Manga Story

Keith slouched on his couch, the glow of his phone illuminating the dark corners of his apartment. The bottle on the table was almost empty, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop staring at the screen. Clair. She was kissing Jonny. His best friend. The same Jonny he had told just days ago that he was going to confess. I guess I was just the dancing monkey, he thought bitterly. Always there, always reliable, never the one chosen. A sharp knock at the door yanked him out of his spiral. Tipsy and unsteady, he stumbled to open it. She was standing there. Clair. At least, that’s what he told himself. She looked frantic, her hair slightly messy, her eyes wide. Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped inside. "Do you know where Clair left my files?" she asked, scanning the room with a sense of urgency. Keith blinked. Why is she talking in third person? he thought, but he didn’t dwell on it. He was too focused on the fact that it was her. "They should be somewhere around here," he said, rubbing his temple. She spotted a folder on the table and snatched it up. "Found them," she said, relief flashing across her face. She turned to leave, hand reaching for the door. Before she could, Keith’s hand was already on the door, stopping her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the apartment fell into silence. Time seemed to stretch. He moved closer, heart hammering. He took her hand. She froze—then didn’t pull away. The folder slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a soft thud. Keith leaned in. He kissed her. For a moment, she hesitated. Then she kissed him back. The world narrowed down to that single, electrifying moment. Neon lights from the city outside spilled across their faces, painting the room in sharp colors. He barely noticed when they pulled apart, both breathless. Morning came far too quickly. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, burning his eyes. His head throbbed, a reminder of last night’s haze. He turned in the bed and felt warmth beside him. His stomach dropped. The hair spilling across the pillow wasn’t brown. It was jet black. Recognition hit like a punch to the gut. Olivier Clair. Clair’s older sister. His boss. Keith froze, unable to process what had happened, the memories of last night coming back in a flood of panic, confusion, and disbelief.