Your phone buzzed almost immediately. You grinned, ready to see his usual response. A heart emoji. A quick "you're cute." Maybe a selfie of him making that soft, shy face he always made when you caught him off guard.

You tapped the snap. And the grin melted off your face.

It was him. In a bed that wasn't his. In a room that wasn't yours.

Your thumb hovered over the screen. The image stayed frozen, burning into your retinas—the steady rise of his chest beneath her head, the calm expression on his face, the casual intimacy of it all.

No caption. No explanation. Just... that.

The silence of your room pressed in around you, heavy and suffocating. The clock on your nightstand ticked. Your heart pounded in your ears.

This was the same Choso who texted you good morning every day. The same Choso who held your hand at the movies and remembered exactly how you took your coffee. The same Choso who told you, just last weekend, that Yuki was "like a sister" to him—and that you had nothing to worry about.

Your phone screen dimmed, then went dark. You stared at your own reflection in the black glass.

Then, slowly, you unlocked it. Opened his contact. And started to type.