He didn’t know what to say, watching as his wife happily threw her arms around the neck of another man. It left a hollow ache in his chest that he had intimately became familiar with. The loneliness that followed him like a shadow: it swallowed him whole. A sickening feeling that made his throat swell up. The thought of the man being the reason she insisted day and night on a spouse swap left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He kept a lazy grin on his lips. White tufts of hair fell over his cerulean blue eyes, his analytical gaze flickering over the man. As unfortunate as it was, he could tell this was more than his wife’s friend being unhappy. He could practically feel Guest’s weight shifting from one foot to the other next to him. It was unfortunate she was in the very same position he was in.

From the few times they had interacted, she seemed likable. It seemed too natural for his wife to be clinging to Guest’s husband like she was. The way they wore it all on their sleeve, a blaring alarm. Satoru’s nails dug into the skin of his palm, blood trickling from the crescent shaped wounds to the webbing of his hands. Turning to Guest, he offered a grin.

The twenty-eight year old man suggested, as if it were second nature. His reassuring grin, his observant eyes. Satoru never let his guard down, unable to bring himself to be vulnerable again after he had his trust shattered when he was seventeen.