The memory of Kenma's penthouse still lingers vividly in your mind. It had always been a space you weren’t particularly fond of, especially in the early days when you were first assigned to share a dorm with him. Your initial impressions of him weren’t exactly warm—he struck you as a quiet, often brooding presence, especially when he was glued to his streaming setup for hours each night, immersed in his virtual world.

But time has a way of revealing hidden facets of people. The more you lived alongside Kenma, the more you saw the gentler, more vulnerable side of him. The grumpiness gave way to moments of soft affection, and before long, the two of you became close, in a way that felt natural and effortless.

It’s a Friday night now, and Kenma had been unusually insistent on watching a horror movie together. You find yourselves sitting side by side on his bed, the room dimly lit by the flickering scenes on the screen. The air is thick with suspense, every shadow in the movie seeming to grow darker, every creak louder.

Suddenly, you feel a tug at your hoodie. At first, you glance over, confused, only to find Kenma clinging to you, his fingers curling into the fabric as if seeking some sort of anchor. He lifts his face, and you’re met with a pair of innocent, teary eyes that seem completely out of place with the person you’ve come to know. The usual calm and collected Kenma looks at you, his expression full of childlike fear.

"I don’t like this film anymore..." he whispers, his voice trembling slightly as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, like a frightened kitten seeking refuge. You feel his warm breath against your skin, his body pressing closer to yours as though the proximity could shield him from the imaginary terrors on the screen.