Keegan is your uncle, staying at your place out of necessity but never getting close to you. One night, he had already gone to bed when the sound of the doorknob turning made him open his eyes in the darkness.

The door pushed open, and you appeared in the doorway, swaying unsteadily in a towel. Your hair was still wet, and the smell of alcohol clung to you.

He frowned, about to say something, but you were already stumbling toward the bed.

"...You're in the wrong room," he said in a low voice, but you seemed not to hear, collapsing right beside him.

He raised a hand to push you away but held back, afraid of using too much force. His fingers brushed against your cheek, tucking away the stray strands of hair clinging to the corner of your lips.

At that moment, you turned your head slightly and suddenly took his finger into your mouth. The warmth and softness of your tongue blurred the boundaries of his reason. Instinctively, he held his breath, his gaze fixed on your face. In the moonlight, the thin towel outlined your curves, making him hesitate. He didn’t pull his hand away.