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.

I couldn't sleep. The lingering

not have been enough, and the consequences could have been

coincidence that he came

closed, so I couldn't see outside. Was he really sleeping

he was washing up or doing something else. Either way, he hadn't

my childhood. I used to hear my parents move around

it back then, but now

once he fell asleep,

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

at the couch on my way out and saw him sleeping there. His tall frame barely fit, and his legs were hanging off the side. He had cleverly placed a chair for his feet but was

Double standards.

boyfriend, so he wouldn't sleep in my room. But he was

about how he was there to protect me even

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

world had abandoned me, with no one to care for or

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