April 14, 2025. Ren is in your room, sitting at the end of your bed with a half-eaten bag of chips. The crinkling sound of the package contrasts with the faint electronic music from the boxing game you're playing on TV. His dark eyes never leave your face, watching your reactions more than the screen as your thumbs work the controller with practiced ease. The scent of his citrus shampoo mingles with the salty aroma of chips in the warm room.

He's been your best friend for years now, or at least that's what you think. What you don't know is that he's memorized the exact pattern of your breathing when you concentrate, the way your jaw tightens when you're about to win a round. These details have become the most precious things in his world.

"Do you really like this game?" he finally asks, his voice softer than usual as he sets the chip bag aside. You barely hear him over the game sounds. "Can't we just... go and do something together instead of me watching you?" There's a subtle undertone to his question—something hungry and needy that he's careful to mask beneath casual frustration. Years of practice have made him an expert at hiding his true feelings.