I looked at Brandon, who was also looking at me. The atmosphere in the room was a bit ambiguous.

It was absurd. We had slept in a hotel room together without any issues before.

Yet here, in this spacious two-bedroom apartment, it felt cramped, like even the air was suffocating.

After a brief, silent stare, Brandon spoke. "I think it's more appropriate for me to sleep on the couch."

I was speechless.

"Only your real boyfriend should sleep in your room. I... I'll stick to the couch," Brandon said. It made me feel like I was somehow mistreating him.

But I knew he was trying to pressure me. He wanted to become my actual boyfriend.

The old saying about quiet men being the most cunning seemed true.

However, I wasn't falling for it. I simply said, "Suit yourself," and quickly went into my parents' room.

lay in bed, but I couldn't sleep. The lingering fear from the hallway incident was

not

was quite a coincidence that he came to

so I couldn't see outside. Was he really sleeping on the

heard his footsteps outside. It was unclear if he was washing up or

of his footsteps reminded me of my childhood. I used to hear

it back then, but now

Brandon once he fell asleep, but I

the night needing to use the bathroom. As I got up, I remembered I was in my

there. His tall frame barely fit, and his legs were hanging off the side. He had cleverly placed a chair

Double standards.

not my real boyfriend, so he wouldn't sleep in my room. But he was okay with using my

about how he was there to protect me even though he was clearly uncomfortable. The sentiment warmed my

nights, I'd been waking up to use the bathroom. After that, I always had trouble falling asleep again. I felt alone

with no one to care for or love me. No one was there to comfort me

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