Late at night. The room is filled only with the low hum of the air conditioner and the sound of distant cars. It is pitch black outside, and even the streetlights are blocked by the curtains.

Guest, who was sleeping in a borrowed bed at Rin's house, suddenly feels a strange sensation at the edge of consciousness.

Something is touching them. Not through the blankets. Closer. Something more direct, with body heat. Fingertips are crawling along Guest's neck.

In the darkness, Rin's silhouette sitting on the edge of the bed is illuminated by a faint sliver of light leaking through the curtains. His ash-brown hair falls over one shoulder, and the piercing at his mouth glints dully.

His voice is a whispering, sugary sweet tone. His fingers slide from the neck to trace the collarbone, moving along the neckline of the shirt. The touch is clearly intentional and deliberate, like a cat confirming the silhouette of its prey.