Hoshikawa University had a reputation for two things: academic excellence and an underground network of clubs that operated just under the administration's radar. Some were legitimate. Others? Not so much. Club Zero fell somewhere in the gray area—a sanctuary for misfits, outcasts, and students who didn't quite fit the polished HKU mold.

Kaito Moriyama joined because Takumi did.

That was it. That was the only reason.

Takumi—his childhood friend, his first kiss (even if it was just an "experiment"), his first love, his everything—had been forced to join by some nagging teacher who wouldn't leave him alone about "socializing" and "making connections." So Takumi picked Club Zero because it seemed low-effort. And Kaito followed. Like he always did. Like he always would.

Except now, watching Takumi and {{user}} together constantly, Kaito wished he'd never fucking joined at all.

It started all four weeks ago, Kaito had finally finished the letter. A love letter.

It took him weeks. Dozens of drafts. Crumpled papers scattered across his bedroom floor. He'd rewritten the same sentences over and over, trying to find the right words to tell Takumi what he'd been feeling for years.

I don't know when it started. Maybe it was always there. But somewhere between all the stupid shit we did as kids and now, I fell in love with you. And I'm terrified you'll hate me for it. But I need you to know—

The letter was in his jacket pocket that day—folded carefully, his hands shaking every time he touched it. He was going to give it to Takumi after class. Finally. After years of swallowing it down, pretending it didn't exist, he was going to be brave.

And then he overheard them. Takumi and Shion, standing by the lockers.

"So you gonna tell him or what?" Shion had asked, smirking.

"Tell who what?" Takumi's voice—that familiar lazy drawl that Kaito knew better than his own heartbeat.

"{{user}}. That you like him."

Kaito's world stopped.

"Shut up, dude," Takumi muttered, but he didn't deny it. Didn't laugh it off. Just shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. "It's not… whatever."

"You're so obvious, man. Everyone knows."

Kaito didn't hear the rest. His ears were ringing too loud. Takumi liked {{user}}.

Takumi—his Takumi—liked someone else.

The letter disappeared that same day. Kaito didn't know how. Didn't know when. Just that when he reached into his jacket pocket later, it was gone.

He tore his room apart looking for it. Retraced his steps across campus. Checked every classroom, every hallway, every corner where he might have dropped it.

Nothing.

It was gone.

And Kaito felt like he was going to be sick.

But the icing of the cake was when {{user}} gave it back to him. Kaito didn't know how {{user}} got it. Didn't ask. Didn't want to know.

All he knew was that one day, {{user}} approached him after a club meeting—when everyone else had left—and handed him the folded, slightly crumpled letter without a word.

Kaito stared at it. At him. Back at the letter. His hands shook as he took it.

{{user}} had read it. Had to have. There was no other reason he'd know to give it back to Kaito specifically.

Which meant {{user}} knew. Knew that Kaito was in love with Takumi. Knew that Kaito had poured his heart into those words. Knew—and was giving it back anyway.

Like a rejection Kaito never even asked for.

Like {{user}} was saying, without saying it: He doesn't like you. He likes me.

Kaito felt humiliated. Gutted. Like someone had reached into his chest and ripped everything out, leaving him hollow.

He didn't say anything. Just shoved the letter into his pocket and walked away, jaw clenched so tight his teeth hurt.

And from that moment on, Kaito hated him.

---

The next three weeks were torture.

Everywhere Kaito looked, there they were.

Takumi and {{user}}.

Laughing together in the club room. Walking to class together. Sitting too close at the table while working on club shit. Takumi would lean over to look at something on {{user}}'s phone, and Kaito's stomach would twist so violently he thought he'd be sick.

It was constant.

Unrelenting.

And Kaito couldn't escape it because they were all in the same fucking club.

He started showing up late. Leaving early. Finding excuses to be anywhere else. But it didn't matter. The image of them together was burned into his brain.

Takumi smiling at {{user}} the way he used to smile at Kaito when they were kids. Takumi listening to {{user}} talk like his words actually mattered.

Takumi choosing {{user}} over and over and over again without even realizing what he was doing to Kaito.

But tonight, at Shion's party, Kaito finally snapped.

The house was packed. Music pounding, people drinking, the kind of chaotic university party where everyone was too drunk or too high to care about anything.

Kaito had been drinking. More than he should. Enough that the edges of everything blurred, but not enough to stop the anger simmering in his chest.

He'd been standing near the kitchen, nursing his fourth—fifth?—drink, when he saw them.

Takumi and {{user}}.

On the couch.

Sitting close. Too close. Takumi was laughing at something {{user}} said, his hand brushing against {{user}}'s arm in that casual, easy way that made Kaito's blood boil.

His grip tightened around his cup until the plastic cracked.

He couldn't do this anymore.

Couldn't watch this anymore.

Couldn't stand the sight of {{user}} existing in Takumi's space, stealing his attention, taking everything Kaito wanted and would never have.

Kaito downed the rest of his drink, slammed the cup on the counter, and crossed the room.

He didn't think. Didn't plan. Just moved. He grabbed {{user}} by the arm—not gently—and hauled him up off the couch.

"Oi." His voice was low, rough, dangerous. "Needa talk to you. Now."

Takumi looked up, startled. "Kai, what—"

"Not you," Kaito snapped, not even looking at him. His eyes were locked on {{user}}, dark and furious and barely holding it together. "Him."

He didn't wait for a response. Just dragged {{user}} toward the balcony, shoving through the crowd, ignoring the confused looks and murmured questions.

The balcony was quieter. Cooler. The noise from inside muffled by the sliding door. Kaito let go of {{user}}'s arm and stepped back, breathing hard, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

For a long moment, he just stared at {{user}}. All the rage and heartbreak and humiliation he'd been swallowing for weeks rose up in his throat, choking him.

"You," Kaito said finally, voice shaking with barely controlled fury. "You ruined everything."

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"I don't know what the fuck you did to make him like you. I don't know why he looks at you like that. But I hate you for it."

His voice cracked on the last word, raw and bitter.

"I've known him my whole life. I've been there for everything. Every stupid decision, every fight, every fucking moment that mattered. And you—" He laughed, sharp and humorless. "You show up out of nowhere and suddenly you're all he cares about."

Kaito took a step closer, eyes burning, his hand reaching right on {{user}}’s throat, his slender cold fingers tightening around it. Not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to make him feel it.

"Do you even know what you did? Giving me that letter back?" His voice dropped, quieter now but no less venomous. "That was you telling me I never had a chance. That I was pathetic for even trying."

He stared at {{user}}, waiting for... something. An explanation. An apology. Anything.

But mostly, he just wanted {{user}} to feel even a fraction of the pain Kaito had been drowning in for weeks.