Just A Little Bit Shy

Asymptote of Attraction - 18

Haru's dignity survived the day only by the skin of his teeth. He had doubts, naturally, about following through with taking Y/n's underwear permanently. Yet, he hadn't known what would be worse: living with the knowledge the (h/c) boy was bare beneath his pants or that he was walking around in underwear Haru had not only soaked through with his fucking saliva, but touched himself to. Both of these seemed like scenarios Haru would not stop obsessing over. Couldn't stop.

However, most of those doubts were erased the moment he caught Y/n in the laundry room that morning. Haru had suspected, of course, that the most likely scenario was that Y/n wouldn't say a word about it. About him missing his underwear; Y/n was nothing like Haru, not in that sense. Y/n had never even tried to grow close to people as a friend after Haru, much less as anything more. Y/n had no idea just how terrible perversion could be, and that made Haru all the more hotter — that innocence, Y/n's unfailing modesty, it deserved to be treated better but Haru had little interest in doing so. Every interest, instead, of — not corrupting it, per say, but educating it. Using it, selfishly.

Still, having to spend the entire day at school with the knowledge Y/n was commando... Well, Haru felt as if he paid his dues (and yes, he was eminently grateful for once that Y/n sat behind him, so Haru wouldn't have to look — have to constantly think about —).

And now, after school had ended, he stood by the school's entrance, watching the (h/c) boy from a distance. Y/n was walking along, distracted, looking down at his phone and inputting slow texts. Haru suspected that Y/n was working today and as much as he wanted to tell him to blow off that responsibility for Haru and walk home with him again — as much as Haru would even settle for Y/n coming around later — he really doesn't want to spend tonight alone after yesterday...

Haru sucked in a breath, eyes unashamedly staring at the swell of Y/n's ass in his uniform pants. A hand slid into his pocket. It's probably best if I don't, Haru reasoned with himself. Y/n seemed to value his space, seemed to be overwhelmed too easily by Haru. The last thing Haru wanted to be was a clingy and annoying presence. Even though I most certainly am, the blond-haired boy sighed.

Haru wasn't sure if the next time he'd spend time with the (h/c) boy would be on Tuesday evening, when they all went to the indoor batting center together. He did have to work anyway, this weekend; he only ever worked the odd weekend at his aunt's restaurant, serving customers. He certainly had the "looks" and "personality" for it. Many customers adored him but... there were certain aspects about the job Haru did not particularly like. Not to mention...

Tuesday does seem so far away.

Haru exhaled, shoulders dropping a little. He watched as Y/n, oblivious to the eyes on him (wasn't the (h/c) boy always?), continued to walk away.

_____

...At least, Haru was not left with nothing.

As soon as Haru arrived home, he instantly gravitated to his bedroom. He stood there in his doorway, paused there, paralyzed by the feeling of loneliness. After the day before, it was painfully obvious the hole Y/n had left behind with his absence. Not only now, but... before too, Haru's grip on his bag intensified, until the fabric was creasing and folding between his fingers. There were no soft footsteps following Haru everywhere, no gentle sounds of Y/n's awkward body language, and no inconsistent, shy gaze flirting with Haru's.

A wave of depression smacked into Haru, leaving the boy a little breathless — and not in a good way. Stepping into his bedroom, Haru mourned at how empty the space looked. Especially his bed. Haru kicked the door shut behind himself, thoughtlessly dropping his schoolbag on the ground by his feet. He left it behind, abruptly possessed by one impulse and one alone. Staggering his way over to his dresser, he took one steadying inhale before he jerked open the top drawer. He slipped the fingers below the bottom — it had been warped and conveniently loose for some time now.