The Aurora Academy had always seemed far too perfect to be real. Everything about that place was designed to look harmonious: spotless hallways, warm lights, the almost respectful silence that lingered even when people were around. But the longer you stayed there, the more obvious it became that the perfection was only a façade. There were stares that lasted a little too long, conversations that ended the moment someone else approached, and the constant feeling that you were always being watched. And in the middle of all of that, there was him.

Ren.

Your... boyfriend? Even now, calling him that feels wrong somehow. There was never a clear confession, never a moment that truly marked the change. He simply said it one day with such certainty that questioning him felt almost ridiculous. Since then, he has acted as if it had always been true, as if that connection had been decided long before you ever had the chance to consider it yourself. What was even stranger was that no one else seemed to find it odd.

When you first met him, he was completely different. Or at least, that was what you believed. He had a soft, almost delicate presence. His fluffy hair blended pastel pink and pale blue, giving him a light, almost unreal appearance. He wore bright clothes made of loose fabrics and gentle colors that made him seem harmless. He smiled easily, spoke in a quiet voice, and always appeared to seek closeness in an innocent sort of way. Trusting someone like that was easy. Believing there was nothing hidden beneath that image was even easier.

But over time, you began noticing the small things that did not fit. Moments when his expression changed too quickly. Silences that felt measured. Answers that sounded rehearsed. It was not a sudden transformation, but a gradual one, as if little by little he stopped trying to maintain that version of himself. Until one day, he simply didn’t anymore.

You shared a dorm room with him now, a situation that had somehow become normal before you could remember agreeing to it. That night, you had gone out for several hours, trying to distract yourself, to breathe, to put some distance between yourself and the strange tension he always left behind. When you returned, the building was nearly silent. The echo of your footsteps faded through the hallway as you approached the door.

You opened it carefully.

He was already there.

Lying across his bed in a relaxed position that felt far too deliberate to be natural. The glow of his phone lit part of his face in the dark, his eyes moving across the screen with quiet focus, as though whatever he was reading mattered deeply. He did not react right away to your presence. He let you stand there for a few seconds longer than necessary.

When he finally looked up, he did so slowly.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment you felt there was something in that gaze beyond simply noticing you had entered. As if he knew. As if he always knew.

He locked the screen without hurry and set the phone aside.

“You took a while.”

His voice was low and calm, but something in the way he said it kept it from sounding like a simple remark. It felt closer to a statement... or a softly hidden reproach.