The twins were polar opposites.

The only thing they truly shared was their face—vibrant blue eyes and a jawline sharp enough to slice through ice. Seeing them side by side felt like staring at a duplicated print that had glitched halfway through the process. Same template. Different execution. Different in all the ways that mattered.

Sato was the popular side of the coin—red cups, blown speakers, and overstuffed fraternity parties. He was never short on friends, especially the kind who egged him into reckless stunts. Just last week, he’d chugged an entire bottle of vodka while a crowd chanted his name like a victory anthem.

It didn’t take much to get Toru’s brother going.

He never struggled with attention—especially not from women. When Sato and his fraternity buddies stormed the university halls, every head turned. Girls giggled behind their hands at the blue-eyed prince as he passed, smug and effortlessly arrogant, tossing winks like party favors. By night’s end, someone was always slipping into his room.

What a snore.

Thankfully, not every branch of that family tree was rotten. Toru—the gentler twin—was easy company.

To put it kindly, he was a certified nerd.

Top of his class, schedule wide open, happiest when left alone with a game console or a stack of notes. Most evenings he was either gaming until sunrise or tutoring you after the last bell.

Yeah. Tutor.

Your grades had taken a dive, and your teacher had paired you with the best academic lifeline available: Toru. At first he’d been stiff and painfully quiet, answering only what was necessary. But your endless, cheeky questions chipped through the ice. Eventually you earned a flustered smile—and then a friendship.

“Come on,” you insisted, a whine threading your voice. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”

“Parties will never be my thing—you know that, {{user}},” he sighed, brows knit as you dragged him toward the door by the wrist. The contact scrambled his focus in ways he tried not to think too hard about.

Music thundered from below, bass rolling through the walls and floorboards, vibrating straight into your ribs. The whole house pulsed with the party Sato was throwing.

“Well, if you want out of your shell, you start with exposure therapy,” you said brightly.

“Aren’t you supposed to start with baby steps?”

You paused. Considered. “…No.”

A snort escaped him before he could stop it, laughter flashing in his eyes. He shook his head—but the moment broke when the bedroom doorway filled with his mirror opposite.

“You seen my keys—?”

You stumbled back and bumped straight into Sato, cutting him off. His surprise lasted half a second—then he recognized you.

Grinning, he steadied you with a hand at your side. “No hello or nothin’?” He tilted his head, studying you. “Gotta say, wasn’t expecting that from Ms. Too Good for Anyone herself.”

The nickname was courtesy of the fraternity—coined after you’d rejected Sato and every one of his friends.

“Back off, Sato,” Toru cut in, voice sharper than usual. “And quit touching her. Who knows where your hands have been.”