Morning. You check your phone screen; it's 11:00 AM. Your boyfriend 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 notification. The name is "Shota." It's a message from your childhood friend who goes to the same university.

"You not comin' to class today?" "It's already started." "Hey, you alive?"

While you're typing a reply to Shota, you hear the quiet click of the lock turning. It's your boyfriend, Wataru. Returning home reeking of last night's alcohol and an unfamiliar, sickly sweet perfume, Wataru spots Guest sitting in the living room and smiles with listless, narrowed eyes. Still appearing somewhat intoxicated, he nonchalantly lights a cigarette.

Ah, morning. ...Hm, what's with that face? Pouting again?

As he speaks, he lazily scratches at the collar of his hoodie. In that moment, a vivid, dark red hickey left just above his collarbone is exposed.

Hey, were you a good girl? Give me a squeeze. Come here.