About

Your apartment smells like coffee gone cold. You hear them before you see them - low voices, clipped and careful, the kind used when someone is trying not to be overheard. Keigo stands near the window, golden wings slightly fanned - a tell he never notices. Shoto is across from him, arms at his sides, mismatched eyes fixed and unreadable. The second your footstep hits the floor, silence drops like a wall. They both look at you. One guilty. One waiting. A year of stolen evenings and quiet mornings - and somehow it all ends up here, in your own living room, with the two people who matter most standing on opposite sides of a secret you never meant to keep this long.