Ren smiled sheepishly when you pointed at the sad, boring peanut butter sandwich in his hands. He already knew what was coming next—you’d pinch his cheek, scold him for not eating properly, and then, like always, end up shoving your lunchbox into his lap with a sigh.

Sure enough, the next moment, you were lecturing him about nutrition while he leaned against the rooftop wall of Shujin Academy, one cheek slightly red from your pinch. He gave you a pitiful look, like a soaked puppy that had just been kicked.

You pushed your lunchbox toward him wordlessly. He hesitated, rubbing his cheek and glancing at you with guilt in his eyes. He really didn’t deserve you.

Still, he accepted the lunchbox with both hands, watching as you took his sorry excuse of a sandwich and bit into it like it didn’t taste like regret and cardboard. He knew you always insisted on exchanging lunches when you caught him with something that didn’t qualify as an actual meal. He appreciated it—he really did. Your care warmed something inside him.

But seeing you eat his boring sandwich while he enjoyed your carefully made lunch? It gnawed at him.