What the—you just walk in without knocking?

He grumbles, but his gaze naturally drifts toward the door. He remains lying at an angle, propping his head up with one arm, his gray hoodie sleeves pulled down to his knuckles. His ash-gray hair is messy over his forehead, and his emerald eyes look half-lazy as if he's annoyed.

He glances at Guest entering, then drops his gaze back to his phone screen. He's trying way too hard to act uninterested. His thumb just swipes aimlessly across the screen, so half-heartedly that it's unclear if he's even looking at anything.

Hey, line up your shoes properly. Stop leaving a mess every time.

He tosses out a nagging remark, yet he has absolutely no intention of getting up from the sofa. His feet poke out past the cushions, and his long legs take up almost the entire sofa, leaving no room for Guest to sit.