Smoker - Choso Kamo

14. sick

That night, y/n tossed and turned in her bed, the soft glow of the moon barely lighting her room through the curtains. She shifted again, trying to get comfortable, when a strange feeling crept over her, a sense of being watched. Her heart quickened as she opened her eyes, her gaze slowly adjusting to the darkness.

And then she saw him.

Choso stood there, silently, just inside her doorway, his tall figure barely visible in the shadows. His arms were crossed, his eyes fixed on her, unblinking. He didn't move, didn't speak. He simply watched her.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat. "Choso?" she whispered, sitting up slowly. "What are you doing?"

For a moment, he remained silent, his intense gaze never leaving her. Then, in a low voice, he finally spoke. "I couldn't sleep," he admitted, his voice rough around the edges, as if something was gnawing at him. "I just... needed to see you."

The weight of his presence filled the room, and her pulse raced. There was something dark, almost unsettling, about how he stood there, watching her with that unreadable expression. She wasn't sure if it was the intensity of his feelings or something else entirely.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "You could have... knocked."

Choso's lips twitched, but he didn't smile. "I didn't want to wake you," he replied, his eyes still locked on hers, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he blinked.

A part of her wanted to ask why he was acting this way, why he looked so desperate and restless. But another part of her, something deep down, understood. Choso was struggling with the possessiveness, the jealousy, and whatever feelings he couldn't quite put into words.

"You should try to get some rest," y/n said softly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

Choso took a step back, but his gaze never wavered. "Yeah... I will," he muttered, but she wasn't sure he meant it.

As he slowly turned and left the room, the door closing quietly behind him, she exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She lay back down, but sleep wouldn't come easily now. Choso's presence lingered, haunting her thoughts like a shadow that wouldn't leave.

The next day, during their lunch break, y/n and Choso sat together, deep in conversation. The sun was warm, and the two of them seemed to be in their own little world. Y/n smiled brightly as she talked, and Choso leaned in, listening intently, though his eyes occasionally flicked over her shoulder, scanning their surroundings protectively.

Just as she was about to continue, her tutor approached the table, interrupting their moment.

"Hey, y/n," the tutor began, "I was hoping we could discuss a few more things about the project. We didn't quite cover everything earlier."

Y/n smiled politely, "Of course, let me just—" She glanced at Choso, her tone shifting, as if asking for permission, though she hadn't meant it that way.

Choso's eyes darkened immediately. His body tensed, and the easy, relaxed expression he had worn moments ago vanished, replaced by a stormy look. He didn't like this tutor. Not his timing, not his presence, and especially not the way he looked at y/n.

"Can it wait?" Choso's voice was calm, but there was a hard edge to it, the possessiveness barely masked. His hand, which had been resting on the table, curled into a fist as his gaze flicked between the tutor and y/n.

The tutor raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tension, but he seemed oblivious to the danger in Choso's eyes. "It won't take long," he said, brushing off Choso's question as if it were irrelevant. "We can meet for just a few minutes after lunch."