[SLOW UPDATES]
＊✿❀❀✿＊＊✿❀❀✿＊＊✿❀❀✿＊＊✿❀❀✿＊
In denial, in perplexity. She didn't know
how to deal with these strange feelings
and emotions budding within her as she
spent time with her six male friends.
Growing up surrounded by men her
entire life, she...
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"Faster, Sanzu-!"
"I'm trying, but damn, it's slippery!" Haruchiyo snapped back, gripping the handlebars as rain splashed into his eyes.
It was definitely not Yasuhiro's day. His car had been at the mechanic, and his motorbike had run out of fuel. That left him no choice but to hop on the back of Haruchiyo's scooter,, reduced to being the soggy passenger princess.
By the time they skidded into his neighbourhood and parked outside his house, both were soaked to the bone. They rushed toward the front door.
"Shit," Haruchiyo cussed, kicking his shoes off the instant they stepped inside. Yasuhiro sighed in defeat, saying, "Didn't expect rain today..."
"We never check the weather," Haruchiyo grumbled, peeling off his Toman uniform. "Wait here," Yasuhiro instructed, already walking down the hall. He returned a few minutes later with a clean towel and a neatly folded set of clothes.
"Here. They're mine. Old ones, but clean," The fifth division captain clarified, tossing them onto the couch beside his vice captain.
"Thanks," Haruchiyo thanked him, clutching the towel as he began to dry off. "You know I can't stand the smell of other people's detergent."
"I know." Yasuhiro affirmed. "That's why I used the detergent you like."
Haruchiyo nodded approvingly, touched by his captain's understanding. Yasuhiro glanced at him, who was still patting his hair dry with the towel. "Go take a bath. You'll catch a cold like that."
Haruchiyo replied with a nod, towel draped over his shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. On it." He made his way toward the downstairs bathroom, his wet socks making faint squelching sounds against the floor. God, he felt uncomfortable.
Yasuhiro, now shirtless, headed up the stairs to the upstairs bathroom. The sound of two showers running soon filled the house.
Haruchiyo, first one to finish, stepped out of the bathroom as he tugged the hem of Yasuhiro's old t-shirt down over his hips. The clothes fit a little loose on him since Yasuhiro was broader, but it was better than nothing. A thousand times better than being soaked and miserable.
He walked toward Yasuhiro's bedroom. His fingers pulled open the top drawer of the nightstand. There it was, his mask. The same one he left here during one of their previous hangouts. He picked it up and slipped the mask on, securing it behind his ears.
That feels better.
Haruchiyo went down the stairs. He was just about to throw himself onto the couch when the doorbell rang. Head tilted slightly, he waited, brows furrowed. Maybe he misheard?
Ding-dong.
Nope. Definitely the door.
He glanced toward the staircase, expecting Yasuhiro to appear any second, but there was only silence. The water had stopped running, but still no sign of him. With a small sigh, Haruchiyo walked over and opened the front door.
