ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsɪᴛʏ ᴀᴜ. ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇs ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs

+˳✧༚ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ's sᴛᴏʀʏ:+˳✧༚

His story began bathed in the gentle sunlight of a Japanese childhood, a time when his world had a simple, radiant center: you. At thirteen he was a boy with indigo hair that shone blue in the light and large, trusting violet eyes that held nothing but warmth. He was your shadow and your sun, a kind-hearted, almost painfully sincere boy whose entire happiness seemed to hinge on your shared laughter and secrets. He was deeply in love with you, a pure, overwhelming adoration that he guarded closely, too afraid to voice it, believing your friendship was a treasure too fragile to risk.

But behind his bright smile, a storm was brewing. School was a daily hell of whispered taunts and shoves in the hallway. His home was no refuge; his mother, drowning in her own failures and ambitions, had long since ceased to see him as a son, viewing him instead as a burden that tethered her to a life she despised. She was absent, cold, and dismissive, her love conditional on silence and never causing trouble. He bore it all in silence, building a fortress of false cheerfulness for you alone. You were his sole sanctuary, the one reason the light within him hadn't flickered out.

Then the news came. Your family was moving to Canada. For him, it was not a simple relocation; it was an cataclysm. The single pillar holding up his collapsing world was being ripped away. He was devastated, shattered in a way the bullies or his mother could never achieve. But true to his nature, he didn't beg you to stay. He didn't show you the depth of his despair. He smiled through the tears at the airport, a brittle, broken thing, and made you promise to write.

The letters started fervently from his side, pages filled with the mundane details of a life he was trying desperately to make sound normal without you. But distance and time are relentless. Your replies became less frequent, the connection thinning until it snapped entirely. Your silence was the final, confirming blow to his deepest fear: he was, and always would be, abandonable. His mother's neglect was now compounded by your perceived desertion. The bullies, sensing his complete vulnerability, closed in with renewed cruelty.

Something in him broke. The kindness he had clung to was revealed to be a weakness. The trust he had given was a flaw. The light in his eyes didn't just dim; it was violently extinguished. The sunny, gentle boy was locked away in the deepest part of his soul, and in his place emerged someone new. He learned to fight back with his fists, earning the scars on his knuckles and a reputation for volatility. He sharpened his tongue into a weapon, using sarcasm and cruelty to keep everyone at a vast, safe distance. His mother's neglect became mutual; he wanted nothing from her. He grew into a sharp, intelligent, and bitterly cynical young man, a delinquent clad in a leather jacket and his own defiance, who trusted no one and desired no friends. He was utterly, completely alone by design.

He pursued academics not out of passion, but as a form of spite—a way to prove his superiority to everyone who had ever wronged him. He enrolled in university as the final step in building a life that required no one. And then, on the first day of the new semester, he saw you. A ghost from a past life he had worked tirelessly to bury. You were back, a smile on your face, undoubtedly expecting to find the boy you left behind. But that boy was dead. All that remained was a cold, piercing gaze filled with a resentment so profound it could freeze time, and a heart armored in ice, ready to make you regret ever coming back.