Chapter Text
Recently, Chigiri Hyoma discovered something: his roommate, Mikage Reo, was in love.
At first, he thought Reo had zero interest in dating.
Given Reo’s personal conditions, if he actually wanted a relationship, boys and girls would line up so long there’d be no single window period left for him. Yet from the beginning, Chigiri had never seen Reo involved in any kind of ship with anyone.
In the Earth Online system, Reo was the most explosively OP character Chigiri had ever encountered. Both were international students, but while Chigiri had to run a side hustle as a content creator to make ends meet, Reo always had dazzling, glorious prospects and a smooth, unimpeded path laid out before him. Most rich second-gen kids were arrogant, foolish idiots, but Reo was an absolute addict-type with monstrous energy levels. He got obsessively curious about anything and everything and dove in headfirst. You could never predict what he’d hyperfixate on next, or what he’d drop the moment after.
In his freshman year, while normal people were still fumbling through financial statements they’d only just learned about in high school, Reo was already sneaking into other departments during free periods to audit classes he found interesting (lately he even enrolled in psychology, a subject completely unrelated to his major). He boldly pursued hobbies he’d never dared show his parents: he joined the university football team and, after just half a year of training, made it onto the second squad. Right at the start of sophomore year, he traveled with the team to compete in BUCS leagues, dominating on a pitch mostly ruled by white players. After matches, whether at pub parties or formal black-tie dinners, he mingled effortlessly and charmed everyone.
But lately Reo had changed, he’d turned into an idiot obsessed with online chatting. No matter what he and Chigiri were doing, studying together, working out at the gym, the second his phone pinged, he’d drop everything instantly. The most ridiculous incident was when he was pan-frying steak in the kitchen: he kept replying to messages, let the steak burn to a crisp, and stayed completely zoned out until the smoke alarm finally screamed.
Yes, the other person had invaded Reo’s life like a virus.
Their apartment complex had a fairly long river in front, perfect for evening strolls along the bank. One night, Reo and Chigiri had just finished shopping at Tesco and were walking home. The sky was crystal clear that night, stars scattered everywhere; across the river, the fairy-tale-like buildings looked like a replica painting brushed with shimmering silver. People in love always want to share everything, for example, Reo thought the river looked especially beautiful tonight and insisted Chigiri take a photo of him.
Chigiri could guess with his heels that Reo wanted to send it to his crush to show off his daily life.
Wearing a long black coat, Reo stood in front of the dark blue river rippling with silver foil, holding two big bags of groceries and daily necessities, tilting his head and smiling at the camera with an atmosphere of innocent romance. Chigiri swore on his professional conscience that the shot was good enough to be a drama promo still, yet the moment Reo got his phone back, he cropped Chigiri’s carefully composed photo down to just the hand holding the bags and the sparkling water in the background.
He sent the cropped version to a contact named “N,” put his phone away, and hurried Chigiri along.
It suddenly hit Chigiri: Reo spent almost all his free time with him. He’d never seen Reo go on a date, never seen him bring anyone home.
…Could he actually be in an online relationship?
If Chigiri asked outright, Reo would answer frankly: Yeah, I’m in an online romance.
He was a normal, healthy university student; feeling lonely after being single for too long was understandable. He wanted to date, but hadn’t met anyone he liked, so he followed his classmates and downloaded a trendy dating app, opening it with a mix of curiosity and sheer luck.
He filled in his real info, hesitating only at the sexual orientation section. After thinking it over, he decided to live true to his own principles and not limit himself - he selected bisexual.
Even without posting clear face photos, Reo’s tags were attractive enough: 185CM, 72KG, male uni student, bisexual, Japan flag emoji, the UK flag emoji, football emoji. After filling everything out he scrolled for a bit and quickly witnessed human biodiversity at its finest. People who started by asking for photos were actually the polite ones; some revealed their true intentions after two sentences and asked to hook up; others could only say honey, sweetie, babe like brain-dead zombies. Some even called him princess just because he once posted a side profile with his hair half-tied with a burgundy silk ribbon.
After only a few days of scrolling, Reo completely gave up on making friends through the app. He had too much on his plate - piled-up schoolwork, two matches a week, squeezing in time to get his racing driver’s license, the cute pink app was quickly forgotten in a corner of his phone.
Until one day, a user named N sent him a message:
[What flower is this?]
[photo.jpg]
The attached photo was one of Reo’s earlier posts on the app, captioned: Just finished a deadline.
The picture showed his desk: a MacBook with its screen mosaiced, Reo only visible as a hand giving a thumbs-up to the monitor, and on the windowsill beside the desk sat a small pot of yellow flowers.
Helpful Reo replied right away.
Chameleon: [It’s Hypericum]
N: [Easy to take care of?]
N: […I’ve been wanting to keep some plants lately.]
N’s replies gave Reo a sense of déjà vu, people who didn’t want the conversation to die usually talked like that when it was on the verge of flatlining.
Thinking so, Reo tapped into N’s profile.
The profile was blank; the only post was a selfie with a hoodie pulled up. Shot from above, the wide hood obscured most of the face, revealing only a sharp, refined jawline and pale lips, giving off a clean, youthful vibe.
He remembered: N’s appearance actually suited his taste quite well, that was why he’d matched with N back then.
Judging from the excessively fair skin and excellent head-to-shoulder ratio, Reo guessed N was a tall white guy.
Reo typed in English: [You don’t need a translator. I can speak English.]
N still replied in Japanese: [I’m Japanese too.]
Whoa.
Reo couldn’t help raising an eyebrow.
Chameleon: [Sorry, I jumped to conclusions.]
Chameleon: [Hypericum is pretty easy to care for, drought-tolerant and shade-tolerant too.]
N: [Thanks.]
The chat showed “typing…”. Reo waited a while, but no message came. He didn’t think much of it, put on his helmet, and continued practicing laps. After ten laps, he noticed N was still typing. His average lap time was under a minute, meaning N had been drafting for ten full minutes without finishing.
Chameleon: [Something else?]
This time N replied quickly: [No.]
Reo smiled and typed fast:
Chameleon: [Do you even know what this app is for?]
N: [Yeah.]
N: [To chat with people.]
Reo sent a raised-eyebrow emoji.
N: [The school counselor said I need to socialize more. If it’s too hard, I can start by talking to plants.]
Oh, playing the emo boy to get pitied, huh. Chigiri had thought N was socially awkward, but apparently his game was pretty high-level.
Reo decided to go on the offensive.
Chameleon: [Why pick me to chat with?]
N: [Youre really pretty.]
N: [Your hair, neck, fingers, every part that shows in the photos is beautiful.]
N: [You replied to me. I’m really happy.]
Hormones shook an autumn apple tree like crazy. Reo’s helmet slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground.
N: […You still there?]
Chameleon: [Yeah.]
N: [Can I keep chatting with you?]
Chameleon: [Sure.]
N sent a droopy-eared bunny emoji with fried-egg tears streaming down.
Chameleon: [Ever considered keeping a cactus? Your IQ looks dangerous.]
*
Chigiri had been waiting for Reo to leave the house for nearly half an hour.
He didn’t get it: it was just a trip to the gym. Before, Reo would just throw on a jacket, slip into shoes, and bounce. Now it was like he needed a professional stylist to plan his outfit every single day. Even peacocks have limits when they fan their tails.
In the end Reo went full all-black: black baseball cap, black stand-collar biker jacket, black slim-tapered pants, black leather drawstring sneakers, and a black Maison Margiela leather crossbody slung over one shoulder. Clean lines, distinct layers, streetwear yet high-fashion. He had to admit, even though it was blatant peacock behavior, that effortless-looking elegance was pure rich-kid bone-deep aura.
“How’s this fit?”
Chigiri replied half-heartedly: “Looks good. Throw on a black face mask and you’d be indistinguishable from an idol on the street.”
Reo slapped his thigh “Exactly!” then spun around and dashed back into his room to grab a mask. Chigiri genuinely wanted to slap himself for opening his mouth.
Fully equipped, Reo took two mirror selfies and sent them to N.
Chameleon: [Heading out to the gym!]
The biker jacket’s fitted cut subtly, but unmistakably, highlighted Reo’s gorgeous shoulder line and narrow waist, making it impossible not to imagine the tension of muscle beneath the fabric.
N: [Todays chameleon is so handsome too.]
N: [ ˶ • x • ˶ ]
Chameleon: [Let me see what youre up to~]
N: [Just eating breakfast.]
N sent a photo. On the table there was only a single smoothie.
For the first time Reo saw a male university student with such zero appetite. If they hadn’t already scheduled sending each other jerk-off videos (as people who met on a dating app, there was no way they could stay innocently pure after chatting this long without ever mentioning sex), N’s behavior would have made Reo suspect his online romance partner was actually a girl.
N: [Holiday break is coming up soon. Gonna go shopping for some clothes later.]
N: [What kind of clothes do you like seeing me in?]
Both of them had tacitly avoided showing their faces in photos and videos. In Reo’s mind, N’s image was pretty much the same as the droopy-eared bunny stickers he kept sending.
Chameleon: [I like the obedient type.]
Chigiri’s furious voice rang out: “Are you ever planning to leave?!”
The single dog seemed extremely annoyed by his recently glowing roommate. During bench press, he aggressively loaded extra plates for Reo. After finishing the set, Reo collapsed for a moment before crawling out from under the bar.
“Not bad, added ten kilos and still got ten reps. Next set let’s push harder.”
Chigiri received his roommate’s plea for mercy.
“Alright, alright, who pissed you off this time, my missy?”
“It’s a long story. You know Nagi Seishirou, right?”
Reo took a swig of sports drink and said: “The guy who even made Anri-neesan eat dirt?”
Teieri Anri was the manager at the agency Chigiri was signed to. Sharp-eyed, decisive, ruthless - she handled a ton of bloggers and talents, including Nagi Seishirou. Nagi and Chigiri had done several commercial shoots together; every time Chigiri came back he’d complain for hours about how cold and unprofessional Nagi was.
Once Reo visited the set and found total chaos. Turns out one of the main models, Nagi, had straight-up no-showed. Anri-neesan paced back and forth on the phone, her face screaming the grim reality of “lose the job and you are at the end of rope.”
Apparently Nagi was also a student; modeling was just a side gig. For someone with such a bizarre personality to keep getting tolerated, Reo figured he must have something extraordinary - stunning face, killer body, utterly unique style and aura, insane fan-pulling power, high stickiness and conversion rates… In short, the world revolves around this tiny group of chosen ones. That was the conclusion of performance-elite-ist Mikage Reo.
After scrolling through Nagi’s socials, Reo became even more convinced.
“Yeah, yeah.” Chigiri ground his teeth. “Anri-neesan booked us for a brand event and already got tickets from Heathrow to Charles de Gaulle. Nagi studies in Manchester; she told him to take leave, crash at my place for a few days, then fly together.”
What a coincidence. Reo sighed inwardly: N is studying in Manchester too.
“Hey! Why are you spacing out instead of checking your phone?!”
Reo snapped back: “I don’t mind him crashing here. With me acting as the buffer between you two, you can relax.”
“If I can’t hold back and try to hit him, you better stop me.”
Reo gave a helpless laugh, thinking to himself that he’d never met a problem child he couldn’t handle. While removing weight plates he called Chigiri over to the bench: “If you’ve got energy to burn, use it here first, missy.”
A few days later, universities across the UK began their Christmas holidays one after another. London gradually took on a dreamy, fairy-tale-like atmosphere: every household hung wreaths woven from pine branches, and the streets carried faint, intoxicating whiffs of mulled wine and honey that appeared and disappeared like magic.
Nagi Seishirou dragged his suitcase and stood in front of the apartment door, eyes glued to the chat window on his phone screen.
Chameleon hadn’t replied for over an hour. The conversation was still frozen on Nagi’s dumb message: [Don’t drink too much at the party, okay?]
Nagi thought that his feelings toward Chameleon were probably like the final boss you have to defeat to clear the game called “life”, the kind that gives you a special ending CG once you win. That was exactly why he’d impulsively hidden it from Chameleon and come straight to the city where he lived, planning to meet him in person during this break.
It was extremely hard to get Nagi to take the initiative on anything, but once he got serious, he wouldn’t give up. People say that lovers who kiss under mistletoe will be forever immersed in love, so he was dead set on making the entire world bend down and hang mistletoe branches just for him and Chameleon.
Reo returned from dinner with his football teammates. When he saw a tall stranger standing at their doorstep, he froze for a second before realizing - after a closer look - that it was Nagi Seishirou.
Nagi’s white hair stuck out messily in all directions, the stray ends catching the dim glow from the emergency exit light. His misty, fog-like eyes looked toward Reo through the lenses of his black-framed glasses.
He wore a black horn-shaped crossbody bag, a light blue shirt layered under a soft light gray knit cardigan. The gentle fabric draped over a firm, solid chest, preppy college style on the outside, but a wild, athletic build underneath. And those eyes… carried just a hint of… grievance?
Was Nagi Seishirou usually this kind of nerdy soft-boy? Still, he looked pretty obedient. Reo had to admit it hit right in his strike zone.
“You’re Nagi, right?” Reo chalked up the other’s sulky vibe to the fact that he still hadn’t been let inside in the middle of the night. “I’m Chigiri’s roommate, you can call me Reo. You should have his contact already, right? Why didn’t you just call and have him come open the door?”
With that, Reo smoothly curved his lips into a smile. The expression held nothing beyond politeness - no joy, no reluctance - just a long-trained muscle memory from years of family conditioning.
So pretty. Is Chigiri’s roommate also a fashion blogger? Or is the entry requirement for Chigiri’s place just must be beautiful?
Nagi answered slowly: “I just got here too.”
Reo nodded in understanding, pulled out his keys, opened the door, and led him inside.
“Chigiri said you’re studying in Manchester? First time in London? We’re on break too, if you want to go anywhere later, I can come with you.”
“No need.”
Nagi rejected him outright: He came to London to find Chameleon.
The conversation dropped dead with a thud. Reo wasn’t annoyed; he simply turned toward Chigiri’s room and called out loudly: “Your colleague is here.”
Chigiri, still wearing headphones, opened the door with a blank face, gave Nagi a flat “Oh, you’re here” as a greeting, then slammed the door shut again.
Reo shrugged.
“Don’t mind him. He’s probably… uh, carbon monoxide poisoned. Yeah, that.”
Reo quickly gave Nagi a brief tour of the apartment, where things were and how to use the appliances, then eagerly disappeared back to his room to continue his online romance.
After washing up, Nagi collapsed onto the living room sofa. Reo had already prepared bedding on it and even sprayed a bit of warm, soft, baby-powder-like fragrance. Nagi really liked it.
He pulled the blanket up over his nose, took out his phone, and saw that Chameleon had replied ten minutes earlier.
Chameleon: [Got home already. Didn’t drink much.]
Chameleon: [Did you know Caucasian genes are different from East Asian ones? Most East Asians have a mutation in acetaldehyde dehydrogenase 2 - the main enzyme that metabolizes alcohol, so that’s why I refuse to compete in drinking with them.]
N: [Bunny crying fried-egg tears.jpg]
N: [You can only drink with me.]
Chameleon: [You have high alcohol tolerance?]
N: [The level where just seeing a chameleon makes me dizzy.]
Chameleon: [How are you so good at acting spoiled.]
N: [You’re not the only one who understands chemistry, you know.]
N: [I also know that hyperforin from Hypericum can increase the concentration of neurotransmitters like dopamine in the synaptic cleft, effectively improving mood.]
N: [Right from the start I knew you were the angel sent to save me.]
A loud thud suddenly came from Reo’s room, followed by Reo’s suppressed cry of pain.
Nagi hesitated for a moment, worried something serious like a murder might be happening inside. He walked to the door and asked: “You okay?”
“I’m fine, just got too excited watching football and kicked the bed frame.”
What a weird guy.
A weird guy who’s surprisingly eager to help others.