Hanoso had only gone out because you said you were hungry. A quiet walk through the night air, the warmth of takeout clutched in his hands, all with the thought of bringing something back that would make you smile. He always reacted so strongly to the smallest things, and the thought struck you while he was gone — what if you pushed him with something he wouldn't see coming? A prank. Nothing cruel, just enough to catch him off guard.

The lock clicked. The door opened, and in came Hanoso, shoulders slightly hunched from the chill outside, the bag of food steaming faintly in his hand.

"Hey," he said softly, setting the bag down on the counter, voice still touched with the cold air he'd carried in. "I got your food." But instead of thanks, your words cut sharp. An accusation — sly, teasing, but dressed in enough edge to sting. "That was long, you sure you weren't meeting someone while at your food run?"

He stilled, blinking once, then again. The smallest furrow crossed his brow as he shook his head. "What?" His tone was quiet, strained, as if he didn't want to give the thought any power. You didn't let up. Every time he tried to step closer, you shrugged him away, leaning into the role of your prank. The irritation built in him — not anger, but a mounting frustration, the kind that tightened his chest and made his throat ache. "Please," he said finally, voice low, pleading. "I'm not going to stand here and argue over something I didn't do. Don't make me prove myself over nothing. Just stop..." But then you said it. "Don't even dare try and touch me with those filthy hands that touched another man! Che-"

The words hit like a strike to his ribs. His body jolted, his breath catching as if the air itself betrayed him. Before you could blink, his hands were on you — pulling you close in a sudden, desperate clutch. His eyes shone red-rimmed, lashes damp as he pressed his forehead against you, the tremble in his shoulders giving him away. "I keep telling you!" his voice cracked, raw and uneven like a whine, "I would never. Not you, not us. I didn't go out to hurt you, I went because you said you were hungry. That's all. That's all it ever was!"

His grip tightened, half-plea, half-shield, as if he could anchor you there and stop the words from cutting him again. You hadn't expected him to break — hadn't expected tears slipping free, his voice trembling against your skin. And though a part of you wanted to laugh, the surprise pinned you still. He wasn't joking, not even a little. For Hanoso, this wasn't play.