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Madara:

Once again, I was outside his door, knocking tentatively.

Why am I doing this? It's so DUMB. I should be out looking for Lucas, seducing him, taking him to the secret room and...

There was no answer at the door. I sighed. He was probably asleep at his desk again. I hesitated, but then tried the door once more. I wasn't surprised to find it was open.

"Hello? Hello?! Mr Senju?" I walked in with the tray. "I have some food for you! That you probably don't even want! And don't care for!" I lowered my voice. "You ungrateful bastard..."

There was no answer still, so I walked to the salon with the Christmas tree, where the office area was located in the corner. But he wasn't at his desk, either. I kept looking round, and saw a warm light coming from a door. There was no sound, but I tentatively walked to it. I carefully opened the door, and stopped dead in the doorway, staring.

Inside was the most luxurious bathroom I had ever seen. I'd never been to it before, despite having grown up here, and it blew me away. The tiles were beautifully cream-coloured, and the taps were golden. In the middle of the far-end wall from the door was a gigantic bathtub, and in it sat Hashirama, arms casually slung over the edges, eyes closed, headphones in his ears. The steam was rising in puffs around him, and his skin was glistening with oil. I don't know how long I just stood there and stared, mouth agape, but I just couldn't stop looking.

Finally, Hashirama opened one eye. If he was surprised to see me stand there with a tray, lips glistening, he didn't show it. He took out his headphones.

"Hello", he said and smiled warmly.

"Umm... Hi." Some time passed before I realised he was waiting for me to elaborate. "Oh, umm... I brought you this." I lifted the tray.

"You really shouldn't have. Your family are too kind to me. Madara, thank you."

I looked away and blushed.

"You're welcome", I muttered.








Hashirama:

What a sight.

He stood there, quite tall and gangly but strong, in his alternative clothes, his shiny hair in cascades around his upper body. His lips were glistening, as if he wore lipgloss or had licked his lips over and over. He has an adorable blush on his cheeks that made me want to grab him, clothes on, and pull him into the tub with me.

Why am I thinking this way?

I had never before been very interested in relationships, sexual or any other kind, but things were stirring up inside me, and I was afraid that if I didn't put the lid on, it would start to boil.

Do I want to put the lid on?

I felt awful for the fact that Madara was made to bring me food. It was obvious he was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable, but also something else... Judging by how his eyes darted anywhere but on me, he found the sight of me... What, exactly?

He seemed to snap out of it, and walked towards me with a steady gait, placing the tray on the small table beside the bathtub. Then, he sat down in the edge of the tub as if it was the most natural thing in the world. God, this kid... I looked at him curiously, and he looked at me, seemingly waiting for me to make conversation.

"What do you study?" I asked.

"English literature", I said. "But fuck that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." he sighed. "I don't mind the education, and want to finish it at some point. But what I really want to do is skiing. I know I'm good enough for it. My mum keeps asking me what would happen if I broke my leg and couldn't ski anymore, and didn't have an education to fall back on. But I will have one. Only, I wouldn't use it. I would become a trainer instead. It's such a waste. Not letting me compete."

"They won't let you compete even for fun?" I asked carefully, making sure to not put any weight in the question, making it neutral.

"No", he said, a sad smile on his face, and my heart bled for him. Was this really the same kid who's had smoking hot sex for hours in the middle of the night? He seemed so careful, so timid. I could sense a big heart underneath. He looked at me. "Are you here to ski or to write?"

"You know who I am?" I asked, curious.

"I study English literature on university level. Of course I know who you are."

I smiled. I reached over to grab a bottle of hair oil, took a small amount in my palm, started combing my hair through with my fingers, massaging the citrus-smelling oil in. Madara watched me patiently. "I've never skid before", I said. "I'm here to write."

"So when will you try skiing?"

"Not anytime soon", I said, smiling. "I'm here to work."

Madara crossed his arms defiantly. "Mr Senju, I insist."

I laughed warmly. "Will you teach me?"

"No."

"Then no."

"Oh, come on! You will regret not skiing in the same slopes as me once I win the olympics!"

"You really believe you are of that calibre?"

"You saw me ski! That time I crashed into you! Because you stood in the way, by the way!"

I chuckled. "I honestly only saw you when you were a short distance from me. So I haven't seen you ski." For some reason, the thought of seeing this kid doing his passion filled me with joy, joy and something else I didn't really want to go deeper into. "What is your dream, then? Except winning the olympics?"

Madara looked away and blushed. "The annual Swiss championships."

"When is it?"

"Two weeks from now. Last weekend of my winter break."

"And you can't go?" I asked.

"No."

"Because of your parents?"

"Yes."

"I see."

We were quiet for a while, Madara on the edge of the bathtub, legs crossed, me with my arms slung over the edges. Suddenly, Madara reaches his hand out and grabbed a strand of my hair. "Enjoy breakfast. I'll see you when you ski."

Then, he stood up and left.

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