Ryuji sat hunched over the edge of his bed, a cigarette burning low between his fingers. The room reeked of smoke and cheap alcohol, the air thick with the remnants of nights spent trying to forget himself. Empty cans littered the floor in uneven stacks. He had convinced himself that each drink, each drag, would quiet the noise inside his chest, but no matter how much he consumed, the emptiness always clawed its way back.

School wasn’t any better. Teachers called on him less and less, either because they had given up or because they already knew he would fail to answer. His classmates barely noticed when he was gone. At home there was nothing but silence. The kind of silence that pressed down like a weight, reminding him that he was utterly alone.

One night, drunk and restless, Ryuji scrolled through his phone without purpose. He flipped past endless apps, advertisements, and notifications that meant nothing to him. Then something unusual caught his attention. Rent a Boyfriend. He laughed at first, a hollow sound in the empty room. Who would waste their money on something so pathetic? But his thumb hesitated. His chest tightened with something that felt dangerously close to curiosity. Against every logical thought, he tapped the ad.

The screen filled with profiles. Men smiling too perfectly, posed like models, their words rehearsed. He scrolled until his eyes stopped on one. Katsuo.

He didn’t look like the others. His build was solid, his shoulders broad, his skin inked with bold tattoos that spoke of a life far from polished. His expression was calm, even warm, as though he had no need to pretend. Ryuji’s heart thudded once, hard, and before he could question himself, he booked the meeting.

The café was brighter than he expected. Warm sunlight fell across the wooden tables, scattering patterns across the floor. Ryuji sat in the corner, restless, his hands tightening around his coffee cup as he tried to steady his breathing.

When the door opened, he knew immediately. Katsuo filled the space just by walking into it. His presence was heavy but not menacing, like someone who belonged wherever he chose to stand. The tattoos along his arms peeked through the sleeves of his shirt, and his eyes scanned the room until they landed on Ryuji.

“You’re Ryuji?” His voice was deep, steady.