Archive of Our Own

Seiya got into the tanning chamber— is that what it’s called? ‘Cause that’s exactly how it looked —slightly shaking. His fingers, clumsy with nerves, wrestled with the knot of his robe, a ten-minute battle against his own anxiety. It was not only his first time at this parlor, but his first time trying this out. Spray tanning.

He had never been so exposed.

"Are you ready?" The technician’s voice echoed from outside the chamber. Seiya nodded, though every nerve of his body screamed otherwise. A soft laugh followed. "I guess not yet, huh?"

Seiya glanced around, feeling extremely stupid. Of course there were no cameras inside; there was no way the technician could see him nodding. And yet, he had completely caught his nervous energy as if he were right in front of him.

"No, yeah, I am," Seiya managed, after swallowing down bits of his anxiety.

Or so he thought he had.

Another amused chuckle followed.

"Which one is it?"

The light laughter was getting surprisingly contagious, easing a bit the sharp edges of his anxiety. Something about the guy’s voice too— light, teasing, but not unkind —made the tight knot in Seiya’s stomach loosen just a little. He exhaled.

"I’m ready, yes."

"First time?"

"Yeah," Seiya admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

There was the briefest pause. Then, "Don't worry," the technician said, a quiet certainty laced through his voice. "I'll take good care of you."

The way he said it—so steady, so sure—made something shift in Seiya. His breathing, which had been shallow and quick, steadied, and for the first time since stepping into the booth, his shoulders seemed to drop, releasing a tension he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

The technician then shifted into work mode, reciting the instructions with precision. By the end of the session, Seiya had mastered the art of getting a fake tan, the technician’s calm voice making it all feel easy. More than that, though, the tension in his body had slowly drained away, unnoticed. It wasn’t just the tan. It was him — the way his steady, easy tone made Seiya feel a little less out of place in a situation that had felt so foreign at first.

Seiya stepped out of the booth, still in his underwear, and immediately went to the mirror covering two thirds of the wall opposite to the door, his curiosity piqued. He turned this way and that, hoping to see the effects of the tan, but found nothing. His skin glowed with the same paleness he’d had when he first stepped into the parlor.

He’d been so focused on checking for any results that he didn’t notice the technician, standing by the door, completely frozen. Seiya missed the guy’s eyes widened at his sight—still undressed, casually inspecting himself in front of the mirror—and his cheeks flushed. If Seiya had caught the technician quickly turning around and placing his hand up to shield his eyes, he might have laughed at such cute antics.

"I—I’m so sorry," the technician stammered, his voice rising in embarrassment. "I should’ve given you more privacy."

Seiya didn’t hear him. His attention remained locked on his reflection, absorbed in his own inspection, completely unaware of the technician’s discomfort. A subtle shift in the technician’s posture caught Seiya’s attention—a slight awkwardness in his stillness, peeking over his shoulder to catch Seiya’s figure—but Seiya didn’t connect the dots. He was too caught up in his mission: the tan had to be perfect for his date.

The technician peeked over his shoulder and found Seiya still in his underwear.

"Do you… want me to leave?" he asked, his voice tight with awkwardness.

Seiya didn’t answer. He was back too focused on his reflection to catch the change in the technician’s tone— once calm, but now tightened with constraint.

"Are you sure you applied it… like, correctly?" he asked, still turning this way and that. "I don’t see any difference."

He finally turned around to properly face the technician, who blinked at him in surprise. Seiya noticed him taking a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself.

"Uh, yeah, I did it just like the instructions said," the technician replied, approaching him— with caution? Seiya saw it then, the way the technician was trying to sound more professional. But even as he spoke, Seiya caught him stealing glances, his eyes flickering back to Seiya, even though Seiya was already back to examining every inch of himself with mild frustration.

The technician stood behind Seiya at a professional distance, but quickly looked away, his face heating up.

“Is… is it working for you?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly, betraying something Seiya couldn’t quite place.

Seiya turned to him again, still frowning, but his eyes met the technician’s with ease as he pouted in frustration. “I guess. I just… don’t see much change.”

Seiya heard the other swallow hard. Was he nervous? Why? That seemed just strange. Seiya raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from his tan woes. But no matter how much he tried to focus on the technician, his mind kept drifting back to the date. He couldn’t afford to mess this up.

“It’ll develop in a few hours,” the technician said, his voice a little steadier now. “You’ll see the difference, I promise.”

Seiya nodded absently, then glanced back at the mirror again. For a moment, there was a strange, almost palpable tension in the air, as if neither of them quite knew how to handle this newfound closeness.

The technician took a small step back, giving Seiya a little space, but his gaze lingered. Anyone watching would swear he had never laid eyes on a person tanning before. Wasn’t that supposed to be his job?

Seiya looked back again— glared, really —, urging him to say something more.

"Uh…" he cleared his throat. "Aren’t you… embarrassed?"

Not that, though!

"Of getting a tan?" Seiya frowned at the weird question.

"I mean… you’re… in your underwear."

Seiya glanced down at his body. The technician’s eyes followed his every movement, with hawk-like precision, and Seiya’s skin prickled at the intensity of his gaze.

“Yeah, well… you told me to strip down.” Seiya’s tone was casual, hiding the effects the technician’s eyes and close distance were stirring within. He fought the subtle flush that crept into his cheeks. His mind briefly flashed to the fact that the technician’s attention had shifted. It wasn’t just about the tan anymore.

Seiya’s eyes flickered up to catch the technician looking at him again. The guy was definitely checking him out. He even dared to blush when Seiya caught him red-handed , but he didn’t apologize. Instead, he bit his lip, cleared his throat again, and looked away.

"I didn’t m—" he cut himself, shaking his head. There it was again, that small chuckle of his; only this time it was colored with hues of embarrassment and wit.

Seiya couldn’t help a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Aren’t you embarrassed?” he almost threw back at him, but held his tongue. He wasn’t trying to scare the guy away, after all. But the unspoken words seemed to hang in the air, charged with a different kind of heat than he’d anticipated.

Seiya just noticed then that the technician had stepped even closer, subtly breaking the professional distance he’d maintained until now. Seiya hadn’t been expecting it—he hadn’t been looking for him, not exactly. His eyes lingered for a moment on his reflection in the mirror, but he couldn’t focus entirely on it—not with Masakado’s body heat radiating against him, nearly pressing into his back.

He had taken in the technician’s healthy, sun-kissed skin upon first lying his eyes on him, as well as his pretty smile, and toned arms, for that matter. But, at this distance, at this closeness , it contrasted so much with his very pale skin, that he felt a pang of envy. It wasn’t something he could easily hide, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Do you also spray tan?”

This time, the chuckle that escaped him felt like a personal victory for Seiya. He didn’t know why, but he hadn’t expected to find the sound so warm, so real, and he couldn’t quite figure out why it made him feel more at ease. It wasn’t just the amusement—it felt like a kind of understanding, like the other wasn’t just playing the role of the professional technician but someone who was genuinely seeing him. Really seeing him.

"No, I don’t," he replied, his voice lighter than before. Seiya noticed how the technician stood a bit taller now, no longer constrained by his professional distance. "I take long walks almost every day, so…"

Seiya shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still not quite facing the technician.

"I see," Seiya responded, and dared to turn his head back and look at the other over his shoulder. The technician cleared his throat for the umpteenth time and flicked a bit, but didn’t move from his spot. Was Seiya making the guy uncomfortable again? It felt oddly amusing, but he stopped right away. Instead, he kept eye contact through the mirror. There was something in his gaze now—maybe the tiniest flicker of hope. He was more relaxed than before, no longer feeling the need to put on a facade. "I don’t walk much," he confessed, his voice coming out a little more quietly than usual. "I have a little dog, but we mostly just hang out at home.”

The guy glanced at Seiya, his eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and genuine curiosity.

“So, you don’t go out much?” he asked, his tone light, almost teasing. Seiya made a face.

“Well, not really. I mean, “Sena’s small. Doesn’t need a walk all that often.” He shrugged, feeling oddly defensive.

The air felt warmer, somehow, and though their bodies weren’t physically facing each other, the mirror seemed to turn their conversation into something more intimate, as if their eyes were properly meeting. It made the whole exchange feel like they were sharing something deeper than just words, and Seiya couldn’t help but linger in the moment.

"A dog, huh?" The technician said lightly, a teasing glint in his tone—but it wasn’t unkind. "I figured you weren’t really the outdoorsy type.”

Seiya chuckled, but his gaze flickered back to the mirror for a brief moment. “Not everyone’s into nature walks,” he replied, half-joking.

“You’re not the type who leaves the apartment much. I bet you spend most of the time pampering little Sena at home” the technician said, his tone casual, but there was something in his eyes—something that made Seiya feel exposed. It wasn’t mean-spirited, but it was accurate.

"And what, you’ve been spying on me now?" Seiya arched an eyebrow, half-surprised, half-amused.

The other shrugged, his smile softening into something more sincere.

Seiya shifted uncomfortably, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t used to people picking up on his habits so easily. But then the guy added something that caught him off guard.

“Honestly, if I had skin like yours, I’d probably stay in too.” He gave Seiya a teasing grin. “You’ve got that pretty porcelain look. No need to risk it with the sun.”

Seiya froze, then blinked quickly, the unexpected compliment catching him off guard. For a second, he didn’t know how to respond. Porcelain skin? And pretty, at that? He wasn’t used to hearing anything like that. The idea that the technician of a spray tan salon appreciated something as simple as his skin caught him off balance. But, weirdly enough, it didn’t feel like an empty compliment. It wasn’t like the ones people used to make when they were just trying to be nice. This one felt real.

His teasing tone had been lighthearted, but it carried a warmth that seemed to ease something in Seiya—like the technician wasn’t just commenting on his looks, but on something deeper, something that Seiya hadn’t expected to find so endearing.

“I’m not sure about that,” Seiya muttered, the weight of the words making him uncomfortable. His hand twitched, unsure whether to reach for the robe or do something else.

“I don’t think I’d be any good at taking care of a dog. That’s why I got myself a cat,” The technician shrugged. “Not that I take it for walks or anything. It’s a bit too fatty for that.”

Seiya crinkled his nose at the mention of a cat. “You have a cat?” His expression was more disgusted than he intended, and the technician caught it immediately.

“What’s wrong?” the technician chuckled. “Not a fan of cats?”

“I don’t know…” Seiya’s lip curled just slightly, not caring about how clear his dislike appeared on the mirror. “They’re just… I don’t trust them. They’re too sneaky.”

The technician’s smile didn’t falter, though.

“You sure you’re not a little like one yourself?” he teased, leaning in just a fraction more, his voice lowering. “You’ve got that same guarded vibe. Takes time to earn your trust, right?”

Seiya blinked, then shook his head.

“What? No, I—” He stopped, realizing how easily he’d given that away. “I just don’t like them,” he muttered, his discomfort rising.

The technician tilted his head, his gaze thoughtful.

“Fair enough, but I think a cat would suit you, Seiya-kun. You could _ over the fact that you take your time to warm up to people. It’s kind of how you are.” His voice was soft but genuine.

Seiya stared at him for a second, unsure of how to respond. There was no teasing edge, no sarcasm. Just understanding, in a way that made his chest feel tight. He wasn’t sure if he liked the way the technician seemed to see through him so easily, but it felt different from anyone else. Not in a bad way, just… different.

"Yeah, right," Seiya replied with a hint of sarcasm, though there was an odd feeling curling in his chest. Something about the easy flow of conversation—about them talking like this, so casually, so comfortably—made it feel like they were sitting over coffee, not in a spray tanning room with Seiya in his underwear.

The feeling lingered for a moment, but then the technician’s voice broke through his thoughts, rippling through the silence that stretched between the two.

"You can already see a little bit of color, can’t you?" the technician asked, his voice steady as he shifted the focus back to the tan. He was teasing, but it wasn’t just about the tan.

Seiya blinked, his thoughts scattered. He wasn’t sure what to say. The moment felt strange now, with both of them standing so close—too close, but it didn’t feel wrong.

He turned slightly, catching a glimpse of the technician in the mirror again. But then Seiya glanced back at himself in the mirror, studying the faint hint of tan that had begun to show, but the real weight of the other’s words hit him differently. It wasn’t just about the color of his skin anymore; it was about something else, something unspoken. And though Seiya didn’t answer right away, he could feel a strange unease begin to settle in.

He wasn’t sure why, but the compliment, the warmth of the conversation—it had made him forget why he was even there in the first place. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he could just… be. And yet, there was something behind his hesitation, something that made him feel uncertain.

It was almost too good to be true.

Seiya tilted his head, giving himself one last look in the mirror before his mind traveled to dangerous places. “Yeah, but it’s not enough.”

"It will darken over time. This product usually takes 2 hours to activate and 6 hours to fully develop, so you have to be a little patient."

Seiya pouted at his reflection, but this time, the annoyance wasn’t just about the tan. It was more about what lay beyond it—the date that now seemed like a distant, trivial thing compared to something else that had begun to surface inside him.

He wasn’t good at math, but he knew it was already 5:30 p.m. and the tan wouldn’t be ready at 8:00 p.m.

“It’s not gonna be ready on time,” he sighed, but it didn’t feel like a simple complaint anymore. The words carried something deeper. Something vulnerable.

The technician’s voice broke through his thoughts, warm and curious. “Do you have an important meeting tonight?”

Seiya hesitated, and he felt a strange hesitation twist in his chest. He had been preparing for a date, yes—but as he looked at the technician's steady, kind eyes in the mirror, it felt like the weight of the evening had shifted. What was he really afraid of? Was it the date? The awkwardness? The pressure?

"Are you nervous? Is it an important audition?" Masakado’s voice broke through again, but this time, there was a gentleness to his tone that Seiya hadn’t expected.

Seiya’s breath caught in his throat, a quiet laugh escaping before he could stop it.

"I’m not an actor, if that’s what you’re implying" he said, shaking his head, but the bite in his voice wasn’t there. It was hard to stay mad— or to resist —to that chuckle of his, after all. Instead, it felt like he was just playing along.

"I guessed you were some sort of model, maybe for a hip magazine," the guy teased again, shrugging his shoulders and stepping back to examine Seiya with a critical but affectionate eye. "Definitely not runaway material, though."

Seiya’s annoyance sparked for a moment. "Who are you calling a dwarf?" he shot back, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how silly it sounded. There was no real sting to it anymore. Not when the technician’s laughter exploded suddenly, echoing in the small room and taking Seiya completely by surprise.

It wasn’t the same cute chuckle from before; it was loud, chaotic, and full of life—infectious enough that Seiya couldn’t help but join in. His annoyance melted into laughter, and before he knew it, the two of them were caught in a moment of pure, unfiltered amusement.

And that was when it hit Seiya: they were no longer just talking. They hadn’t been for a while now. They were sharing something. A moment that felt effortless and real. And he hadn’t realized just how much he needed it.

Then, the door creaked open, and a head peeked through the crack,  pulling them out of the spell they’d found themselves in.

"Masakado," came the voice, sharp and pulling Seiya’s attention away from the warmth of the technician’s smile. "Your 6pm customer is here."

The guy at the door gave Seiya and the technician— Masakado —a long, hard look. Only then did Seiya realize they’d been talking so easily in front of the mirror while he was still half-dressed, in nothing but his underwear.

“Thanks, Ren. I’ll be up in a second,” Masakado said, his tone unaffected, as though this kind of thing happened every day at the spray tan salon.

Seiya’d rather not consider that was the case and ignored the prickle in his chest. He didn’t wait for any more cues about his leave. He quickly grabbed his clothes, pulling them on as fast as he could, feeling Masakado’s gaze lingering on him from behind.

"Thanks a lot," Seiya muttered, stopping himself from saying the name he was aching to use. Masakado . He wondered how it would feel rolling out of his mouth.

"Anytime!" the guy— Masakado —replied, already cleaning up the booth with the casual ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times. "Break a leg at the audition!"

Seiya paused as he stepped toward the door, hearing the words as if they were meant for someone else. He had forgotten to mention his date to Masakado. The guy still seemed hung up on the idea of Seiya being some kind of model. He glanced back for a second, then closed the door behind him with a quiet click. Leaning against the door, he smiled to himself. What a silly thing to think. Him, a model.

He shook his head.

If everything went well with Josh, he’d come back and tell Masakado all about it, maybe even joke about how much he owed him for the tan.

He heard a faint "Uh-oh" coming from the booth on his back that startled him a bit. He smiled again, thinking that Masakado had probably made a mistake with the spray or messed up something for his next customer.

If everything went well with Josh, he’d definitely come back. And if it didn’t…

Well, Seiya had a feeling he’d still find himself back here anyway.

~*~

Seiya stripped down his clothes as soon as he got back home, eager to jump into the shower. He reached for the faucet, already anticipating the rush of warm water against his skin when—

"And remember, you have to wait at least four hours before taking a shower," Masakado’s voice drifted through his mind, gentle yet firm. "It’s crucial for the DHA to fully develop and bond with your skin."

Seiya froze. He had almost ruined it all!

The memory played itself out in perfect detail: Masakado standing there with his spray gun in hand, explaining the process with the kind of patience that suggested he truly cared. His hands moved as he spoke, gesturing effortlessly, like someone who knew his craft inside and out. At one point, he had even smiled a little, as if he found Seiya’s curiosity amusing.

Seiya shook his head and hurried out of the bathroom, choosing instead to focus on his outfit. He barely sweated anyway—showering had always been more of a get-ready ritual than a necessity. He grabbed his phone, checking the time before glancing at his reflection for what had to be the tenth time since leaving the salon.

The glow was there, unmistakable under the soft light of his room. He turned his arm, inspecting the way his skin caught the light, subtly golden. But… that was it? No deep bronze? No dramatic transformation?

Had Masakado lied?

Somehow, Seiya couldn’t believe that. And really, why would he?

He huffed, trying to shove the thought aside as he pulled a few shirts from his closet. His efforts would be better spent figuring out the perfect outfit to highlight what little color he had gained.

One final look in the mirror, and Seiya was ready to get that silly Josh back.

Half an hour later, Seiya arrived at the trendy café, his heart pounding a nervous rhythm against his ribs. He had picked this place deliberately—stylish, modern, just the right balance of casual and cool. The kind of place where people noticed things. Where Josh might finally notice him .

But the second he spotted Josh near the window, head bent over his phone, a strange feeling settled in Seiya’s chest.

Josh was just as striking as ever—sharp jawline, dark eyes, rich cinnamon-toned skin, the kind of mixed-race handsomeness that turned heads without effort. The kind Seiya had once felt lucky just to be standing next to. But looking at him now, all Seiya could think about was how different it felt to be looked at by someone like Josh versus…

"I guessed you were some sort of model, maybe for a hip magazine,” Masakado had said just hours ago, his voice carrying an easy warmth, an undeniable sincerity slipping through his light teasing.

Seiya had been flustered then, brushing it off like it was nothing, but now, standing under the café’s golden lights, the words echoed in his mind with startling clarity.

Masakado had looked at him like he had meant it. Like he had seen something in Seiya worth stopping for.

Josh, on the other hand, didn’t even glance up when Seiya approached, let alone stood up.

“Oh, hey,” he muttered, voice flat, still scrolling.

Something inside Seiya cooled.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his tone light.

Josh finally flicked his gaze up, giving him a once-over. A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t the kind that made Seiya’s stomach flutter. Not like Masakado’s had— the small, boyish smile Masakado had given him when Seiya had caught him staring. Masakado’s smile had felt sweet , like something Seiya wanted to tuck away and hold onto.

Josh’s smirk, on the other hand, felt like a hook sinking in , waiting to drag him down.

“So, listen,” Josh said, leaning back with the easy confidence of someone who always assumed he had the upper hand. “I know this is kinda weird, but I left my old gaming headset at your place, remember? The one with the blue LEDs? I kinda need it for a tournament.”

Seiya blinked.

A gaming headset ?

The hours of anticipation, the careful outfit selection, the ridiculous spray tan—it had all been for this ? He had worked himself up into a mess of nerves just so Josh could casually retrieve a forgotten piece of tech?

His jaw tightened.

“Right,” he said, voice flat. “Of course, the headset.”

Josh finally gave him a real look, his eyes sweeping over him in lazy assessment. There was something calculating in it, like he was searching for a flaw to latch onto.

"You look… different,” he said, lips curling into a smirk. “Trying to catch some sun?” His gaze lingered just long enough to make it sting. “That’s… cute .”

Cute.

That was it?

After all the nervous energy, the awkward spray tan session, the meticulous outfit planning, Seiya had to do with a sarcastic cute ? The words hit him like a physical blow. All the old insecurities, the old wounds Josh had so casually inflicted, resurfaced, amplified by the pathetic results of the spray tan.

Seiya’s breath hitched.

Not because of the words, but because of how familiar they felt. The casual way Josh cut into him, the easy dismissal wrapped up in a laugh.

But it wasn’t the same as before.

"You’ve got that pretty porcelain look. No need to risk it with the sun."

Masakado’s voice cut through the storm in his head like sunlight breaking through clouds. There had been no sarcasm in his words, no teasing meant to undercut him. so different from Josh’s veiled insults. There had been no needling, no hidden edge waiting to slice through Seiya’s confidence. Just quiet admiration.

Masakado had just said it , as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Josh, oblivious to the war inside Seiya, leaned back lazily in his chair.

"About the headset…" he continued, his voice maddeningly casual. "Can you send it to my apartment by next week? I need it, but… It’s not urgent."

Seiya blinked.

Then, why the heck had he texted Seiya to meet at a cafe at 8-freaking-pm? Why hadn’t he just simply texted with the request? Why—?

Then, as if sensing Seiya’s growing irritation, Josh shifted in his seat, offering a sheepish smile.

"I’m waiting for… someone," he said, tone deliberately hesitant. Like he wanted Seiya to believe it was difficult for him to say. "I’m sure you also have other things to do."

Seiya could smell the act from a mile away.

So, this was why he had arranged a date . A meeting .

Not because he missed Seiya. Not because he wanted to see him.

Just to make sure Seiya was still within reach.

And suddenly, Seiya saw it. The stark, undeniable difference between them.

Josh’s presence was suffocating, like he stole all the air from the room, leaving nothing but tension in his wake. Every interaction with him felt like standing in the shadow of something too sharp, too cold, draining the warmth from wherever he stood.

But Masakado…

Masakado radiated warmth. Seiya had felt it the moment they met, like sunlight hitting his skin. It was in Masakado’s voice, soft and steady, vibrating through Seiya’s chest like a hum. It was in Masakado’s eyes, bright and open, really looking at him rather than looking for something to take.

Completely different.

The last ember of whatever old feelings Seiya had been clinging to flickered out. He saw Josh now—not as the person he had wanted him to be, but as he really was.

And it wasn’t anger or heartbreak that settled in his chest.

Just relief.

Josh, as always, was completely oblivious, his smile not even faltering.

But for the first time, Seiya didn’t care .

The "date" then dissolved into a strained, awkward exchange. Seiya simply nodded and left, his pride stinging like a thousand paper cuts.

By the time he made it back to his apartment, the weight of it all crashed down on him. The carefully constructed façade crumbled the moment he shut the door behind him.

He sank onto his bed, his chest tight, his throat burning.

Tears welled up, hot and angry, spilling over before he could stop them.

And it wasn’t just about the meeting. Or the headset. Or even the tan.

It was about years of feeling inadequate, of constantly trying to prove himself to someone who clearly didn’t care.

Of chasing after cold hands only to realize warmth had been within reach.

~*~

The next morning, Seiya found himself back at the spray tan parlor, his emotions tangled in a confusing knot of anger, humiliation, and something he didn’t quite want to name. He hadn’t been able to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, Josh’s indifferent "cute" echoed in his head, the final confirmation that Seiya had been nothing more than an afterthought.

He told himself he was here to yell at Masakado, to demand answers about the spray tan, to put a finger at someone other than himself . But deep down, he knew better. If he was being honest, he just needed someone—Masakado—to listen.

The guy from yesterday—Ren—looked up as soon as Seiya walked in.

"Uhm, hello," Seiya mumbled, suddenly unsure of himself.

He hadn’t booked an appointment. It would be ridiculous to come back for another spray tan less than 24 hours later. But he hadn’t been able to think of a better excuse to show up.

Ren didn’t seem fazed. He glanced at his watch. "Masakado will be up in… five minutes or so."

Seiya blinked. "How did you—?" He cut himself off, caught between surprise and suspicion.

Ren just smirked. "You can wait for him over there," he nodded toward a chair, "but I wouldn’t get too comfortable. The guy runs like a workclock… except with you."

Before Seiya could make sense of that, the door to one of the booths opened, and Masakado stepped out with a client, his usual warm smile in place.

"Good luck with it! Hope to see you again next time," he said as he guided the customer toward the exit.

Seiya barely hesitated. His feet moved before his mind caught up.

"Masakado—" he started, but the technician turned to him before he could say another word.

"Seiya-kun, I’m so sorry!" Masakado blurted out, looking genuinely distressed. "I messed up yesterday. I accidentally used a diluted spray tan formula on you… It wasn’t supposed to be like that."

Seiya froze.

Of course. Of course, it had been a mistake.

He let out a half-laugh, half-scoff, shaking his head. "Figures," he muttered, voice tight.

Masakado’s concern deepened the creases on his face.

"I know it must have been disappointing, thinking you'd get a richer tan and waking up to something so light." He winced. "I can fix it for free, if you want. We can do a proper one today."

Seiya stared at him. That’s what he thinks this is about?

Masakado seemed to take Seiya’s silence as confirmation. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Man, I really am sorry. I should’ve double-checked the label before— I must have gotten distracted with—"

A sharp inhale from Seiya made him stop mid-sentence. Seiya’s fingers curled into fists.

Masakado took a step closer, but Seiya’s laugh cut him off—short, bitter.

"You think this was about the tan?" His voice wavered just enough to make Masakado freeze."You think that’s what ruined my night?"

Masakado stilled.

Seiya swallowed hard, his throat burning. His voice had come out uneven, sharp around the edges. "It wasn’t just the tan," he muttered, quieter now. "It didn’t even matter in the end." He let out a humorless laugh. "I could’ve gone in looking perfect, and it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing."

Masakado’s expression shifted—his brows drawing together, the light in his eyes dimming with realization. He looked at Seiya then, really looked at him, like he was seeing something he hadn’t let himself notice before.

Seiya turned away, jaw clenched, arms crossed tight over his chest.

Masakado didn’t push. Instead, he flicked a glance toward Ren.

Ren’s gaze flicked between them, exhaling through his nose like he’d been expecting this train wreck all along. Then he rolled his eyes slightly, but the usual teasing edge wasn’t there. Finally , his expression seemed to say.

"Yeah, go with him," he said, tone softer than before. "I’ll take your next customer."

Masakado didn’t argue. He just nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"I’ll be in my usual room," he murmured, his focus locked back on Seiya. "Come on."

He reached out, fingers curling gently around Seiya’s wrist. The contact startled Seiya, not because it was sudden, but because of how firm yet careful Masakado’s grip was—like he knew exactly how much pressure to apply, like he wasn’t just leading Seiya somewhere but grounding him.

Masakado didn’t let go as he led him past the front counter, through a narrow hallway lined with softly glowing lights. The walls were a muted beige, the faint scent of citrus and vanilla clinging to the air, clean but warm. Seiya could hear muffled voices behind other booth doors, but it all blurred into background noise as Masakado guided him deeper into the space.

He kept glancing back at Seiya, his grip never loosening, his eyes darting toward him every few steps, his jaw tight, his breathing a little too measured—like he was trying not to say the wrong thing. Like he was afraid Seiya would disappear if he didn’t keep checking. Like he was waiting for the moment Seiya would break.

Seiya felt the weight of those glances, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet them.

They reached an empty booth, and Masakado pulled aside the curtain before gently tugging Seiya inside. Only then did he release his hold, but Seiya could still feel the ghost of his touch, warm against his skin.

The room was small, just a chair, a counter with neatly arranged bottles and towels, and the soft hum of an overhead fan. It smelled faintly of coconut.

Masakado shut the curtain behind them, then turned, his eyes searching Seiya’s face. The usual brightness in them dimmed with something softer.

"Seiya-kun," he said, quieter now. "What’s wrong?"

Seiya sat down heavily, legs suddenly weak. He didn’t know why, but the moment Masakado asked, something inside him cracked.

He hesitated. This wasn’t what he had planned. He had walked in here expecting to vent about Josh—about the smirk, the headset, the casual cruelty—but sitting in front of Masakado now, his throat tightened for a different reason.

Masakado thought it had been an audition. A contract. And Seiya had let him believe that. Hadn’t corrected him. And wasn’t that the problem? That, for the briefest moment, he had wanted Masakado to think that?

Because if he admitted the truth, if he said date out loud, then he’d have to face what that meant. That last night, he had sat across from Josh, pretending he wasn’t already thinking about someone else.

"Didn’t you get the contract?" Masakado prompted, voice gentle.

Seiya exhaled shakily. His fingers curled against his knees.

"It wasn’t a contract or an audition," he admitted, voice uneven. "It was… a date. With Josh. My ex… and it was terrible ."

He forced the words out, watching for a shift in Masakado’s face, waiting for a flicker of judgment or disappointment. But it never came. Masakado just listened, his expression open, steady.

That openness made it easier somehow. Before he knew it, the rest of it spilled out—how the date had been a disaster, how Josh had barely acknowledged him—how he had made it all about the gaming headset, how he had dismissed Seiya with that dry ‘cute , ’ how he had been waiting already for somebody —how every small comment over the years had built up until he couldn’t take it anymore. How the tan was just the final straw.

"I’m so done with all of this," Seiya said, exhaling the last of his frustration.

By the time he finished, his chest felt hollow, like he had emptied out everything inside him and didn’t know what to do with the space left behind.

Masakado listened, his expression softening with each word. He hadn’t spoken a word himself the entire time. But he hadn’t looked away, either. And when Seiya finally ran out of things to say, the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just… there.

Then, Masakado exhaled, slow and deliberate.

"I hope you're not done with all of it, though," he said softly, his eyes never leaving Seiya's.

Seiya blinked, thrown. "What?"

Masakado gave a small, almost self-conscious chuckle. He then ventured, "I did make an honest mistake yesterday with the formula. I never make mistakes like that; but then again, I’ve never met anyone quite like you… My mind was out of it from the moment I saw you."

Seiya stiffened, his heart stuttering against his ribs. He barely had time to react before Masakado went on.

Masakado hesitated, then continued, more certain this time. "But if I had known all of this—ll you went through—I would have done the same thing all over again." A slow smile flickered across his lips. "Only this time, it wouldn’t have been a mistake."

Seiya frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

Masakado’s fingers tapped lightly against the counter before he met Seiya’s gaze again, warm and sincere. He took his time to open his mouth again, as if he meant to make his words sound more resolute.

"I would have done it on purpose."

Seiya’s breath caught. His pulse thrummed in his ears. He knew he should say something else, should refuse, should tell Masakado that this wasn’t fair to him, that he was still too tangled up in the wreckage of last night to be offering anyone anything real.

But all he could manage was a quiet, unsteady,

"Why?"

"Because," Masakado said, his voice steady but quiet, as if he was afraid speaking too loudly might break the moment, "I think your natural skin tone is perfect. It's like porcelain—beautiful and elegant, yes. But delicate. Almost fragile… It's a crime that somebody else couldn't see that."

Seiya kept his arms locked around his knees, fingers curled into the fabric of his pants. He didn't know how to respond. Masakado wasn't just saying these things to comfort him—he meant them. That made it harder to brush off.

He heard the soft sound of footsteps, then the gentle creak of Masakado crouching down in front of him.

"And because," Masakado continued, softer now, "I would have hated it if you slipped through my fingers just like that. For somebody like him."

Seiya inhaled sharply, his grip tightening on his knees. Masakado was too close now—close enough that Seiya could feel the warmth radiating off of him, close enough that when his fingers brushed against Seiya’s arm, a shiver ran through him before he could stop it.

"I'm glad you came back," Masakado admitted. "I wanted to see you again."

The weight of those words pressed against Seiya’s chest. His mind was still racing, still trying to catch up. His emotions were pulling him in too many directions at once, and the intensity of Masakado’s presence only made it harder to breathe.

He opened his mouth, then hesitated, his throat tight. When he finally spoke, his voice came out smaller than he intended.

"I… I don’t know what to say."

Masakado’s smile was warm, like he had expected that answer.

"You don’t have to say anything," he assured him. His gaze was steady, unwavering, like he had all the patience in the world.

Seiya exhaled slowly. He wasn’t used to this—to someone listening so intently, responding to things he barely had the words for. Josh had never done that. But Masakado… Masakado was paying attention to every little thing.

And then—Masakado tilted his head, his next words almost hesitant.

"Am I crazy if I say I don't want anybody else to have you?"

Seiya's heart stuttered in his chest. This was too much. Too fast. He had just walked away from something that had left him raw and bruised. He hadn’t had time to think, to sort out what he wanted.

And yet.

Somewhere beneath the panic, beneath the uncertainty, was something else. Something quiet and warm.

"Why?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Masakado blinked, his expression shifting, and then—he smiled, small and a little uncertain.

"Because it’s you, Seiya-kun."

The way he said it made Seiya’s stomach twist in a way that wasn’t unpleasant at all. No teasing, no charm, just honesty. Masakado wasn’t trying to convince him of anything. He was just telling the truth.

And it terrified Seiya how much he wanted to believe him.

Seiya swallowed. The tightness in his chest didn’t go away, but somehow, it didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

Masakado didn’t push. He didn’t joke to lighten the mood or backtrack like it had been a slip of the tongue. Instead, he let the moment settle, let Seiya feel it.

"Just… know that you're not alone. And that I'm here. Also, that I’m a little bit crazy, but in a good way, I hope."

Seiya let out a shaky breath. Then, somehow, he laughed—light and breathless, like the tension had cracked just enough to let air back in.

"Okay," he murmured, lips curling into something small but real. "Okay, Masakado."

Masakado blinked. Then, a slow grin spread across his face.

"Oh? No honorifics, huh? Just Masakado. Are we on a no-honorific basis now?" His voice was light, teasing—but there was something else beneath it, something curious, almost pleased.

Seiya’s grip on his knee tightened.

Then—Masakado’s expression shifted, realization dawning in his eyes.

"Wait." His gaze sharpened. "How did you—? You… remembered?"

Seiya inhaled sharply.

His reaction was too quick. "No, I didn’t."

Masakado’s brows lifted. "I haven’t even said what I meant yet."

Seiya stiffened. Shit.

A beat of silence passed before Masakado huffed out a quiet laugh, tilting his head. "So you did remember when Ren called my name yesterday."

Seiya clenched his jaw, but he could feel the heat creeping up his neck.

"I—No. That’s not—"

Masakado chuckled, the sound warm, annoyingly amused. "I knew it."

Seiya groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You're so annoying."

Masakado nudged his knee lightly. "That means Ren was right about something."

Seiya lowered his hand just enough to glance at him warily. "Do I even want to know?"

Masakado leaned in just slightly, his voice soft but undeniably pleased. "That maybe… you don’t really dislike me after all."

Seiya exhaled sharply through his nose. His fingers curled against his knee. He should argue. He should tell Masakado to shut up.

But he didn’t.

Because Masakado was right.

And the worst part?

Seiya wasn’t sure he minded.

Masakado’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, then softened.

"You know," Masakado said, almost thoughtful, "I think I'll keep calling you Seiya-kun."

Seiya blinked, startled by the shift. "Huh?"

Masakado gave a small shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. "I like how it sounds. And shifting to Suezawa feels like a setback."

Seiya swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how warm his face felt. "That’s…" He cleared his throat. "Whatever. Do what you want."

Masakado smiled, then tilted his head. "And if you want to, you can call me Yoshinori."

Seiya stiffened, his ears burning.

"Like I said, too fas t!"

Masakado laughed. "Fine, fine. You can just call me Masakado, then."

Seiya huffed, shifting his gaze away.

He could ignore him. Stay silent. Pretend this conversation never happened.

Or—

His fingers twitched against his knee.

He stole a glance at Masakado, still watching him with that stupid, knowing look.

Seiya clicked his tongue, turning away. "I know. I was planning to."

He missed Masakado’s grin.

Seiya exhaled, shoulders slumping against the wall.

There it was again— that feeling .

The one that had been creeping up on him all day.

The one he hadn’t wanted to name.

But now, sitting here, hearing Masakado say his name like that—casual, familiar, like it was his to say—he couldn't ignore it anymore.

It was warmth.

It was ease.

It was the dizzying, terrifying realization that maybe…

For the first time, someone saw him exactly as he was.

And that someone wanted to stay.