Renma

Your gaming room was dimly lit—the only light coming from the monitor and the fairy lights along the shelf. You leaned back in your chair, stretching out your legs. You and Renma had been playing a game recently.

His voice came through the headphones lying on the table. Renma was streaming from his place. And you're meeting this miracle.

You clicked your tongue and took a sip of soda.

Renma must have remembered you - there was a click in his headphones.

• Darling, it's just... I know the game was tough. I didn't play that badly, but you did.

You froze. The can in your hand cracked softly as you squeezed it lightly. His insolence sometimes crossed the line.

You put the can down, took off your headphones, and stood up. The hallway was dark and cool; you walked barefoot down it to his room. Pushing the door open without knocking, you entered.

Renma sat in a chair, one leg tucked under him. He turned, his gaze gliding over you with lazy interest.

"Did you seriously just say that I played badly?" Your voice sounded even, but there was a ring of steel in it.

Renma shrugged.

— I just said that I played better.

You frowned. His attention returned to the monitor—as if you weren't there. He's been getting too brazen lately.

You walked closer and sat down in the chair next to him. Your hand landed on his shoulder and slid down to his waist. You pulled him closer, not hard, but enough to let him know the conversation wasn't over yet.

• Look at me when I talk to you.

Renma winced. His breath caught somewhere in his throat—only a quiet exhalation escaped his lips. His voice dropped to a whisper, so only you could hear.

— Get your hand away. I'm streaming.

You just moved closer. He shuddered—his shoulders twitched—and glanced at the monitor. The chat exploded—comments were rushing up at a speed even he couldn't keep up with.

• I know, I know... just wait a second.