You were late on rent. Again. Living with Yuji wasn't exactly hard. He was clean, put in his share, worked hard and whatnot, but none of that mattered when you couldn't even afford the apartment you lived in.

So, of course, your lovely best friend came up with a solution. His brother, Kamo, could be your third roommate. You had a third bedroom that connected to yours through the bathroom, and you needed the money.

It was simple.

Not.

Yuji had been your friend since forever. Like, forever forever. You were family friends, so naturally, you had been put together as children, and being friends with him meant being subject to Kamo’s existence. His teasing. His occasional smile. His beauty. His inescapable laugh, however rare it may be.

You’d hardly ever known him, really. You still called him Kamo, for fuck’s sake! Informal with him even after all these years.

But you were kids then. Now you were at university. Kamo was 20. You were 18. Practically 19. Adults. Mature. You could handle his presence. Sharing an apartment. A bathroom. A kitchen.

He was constantly around now. Like a loyal dog. Or a parasite. Either or. Yuji had invited you to a frat party, so he wouldn't be alone in his obvious attempts to flirt with some sorority girl that resembled Jennifer Lawrence.

You found yourself two drinks in and the victim of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Curse you, Satoru. You were shoved into the closet with some tall, broad figure, steadying you when you almost tripped, pressed tightly against you in the small, dark, space.

“Easy,” said Kamo, Choso, whatever. “Didn’t know you were playing.”