{TRIGGER WARNING FOR INTENSE BULLYING AND DOXXING}
Jezebel Suzuki's heels clicked against the pavement as she followed, her pale blue eyes narrowed with venom. She hadn't meant to trail the waifish figure at first, but the sway of that skirt, the delicate gait—it was unmistakably Yu. Even with a mask pulled over his mouth and a cap tugged low over his hair, Jezebel could recognize the Campus Bella from a mile away.
And to see him like this—shopping at some cheap corner store, buying snacks like any ordinary girl—filled her with bile. Yu was supposed to have been broken by now, discarded, forgotten. Yet here he was, striding back home, his shopping bag swinging gently at his side.
Jezebel's jaw clenched when she reached the quiet apartment complex, and then the door opened. Taichi stood there, casual in a fitted sweater, his smile faint but unmistakably tender as he ushered Yu inside. The way Yu lit up at the sight of him, the way Taichi touched Yu's back as though guarding him from the wind—it twisted something hot and ugly in Jezebel's stomach.
She pulled out her phone, snapping the address into her notes with a vindictive smile. A new idea coiled in her head, slick and poisonous. If she couldn't pry Taichi's attention away directly, then she would rot Yu's pedestal out from under him.
That evening, whispers began to spread across campus forums and private message groups. Jezebel herself was careful never to post directly, but her fingers danced as she forwarded the address, paired with mocking words:
> "Ever wonder where the campus faker hides when HE's not prancing around like a doll? Here's HIS den. The boy-in-disguise doesn't want you to see the truth—so why don't we drag it into the light?"
The message multiplied like wildfire. Soon students were sharing it in hushed tones, some laughing, others intrigued. Rumors turned to dares. Groups began murmuring about confronting Yu at his home, staging some grand humiliation—photos, videos, proof to shatter the illusion.
Jezebel's lips curved in satisfaction.
'Finally.'
She thought.
Cracks were beginning to form. All she had to do was give the world the smallest push.
And somewhere nearby, unseen even to her, Isuke Sasaki seethed in silence.
---
Jezebel Suzuki lounged in her chair, her polished nails tapping idly against her phone as notifications pinged one after another. The forums, the whispers, the private group chats—her spark had set off a fire, and now the flames roared on their own. Screens filled with snide comments, laughing emojis, bold declarations from classmates who swore they would unmask the faker and expose Yu once and for all.
Her lips curved into a sharp, triumphant smile. Watching the threads coil outward like a spider's web, Jezebel relished every strand.
'Finally, the "Campus Bella" would be crushed beneath the truth. Finally, Taichi would see what a lie he'd been cradling in his arms.'
The sound of footsteps broke through her reverie. She turned just in time to see Isuke Sasaki, his jaw tight, storming toward her. His eyes burned—not with his usual icy disdain, but with something heavier, darker.
"You went too far!"
Isuke snapped, voice low but shaking with fury.
"Posting Yu's address? Turning half the campus against him? That's not what we agreed on—that's cruelty. I should go to the dean right now and expose everything you've done."
For a beat, Jezebel only stared at him, and then—she laughed. A clear, cutting sound that made his fists clench tighter.
"You think you're clean in all this?"
She asked sweetly, tilting her head. From her bag, she pulled a slim folder, neatly bound. She let it drop onto the café table between them with a soft thud.
"Because I have proof that you aren't. Proof you broke the law, remember? That little stunt you pulled, digging up Yu's medical records? I wonder what the dean would say about that. About how you fed me his secret."
Isuke's breath caught, a curse rising in his throat.
"And…"
Jezebel added, her smile sharpening,
"Thanks to my Daddy's connection, don't forget I now have files of you harassing him back in high school. Eye witnesses, police reports, camera footage you thought no one would uncover. You're no savior, Isuke. You're my partner in this. If I go down, so do you."
The words hit him like blows. His hands shook—not from fear of her threat, but from the corrosive truth in it. He had betrayed Yu in the worst possible way. He had set this chain of misery in motion.
"You…"
His voice faltered, then hardened into something broken.
"You're a monster."
"And you're no better."
Her dismissal stung more than he'd admit. Isuke turned away, his vision clouded with regret so heavy it felt like poison in his veins. Every step echoed the thought he couldn't outrun.
'If only Yu had chosen me… if only he had loved me, none of this would've happened.'
The thought froze him in place. It was so ugly, so selfish, it stunned even himself. And yet it was there, gnawing at him, twisting what little light was left inside into something darker still.
---
The night after his confrontation with Jezebel, Isuke lay awake in his apartment, staring at the ceiling. The words he had spat at her echoed endlessly.
"You're a monster."
But the answer she'd given him burrowed deeper than any blade.
"And you're no better."
He wanted to deny it, but the truth sat like a stone in his chest. He had betrayed Yu. Betrayed the boy who had once cried in front of him, who had held his heart, who had once—just once—looked at him with eyes that weren't filled with fear or hatred.
Guilt was supposed to be clean, a reminder that he still had a conscience. But this guilt twisted inside him, reshaping itself into something darker. Every pang told him that Jezebel was right:
He couldn't undo what he'd done, but he could cling to the twisted logic that if Yu had loved him, none of this would have been necessary.
That thought was poison, and yet, he drank it again and again.
By morning, his reflection was gaunt. His eyes bloodshot. He pulled on his blazer like armor and told himself he would see Yu again soon. He had to.
---
The next day unfolded like any other—for Yu, at least. He stood by the door, tugging playfully at Taichi's scarf as he sent him off. Taichi chuckled, brushed a kiss against his forehead, and reminded him, for the third time that week.
"Lock the chain after me, got it? I don't like the news lately. Too many break-ins."
"I know, I know."
Yu rolled his eyes with forced lightness.
"I'll lock it. Don't worry so much, darling."
Taichi flushed faintly at the word darling, the corners of his mouth softening into a smile before he disappeared down the hallway.
For a few moments, the apartment was filled only with the quiet sounds of Yu humming and the clinking of dishes as he tidied breakfast away. His hands were so used to the rhythm that his mind wandered, soft and far away, until—
Knock. Knock.
The sound snapped him still.
He blinked at the door. It wasn't Taichi. Taichi always texted if he forgot something. And Taichi had a key.
Yu waited, listening. Maybe it was a neighbor. Maybe someone had the wrong apartment.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Harder. Sharper. Impatient.
Yu's heart skipped. His mind raced back to Taichi's warning. Slowly, his gaze flicked toward the chain lock above the knob. It was in place. But the knocks kept coming, louder now, each one making the walls shiver.
He picked up the dish towel, wiped his damp hands on it, and whispered under his breath—half to himself, half to DK01, who had been silent lately.
"…Who could that be?"
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Yu stood frozen in the kitchen, the dish towel clutched in his damp hands. The knocking hadn't stopped. If anything, it was growing louder, more insistent, rattling the chain on the door with each strike.
His pulse raced, a rabbit's flutter in his chest.
'It's fine. The chain is locked. No one can get in.'
He repeated the thought to himself, but it didn't soothe the chill crawling down his spine.
Carefully, he padded closer, each step on the wooden floor creaking too loudly in the silence of the apartment. He hesitated just before the door, biting his lip, then slowly lifted his gaze to the peephole.
A stranger stared back.
Not a neighbor, not a delivery driver. A man he'd never seen before—mid-twenties maybe, his hair messy, his eyes sharp and hungry, the kind of gaze that made Yu's stomach twist with instinctive fear.
Before Yu could summon the courage to call out, the man's hand slammed against the door, the hollow thud echoing through the small apartment.
"Hey!"
The voice barked, muffled but cruel.
"I know you're in there. Come on, pretty thing—open up!"
Yu's breath caught. His hands pressed against the wood as if he could hold it shut with his body alone.
Another slam. Harder this time. The chain rattled violently, and Yu flinched.
"You dress yourself up so nice, don't you? Walking around like some doll. I just wanna see up close…"
The voice dropped lower, taunting, amused.
"…Unless you're scared."
Yu's knees wobbled. His throat burned with the urge to call Taichi's name even though he wasn't there. DK01 buzzed faintly in the back of his head, silent until now, its tone flat but urgent.
[Do not engage. Step back. Call Taichi immediately.]
But Yu couldn't move. His body was a trembling knot of fear, glued to the spot, as the stranger's laughter carried through the door.
---
For hours, the banging and taunting seemed never-ending. Sometimes it would be one fellow, others with would be a group of men. All hitting the door. All yelling foul words. Until finally, it grew silent.
The silence after the banging was almost worse than the noise itself. Yu stayed crouched by the door, his back pressed against it, his hands clamped over his ears, rocking faintly as tears streamed down his cheeks. His body wouldn't stop trembling. Every creak in the building, every faint echo in the hallway, sounded like footsteps returning for him.
He didn't know how long he sat like that—minutes? Hours? His mind spiraled into panic, replaying the stranger's voice over and over.
"Pretty thing. Open up. Don't be scared."
When the doorknob rattled, Yu's heart lurched violently in his chest. His scream caught in his throat, and pure instinct sent him scrambling away from the door.
'He's back. He's inside—!'
His feet skidded on the floor as he bolted for the kitchen. He yanked open the drawer with shaking hands and grabbed the first thing he could—cold steel, the handle of a kitchen knife.
He turned, ready to defend himself, body shaking so hard he could barely keep his grip.
"Yu?"
The voice hit him like a lightning strike.
Taichi.
The knife clattered to the floor. Yu's entire body sagged, his chest heaving as a broken sob tore from his throat. He staggered forward, running—tripping—straight into the door, unchaining it quickly and nearly falling into Taichi's arms.
Taichi barely had time to drop his bag before Yu crashed against him, clutching desperately at his shirt.
"Y-Yu? What—what happened?"
His voice was rough, stunned by the sheer force of Yu's trembling.
Yu couldn't answer, his throat locked tight with sobs. He buried his face against Taichi's chest, inhaling the familiar warmth, clinging like he might vanish if he let go.
Taichi's arms closed around him instantly, holding him steady, grounding him. His hand came up to cradle the back of Yu's head, his own heart hammering as he whispered.
"It's okay. I'm here. I've got you. No one's gonna touch you, Yu. Not while I'm here."
Yu only shook harder at the words, as though the relief made the fear come rushing out all at once.
Taichi pulled back slightly, though his hands stayed firm on Yu's arms, holding him steady. His eyes searched Yu's tear-stained face, panic burning in the green depths.
"Yu… tell me what happened. Please."
His voice cracked at the edges, more fragile than Yu had heard in a long time.
Yu shook his head quickly, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"I-it's nothing, really. I just… got lonely. I missed you, that's all."
Taichi's brow furrowed, his jaw tight. He wanted to push, but the way Yu clung to him, the way his voice trembled as he forced out those words, made Taichi hesitate. He exhaled slowly, brushing a hand through Yu's long hair, gentling himself.
"…Alright. If you say so."
His tone carried quiet worry, but also trust—he'd take Yu at his word, for now.
He pressed a kiss to Yu's damp temple, and released his hold. Yu, reluctant but not wanting to cause worry, slipped out of his embrace. He took Taichi's bag and set it down while Taichi glanced toward the entryway and picked up a small box.
"Hey, babe, there's a package at the door for you. I'll set it on the table."
Yu froze.
The blood drained from his face. His heart lurched as if the floor had opened beneath him. He hadn't ordered anything. Not recently. Not at all.
Taichi felt the shift immediately—Yu's body went rigid, his breath caught. He turned back as he set the small box on the dining table, just enough to catch Yu's wide, alarmed eyes.
"Yu? What is it?"
Yu's lips parted but no sound came out. His gaze flickered past Taichi, toward the package sitting innocently on the table. Brown paper. Neat string. No return address visible from here.
Finally, Yu gave a weak reply.
"N-nothing. Why don't you go wash up first."
Taichi, worn from lectures and homework that must get done, didn't push and nodded as he made his way towards their bathroom.
Yu's stomach churned, a sickening mix of dread and fear.
His fingers trembled as he stared at the parcel. The string dug faint red lines into his skin as he tugged it loose, his heart thudding hard enough he thought it might give him away to Taichi in the next room.
A dozen thoughts raced through his head. He should wait. He should throw it away unopened. He should call Taichi and let him see it.
But curiosity—no, fear—pressed sharper than reason.
He peeled back the brown paper.
The stench hit him first—rank, chemical, unmistakable. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened. Inside were used condoms, smeared and foul, crawling with dead bugs crushed against the plastic, slurs were written on the sides and bottom of the cardboard. Nestled atop them was a folded slip of paper.
His hands shook as he opened it.
"Next time, open up. Or else, slut."
Yu dropped the note back into the box as though it had burned him. His stomach lurched. His knees buckled, and for a heartbeat, he thought he might collapse right there on the floor.
From the bedroom, Taichi's muffled voice floated out, casual, oblivious.
"Hey, babe? What was in the package? Another sponor's gift?"
Yu's lips parted, the truth clawing its way up his throat—then he swallowed it down, burying it with the rest of the dread that had been rotting inside him for months. His voice came out smooth, almost cheerful, a lie as graceful as it was poisonous.
"No…"
He called back.
"Just something for the neighbor. I'll take it over now."
Before Taichi could poke his head out, Yu snapped the box shut, clutching it close like it might spill its filth across the apartment. He slid on his shoes, plastered a smile across his pale face, and called out.
"I'll be right back!"
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Yu bolted for the nearest dumpster, his legs trembling beneath him, every step heavy with terror. He didn't stop until the package was buried beneath black plastic bags, hidden in the stink of rotting food and refuse.
Only then did he press his back to the brick wall, sliding down until he sat on the cold concrete, his hands clamped hard over his mouth to muffle the sob building in his chest.
Because for the first time, Yu understood—this wasn't just bullying anymore. It was war.
The cold seeped through the thin fabric of Yu's skirt as he sat slumped against the wall, the night air heavy with the stench of garbage and gasoline. His hands still shook, the phantom weight of the package lingering in his palms.
Every image replayed behind his eyes—the condoms, the bugs, the cruel words scribbled on that slip of paper. His stomach knotted tighter with each memory until he thought he might retch.
'Why me…?'
He thought, chest tight, tears threatening to spill again. His heart whispered the truth:
Because he had let himself believe he could live like this. Because he had dared to be happy.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. For a moment, terror seized him, convinced it would be another message, another threat. But when he pulled it free, Taichi's name lit the screen, accompanied by a string of heart emojis and a simple message.
My Taichi💚:❤️❤️❤️ I'll cook dinner tonight. Can't wait to eat with you ❤️
The tears finally fell, but quieter now. He pressed the phone to his chest, inhaling deeply, forcing the storm down. Taichi couldn't know. Not this. If Taichi knew, he would fight, burn everything to the ground for him. Yu couldn't let that happen.
He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, stood, and straightened his clothes. By the time he reentered the apartment, his mask was back in place, stitched from fragility and practiced smiles.
The warmth hit him first—the smell of dinner, the faint sound of Taichi humming to himself in the bedroom as he changed. Yu slipped off his shoes and called out in his usual sing-song voice, the one Taichi loved so much.
"I'm back! Grandma Miku says thanks!"
Taichi poked his head out, half-buttoned shirt hanging open, grin boyish and tired.
"That was quick. C'mere."
Yu obeyed, walking straight into his arms. Taichi smelled like soap and campus air, solid and grounding. Yu tucked himself against his chest, hiding his damp lashes in the fabric.
Taichi chuckled, pressing a kiss into Yu's hair.
"You're extra cuddly today. Something happen?"
Yu smiled against his chest, a lie so sweet it almost tasted bitter.
"Nope. Just… really happy you're home."
And Taichi, bless him, believed it.
---
At first, Yu thought the banging would stop after a few weeks. That maybe, if he ignored it, they would get bored and move on.
He was wrong.
Day after day, sometimes even during the evening when Taichi stayed late on campus, fists hammered at the door. Sharp, ugly voices pressed through the wood.
"Come on, freak, open up!"
"Bet you're prancing around in your skirts right now, huh?"
"You disgust us—playing pretend, tricking men!"
"Open the door and we'll show you what real men do to little perverts like you."
Other times the voices were sly, mocking.
"Bella, don't be shy… We just wanna play."
"Your boyfriend not home? Guess that makes you free."
The words crawled under his skin, branding his soul with fear.
When they grew tired of shouting, they left their mark in other ways. Homophobic slurs scrawled across the paint in thick black marker. Rotting food spilling out of torn plastic bags. Used condoms stuck to the handle like vile decorations. Sometimes, worse things Yu didn't dare look at for long.
Every morning, after the noise finally faded and silence returned, Yu would wait. He sat with his knees tucked to his chest, ear pressed to the door, listening for footsteps. Only when he was certain they were gone did he open it.
Gloved hands, a rag tied over his mouth and nose, Yu cleaned. He scrubbed away the marker, the slurs, the filth, forcing it down the drain, hiding the evidence. The neighbors never helped, never looked too long, never asked. Maybe they thought he deserved it. Maybe they just didn't care.
When Taichi returned home in the evenings, the door looked spotless. The hall smelled faintly of disinfectant. And Yu—Yu always greeted him with the same bright smile, an apron around his waist, dinner simmering on the stove.
No one would ever know that just hours before, he had been on his knees scrubbing away the proof of how hated he was.
'If Taichi knew… if he saw this filth… he'd break them. All of them. And then he'd be ruined, too.'
So Yu bore it. Alone. Every day, every week, every month. Until the sound of knocking became a phantom he couldn't shake—echoing in his dreams, making him flinch at every sudden noise. And still, he kept the mask in place, because he loved Taichi too much to let him see just how broken he had become.
Yu had grown hyper-aware of every sound in the apartment. The faint hum of the refrigerator. The creak of pipes. The wind slipping in through the cracks of the window. Each noise made his chest tighten, his ears straining, waiting for the inevitable:
The knock.
Some days it came. Some days it didn't. But Yu never knew which, and that uncertainty hollowed him out more than the taunts themselves. He barely slept anymore, and when he did, he woke up drenched in sweat, convinced someone was standing just outside the door.
Taichi was the only thing tethering him to sanity. Every time Taichi's key turned in the lock, Yu rushed forward to greet him—arms around his waist, face pressed into his chest, as though by clinging tightly enough, he could ward off the outside world. He never told Taichi why. He couldn't. If he did, Taichi would fight. He'd destroy everything, including himself.
So Yu smiled. He smiled as he cooked, cleaned, sewed, crocheted, anything to distract himself. He smiled when Taichi kissed his forehead. He smiled even when his hands shook too badly to thread the needle. And every night, when Taichi slept, Yu lay awake, eyes wide, ears sharp, guarding the door.
When Taichi announced he'd be staying late for an award ceremony, Yu's blood ran cold. But he forced his lips into a curve and tilted his head, playing the perfect housewife.
"That's fine, darling."
He said softly.
"You deserve to celebrate. I'll watch it online, okay?"
"Sorry you can't be there..."
Taichi murmured, rubbing Yu's back with that gentle fondness that always made Yu's heart ache.
"But it's fine. I'll come home right after."
Yu nodded, trying to ignore the way his stomach twisted at the thought of being alone tonight. He wanted to beg—
Don't leave me.
—but the words stuck behind his teeth. Instead, he pressed a kiss to his boyfriend's cheek, smiled brighter than he felt, and whispered.
"I'll be cheering for you."
When the door shut behind him, Yu wasted no time in chaining it shut, the silence hit harder than usual. Yu's eyes darted to the chain lock, then to what looked like shadows pooling along the floor.
The walls seemed to press in around him.