath was hot against Yu's ear as he growled his name like a prayer—
"Yu, my Yu, mine."
—his cock plunging deeper, hitting that prostate with precision that made Yu arch off the bed, pre-cum leaking from his untouched erection onto his stomach.
Their rhythm intensified, bodies slick with sweat, the bed creaking under the force. Yu's moans escalated into desperate, surrendering cries, his hole clenching rhythmically around Taichi's girth. Taichi gripped Yu's hips bruisingly, holding him as if he'd vanish, pounding into him with abandon until ecstasy crested.
Release hit them like a storm—Yu first, his cock pulsing untouched, ropes of cum splattering across his chest as his body convulsed, milking Taichi's shaft. Taichi followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, flooding Yu's ass with hot spurts of seed, the overflow leaking out around them.
Afterward, Taichi collapsed beside him, chest heaving, his strong arm draping protectively over Yu's spent form. Yu turned into the embrace, eyes glistening with unshed tears, his heart swelling with an emotion too profound for words—love, trust, completion.
For the first time in two lifetimes, Yu allowed himself to be held, utterly claimed and cherished.
Yu's chest still rose and fell in shallow, uneven waves, the aftershocks of his climax rippling through him like distant thunder. The room smelled of sex and sweat, of Taichi's skin and the faint metallic tang of lube. He turned his face into the crook of Taichi's neck, breathing him in, and something deep inside him shifted.
It wasn't just satisfaction.
It was hunger.
'More.'
The word curled in his mind like smoke, low and velvet-rough.
'I want more of him. More of that heat, that taste. It's like… like biting into a cherry—sweet, sharp, dripping with something only he has. I need it again. I need him again.'
He didn't understand the instinct. He only knew the ache in his core wasn't gone—it had changed. Sharpened. His Incubus soul, long dormant beneath layers of shame and self-denial, stirred like a beast waking from a centuries-long sleep. Yu didn't recognize it. He only knew the taste of Taichi's cum still lingered inside him, warm and addictive, and his body craved it like air.
Taichi lay beside him, eyes half-lidded, chest heaving, one arm still draped possessively over Yu's waist.
'He's spent. I did that to him. I took from him.'
The thought should've made Yu feel guilty. Instead, it made his cock twitch against his thigh.
He shifted—slowly, deliberately—and Taichi didn't notice at first. Not until Yu pushed himself up on trembling arms and swung a leg over Taichi's hips, straddling him in one fluid, uncharacteristically bold motion.
Taichi's eyes snapped open.
"Yu—?"
The sight stole his breath.
Yu—his Yu, the one who blushed at compliments and hid behind his hair—was gone. In his place sat something else entirely: eyes dark and glassy with lust, lips swollen and parted, cheeks flushed not with shyness but with hunger. His hips rolled forward, slow and deliberate, dragging the soft, plush curve of his ass over Taichi's spent cock. The motion was obscene. Practiced. Seductive.
'What the hell—?'
Taichi thought, heart slamming against his ribs.
'This isn't like him. This is… fuck, this is hot.'
Yu didn't speak. He didn't need to. His body did the talking.
He reached back, fingers curling around Taichi's softening cock—still slick with lube and cum—and guided it between the plush swell of his cheeks. The head brushed against his stretched, puffy rim, still loose and dripping from their earlier round. A thick bead of mixed fluids drooled from his hole, sliding down to coat Taichi's shaft.
Yu's breath hitched.
'There. Right there. I can still feel him inside me. I want him deeper.'
He rocked back, slow and teasing, letting the blunt tip catch at his entrance. His hole fluttered greedily, puckering and releasing around the head like it had a mind of its own. Another roll of his hips, and the tip slipped just inside, drawing a sharp gasp from them both.
Taichi's hands flew to Yu's hips on instinct.
"Yu—wait, you're still—"
But Yu wasn't listening. He leaned forward, hands braced on Taichi's chest, and claimed his mouth.
The kiss was filthy—wet, open-mouthed, desperate. Yu's tongue slid against Taichi's like he was trying to drink him down, teeth nipping at his lower lip, a low moan vibrating in his throat. Taichi's cock—traitor that it was—twitched, thickened, hardened beneath the onslaught of sensation. The heat of Yu's body, the slick drag of his ass, the way his hole clenched and sucked at the tip like it was starving—
'Fuck. Fuck, he's going to kill me.'
Yu broke the kiss with a wet sound, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light—glowing?—and whispered against Taichi's lips, voice husky and unfamiliar:
"Want you again. Need you."
Then he sank down.
One smooth, relentless glide—Taichi's cock spearing back into that tight, wet heat, still stretched and dripping from before. Yu's head fell back, a broken moan tearing from his throat as he took every inch, hips flush against Taichi's. His inner walls fluttered, clenching rhythmically, milking him.
'Yes—yes—there it is. That taste. That energy. It's flooding me again—warm, sweet, mine—'
Taichi groaned, hands gripping Yu's hips hard enough to bruise.
"Yu—fuck—you're still so tight—"
Yu didn't answer with words. He moved.
Up—slow, torturous—until just the head remained inside, his rim stretched obscenely around it. Then down, hard and fast, slamming himself onto Taichi's cock with a wet slap. Again. Again. His thighs trembled, but he didn't stop. Couldn't. Each thrust sent a pulse of vitality surging through him—Taichi's life force, raw and electric, flooding his veins like wine.
'More. More. Give me everything.'
His cock—hard again, flushed and leaking—bobbed between them with every bounce, smearing pre-cum across Taichi's stomach. Taichi stared up at him, dazed, overwhelmed, helpless beneath the onslaught.
"Yu—slow down, you'll—"
But Yu only grinned—sharp, feral, wrong—and leaned down to bite Taichi's collarbone, tongue lapping at the mark like he was tasting him. His hips never stopped moving, riding Taichi with a rhythm that was equal parts desperate and divine.
'He's draining me.'
Taichi realized dimly, even as pleasure coiled tight in his gut.
'Not just my body—something deeper. And I don't care. I'd let him take it all.'
Yu's pace faltered only when the pleasure crested again—his back arching, a silent scream on his lips as his cock pulsed, untouched, spilling hot across Taichi's chest. The clench of his orgasm dragged Taichi over the edge with him—hips bucking up, cock buried deep, flooding Yu's insides with another thick load.
The Love-o-meter ticked up:
72 - 79
[DING! Host has reached the maximum limit of feeding allowed. Stopping connection of Incubus soul from Host's body to maintain proper control of hunger.]
[DING! Congratulations Host on feeding for the first time in two lifetimes.]
Yu shuddered, eyes rolling back, and for a moment, the glow in his irises flared red.
Then he collapsed forward, boneless, face buried in Taichi's neck.
The hunger quieted.
For now.
Taichi's arms came around him automatically, holding tight. His voice was hoarse and his breathing was frantic.
The room was quiet now, the only sound the fading echo of their breaths, ragged and uneven as they slowly calmed. The sheets clung to their damp skin, heavy with the warmth they'd poured into each other. Taichi's arm stayed draped over Yu's waist, possessive in a way that felt more like protection than dominance, his fingers absentmindedly tracing lazy circles against Yu's hip.
Yu's cheek pressed against Taichi's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It grounded him, reminded him he was still here, still tethered to someone real. His eyes, half-lidded and heavy with exhaustion, stung as his emotions slipped past the careful walls he usually held up.
"Taichi…"
His voice was weak, almost swallowed by the hush of the room. He tightened his grip, clinging harder, as though afraid even in this moment Taichi might vanish.
"Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me. You're all I have now… if you leave, I…"
His words cracked, trembling as the truth spilled out despite himself.
"…I just don't know what I'd do."
Taichi's breath hitched. For a second, his hand stilled, caught off guard by the raw desperation lacing Yu's words. He looked down, searching Yu's face, but Yu had his eyes squeezed shut, his lips pressed to Taichi's skin like he was hiding inside the warmth of him.
Weary concern tugged at Taichi's chest, but he didn't ask. Not tonight. Yu was too fragile, too raw, and Taichi couldn't bear to risk shattering this peace. Instead, he let out a slow breath, pressing his lips to the top of Yu's head, a kiss soft and grounding.
"I'm not going anywhere, love."
He murmured, the weight of his words more vow than comfort. His arm tightened around Yu's small frame, pulling him closer still, as though he could shield him from the ghosts neither of them dared to name.
Yu let out a shaky sigh and burrowed deeper against him, his trembling finally easing. Within minutes, his breathing steadied, his exhaustion claiming him as he drifted into sleep.
Taichi stayed awake longer, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, one hand still resting protectively on Yu's back. He didn't fully understand the storm hidden in those words, but he felt its gravity. And for Yu's sake, he silently promised himself again—no matter what it took, no matter what shadows lingered—he wouldn't let go.
---
The final weeks of the second year slipped away like petals scattered by spring winds. For Taichi, it was just another checkpoint in their steady climb through college. For Yu, it was the end. He had stopped attending long before, quietly filing the paperwork, quietly sealing away the part of himself that no longer fit in that world. Taichi never noticed—their majors kept them in different buildings, different rhythms—and Yu kept his smile plastered each night when his boyfriend came home.
One evening, with the soft light of the apartment lamps warming their small shared space, Yu leaned against Taichi's shoulder while he paged through his business textbooks. The words burned in his throat, but he forced them out gently, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Taichi… I don't think I want to go to school anymore."
The pencil in Taichi's hand stilled. He turned to look at him, brows lifting slightly.
"You're sure? You've always been top of your class."
Yu nodded quickly, too quickly. His lashes lowered, hiding the storm behind his eyes.
"Mm. I'm fine. I'd… I'd much rather stay at home and wait for my hubby to come back."
The word slipped out, soft and shy, but weighted like a vow. Husband. As though Taichi were already his. Yu's cheeks flamed, but he pressed on, clinging to the fragile smile that had kept him afloat.
"It'll be like practice, right? For when we're… really married."
Taichi's silence stretched only a heartbeat before he huffed a laugh, leaning in to press a kiss against Yu's temple.
"Practice, huh? I like that."
His arm slid around Yu's waist, pulling him closer.
"Then I'll just have to work harder. You can rely on me for the money, or whatever else you need."
Yu's chest tightened, his heart melting at the easy certainty in Taichi's words. The world outside was cold, cruel—but here, in this small apartment, he felt warm. Wanted. Safe.
He buried his face into Taichi's chest, inhaling the familiar scent that grounded him.
"Thank you."
He whispered, the words muffled but full of raw devotion.
And Taichi, ever steady, simply held him tighter.
Taichi leaned back slightly, still keeping Yu close, and tipped his chin so he could meet his gaze.
"You really thought about this, huh?"
His green eyes softened, their rough edges tempered only for Yu.
Yu squirmed a little under that attention, fingers fiddling with the hem of Taichi's hoodie.
"Mm. I just… I like waiting for you. Cooking for you. It feels… nice. Like we're already…"
His words trailed off into a whisper, the heat rising in his cheeks too much to finish.
"Already married?"
Taichi teased, but his voice was low, tender. He brushed a stray strand of Yu's white hair behind his ear.
"You're way too good at playing house, you know. You've got me spoiled already."
Yu puffed his cheeks, swatting at him half-heartedly.
"I'm serious! If I practice now, I'll be perfect later."
Taichi chuckled, catching Yu's hand before he could pull it away. He kissed the tips of his fingers one by one, his rough lips lingering just long enough to make Yu shiver.
"Then I'll just have to make sure later comes fast."
The air between them stilled, thick with quiet promises neither of them dared to say aloud. Taichi rested his forehead against Yu's, and the two of them sat there in their small apartment kitchen, with half-finished textbooks and a plate of cooling food between them, but to Yu it felt like the center of the world.
Yu's heart melted, his chest aching with both joy and fear. He hugged Taichi tightly, muffling his voice against his chest.
"Don't forget, okay? You said I can rely on you."
"I said it 'cause I meant it,"
Taichi replied simply, his arms wrapping around him with a strength that left no room for doubt.
And so it began. Yu slipped fully into the role of homemaker, their small apartment becoming a sanctuary of warmth and care. Each morning he rose early to prepare breakfast, packing Taichi's bag with food and a scribbled note before sending him off with a kiss. The rest of the day belonged to Yu:
Cleaning, cooking, sometimes napping with the sun warming his pale skin through the curtains.
But Yu also began to carve out a small world of his own. With gentle nudging from Sakura and Fumiko through the group chat, he started posting more selfies and snapshots of his crocheted scarves, lace-trimmed blouses he'd sewn, and other creations on Instagram. His delicate aesthetic and ethereal beauty caught fire faster than he expected. Brands reached out. Donations flowed.
The first time a sponsor sent him money, Yu had stared at the number on his phone until his hands shook.
"Taichi…"
He had whispered when his boyfriend came home that evening.
"We don't… we don't have to worry about jobs yet. I—I can help, too."
Taichi blinked at the notification screen Yu shoved at him, then smirked as he tugged him into his lap.
"Figures. My wife looks at a needle and thread, and the whole internet throws cash at him."
"Don't call me wife…just yet."
Yu mumbled, hiding his face in Taichi's chest. But his smile trembled wide, and his heart felt steady for the first time in months.
Financially stable, domestically wrapped in comfort, Yu began to breathe again. His world narrowed to the cozy cocoon of their apartment and the rhythm of waiting for Taichi to come home each night. And while part of him knew he was hiding from the ugliness outside, another part whispered:
Maybe this was enough. Maybe this was happiness.
Yu's following ballooned almost overnight. At first, it was a trickle of likes and comments, compliments on his makeup, his sewing, his ethereal selfies framed by warm apartment light. Then, brands began to notice. A skincare line asked him to showcase their serum; a clothing shop sent him pastel blouses that seemed made for him. Yu obliged with shy smiles and gentle captions, and in return, the money poured in.
It wasn't just income—it was validation. Every click and comment reminded him that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't broken. That someone out there saw him not as strange, but as beautiful.
Taichi noticed, too. He'd come home and find Yu curled up on the couch, phone buzzing with notifications. At first, he frowned, jealous of the faceless strangers leaving heart emojis under Yu's photos. But when he saw how Yu's cheeks glowed with genuine pride, he softened.
"You're famous now."
Taichi teased one night, looping his arms around Yu from behind while he cooked.
"Guess I should be careful, huh? Don't want someone stealing my wife away."
Yu flushed crimson, swatting at him with a spatula.
"Dummy. Even if they sent me the whole world, I'd still wait for you at the door."
That was all it took for Taichi's possessiveness to melt into quiet trust. And from then on, he became Yu's biggest cheerleader—taking pictures when Yu asked, holding the camera steady even when he grumbled, making sure every angle was perfect.
Their apartment became a true home. Mornings were full of the smell of fresh rice and miso soup; evenings, of Taichi's tired footsteps returning to the sound of Yu humming while crocheting on the couch. Weekends slipped by in domestic bliss—laundry folded together, grocery trips that turned into playful arguments over snacks, late-night movie marathons where Yu inevitably fell asleep on Taichi's shoulder.
Yu was content. Perhaps too content. His world shrank tighter and tighter until Taichi was his axis, his whole sky. And though Taichi loved being the center of Yu's orbit, sometimes he worried. Still, he held him close, never questioning too deeply, because Yu's happiness—this fragile smile—was all that mattered.
But happiness is fragile. Ugliness has a way of seeping through even the smallest of cracks.
By the time Taichi's third year of college began, Yu had fully embraced the role of homemaker. He no longer talked about school, no longer worried about what lay beyond their four walls. He was happy to wait for Taichi, to cook, to crochet, to post pretty pictures online.
For Jezebel Suzuki, it was infuriating. Her carefully plotted attempts to win Taichi's attention had all failed. No matter what she tried—chance meetings, feigned vulnerability, academic questions—Taichi was too busy with coursework and, worse, too eager to rush home to the waiting arms of Yu.
The greatest insult of all was that she barely even saw him. Their majors were different, their classes held in separate wings of the campus, their paths crossing only rarely. It left Jezebel seething, her frustration boiling into obsession.
And from the shadows, her eyes turned once more toward Yu.