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21: not a good person

21: not a good person
Alt. Title: The most difficult thing he had ever done was to control his urges.

The restaurant was packed full of tourists and visitors. Chatters and laughters filled the room, even cries and accusing voices of children. On the second floor balcony, Yua Shihori and Okkotsu Yuuta sat at a round table. Few people sat at other tables, only because this area was for VIPs.

Yet, those few people couldn't help but glance over their table.

"Hori-san, take a bite?"

The man, whose hair was pulled back by a headband, had eyes as green as sage, like moss near the sea. They watched how the man paused from picking up rice, glancing at the youth beside him, before lowering his head to take the piece of peeled shrimp the other party gave him.

"Is it good?" They all heard the youth ask, his voice sounding doting.

"... good."

"Then, I'll peel some more for you, Hori-san."

Yua Shihori gripped the chopsticks with trembling fingers. The youth's smile, his indulging tone, and the hand resting on his thigh underneath the table; it made Shihori jittery. "Y, Yuuta-kun, your hand." His voice came out soft and shaky, afraid that someone would overhear him. When Yuuta's smile turned even brighter, Shihori almost dropped the chopsticks.

"Hm? What hand, Hori-san?"

The hand squeezed and Shihori almost jumped and turned the table upside down. Shihori pursed his lips, the tip of his ears a pleasing shade of red. The Yuuta right now was not someone he recognized. He seemed more... liberated, freer than how he usually appeared. And it was this version of Yuuta that made him so nervous.

"N, Nothing."

Yuuta smiled from ear to ear, causing Shihori to stare at him in stupefaction. He only snapped out of it when a peeled shrimp touched his lips.

"Eat."

Without a smidge of hesitance, Shihori ate the entire thing.

To outsiders, there were imaginary bubbles floating behind them.

Something slid up Shihori's thigh and he couldn't help but bite the inside of his cheeks. It was Yuuta's hand, going from the middle of the thigh up into his inner thigh. He almost bent over to cry out when the youth's fingers brushed against his crotch.

Shihori was just about to excuse himself to the bathroom when a shadow loomed over him.

"Hi!" It was a woman's voice. A woman had approached their table, dragging along another one with her. Turns out, the woman being dragged was the same woman who came up to him that afternoon. She shot him an apologetic look and tugged on her friend's arm. However, the friend rolled her eyes and whispered, "It's not like you're the one asking for the number, okay? Just be here to be my support!"

"I saw you earlier at the beach. My name's Hanazawa Teru; I wonder if I can have your number. You definitely look my type!"

Before Shihori could even refuse, the hand holding him pressed hard. His leg involuntarily kicked out. Fortunately, no one noticed this other than the perpetrator. Shihori peeked at the youth from the corner of his eyes and found a pair of dark blue eyes staring at him with a miserable expression.

As if Shihori abandoned Yuuta.

This look struck Shihori hard as he reached down to hold Yuuta's hand underneath the table.

"Sorry, I don't give my number to strangers. You're better off picking up another miserable rich man who you can cheat money from."

The 'gold-digging' woman: "..."