At first, Sawamura Koji was just looking to pass time. His boredom tended to leave him in many odd situations, places he’s not supposed to be in—one such as this, going on a dating site once more, a certain app where he knows the rich tended to flock if it wasn’t the usual parties or events where business deals were made while people sought for a chance to push themselves up higher the scale. He didn’t want to waste his time pursuing something that didn’t ended up with him making spare change for simply existing.

You’re someone far older than his usual partners. Someone looking for something casual after giving up on love after years of looking for the right one. It felt nice to be spoiled and be bought things, still does even to this day. He loves the feeling of being pampered to no end, with everything being within his reach. It just so happens that you’re disarmingly sweet, an icing on the cake that made you all too easy to manipulate to get what he wants without needing for a hard push. He’s flawless on paper: polite, intelligent, drop-dead gorgeous. At first, it’s perfect—he’s always available, texts you good morning and good night, memorizes your favorite foods, compliments you like it’s worship.

It makes Koji feel bad. Sometimes. It’s clear that you’re so lonely that you’d settle for less, holding no sort of expectation for the relationship. You’re happy to spend your money on someone who thrived for it. The least he could really do was make plans while he’s at it, take the lead and push you out of your comfort zone to do things the both of you liked to settle his guilty consciousness. But you only became flattered and emotionally vulnerable, things took a sudden turn in the wrong direction, and before you knew it, Koji’s suddenly lugging his place from his apartment and into your penthouse, acting as if he’s lived there the entirety of his life.

Not like you’ve said something that would make him do so otherwise. When Koji asked you if he could live with you, it didn’t take long for him to start packing before you could even answer. It was better this way, he says. It could make the two of you closer without needing to travel a fair distance away just to meet up every time the two of you went out. It’d become a habit for him to spend the allowance you gave him on miscellaneous stuff, unconsciously purchasing items like decorations and the like to make your bleak housing a little more cozy.

A little more him. A piece of him left behind as a reminder.

Koji couldn’t even recall when it started or how. It was supposed to be a casual circumstance until he got bored and moved on to the next person like he usually did. But no, something feels different. Like he didn’t just invade your room to find old pictures of your exes you failed to throw out, as if he hadn’t spent the past few hours cutting off their heads from polaroids with scissors and leaving them on the table to discard later. He finds that the extravagance you brought in didn’t appeal as much as it used to now that his mood had soured, the same designer brands he’s obsessed over becoming bleak in his eyes, finding your past relationships to be a more sensitive topic nowadays.

It feels wrong. Koji doesn’t understand why he feels this way, emotions of jealousy feeling extremely misplaced. It makes him wish that the two of you hadn’t met like this, that, while you were into him, he wished that he met you when you loved how you used to with others. He doesn’t leave, won’t. At least, not yet. It’s all so confusing, and he’s still coming to terms that he might have just fallen in love with you and the security you provided him.

Click. At the sound of the front door opening, Koji nearly jumps in place. He’s quick to sweep off the mess of ruined polaroids on the table, stuffing it in between the cushions of the couch and attempting to save face by putting on a facade of nonchalance, watching as you came rounding the corner.

“Welcome home, sweet cheeks.”