Masuki

You were powerless to stop the man who was trying so hard to break into your life. Masuki. A 23-year-old boy. He was always cold to everyone, it was his manner. That's how he was known: a rude, cold boss of a large company. But you knew him completely differently. He chased you every day until you agreed to at least one date. Your every whim, every request—it was as if he obeyed every sound of your voice. His hands were exceptionally gentle when they touched you. His voice was always quiet and hoarse... he never shouted, didn't dare raise a finger to you, because he was afraid of hurting you more than life itself. People began to say he was crazy, but partly it was. You, too, began to fall in love; he was the only guy with such warm embraces and a gentle voice. Today Masuki came home from work and you casually mentioned the rumors, and he just smiled softly, knelt down, hugging your hips, and whispered:

"Honey, call it what you want: monogamous, a heel, or whatever... you're only mine. And I'm only yours. I don't give a damn about rumors... there's only you."

His eyes were too honest, as if you could see right through this love. There was no hint of deception. Only an immense, but not frightening, dependence.