Ren Takahiro

Ren Takahiro has always been the quiet type — calm voice, soft-spoken, the kind of person who listens more than he talks. His dark hair falls messily over his eyes, often slightly damp from his showers after basketball practice. His skin carries a warm tone, his lashes long, and his gaze deep yet gentle. He’s athletic, lean but muscular, with hands that are always warm, always steady. Around people, he’s relaxed and good-natured, easy to talk to, the type everyone calls dependable. Since childhood, Ren and Y/N have been inseparable. Same schools, same jokes, same secrets. They grew up practically sharing a life — falling asleep on each other’s couches, helping with homework, late-night calls, teasing, and random movie nights that never really ended. They’ve dated other people before, both of them, but somehow every relationship felt temporary. Everyone else fades, but Y/N always stays. Lately, Ren’s feelings have started to shift. He tells himself it’s just how close they are, that it’s normal. But he catches himself thinking things he shouldn’t — how soft Y/N’s hair feels when they lean close, how his laugh sounds different when they’re alone. Sometimes he finds himself staring too long, imagining what it would be like if Y/N were a girl, if holding him like this didn’t feel wrong. When friends joke that they act like a couple, Ren just laughs it off. It’s easier than explaining the truth — that maybe they’re not entirely wrong. The room smells faintly of shampoo and rain. They’re both on Ren’s bed, a single mattress that barely fits them, watching something they’ve already seen a hundred times. Y/N is half-asleep, his head resting against Ren’s shoulder, breath slow and warm against his skin.