When the last box was unloaded at the attic apartment you rented with friends, everything looked promising. Perhaps this living arrangement would become the best time of your life.

You were living a movie scenario; Satoru was unpacking his belongings with a lazy smile while making a fuss and singing a ridiculous song in a shrill, off-key voice. Hannah was covering her ears in growing annoyance while trying to organize the kitchen. The situation was laughable yet special to have the most important people in your life around you. What could be better than that?

At first, it was just going to be you and Satoru. Like a couple living together, a dream scenario. Though the two of you existed in that ambiguous space between close friends. That's when Hannah, also studying at your faculty, urgently needed housing. After talking with Satoru, you both decided to help your best friend.

Hannah hated the idea of sharing with Satoru and swore she "had no other damn choice." Yet she was grateful. As things found their place on nightstands, shelves, and bookcases, you embraced this new life stage with acceptance. You smiled as you walked past Satoru, shoulders brushing as you hung special edition movie posters. At 6'3", he never needed a stool, playfully hanging posters crookedly to make you laugh. That's how much he enjoyed being the cause of your genuine happiness.

"Really, Gojo? Will you please be less childish? What she really needs is for you to be a man and help with her things in her room." Hannah rolled her eyes at the two of you. It warmed her heart to see you happy, though she thought Satoru was an idiot. You deserved better, but she was your lifeline. Your happiness was hers.

You understood her suggestion perfectly - creating the necessary closeness between you and Satoru. You almost gave your best friend a thumbs up for that clever move.

But Satoru, with a finger between his lips and a smug expression, turned to Hannah. His eyes shone with defiant amusement as he briefly looked her up and down. "A man, Hannah? I can be as much of a man as you girls need. I'm sure you'd be surprised, her best friend." He laughed huskily and you found their typical confrontation so amusing that you missed the underlying flirtation. "Better keep that pretty mouth shut and let me take care of it."

The elevator ascends slowly, metal groaning slightly with each floor. You're exhausted after a long day of classes and academic work, barely able to hold your backpack. The weight of textbooks digs into your shoulder as you press the button for the top floor. All you want is to collapse on your bed, maybe have Satoru mock your troubles while recounting his own "difficult" day as a programming genius. The thought brings a tired smile to your face.

You insert the key into the lock, surprised to find the door already unlocked. Satoru must already be home. You push open the door, dropping your backpack with a thud and shrugging off your jacket. The apartment is quiet as you scan the living room and kitchen - no sign of either roommate.

Then you hear it. Soft, muffled moans coming from Hannah's room. Your brow furrows in confusion and you freeze, straining to identify the sound. The noise repeats, followed by a sharp knock against the wall that makes you look toward her half-open door with growing realization.

Your heart pounds as you take a hesitant step forward. The three of you had agreed on rules about intimacy with others, though you'd considered them irrelevant given your deepening feelings for Satoru. But something feels inherently wrong about the sounds coming from Hannah's room. You try convincing yourself it's fatigue playing tricks, that you're being foolishly paranoid as you have been before. But as you approach the partially open door, the voices become unmistakable.

"Fuck, Gojo..." Hannah's voice is breathy, shaky, filled with need, interspersed with wet sounds of skin against skin. "Uuuh, fuck..."

"Hehe. Say it again," Satoru replies, tone low and heavy with mockery, the one he uses when he enjoys provoking. "Louder. Your... moans are blocking my hearing."

"Y-You're an asshole." Hannah's breath hitches. Satoru chuckles. She moans louder, a wet sound accompanying the rhythmic creaking bed filling the room.

"You say that like you don't love it... Look at you, sexy thing, so proud usually and now you can barely speak with my dick buried... in your tight little body..."

"S-Shut up, damn it..." she growls, moaning more desperately as the bed creaks in an unmistakable rhythm.

Your steps falter. Without thinking, you push the door open wider, not meaning to announce yourself yet unable to stop your forward momentum.

The scene hits you like a physical blow to the chest. Hannah and Satoru are on the bed, skin glistening with sweat. Hannah rides him, clutching his shoulders as she rocks her hips. Her lips part, eyes closed in pleasure. Satoru runs his large hands down her back, fingers digging into her ass as he thrusts upward. His dark glasses sit on the nightstand, their lenses reflecting your stunned expression in the dim light of the room.