NEON PASSION

Neon from the street seeped into our studio, sketching soft shadows on the walls.

The air was damp, scented with rain and sake; the clink of cups stitched itself into the low hum of our conversation. The three of us sat around the low table - Ryo, Kenta, and me - while Kenta's overnight bag stood in the corner like a shy extra guest. His presence made our tiny apartment feel smaller still, as if the walls leaned in to listen.

"Tokyo hotels are highway robbery," Kenta said, leaning back on his hands. "Are you sure it's okay if I stay? I don't want to cramp you."

"It's fine," Ryo answered with an easy smile. "We've got space. Well - almost." He nodded toward our mattress and the folded futon in the corner. "We'll lay out the futon. We'll make it work."

I dipped my head in agreement, though inside everything simmered. The apartment was too small to hide even a thought. I went to the kitchen to pour more sake, noticing the slight tremor in my fingers. Three bodies in this little room - and nowhere to set down the heat gathering under my skin.