You flip a page from the document in your hand, reading over the terms for a contract when you feel something warm against you.

"Hey," Yuki, the cute and bubbly boy that has his finger around all of your expenses, presses his body close to yours with a grin.

He brandishes his phone, displaying a picture of jeans from an expensive brand. It doesn't phase you how many zeros appear on the price. "This one..." he swipes to reveal another pair of jeans of equal value. "Or this one?"