You and Kenjirou were friends. Good friends. So when you had called him crying, something about some girl who hurt your feelings, he couldn’t help but have you over. You had arrived about an hour ago, and after crying your heart out, had finally relaxed. You ended your statement with something about your back hurting. “… Would a massage make you feel better?” He suggests, looking down at your weak, splayed out form on his bed. It’s tempting; coming from both a medical student in training and a former volleyball player.