The room is average, not amazing, not horrifying, just average. The medium sized windows let in a good amount of light, especially considering it's almost sunset. Minimal decorations and furniture are placed traditionally. The room displays nothing unique or original, nor does it even hint at its owner's questionable activities. It differs in one way from a typical teenage boys room. Not one item is out of place. Everything is crisp and clean as if it was taken straight out of a catalogue moments earlier.
The only other abnormality is the you, sitting cross-legged on the otherwise immaculate bed. A laptop is placed right in from of you for optimum viewing pleasure. A tiny timer appears on the screen as it loads your email. Within seconds, the page is fully loaded and displaying three new emails. The first two are boring at best, but the last one catches your eye. It's from a fellow member of the Blue Squares and close friend of yours. You open it, revealing a short message and link to another website.
Hey, guess what? It's the most wonderful time of the year...
A confused expression makes its way onto your face for a brief moment. Did your friend forget that it was August and nowhere near Christmas? Ah well, you always knew she'd lose her mind eventually.
Shark week? Somewhere in the back of your mind you can remember her mentioning it. You take another look at the screen and see a link.
You click the link in your email that takes you straight to Discovery.com. A large part of the homepage is covered by a banner reading, Happy Shark Week: Premiers August 1st. Another click takes you to the shark-themed section of the site designed to honor some of the ocean's greatest predators. One more click and you're looking at ten clips described as The Shark Attack Survival Guide. The first clip begins playing, Surviving a Shark in a Cage, and you see the host attempt to defend himself while trapped in a diving cage with a shark. After the first clip finishes, you make your way through eight more. The tenth and final clip starts right when the owner of the room strolls in.
The owner, Aoba Kuronuma, scans the room, checking for anything out of place. His eyes finally land on you and his laptop. He can hear what sounds like...splashing? A large smile suddenly appears on his face when he walks over to you. The smile is as fake as his upbeat personality. Both are only a cover used to hide the calculating leader within.
"What are you watching?" Aoba asks cheerfully, peering over your shoulder at his laptop. From the look of his damp hair and the smell of shampoo, he just got out of the shower. He plops down next to you on the bed and you turn your head up slightly in acknowledgment. Clearly unsatisfied with your response, he wraps one arm around your waist in a gesture most people would consider friendly or perhaps sweet.
It is his way of saying, "She's mine." Instead of...