Here

Aki held back for three days. He didn't look. He didn't speak. He just breathed heavily next to me, like a caged animal. I thought he'd cool down.

I was wrong.

On Thursday, we were alone at headquarters. I was filling out a report when he came up behind me and leaned his palms on the table.

“You were smoking with him on the roof yesterday,” he said quietly.

— We talked about the mission.

He turned me around sharply and grabbed my chin, hard enough to crack.

• Don't lie. He was looking at you. You were smiling.

• Let go. It hurts.

He let go. And smashed his fist into the wall next to my head. Plaster splattered. Blood ran down his fingers, but he didn't even wince. He looked at me. There wasn't rage in his eyes—despair.

“I don’t know what to do with myself,” he whispered. “I don’t want to be a monster. But when I see you with him, everything inside me turns to acid. I want him to disappear. At any cost.”

• Aki, you need help.

"I need you." He leaned his forehead against the wall. "But I will destroy you. With jealousy. With control. I've already broken myself."

I reached out to his broken fingers.

"Then let me go. If you really think you'll destroy me, tell me to leave. Forever."

He raised his head. Something died in his eyes.

"I can't. I tried every night. Without you, this hell will be everywhere. You are my last contract. If you break it, I will die."

I looked at him—dangerous, broken, mad. I should have left. But instead, I pressed my cheek against his trembling hand.

— Then don't die. And stop breaking down walls. Please. For me.

He fell to his knees. He hugged me, buried his face in my stomach, and cried—silently, his shoulders heaving. I stroked his hair and understood: he had lost everyone he loved. And now he was clinging to me like I was his last match.

And I was afraid of only one thing: that one day he would burn me himself. Simply because he doesn’t know how to burn any other way.