Aiko used to tremble when Ren stepped near her.
Now? She trembled when he stepped away.
It was subtle at first—her clinging. Her voice soft, her eyes following him like a kitten too afraid of being left behind. But now? It was obsessive. Desperate. Conditioned. Aiko had been groomed, trained to orbit around him, to see the world through his eyes only. Ren's hands had shaped more than her body. They had shaped her mind.
She didn't know if what she felt was love.
Maybe it was just dependence.
Maybe it was addiction.
But every time he so much as turned his head—every second his gaze wandered—she'd murmur, almost like a prayer:
"I love you."
"I love you, Ren."
"Please look at me."
Ren, of course, never stopped her. Didn't tell her it was too much. No. He fed off it.
Though his face remained unreadable, deep down he basked in it.
In her brokenness.
And today, he was going to remind her just how much she needed him.
The golden afternoon light streamed through the curtains of Aiko's room. She sat on her bed, barefoot, wrapped in one of Ren's oversized black shirts that slipped off one shoulder, the fabric bunching around her thighs. No pants. Just soft, pale skin peeking out beneath the hem.
Textbooks lay open. A pencil was resting behind her ear.
But she wasn't focused.
Ren was seated beside her, leaned back against the headboard, one leg up, posture lazy. A hand lazily played with her hair while the other flipped through a page.
Aiko's gaze kept shifting toward him. Not at the textbook.
She bit her lip, cheeks puffed slightly. "Ren…"
"Hm?" he hummed without looking.
"Why don't you just… hire someone to teach me already? You're not even a real teacher…"
He gave a dark chuckle, low and smooth. "Why would I let someone else spend hours alone with you?"
She blinked.
"I'm the only one who should be feeding that little mind of yours, Aiko," he added, his hand tilting her chin toward him. "And you like it that way, don't you?"
Aiko's breath hitched. Her face grew warm.
"…Weirdo," she muttered.
But she didn't pull away.
They read for a while, though every touch—every graze of his knuckles along her skin—burned deeper than any word on the page.
And then—
Silence.
Aiko's body tensed. She was still, almost too still. Her breath slowed. Her pupils dilated.
Ren noticed instantly.
He glanced down, eyes sharp.
Aiko's bottom lip was trembling. Her legs pressed together. Her fingers clutched the hem of her shirt.
"…Aiko?" he murmured, voice suddenly lower, heavier.
She said nothing. Just looked at him with a dazed, pleading expression.
She wanted.
Ren leaned in, brushing his fingers down her flushed cheek.
"Say it."
"I… I want you to touch me," she whispered. "Please…"
He smirked faintly. That's all he needed.
The textbook slid off the bed with a thud.
Their lips met—slow, wet, open-mouthed. Her soft gasp was swallowed by his tongue. Ren deepened the kiss, hand slipping under her shirt and up the curve of her waist, fingers dragging possessively across her bare skin.
His other hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her there as her thighs shifted over his lap, trying to straddle him, shirt riding up, but still clinging shyly to her dignity.
She whimpered into his mouth when his hand curved under the swell of her thigh—his touch hot, rough, claiming.
"You really don't like being ignored, huh?" he murmured against her lips.
She nodded, biting her lip, eyes teary.
"Then don't give me a reason to look away." He added.
But then—
Ding dong.
The doorbell snapped the trance in half.
Aiko gasped softly, eyes wide. She clutched Ren's shirt, not ready to stop.
Ren exhaled through his nose and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Wait here," he murmured. "I won't take long."
She gave a weak nod, chest still rising and falling rapidly.
Ren walked down the hallway and opened the door, greeted by one of the guards. "Sir," the man said with a quick bow, "it's a boy. He looks young—might be a classmate."
Ren's brow twitched. "Let him in."
And there he was—Masahiro. Tall-ish. Slightly flushed. Fidgety fingers. The kind of soft expression that didn't sit well with Ren at all.
"Uh… sorry to bother you," Masahiro said, eyes flicking nervously past Ren's shoulder. "Is Aiko-san okay? She just… stopped coming to school. I got worried."
Ren smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.
"She's preparing to go abroad," he lied easily. "That's why she left so suddenly."
Masahiro blinked. "Oh… she didn't say anything. Is she home now?"
Before Ren could lie again, a voice chirped from behind him:
"Masahiro?"
Ren turned. Jaw clenched as Aiko stood at the end of the hallway, hair slightly tousled, oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder. Her legs were bare and gleaming faintly under the light. Her cheeks still pink.
Masahiro's ears turned red. "A-Aiko! I just… wanted to check in. Are you okay?"
She smiled—warm, familiar. "I'm okay. Thank you for worrying. I'm just… resting at home now."
They chatted for a few moments by the doorway. Nothing much. Small things about classes, teachers, how quiet school was without her.
Ren stood beside her, silent but seething. Every second Aiko smiled at that boy, he counted as a betrayal. And the way Masahiro's gaze kept flicking down to Aiko's exposed thighs didn't help.
After a while, Ren placed a firm hand on Aiko's back, fake smile stretching. "It's getting dark, kid," he said, voice light but edged with threat. "You should go. Aiko will call you later. Right, Aiko?"
His gaze made her skin prickle. She nodded slowly. "Y-Yeah, sure…"
Masahiro smiled awkwardly. "Right… see you then."
He turned to leave, but then—
He froze.
His eyes widened slightly. Because right as he was turning, he caught a glimpse.
Ren's hand, beneath the fabric of Aiko's shirt, fingers curved—groping her bottom.
Masahiro blinked.
The guard slammed the door in his face before the shock could even register.