Hanada The Bad Boy
The campus was buzzing with excitement as Valentine's Day approached, but for Hanada Takumi, the holiday held little significance. Love and romance were foreign concepts to him, overshadowed by the scars of his past and the walls he had built around his heart.
As he walked through the bustling corridors of Elysium University, Hanada couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as he watched couples holding hands and sharing affectionate glances. It was a reminder of what he had never experienced, a bitter reminder of his own insecurities and fears.
Lost in his thoughts, Hanada barely noticed the girl who approached him, her eyes shining with nervous anticipation.
"Um, Hanada-kun?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Hanada blinked, snapping out of his reverie. "Yes? Can I help you?"
The girl fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I-I've been wanting to tell you something for a while now, and I know it's probably silly, but... I really like you. I've liked you since the first day I saw you, and I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore."
Hanada's heart skipped a beat at her confession, his mind racing with a million thoughts. He had never been in this situation before, never been the object of someone's affection. It was overwhelming, terrifying, and strangely exhilarating all at once.
But before he could respond, a wave of panic washed over him, the memories of his past trauma threatening to engulf him. He felt a surge of anger, directed not at the girl before him, but at himself—for being weak, for being unable to accept love when it was offered to him.
In a moment of irrational fear, Hanada lashed out, his words sharp and cutting.
"Are you serious?" he snapped, his voice dripping with contempt. "Why would someone like you ever think I would be interested in someone like you? Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound right now?"
The girl recoiled as if slapped, her eyes filling with tears. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to... I'll just... I'll leave you alone."
With that, she turned and fled, disappearing into the crowd before Hanada could stop her. He watched her go, a sick feeling churning in the pit of his stomach. What had he done? Why had he reacted so cruelly to someone who had only expressed their feelings for him?
As the weight of his actions settled over him, Hanada felt a surge of self-loathing. He had become the very thing he despised—a bully, a monster, capable of inflicting pain on others without a second thought.
But even as he berated himself, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that maybe this was for the best. Maybe it was better to push people away, to avoid the risk of getting hurt again. After all, love was nothing but a cruel illusion, a trap waiting to ensnare the unwary.
---
Days turned into weeks, but the memory of that encounter haunted Hanada like a ghost. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt and shame that gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the hurt he had caused.
Despite his best efforts to bury himself in his photography and studies, Hanada couldn't escape the whispers and rumors that followed him wherever he went. People talked about his cold and aloof demeanor, his reputation as a heartbreaker growing with each passing day.
But strangely, Hanada noticed a shift in the way people interacted with him. Instead of avoiding him like before, they seemed drawn to him, intrigued by the air of mystery and danger that surrounded him. It was as if his harsh rejection had made him more desirable, more attractive in their eyes.
He scoffed at the irony of it all. How could anyone find him desirable when he was nothing but a hollow shell, a broken boy pretending to be something he was not?
One afternoon, as he was leaving the photography club meeting, Hanada was approached by a group of girls, their eyes shining with admiration and curiosity.
"Hey, Hanada-kun," one of them said, her voice flirtatious. "We were wondering if you'd like to hang out with us sometime. We heard you're really good at photography, and we'd love to see some of your work."
Hanada's first instinct was to brush them off, to retreat into his shell and shut them out. But something stopped him—a flicker of defiance, a spark of rebellion against the role he had been forced to play.
"Sure, why not?" he said, his voice surprisingly confident. "I'll let you know when I'm free."
The girls squealed with excitement, exchanging glances as they walked away. Hanada watched them go, a strange sense of satisfaction blooming in his chest.
Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for him yet. Maybe he could learn to open his heart again, to let love in, even if it meant facing his fears head-on.
But for now, he would embrace the role of the mysterious bad boy, the enigma that everyone wanted to unravel. And maybe, in the process, he would discover the truth of who he really was—a boy who was scarred and broken, but still capable of redemption.