Just A Little Bit Shy

Confessions in the Dressing Room - 20 (Part 1)

Haru needs to be banned from teasing Y/n. God, I really can't tease him; he doesn't get it. He tells me I look nice when I tell him to say it, he seriously considers such a terrible offer when Haru is just being horrible and perverted — offering to go into the changing room with him, what is wrong with him — Haru swears it was a joke, a tease, he didn't actually mean it.

...Until he saw the look on Y/n's face when he said it.

And then Haru was just so startled by the sudden reappearance of the salesgirl, Carla, and the other person with her that he — he acted on impulse. He didn't even think, really, before he just shoved Y/n inside and then shut the door, locking them both in together. And Y/n. The (h/c) boy was still pressed against the mirror, his expression startled, which only served to soften his usually impassive features and add that shade of innocence to his face. The kind that really, truly, made Haru feel starved.

Haru covered his face with his hands. How the fuck was he going to get through this without ruining their friendship entirely? But... Haru spread his fingers, peeking at Y/n. The (h/c) boy wanted him in here, he didn't seem at all uncomfortable with the idea, and — despite all that shyness, God, Y/n really trusts me. And Haru knew that was what it was. The girls he had fooled around with before, yes, some were certainly shy, but if they had tugged him into a dressing room, there would be no doubt about their intentions. They would be flirting, making out in seconds — similar to all those times Haru had done that, in an empty room or closet, away from the rest of their mutual friends.

But unlike all of them, there was no salaciousness in Y/n's soft, unsure, "Could you?" (Could you stay in here with me?). Instead, it was almost painful in its purity and Haru just wanted to close the distant between them rapidly, he wanted to bring that salaciousness to this situation; wanted to saturate the air with it; he wanted to see Y/n's expression then, when Y/n realized Haru's tongue was halfway down his fucking throat. When Y/n realized there could be nothing innocent between them. When Haru had his hands on Y/n's shirt, tearing it off him, finally free to explore all that warm skin beneath. When Haru pressed a thigh between Y/n's legs until the muscles weakened enough to let it through. What would Y/n's face look like then, when Haru finally had him where he wanted him to be?

Would the (h/c) boy finally understand then? What it means to say that kind of stuff to him?

Haru's thoughts sidetracked the moment Y/n took a hesitant, small step away from the mirror (and when it had shuddered, when Haru pushed him right up against it —). The (h/c) boy was practically wringing his shirt with his hands, teeth chewing on his bottom lip, and face ridiculously flushed.

"S-Sorry," Y/n whispered. "I," and here the (h/c) boy inhaled audibly, "I know you didn't want to be in here with me, but..."

I do, I do, I do... it's all I want.

"T-Thanks," Y/n continued, suddenly unable to meet Haru's eyes any longer. Those (e/c) eyes dropped to the floor as the (h/c) boy confessed, quieter, "You — it makes me feel better..."

And that's the problem, isn't it? That's why Haru can't just ravish Y/n, can't teach him such a cruel lesson by practically forcing himself on the (h/c) boy. Because Y/n isn't some one-off girl, who would've already smeared her lipstick over his mouth.

Y/n is... everything.

"Come here," Haru's voice trembled; it felt very precarious, very dangerous, to have to restrain himself this much. "Come here," he ordered again, and Y/n obliged finally, quietly coming to stand by Haru — and Haru instantly reached out and grabbed a fistful of the (h/c) boy's shirt. It was hard not to visualize what it would look like off.