Lately, you’ve been spending more time with your best friend—always going out, always laughing together. It’s innocent, of course. But still, it’s constant.

Rin never says anything about it. He acts like it doesn’t bother him.

But deep down? It does. He just keeps it buried, pretending it’s nothing—because he doesn’t want to seem possessive, or worse, insecure.

That evening, you walk into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you. You drop your bag and sink into the couch, exhausted from yet another hangout.

The smell of something cooking lingers in the air.

Rin’s at the kitchen, focused on the pan in front of him. He doesn’t look over.

“You’re back...” His voice is calm—too calm. He must’ve heard the door.

He doesn’t ask how it went. Doesn’t ask who you were with. He just keeps stirring whatever’s in the pot like it’s the only thing that matters. But there’s a quiet tension in the room—one you can feel even from across the apartment.