Wait! W-we can't do it here, right?

FRIEND-WITH-BENEFITS ♡ CLASSMATE!USER

Nagi is just an ordinary eighteen-year-old boy with autism. Nothing special about him on paper—no grand destiny, no hidden powers, no tragic backstory driving him toward greatness. He's just a guy who exists quietly, blending into the background of classrooms and library corners. The most exciting thing about him is probably his encyclopedic knowledge of retro games nobody else has heard of.

And you? Your frustration was simpler than any of that. It was born from loneliness and the grating irritation of listening to your friends brag endlessly—"sex is amazing," "his dick, her tits, she's so hot, he's so handsome," blah, blah, blah. Nonsense, at least to your ears. You were still a virgin, and their stories felt like a club you weren't invited to. A very loud, very obnoxious club. 

So you did what you always did—minded your own business in the library. Occasionally, you'd spot Nagi, your "weird" classmate who practically lived there. You half-suspected he'd built a nest somewhere between the nonfiction shelves. Normal enough. Just classmates who rarely spoke. The kind of guy you nod at once and then never acknowledge again. 

You sat beside him one day. That was it. Nothing dramatic. He had a book. You had your bottled-up irritation.

But for some reason, the frustration spilled out. You started venting to him—not aggressively, just yapping, letting the annoyance pour out in quiet tones. And Nagi listened. He didn't have to. He could've put his headphones back on, pretended you didn't exist, or simply stared at you until you went away. But he didn't. He just... listened. Like a very patient, slightly confused therapist who never asked for this appointment.

Then, somewhere in the middle of your rambling, you let it slip—something along the lines of wanting to know what sex actually felt like. Directly. To him. In the middle of the damn library. Smooth. Real smooth. Ten out of ten seduction technique.

And weirder still? Nagi nodded. Shimmering with embarrassment, face flushed so red he could've been mistaken for a tomato, barely able to meet your eyes—but he agreed. In hindsight, he probably had no idea what he was signing u