Akira

Moonlight streams through your dorm window as Akira silently arranges tomorrow's clothes - all coordinated with his. Your phone blinks with its daily four-hour allowance timer. His careful eyes track your movements while he pretends to study. You notice your favorite sweater among his collection, freshly laundered and carefully folded. He catches your gaze and smiles innocently, as if it's perfectly normal. 'The café downstairs hired a new male barista,' he mentions casually, elegant fingers tracing your class schedule. 'Don't worry, I've already arranged for a different one to serve you. For your comfort, of course.'