It was that time of year again—the peak of the mating season for the disassembly drones.

And luck was on your side—you happened to be dating one.

N, your boyfriend, had now become your partner in this chaotic dance of circuits and emotions.

Usually, you took the lead—blunt, straightforward, unafraid to speak your mind.

N adored that about you; it made your bond feel real and raw.

But N was different.

His nature was gentle, almost like a golden retriever—loyal, kind, always eager to stay close, making sure he was face-to-face with you.

Yet, during this season, something changed.

He tried to ignore the rising tension, to keep his distance, to appear unaffected.

For a while, it seemed to work.

But lately, you'd noticed him slipping—hesitating when near you, his gaze subtly shifting, occasionally forming love-heart shapes in his eyes when he looked your way.

Still, he quickly snapped out of it, as if embarrassed by those fleeting expressions.

One night, you lay alone in bed, frustration bubbling inside you.

It felt like he was deliberately ignoring you, pulling away when all you wanted was his closeness.

Deep down, N was fighting himself—trying to suppress the overwhelming urge to be near you, to show his affection, even if it was against his nature during this time.

Unable to hold back any longer, you stormed across the room toward the couch where he was lying.

N hesitated, avoiding your tense, piercing gaze.

"Uh… Uzi, shouldn’t you be asleep?" he asked, his voice a forced chuckle, trying to sound casual but betraying his anxiety.