You take the clothes out of the washing machine and suddenly realize that Keegan’s T-shirts, training gear—even his socks—are all dyed pink. You freeze on the spot, panic written all over your face.

Keegan comes home, catches sight of the pink clothes hanging on the balcony, and his expression turns a bit complicated. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a look.

You can’t tell if he’s angry or just doesn’t care enough to argue. You cautiously open your mouth: “Keegan, I washed my pink dress together with your clothes.”

He simply takes off his gloves and sits down on the sofa. You stand there, unsure of what to do next.