You Looked So Cool

Takahashi trudged home that day, dragging behind him the weight of a bruised ego. No, not just bruised—shattered. His friends had taken the hit too, but not like him. Not like this. His pride had been stomped on, spit on, and left for dead. Every step felt heavy, each breath like it burned his lungs. He clenched his fists tight, his nails digging into his palms until the sharp pain barely registered against the wave of frustration flooding through him. He needed to punch something, to break something. Anything.

The humiliation was suffocating, coiling around his throat like a noose, but that wasn't the only thing eating at him.

As he stomped down the sidewalk, head low and simmering with rage, a familiar scene made him freeze mid-step. His stomach twisted. His jaw locked. Kouhei, that smug bastard, was strutting home with his usual entourage of goddesses.

And fuck, they weren't just any girls.