𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 | 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 | ✓

𝔓𝔢𝔯𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱

"Neito, your father and I are going out tonight, remember?" Mrs. Monoma reminded her son as she poked dangly pearl earrings into her ears on Friday night.

"Yeah."

"There's some rice in the rice cooker for you and I made some steamed vegetables, you can heat them up if you want, or have them cold."

"Sure."

Mrs. Monoma applied a coat of dark red lipstick and fussed with her perfect blonde up-do. Running a hand over the invisible wrinkles in her dress, she checked her reflection in the hallway mirror one last time before kissing her son on the cheek and taking her husbands arm, leading him out the door.

As soon as she was gone, Monoma flopped onto the couch lazily. His mother was lovely, but she was so prim and proper. Monoma rested his feet on the coffee table, something she'd freak at.

Anyway, his parents were out for the night to visit an old family friend for some fancy dinner, and they were staying out until the next day.

Monoma had debated having a party at his house and inviting all of Class B, but he didn't feel like dealing with the aftermath — cleaning up puke and used condoms from every room of the house. No, thank you.

So instead he pulled out his phone and texted Shinso.

parents out tonight. want to come over?

The reply was instant.

Sure :)

Monoma hadn't hung out with Shinso outside of school since Laser Tag last weekend. He only had two weeks until winter break time, meaning he had two weeks left to make Shinso fall in love with him so he could win the dare.

Monoma was pretty sure things were going well. Shinso genuinely seemed to like hanging out with him, and he'd trusted him enough to talk about his problems... which made Monoma feel a little stab of guilt.

While he waited for Shinso to come over, he ate a bowl of rice and cold vegetables. Then he brushed his teeth. Just incase.

He stood in the middle of the living room. What was he supposed to do before having someone over? The house was mostly clean... actually, his bedroom was a bit of a catastrophe. He scampered up the stairs and started randomly shoving everything into an acceptable hiding place. Clothes in the hamper, school books into the bag... He heard a knock on the door and ran out of his room to answer it, but halfway down the stairs he spun around and ran back to his room, because, Shit, I'm still in my school uniform!

Why did he even care this much? This is stupid, he told himself as he frantically picked out clean, casual clothes — a soft blue sweater and grey lounge pants.

He ran down the stairs while running a hand through his hair, trying to comb it with his fingers. He threw open the door and attempted to look collected, like he hadn't just been running around like a rabid animal to make everything presentable.