Just A Little Bit Shy

Deafening Pressure - 5

"...H-Hi."

Y/n could not believe the word left his mouth. For the (h/c) boy, the morning had so far passed in a series of high-tension sensations. There was the jolt of his heart when Ahane called out a greeting to him. There was the internal conflict — Y/n had promised himself he would greet Ahane properly today, but the part of his brain responsible for speech seemed to abruptly shut down. His tongue felt swollen and uncooperative in his mouth and a cold sweat was beading up on Y/n's skin. He was all too aware of Ahane's approach — his nails bit into the material of his bag's straps before he forced himself to pause; to turn. Y/n's jaw was set in a vicious clench, expecting to see Ahane's... friends.

But the world came to a dizzying standstill when Y/n realized Ahane was alone. It was hard to look directly at the other boy, especially when Y/n's eyes kept seeking out rationality. Ahane is never alone, this was a mere fact of life. One that may have left Y/n's throat burning as if he had swallowed acid, but a truth the (h/c) boy had painstakingly endured nevertheless.

But all of Y/n's thoughts ceased the moment Haru smiled at him.

"Hi," the other boy was beaming. "Hi, Y/n."

Y/n's hands practically strangled his bag now. There was a terrible cruelty about Ahane's smile. Its sheer magnitude always seemed to convey far more fondness and delight than what was truly there. The boy smiled at everyone, greeted everyone, and treated everyone as if they were his favorite person in the world. Y/n was no stranger to the other boy's personable behavior. It was present from the moment they met in elementary school — a time Ahane likely could not recall, but a memory Y/n was too familiar with; too fond of — and it was present now. The (h/c) boy's hands dropped, and Y/n's eyes traveled away.

Ahane's benevolence was not indefinite, especially for someone like Y/n. Yet, just as the (h/c) boy was about to move away, continue along through his day, mind never straying away from theories on how to speak more with Ahane without — without being called a freak —

Y/n didn't want to be that to the other boy; he didn't care what everyone else thought. But Ahane —

Y/n felt it long before Ahane's touch fell upon him. He could sense the air move, could feel the approaching body heat, and the sensation of Ahane's fingers skimming along the small hairs of his arm long before Ahane's hand closed down around his flesh. It gave Y/n enough preparation to not flinch or move, but he couldn't breathe.

His instinct, when he usually felt someone try to touch him, was always aggression. Y/n was not used to being touched without harmful intent. It was a rare occasion that he felt contact from another in a situation that did not immediately call for a violent reaction on his part. Y/n's instinct was always to snap bone, to slice through rebellious flesh. The people who touched Y/n now were his victims. Those ones who fought. And in such circumstances, there remained nothing but Y/n's vicious need to cull. But the impulse was not present when Ahane touched him, and Y/n was left to stall.

The skin where Ahane was touching him, grabbing firmly onto his forearm... was warm. Y/n could feel his flesh squeeze between Ahane's fingers, he could feel the slight impression of the other boy's phalange bones and he... marveled at the sensation. Ahane's skin was oddly soft, tenderized by self-care rituals and high quality moisturizer. Y/n could smell it on him, faint and sweet. He felt dizzied by it. He also felt insecure about his own skin, which was unbearably cold and likely rough. He spent too much time in the meat locker and the slaughterhouse; both locations always had the temperature frigidly low. Ahane had to notice, how ice-cold, clammy and unpleasant his skin was —

Y/n was left uncertain about what to do. This was not a butchery or a slaughter. This was a kind touch encircling his arm. From a boy he now realized he wanted to be touched by. And Haru's hand was very soft and kind.