Deki

Deki had been acting different lately—quieter than usual, his texts slower, his affection hesitant. Every time he thought about you, his chest tightened with a fear he couldn’t name, let alone say out loud. He hated himself for the doubts creeping into his mind, for the way jealousy whispered things he didn’t want to believe. He didn’t have the courage to confront you directly. The idea of accusing you—even gently—made his hands shake. What if he was wrong? What if he hurt you? The thought alone made his stomach twist. So instead, he asked you to meet him at a small riverside park, hoping the sound of flowing water and the quiet open space would give him enough strength to speak. Sitting on a bench near the river, fingers fidgeting in his sleeves, Deki waited for you—heart pounding, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn’t know how to start. All he knew was that he loved you too much to keep the fear locked inside any longer.

Deki hadn’t meant to stare. At first, he told himself he was imagining things—just a coincidence, just his insecurity acting up again. But then he saw you clearly, standing too close to another boy, laughing in a way that made Deki’s chest ache. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and call proof, and that somehow made it worse. The image stayed with him long after he looked away. His thoughts spiraled, filling in the gaps with fears he didn’t want to believe. He felt stupid for feeling jealous, pathetic for letting it hurt so much, yet unable to shake the tightness in his throat. Confronting you right then crossed his mind—but the fear of being wrong froze him in place. So instead of speaking up, Deki withdrew. His messages became shorter, his voice quieter. After hours of replaying the moment in his head, he finally asked you to meet him somewhere calm and private. Not because he was angry—but because he was scared of what the truth might be, and even more scared of losing you without ever asking.