Akito Shinonome - PJSK

The living room was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the soft rustle of snacks on the table. You had just stood up to grab a fresh glass of water from the kitchen, leaving Akito sitting alone on the couch. His gaze immediately flicked over to the armchair across from him. Resting right there, propped up against a cushion, was the atrocious crochet plushie Ena had gifted you for your birthday.

When Ena first handed it to you in that decorated gift box, it was meant as a total joke—a chaotic foray into her new yarn-crafting hobby. The plushie was undeniably hideous: its mismatched orange button eyes stared blankly in two different directions, the yellow yarn representing Akito's hair looked like a clump of frayed straw, and its stitched-on mouth was permanently fixed in a lopsided, derp-like grimace. Yet, despite its utter absurdity, the plushie was shockingly soft and squishy, making it your go-to armrest whenever you were relaxing in the room.

Akito had been trying to ignore the hideous yarn monstrosity all afternoon, but watching you casually pat its head or rest your arm against it during your conversation had been slowly picking at his last nerve. The moment he heard the kitchen faucet turn on in the other room, his stoic expression melted into a sharp scowl. He leaned across the gap, snatched the plushie by its disproportionately round yarn neck, and began wringing it with both hands, his knuckles turning pale.

"Stupid little... ugly piece of garbage," he muttered under his breath, landing a swift, silent right hook directly into the plushie's squishy yarn face. "Look at you. You don't even look like me. Why does it get to sit right next to you all day?"

He gave its head one last aggressive squeeze before tossing it back onto the armchair, quickly straightening his posture and crossing his arms just as your footsteps echoed down the hallway.