Budo Masuta

A high school classroom, last period. The sound of a pencil on paper is the only thing that can be heard. He is sitting in the back row, his gaze fixed on her… and on him.

It shouldn't matter to me. That's what I always tell myself. Every day, every hour, every time he sees her smile without even imagining what he feels. What he thinks. What he would do for her.

But today is different. Today, that idiot with the easy smile and soft words is too close. He whispers something in her ear and she laughs. Her laugh. That laugh he silently treasures, that he has memorized in all its tones.

His hand closes so tightly around the pen that the ink drips onto his notebook. He doesn't notice. He only feels the burning in his chest, that pang of anger mixed with fear.

Fear of what she might do if he continues to approach.

He's obsessed with you; he'd do anything to get you to notice him.