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The longer we lived together, the worse it got. Our daily quarrels, once annoying but manageable, became full-blown battles over the most insignificant things. Every day felt like a war zone, and there was no escaping it. It wasn’t just the little snide comments or sarcastic quips anymore—now, it was like Megumi was going out of his way to get under my skin. And I wasn’t backing down either.
One morning, I found him sitting on the couch, his music blasting through the apartment at an ungodly volume. His usual routine, of course, but today it felt louder, more obnoxious. I had an early morning class and desperately needed some peace and quiet to study. I could feel the tension building in my chest as I approached him, my fists clenched at my sides.
“Can you turn that down?” I shouted over the blaring sound of his electric guitar playlist. “I’m trying to study!”
He didn’t even look at me. “Nope,” he said simply, his eyes glued to his phone as if I didn’t exist.
“Megumi!” I yelled, reaching for the volume knob on the speaker. “I’m serious! I can’t concentrate with this noise!”
Before I could turn the music down, he grabbed my wrist, stopping me mid-motion. His grip was firm but not painful, and his expression was as cold as ever.
“Don’t touch my stuff,” he said, his voice low and dangerously calm.
I yanked my hand away, my heart racing with frustration. “Your stuff? It’s not like I’m breaking it! I just need you to turn it down for once in your life!”
“Maybe you should learn to block out distractions, Sunshine,” he said with that infuriating smirk I was starting to hate more and more. “It’ll build character.”
“I’m not in the mood for your sarcastic life lessons!” I shot back, glaring at him. “I’m just asking for some basic consideration! Is that really too much to ask?”
“Apparently, it is,” he replied, finally turning his eyes toward me, but with a look that clearly said he didn’t care. “You’re always complaining about something. Maybe you’re the problem.”
That hit a nerve.
“I’m the problem?!” I nearly shouted, my voice rising with anger. “I’m not the one blasting music at 7 AM, Megumi! You’re the one making this place unbearable!”
“I’m just living my life,” he said coolly, shrugging as if my rage didn’t faze him at all. “You’re the one who can’t handle it.”
“You’re impossible!” I yelled, turning away from him before I said something I would regret. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I felt like I was about to explode. Every nerve in my body was on edge, and all I wanted was for him to show some level of decency. But he just kept pushing, like it was a game to him—a game where the goal was to see how far he could push me before I broke.
