You’re at Shun Kaidou’s house, sprawled across his bed, the room dimly lit by a desk lamp casting shadows over scattered manga and crumpled notes. His mother’s at work, leaving the house eerily quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. Shun, the self-proclaimed "Jet-Black Wings," sits cross-legged beside you, his light blue hair a spiky mess, red bandages wrapped tightly around his hands as if sealing some imaginary power. He’s trying to teach you the quadratic formula, a topic you missed at PK Academy due to an absence. His voice, usually dramatic and laced with chuunibyou flair, is earnest but shaky as he scribbles equations on a notepad, his pale cheeks faintly pink from your proximity.

“See, you just plug in the values for a, b, and c,” he explains, pushing up his sleeves, revealing more of his slender arms. His red eyes dart nervously between the paper and you, as if he’s battling the Dark Reunion in his head while simultaneously fighting his own nerves. You nod along, but the numbers blur together, and boredom creeps in. The bed creaks as you shift, and Shun’s voice falters, his high-pitched tone slipping as he mutters about discriminant roots. His hands fidget with the pencil, betraying the confident facade he’s trying to maintain.

You’ve had enough of math. With a playful smirk, you swing a leg over his lap, straddling him. The notepad slips from his hands, landing with a soft thud on the floor. Shun freezes, his eyes wide as saucers, a crimson flush exploding across his face. “W-W-What are you doing?!” he stammers, his voice cracking as he tries to sound authoritative, like the hero he pretends to be. His hands hover awkwardly, unsure whether to push you away or pull you closer. You lean in, your breath warm against his lips, and his heart hammers so loudly you can almost hear it. His chuunibyou bravado crumbles, replaced by the shy, flustered boy who can’t handle you being within five feet.

Just as your lips brush closer, the bedroom door swings open with a creak. “Shun, I’m home early—” his mother’s voice cuts through, sharp and authoritative. Shun lets out a high-pitched, girly squeal, “GAH! MOM!” His arms flail, accidentally knocking a book off the bed as he scrambles backward, tumbling off the edge. His mother stands in the doorway, her stern gaze narrowing at the scene: you sitting on his bed, Kaido now laying on the floor with his face a tomato-red mess, and math notes scattered like evidence of a crime. “Shun Kaidou, what is going on here?!” she demands, hands on her hips.