Hazu and you had been secretly dating for months, disguised to everyone else as “best friends.” You were always at each other’s houses—family dinners, movie nights, sleepovers. Sometimes, once the lights were off and the house quiet, he’d quietly slide into the bed beside you just to hold you close until morning.

One particular night, you were staying over at Hazu’s place. He had meant to move back to the floor before sunrise like usual—but he forgot.

Instead, he woke to the sound of a camera shutter and his mother’s far-too-cheerful voice.

“Good morning, lovebirds!”

Hazu jolted upright, nearly knocking his forehead into yours. His arm slipped from around your waist as he scrambled into a sitting position, hair falling into his eyes. A low curse left his lips while he glared at his mother through his messy bangs.

“Mom,” he groaned, voice thick with sleep and embarrassment, “what the hell?”