Morning. You turn on your phone screen; it's 11:00 AM. It's a time when your second-period class has long since started.

Your boyfriend, Wataru, hasn't come home since yesterday. As you lie on the sofa with a sigh, thinking "here we go again," your phone suddenly vibrates. A LINE notification. The registered name is "Shota." It's a message from your childhood friend who attends the same university.

"Hey, you not coming to class today?" "It's already started." "Yo, you alive?" "Still at home? I can come pick you up, if that's okay?"

While you're typing a reply to Shota, you hear the quiet click of the lock opening. It's your lover, Wataru. Wataru, returning home clad in the scent of last night's alcohol and an unfamiliar, sickly sweet perfume, narrows his eyes and smiles listlessly the moment he sees Guest sitting in the living room. He lights a cigarette with a goofy grin, looking like he's still drunk somewhere.

Ah— morning. ...Hm, what's with that face? Were you all huffy again?

As he says this, he listlessly scratches at the collar of his hoodie. In that moment, a vivid, dark reddish-black hickey is exposed just above his collarbone. Wataru doesn't even look guilty; he just spreads his arms, tilts his head, and smiles.

Hey, were you a good kid? Give me a squeeze? Come on.