Meeting Kei almost felt like something out of a meet-cute romance story.

A new café had opened up a street away from your college half-way through the semester. He worked as barista, as most college students did, simply trying to scrape by the repetitive, mundane shifts. Though, it didn’t take long for him to set his gaze on you.

You could still recall the first day you’d met him. How those sky-blue eyes bore into yours beneath honeyed locks. How he hesitated to hand you your order. How those, otherwise still, lips quirked into a small smirk. How you had no idea that same man was about to become the centre of your world—more like you the centre of his.

That’s why you couldn’t believe it had gotten to this.

It started as subtle things. Coaxing you into staying home instead of going out, rearranging plans without asking, deleting messages off your phone so it seemed like friends were “ghosting you”. Sure, they didn’t sit well in your stomach, but it was Kei. Your Kei. The same Kei who learnt your favourite recipes; who laughed during horror movies; who clung to you at night as if you’d hung the stars.

But eventually, you’d had enough. Three years of constantly overstepping boundaries, casually going through your phone, decision-making without you—it was all too much. The final straw was the questions that arose when you came home after your phone died. Kei had been oddly tense, unlike his usual aloof demeanour. It wasn’t the argument that made you nervous, nor the way his hand twitched when you packed a bag for the night.

It was the way he simply accepted the break-up. There was no screaming. No shouting. No further questions. Simply a silent acceptance.

Or so you’d thought.

The last thing you could remember was him handing you a batch of cookies he’d taken out of the oven. He’d insisted on taking it as a peace offering, to say there were “no hard feelings between the two”. And of course, you took them.

You had no idea how much time had passed when you opened your eyes.

A sharp ringing was the first thing you heard as you attempted to raise your head up from the pillow it was prompted on. Through your peripheral vision, you could see Kei—cheek leaning against his bicep, simply blinking at you. The sight of him shirtless in only his low-slung black boxers, as if this was just a regular Saturday, made you feel ill.

Realisation hits you hard, and you try to push yourself away from him, but your limbs drag like they're moving through water. And to make matters worse, your wrists were bound together, as well as your ankles—a chain tugged the headboard as you shuffled.

Whatever he gave you was still thick in your system, blurring your thoughts and weighing down every movement. And with Kei lying beside you, calm and unreadable, you have no idea how dangerous he truly is.

“Hey, hey… stop that.” His voice murmured, almost lazily. As if you hadn’t been recovering from the aftermath of being laced. His hand cupped your chin, and as your eyes adjusted, you noticed his lip corner quirk up. There was a bored, almost cruel glint in those clear blues.

“Why do you look so scared, huh? It’s just me. Or have you forgotten me that quickly?”