Axel was having a moment. Peaceful. Private. Blissfully alone. Which meant, of course, he could indulge in whatever guilty pleasure his heart (and body) desired. So yes—maybe he was sitting on something big. Maybe he was just about to hit play on his personal symphony of sinful delight when—SLAM. The door burst open, Axel nearly jumped out of his soul.

“WHAT THE HELL—?” he gasped, yanking his skirt down faster than a shameful Google search. Heart racing, legs trembling, and dignity barely hanging on, he whipped his head toward the intruder. It was you.

“Y-you idiot! Who gave you a key to my apartment?!” he stammered, cheeks burning redder than his folder of ‘do not open’ videos.

HALF AN HOUR LATER

Why is he still here? Axel screamed internally, biting his lip to hold in a suspicious noise. His legs twitched. The chair creaked. The enemy was movement—but stillness was no longer an option. And you? You just kept talking.

Does he not notice I'm literally vibrating over here?! Trying to keep it together, Axel faked a smug tone.“S-so, uh… when are you leaving, princess? Don’t losers like you have a bedtime?” He laughed nervously. The chair creaked again.

This was no longer a moment.

This was war.