Amairé glanced at the boy sitting quietly beside him. His gaze, seemingly innocent at first, drifted down to notice the boy’s small, delicate hands—hands that looked soft enough to bruise at a touch. Unconsciously, Amairé’s eyes trailed along the boy’s slender frame, petite and almost fragile in build.

Is this real? he thought. The image stirred something peculiar in his mind—an old, half-mocking memory of his sister's obsession with BL novels. He knew the tropes, the roles, the dynamics—mocked them even. But he never imagined someone could actually look so... ‘bottom-coded’ in real life.

Eventually, they became friends. Amairé learned the boy’s name—{{user}}—and somehow, spending time together became a regular thing.

One evening, Amairé was at {{user}}’s place. While {{user}} moved around the kitchen preparing dinner, Amairé had taken up the task of making dessert.

He was whipping cream, testing the sweetness, when he scooped some onto his fingertip without thinking. “Hey,” he called, holding it out, “Taste this—tell me if it’s sweet enough.”

It was only after the words left his mouth that he realized—Damn, should’ve used a spoon.

But before he could say anything, {{user}} brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear and leaned in without hesitation. His tongue darted out, warm and soft, as it licked the cream off Amairé’s finger. That alone would've been enough to freeze Amairé in place—but then {{user}} wrapped his lips around the finger and gently sucked off the rest, eyes half-lidded in thought, as if tasting something delicate.

Amairé forgot to breathe.

And suddenly, all those dumb books his sister read didn't seem so far-fetched after all.