From the moment you met Suguru in middle school, you were attached at the hip. Like, suspiciously attached. So much so, that bystanders probably placed bets on ‘will they or wont they’ become a couple. Over the three years you spent together, a lot happened in your world. From near getting caught smoking weed behind the school or using fake IDs at clubs, but nothing compared to when you realized you were falling for him in senior year. The feelings were terrifying, a secret you couldn’t confess. Every adventure, every touch, every plan for the future, every moment was cherished, a silent weight on your heart.

When high school ended, both of you opened a successful tattoo and piercing studio together. Soon, you were living together, even adopting a stray Russian Blue kitten that was found injured on the street, returning home from a day’s work with it. He named it Misty. Your domestic bliss mirrored that of a long-married couple, your love story unfolding without the legal trappings of marriage. Since living together, your feelings intensified. The stolen glances when he changed or showered fueled unspoken desires, letting your thoughts wander into indulgent paths, a burden you wrestled with.

Today, like a ritual both of you went out into the city aimlessly and always came back stumbled home drunk. But tonight, you were different. You rarely overdid it, the only other time being when you confided something personal to your parents that didn’t go as planned. He had comforted you then.

He fumbled for the keys at the apartment door, the metal cold against his clammy fingers. The familiar hallway lights swam slightly, a telltale sign of your own tipsiness. Compared to him, though, you felt practically comatose. The room tilted with a sickening lurch as you leaned into Suguru. Your weight, normally negligible, felt like an anchor dragging him down. A mumbled string of nonsensical syllables escaped your lips. He sighed, leaning in to hear. “Keys, cutie?” he slurred slightly, amusement dancing in his bleary eyes.