Work Text:
Nene couldn’t believe her luck. School pictures today, but she managed to give herself a black eye—an incident involving Hanako popping out of nowhere, scaring her, and before she knew it, she smacked her face against the handle of her mop.
She tried her best to cover it with makeup. But her eye hurt so much, and its redness slowly faded into purple around the edges.
“Yashiro,” Hanako floated behind her, “I’m sorry!”
“Don’t talk to me,” she huffed, pulling out her coverup from her schoolbag. She tried to powder around her eye, but she hissed in pain, dropping the spongy beauty blender onto the bathroom floor. At least I just cleaned it, she thought, and groaned, thinking back to the offending mop.
She bent down to grab it, but Hanako beat her to it.
“Hanako-kun?”
He ducked his head, staring off to the side. “Here. Let me.”
Yashiro nodded, unable to find her voice, and took a seat on the windowsill. Hanako moved between her legs, and leaned in close. Her breath came to a halt, and her heart jolted as he cupped her face with a touch so light, almost as if he were afraid she’d shatter from even the slightest of pressure. And Nene wondered if she actually would shatter as he patted her skin with such a gentleness she didn’t know he was capable of—a type of gentleness no one has ever shown her.
Hanako’s gaze was trained on the area around her eye, but Nene found herself unable to look away from his moon-like eyes. So big, and so bright—something she’d once found to be strange—and yet, she was utterly mesmerized.
He was so close, the rim of his hat poked against her forehead, musing her bangs. And she found her felt melting under his touch, and she saw the swirl of red blooming under his pale, ghostly skin.
As he tilted her face for a better angle, his fingers accidentally brushed over her lower lip, and Nene gasped. Hanako froze, and pulled back his hand as though she’d burned him.
“Sorry—did that hurt?”
“No!” Nene seized his wrist, she didn’t want him to stop—for all she knew, he could be turning her into a clown with another infamous radish makeover—but she couldn’t let him stop—she didn’t want him to stop. “Keep going…” she mumbled, staring at her hand encircling his wrist.
“It’s pretty much covered,” he said, looking down at her grip on him as well.
“Are you sure?”
He looked up, his eyes darker than before, more hooded. And Nene moved his hand back to her face, letting his fingers brush her skin. In the back of her mind, she realized the beauty blender had fallen to the floor again, but she didn’t care. His fingers trailed from her bruised eye to the edge of her cheek, outlining her face. Her heartbeat quickened as he reached her lips once more, and with his thumb just under her chin, he tilted her face upward.
“Hanako-kun?” She was surprised by how breathless she was and how her voice sounded unfamiliar to her own ears—almost pleading.
But pleading for what?
She watched his throat bob up and down.
“Yashiro…” He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, and he gripped her shoulders tightly. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what?” she pushed, trying her best to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. He was so close—their bodies just a breadth apart—she wondered if he could hear her heart palpations.
He slowly opened his eyes, his face redder than before, and she knew hers most likely matched.
And Nene wasn’t sure who did it first, but she found her face angling upward, and Hanako leaning down—
Their lips touched—so chaste and light, Nene wondered if she’d imagined it. And they pulled back, but before either of them could face each other—the bathroom door slammed open.
“Hanako!” Kou cried. “Something happened to Yokoo and Satou again! I need your help—Eh?”
Kou must have noticed the way Hanako pulled his hat down, hiding his face, and that Nene buried her own face into her hands.
“What’s wrong with the both of you?” Kou asked.
“Nothing!” They both said too quickly—and Nene mumbled about her school photos and fled from the bathroom. Her heart refused to still, and she rested her back against the bathroom door.
She was in love.
And she didn’t know what to do about it.