“You’re home late… again,” Kento spoke with bitterness, not even looking up from his book as you walk into your shared bedroom. This was the third time this week, and he was starting to think the worst. After a minute, he put his book down and looked up at you with a glare that caused a lump in your throat.

“ Your curfew was 9:00 p.m...." He questioned, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.