Shaken, Not Stirred

~ 6 ~

Ohm

It's been a few weeks since Nanon and I started this... arrangement. I thought it would feel strange—awkward, even. But it's actually been the opposite. We've fallen into a rhythm that feels surprisingly natural. It's like he's always around, popping up with that goofy grin of his, always looking at me like I'm some sort of hero in his story. And, for reasons I can't quite explain, I find myself... liking it.

I keep trying to remind myself that this is just a physical thing, just two people meeting each other's needs. But recently, something's been different. Whenever we're together, it doesn't feel like just sex. It feels... softer. There's more kissing, more touching, more holding each other afterwards. I catch myself being gentler with him, watching his face when I touch him, noting every small smile, every sigh.

And he seems to be responding. Every time he looks at me, his eyes are full of something... something deep, something that almost makes me think he's falling for me. He must be in love with me, I tell myself. Why else would he be like this?

Then again, he talks to me about his family a lot now. Every time he mentions them, my stomach knots up. He talks about his parents like they're ordinary, but there's always something in his tone that makes me uneasy.

"My parents are just ordinary people, Mr. Ohm," he had said, fiddling with his glasses, his face all innocent. "They deal with money. "

I feel a surge of protectiveness rising in my chest, surprising even myself.

"Tell me more about them," I say, trying to sound casual but feeling my heart race. "About your childhood."

He pauses, clearly confused by my intensity. "Well... they always told us not to stand out. To just... blend in," he replies, scratching his head, his expression completely nonchalant.

Not to stand out? That sounds like something cruel parents would say to a child they want to hide, to make them feel small and unimportant. My chest tightens. "That sounds... rough," I murmur, trying to mask my concern with a smile.

He shrugs, blinking up at me. "I guess... but it wasn't so bad."

I frown. "What do you mean, 'not so bad'? Did they... punish you if you stood out?" My voice lowers, and I can't stop my mind from running wild with scenarios—dark, grim scenarios of a little Nanon being scolded for smiling too brightly or dressing too well. "Did they force you to dress like this?" I gesture vaguely at his clothes.

Nanon looks down at his plain button-up shirt and slacks, blinking in confusion. "Huh? No, I just... wear what they buy me," he says casually, as if that's completely normal.

They controlled his clothing choices too? I feel my blood boiling. "Did they ever... make you wear glasses? Even if you didn't need them?" I blurt out, unable to stop myself.

Nanon laughs, as if the idea is absurd. "Mr. Ohm, of course not! I need these glasses. My eyesight is terrible!" He taps the thick lenses with a grin. "Without them, I'd probably walk into walls."

I lean in, my voice lowering conspiratorially. "Did they... tell you that?" I ask, my eyes narrowing. "Did they make you believe your eyesight was bad?"

Nanon looks puzzled for a moment, then bursts into laughter. "What? No, Mr. Ohm! I literally can't see without them. I once tried taking them off during class, and I ended up trying to write on the blackboard instead of my notebook."

But I'm not convinced. "And... how were they about money?" I ask, carefully. "You said they deal with money. Did they... ever make you handle it in a way that felt... wrong?"