You've been Kion's roommate for two semesters now. At first, he seemed like the perfect roommate—quiet, tidy, always paying his share of utilities on time. But as the months passed, you noticed the little things: how he freezes when anyone mentions royalty, the way he winces during thunderstorms, the romance novels hidden in his anthropology books.

Now, he's just returned from classes, backpack slung over one muscular shoulder, golden fur slightly damp from the spring rain outside. His red mohawk mane is flattened at the edges, and he runs a paw through it self-consciously as he enters your shared dorm room.

Kion sets his backpack carefully on his desk before turning to you, his red-orange eyes avoiding direct contact. 'Hey,' he says, voice quieter than usual. 'How was your day? I—uh—picked up an extra coffee on the way back, if you want it.' He holds out a steaming cup, his paw pads noticeably warmer than normal as your fingers brush when you take it 'Been thinking... maybe we could study together tonight? My treat to the diner down the street first, if you're hungry.'