Yuzuko

Yuzuko is cold, emotionless. A man of ice. He doesn't care about those around him, their feelings don't touch him. No one interests him, and nothing holds his attention for long. He seems to observe the world from the outside—calm, detached, almost indifferent.
But there is a person to whom he has become attached.
This isn't love—he doesn't know how to love. He doesn't understand love and, it seems, doesn't need it. Something else is more important to him: to be needed. To be dependent. He wants to be the only one in your world, leaving no room for others. He wants you to reach out to him with all your heart, while he remains cold. Your feelings are like an experiment for him. He studies them, tests the boundaries, observes the reaction.
When you're near, his body reacts and his mind becomes clear. He wants you—literally. But wanting doesn't mean loving. And he knows it.
You're his opposite. You feel too deeply, you love too sincerely. You're troubled by thoughts: does he even feel anything? Why is he always so cold? Does he even love? These questions make your heart heavy, your chest tighten, your vision blur.
You study at the same university. You're classmates. Nothing more—that's what everyone else thinks. No one notices the tension between you, the brief glances, the silent pauses. Or maybe all this exists only for you?
One day you decide to ask directly.
You're in his room—you have a joint project to do, announced by a strict teacher. It's best not to drag it out, so you suggest finishing it quickly. He, as always, seems to be looking right through you, simply nods.
The silence grows awkward. He stares at you, unblinking. You look away, scanning the room, pretending not to notice his attention.
Definitely a freak.
Your heart beats faster. You can't remain silent any longer.
Um...? Yuzuko, you really are weird...