On my term

The alarm from my phone blared, its shrill ring bouncing off the walls of the spacious living room. The incessant sound drilled into my skull, making my already fragile state worse. It rang and rang, each repetition grinding into my nerves.

"Ugh… another new day," I groaned, struggling to open my bleary eyes. My body felt like lead, heavy and unwilling to cooperate. Reaching out with sluggish, zombie-like motions, I fumbled for the phone and turned off the alarm, desperate for a few moments of peace.

But there was no escaping the reality that awaited me.

The effects of the beer and lack of sleep hit me all at once. A pounding headache pulsed in my temples, and my body felt like it had been dragged through a marathon. 

I was completely drained—empty and lifeless. The idea of collapsing on the table and passing out for a few more hours was tempting, but there was no time. Today was the last day of the week, and I had a mountain of things to tackle.

And then there was the situation with Hoshizora... It wasn't just complicated—it was a mess. Even Aunt Harumi knows now. If my dad finds out, I might as well find a hole to crawl into and disappear.

I sighed, exasperated. "Oh my god…"

I rested my hand on the chair, bracing myself to get up. The thought of moving felt like a monumental task, but I knew I had no choice. Complaining, though, wasn't going to change anything. This was my own doing. I wasn't strong enough. 

If I had been tougher yesterday, if I had been able to control the animal instincts that took over, maybe what happened between me and her would have been avoided. 

And if I had been braver, I might have been able to say the words I should've said—"I don't love you."

But no, it was already too late for that. The mess was made, and now I had to face it.

Shaking my head, I stood up, pushing aside the remnants of my lingering self-doubt. There was no use in looking back. I had to deal with it—no matter how complicated it was.

"Come on, man, let's go, Shinji."

I muttered to myself, steeling my resolve. A new day had started, whether I liked it or not.

***

"I'm sorry for what happened last night!"

Shinji stood before me, utterly disheveled. His clothes were wrinkled, hair unkempt, and the dark circles under his eyes were evidence of sleeplessness. 

The faint smell of alcohol still clung to him like a heavy fog. He bowed so deeply that his forehead nearly touched the floor, his whole posture radiating guilt and remorse.

I couldn't understand it. Why was he apologizing? What had I done? This was the first time I had ever seen him act this way—bowing down, almost begging for forgiveness. 

There was no hint of pretension in his voice; it was raw, sincere, and... guilty.

My heart twisted painfully as I watched him. He looked so broken, so vulnerable in that moment. 

The strong, confident Shinji that I'd known for so long seemed so small now. He was crumbling before me, and it was because of me.

I was the one who had caused this. My feelings for him had led to this mess. Now he was lowering himself, like a worthless dog, when it should have been me bowing my head in apology.

It wasn't right.

I couldn't stand seeing him like this any longer, not when it wasn't his fault. I took a deep breath and, in a voice that barely hid my frustration, I snapped.

"Shinji, why are you apologizing? You didn't do anything wrong!"

His head remained lowered, as if he couldn't bear to meet my gaze. His voice trembled with regret as he insisted on his guilt.

"No, Yuki, I'm the one at fault. I failed to control my desires. If it weren't for Aunt Harumi, things would've gone way beyond our control."

He still wouldn't look at me, still holding on to his twisted sense of responsibility. His stubbornness was suffocating.

"Stop!" I shouted, my frustration spilling out. I could feel my anger rising, a fiery heat in my chest. "Do you think everything can just go back to the way it was?!"

I narrowed my eyes, my voice now colder than I intended. "Look me in the eyes and say it, Shinji. Don't look down anymore."

I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. Every word I said felt like a challenge, but I needed to hear it. I needed to know.

His behavior—his refusal to acknowledge me, to look me in the eyes—felt like a slap in the face. It was like he was belittling everything I felt. 

All the emotions I had poured into him, all my vulnerability—he was treating it like it didn't matter.

I couldn't accept that.

"Say it, Shinji. Tell me your decision." I demanded, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear.

"...You're right. There's no turning back now." Shinji's voice was steady, but there was a quiet resolve in his eyes that told me he finally understood what I meant. 

He lifted his gaze, meeting mine with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine. There was something in his expression—an unspoken thought, something deeper I couldn't quite grasp.

"Yuki, I've made up my mind." His voice dropped, the weight of his words heavy in the air between us. "If you're ready to move forward, then... so be it."

For a brief moment, his face softened.

But then, like a switch had flipped, that weariness vanished. An arrogant smirk spread across his features, an expression I knew all too well, but this time it held something sharper, more dangerous. And then…

He surprised me.

Shinji lunged forward, pulling me into his arms. The sudden contact was enough to catch me off guard, and before I could process what was happening, he patted my head—affectionate, yet commanding. 

His arms were like steel around me, holding me close with such intensity I could barely breathe. The warmth of his body seeped into mine, overwhelming, suffocating… and strangely comforting.

For a moment, everything else faded away. The world around us seemed to vanish into the background, leaving only the sensation of his presence. The masculine scent of alcohol and something raw filled the air, thick with desire. His touch sent a shiver through me, stirring something I couldn't name.

"Do you want me to kiss you? Or is there something else you have in mind?"

His voice was a low murmur, the words laced with a promise of something I wasn't sure I was ready for. He was different now—so familiar yet entirely foreign. The lines between what I wanted and what I feared blurred, and I felt my heart race.

My head spun as if I'd lost control of my own body. The warmth of his embrace, his raw energy, melted any remaining resistance. I was weightless, floating in the intensity of the moment, as though my mind and body were dissolving into the space between us.

"…Yes." The word slipped from my lips before I could stop it, a confession, a surrender.

But then, just as quickly as it had started, he pulled back. His arms loosened around me, his touch gone. His eyes locked onto mine, serious and calculating.

"If we're going to do this," he said, voice almost a growl, "it has to be on my terms."

He released his arm and smirked. 

"Hey, come on, hug me again! Don't be so cruel!" I couldn't help the pleading tone that slipped from my lips. His withdrawal felt like a sudden, painful withdrawal from something I had come to crave, even if I knew it was wrong.

If I were to compare it, his attention—his small, fleeting acts of affection—were like a drug. Intoxicating, addictive, and yet so harmful. I knew it was bad for me, that I shouldn't let myself fall deeper into this, but it was already too late. 

I was already hooked.

Just like an addict, I couldn't resist. I was powerless to stop myself from nodding, my thoughts clouded by the need to feel his touch again.

"Good girl." He smirked, clearly enjoying the dazed expression on my face. 

I hated how easily he could read me, how effortlessly he could make me lose control. Then, his hand returned to my head, patting me like some kind of obedient pet.

My heart skipped a beat, my pulse racing at the contact, as his fingers threaded through my hair, gentle yet firm.

And then, in that moment of calm, he held up his finger, as if setting the stage for something far more complex. His voice turned serious, like a rulebook being read aloud.

"First: You're not allowed to get too close at school unless there's no one around. Second: No entering my room without permission. Third: No provocative behavior."

His eyes locked onto mine, and I felt a surge of heat flush through me. 

"If you follow these rules," he continued, his tone cool and controlled, "you'll get a hug every day, a kiss every week, and in a month, I'll do anything you want. But if you fail… no privileges that day. And I'll stop cooking for you."

My breath caught. Shinji knew exactly how to hit where it hurt. He was cruel, taunting me with the one thing I couldn't resist—his cooking. He knew I couldn't go without it. And without his touch, without his affection, I felt an ache I couldn't ignore.

Still, as frustrating as it was, there was something exhilarating about it. His rules, his power, were what made this all the more intoxicating. 

If he were too easy on me, I wouldn't feel the pull, the challenge. I needed his stubbornness, the way he made everything feel like a game I could never fully win. That was what kept me coming back for more.

I smiled, a wry, knowing smile, and nodded lightly in agreement. Despite it all, I couldn't help but love him. It wasn't just because he was stubborn—it was because he kept me on my toes.

And for some twisted reason, that made me want him even more.