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It’s literally one second. Your developing feelings for Mitsuya betray you for one fucking second and you look down at his lips. And of course, he notices . How could he not notice it when his face is only a couple of inches away from yours?
It seemed like a good idea at first. You had been spending too much time on Pinterest looking at photos of eyebrow slits, thinking which one would suit you best. But no matter how many times you stood in front of your bathroom mirror with a razor, you just couldn’t do it. You were sure you were going to end up without half a brow if you did it yourself.
Luckily, this only gave you an excuse to talk to Mitsuya. Mitsuya Takashi, the pretty boy of the sewing club at your school. You had had a few conversations here and there, nothing that could be deemed too personal. Even if he was always kind and willing to help everyone, you could notice the distance he put between everyone and himself, and you were no different.
It was by the end of the day when you asked him if he could slit your eyebrow. You were sure he was going to refuse— the club meeting was ending any moment and he probably had things to do. But after looking at your eyebrows for just a moment, he nodded.
“Sure. Do you have time after the meeting?”
Soon, you two were the only ones left in the room. It was the first time you were alone with him and you couldn’t help but squirm on your seat at the thought. Would he be able to tell how nervous you were? When he approached you, you offered him a disposable razor you had bought on your way to school. He gently dismissed it.
“Those are no good. They are not precise and you’ll end up with bumps on your skin,” he explained. “You mind if I shape them first? Just a little.”
Feeling your face burning, you nodded. You had stayed up last night shaping them the best way you could so they looked good before Mitsuya started working, but it seemed you hadn’t really done a good job. You watched him pull a tweezer from his backpack before he stood in front of you. He lifted your chin with two of his fingers, making sure the light was hitting your face properly before he started carefully plucking your eyebrows. You swallowed.
Even if you tried your best not to flinch every time he tugged, it was hard to keep your face serene. Nevertheless, every time you couldn’t avoid it, Mitsuya would whisper an apology. It didn’t last long, as he then turned around and started rummaging in his backpack. When he faced you again, he was taking a brand new razor blade out of its package.
“Have you thought where do you want the slit? Do you want it in one eyebrow, both?” he asked, his tone gentle as he looked into your eyes.
“I— I looked up some pictures, but there were so many options, I couldn’t make up my mind,” you confessed. “Can you suggest something?”
Mitsuya hummed, his eyes going back to your eyebrows. He had a concentrated look on his face, one you had seen before when he was sketching a new design or putting pins to tailor one of his clothes to perfectly fit someone else.
“I’m thinking of a diagonal one on your left eyebrow. Not really wide. It’s delicate, big enough for people to notice the change but small enough so it doesn’t disrupt the harmony of your facial features.”
You snorted. Mitsuya glanced back at you and you felt your cheeks burning, deeply embarrassed.
“Sorry— God, I’m so sorry, it’s just you said ‘the harmony of your facial features’ and I found it funny. The fact you think there’s harmony —such a pretty word— in here,” you explained with a small laugh, gesturing to your face.
Mitsuya’s eyebrows relaxed a bit, but now there was a confused expression left on his face.
“There is harmony on your face, though. Everything, from your brows, to your eyes to the shape of your nose…” he pauses and you almost feel his eyes on your face. “It just makes sense. Aesthetically. Hence why I would do a slit only in one eyebrow rather than two— it brings attention to your other features. Since you’re already beautiful, I think it would suit you the best.”
You felt heat emanating from your face, your entire body melting at his words. Had he just called you beautiful? It wasn’t a word you would ever use to try and describe yourself and for the boy you had a crush on to be the one to call you that… you could almost listen to how fast your heartbeat was.
“Okay,” you breathed out, a small smile dancing on your lips. “A diagonal slit on my left eyebrow it is.”
Mitsuya gave you a small smirk.
Using a scissor, he carefully pressed it against your skin, marking where the slit would go. After trimming your eyebrows, he left it on the table by his right and leaned over you once more, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
It was when he was shaving your eyebrow that you couldn’t refrain yourself. One second. Just for one second you gave control to your beating heart and looked at his lips. They were thin, delicate and slightly parted in concentration. Was it wishful thinking that you’d ever be able to press yours against them? Was it—
Mitsuya was looking straight back at you.
You weren’t sure which was worse. How quickly you looked to your left, making it seem as if nothing had happened and fooling no one, or maybe the tiny chuckle that Mitsuya let out before he continued focusing on your eyebrow.
This had been a bad idea from the beginning. You should have just searched for a YouTube tutorial and called it a day.
The boy didn’t take longer than a minute, yet it felts like hours for you. You muttered a 'thank you’, your eyes glued to the floor as you picked your bag and sling it over your shoulder. Rushed mumbles left your lips as you tried your best to explain you had to leave, that you were thankful for his help but you just had to leave . Mitsuya hummed at your words, and you took it as a goodbye. Of course. This exchange had been nothing but awkward to both of you.
You hadn’t even reached the door when he spoke again.
“Why are you so embarrassed when I was the first one that called you beautiful?”
It was enough to stop your feet from moving. You turned around and finally faced him. He was resting his hip on one of the tables, his hands in his pockets as he looked at you with a small, almost teasing smile on his lips.
“Sorry,” you said, scratching the back of your neck. “I guess I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You do know I’m a part of Toman, right?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow. You straightened your posture and nodded.
“Yeah, uh— word kind of got around. Yasuda told us,” you explained. Mitsuya hummed in understanding and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“No. I mean…” you shrugged. “My brother told me a bit about the Tokyo Manji gang. That you guys have these strict sets of laws or something and don’t attack civilians, steal cars or sell drugs, that kind of stuff.”
“Well, he’s right,” Mitsuya said, cocking his head to the side. “No drug dealing or attacking civilians on our side. Baji has set a car on fire before, though, but it didn’t have an owner,” he reminisced, looking at the ceiling.
You chuckled, eliciting a soft smile from the boy. The silence that followed was pleasant, just looking at each other from a distance and yet, far more comfortable than you had ever been with each other since you had met at the sewing club.
“It’s getting late,” he commented, looking out the window. You imitated him and, in fact, there was already a soft orange tint in the previously blue sky.
“Yeah,” you agreed. “Sorry for keeping you here.”
Mitsuya shook his head. “My sisters are at an after-school activity, so I have some free time today,” he commented.
He widened his eyes for a bit, just now realizing how much of his personal life he had shared, completely unprompted. He turned his head to look at you, waiting to find a confused or even a pity look. Instead, what he found was understanding, a soft smile on your lips as you nodded at his words, eager eyes looking back at him— he couldn’t help but silently acknowledge how truly beautiful you were.
“Can I walk you home?” he asked. At this, he watched in awe your spirits rising in the form of your hand tightening around the handle of your backpack and a pretty smile on your lips.
“Sure, I’d like that.”
As you strolled down the street, Mitsuya had the feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he’d walk your way home.