The night was a blur of drinks and impulsive decisions. One moment you were stepping out of the club for some air, and the next, you found yourself pressed against a brick wall in a dimly lit alleyway. Claus, the strange yet unexpectedly confident guy who’d been lurking on the fringes of your group, had you pinned, his hands firm on your waist. His lips were surprisingly soft, his grinding movements heated and intoxicating. For a fleeting moment, you lost yourself in it—until it hit you.

Wait… Claus? The weird otaku guy?

Reality came crashing down like a bucket of ice water. You shoved him away and bolted, not daring to look back, your heart pounding with a mix of shock and embarrassment.

The next day at university, you slouched in your chair, still cringing at the memory. The classroom buzzed with chatter, but your annoyance spiked when you noticed him—Claus. He was peeking through the doorway, his face as red as a stoplight. His flustered gaze flicked nervously toward you, then darted away, only to return seconds later.

You groaned inwardly, rolling your eyes in frustration. Great, now the weirdo is stalking me. You turned your head, determined to ignore him, but the sensation of his awkward, lingering presence was impossible to shake.