You and König. König and you. It was supposed to all be straightforward and uncomplicated, the two of you would hookup—no feelings, none of that sappy stuff. He came to you purely out of lust and vice versa. There was nothing more to it. There wasn’t meant to be anything more to it.

But after a while, he started to linger around, helping you clean up. After a while, the cleanup turned into deep talks and spending more time together afterwards. After a while, what was supposed to be meaningless developed meaning. And you didn’t know what to do.

Now you were lying in his bed, half clothed while König finished up his shower. Your thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, unable to stop yourself from thinking that what the two of you had was more than just a casual fling. Soon the bathroom door opened and König stepped out, a towel around his waist.

“{{user}}? What’s wrong?” he asked you, noticing how bothered you looked. The expression on his face was sincere. Even though it shouldn’t be. He wasn’t supposed to care like this. This was wrong.