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Night had long since fallen, and the air in Hiori’s room was heavy, as if it had absorbed something invisible. The slightly open window let in a faint breeze that made the curtains tremble, but even that soft nocturnal breath couldn’t ease the tension thickening in the room.
Rin sat on the edge of the bed, facing Hiori, who stood against his desk, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on him with that quiet intensity that made everything feel normal… and yet not at all.
— “You look like shit,” Rin muttered, more to say something than out of actual mockery.
Hiori raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.
— “Tell me, do you always say random crap when you’re uncomfortable?”
Rin wanted to respond, like he always did. But he couldn’t. Because Hiori was right. And because everything about this evening, this room, this unbearable closeness between them screamed that something was about to snap.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
They were friends. Just friends.
And yet, every exchanged glance was a silent provocation. Every silence was an unbearable waiting.
It was as if they both knew—without saying it. It was dangerous.
— “Can you stop looking at me like that?” Rin muttered, turning his eyes away.
Hiori didn’t answer right away.
Then, slowly, he stepped closer.
— “Like what?”
His voice was low, a whisper, a breath. And he was too close. Far too close.
A sharp jolt ran through Rin’s body, an uncontrollable shiver that left him frozen in place. He wanted to move, he wanted to say something, but he was trapped—held captive by a tension that stole his breath.
He clenched his fists.
— “Like you’re about to jump me.”
That was a mistake.
Because Hiori smiled. A slow, dangerous smile, one that said he had heard the challenge in Rin’s voice. After all, Hiori was Hiori.
And so he moved.
With a single motion, he pushed Rin backward, his back hitting the mattress with a dull thud. Rin barely had time to react before Hiori was already above him, one hand pressed into the bed beside his head, his face far too close.
Rin wasn’t breathing anymore.
— “You’re the one who put that idea out there, Rin,” Hiori murmured.
Rin swallowed hard.
Their proximity was suffocating. Every inch of space between them buzzed with electricity. Hiori’s gaze burned, and Rin knew—he knew he should push him away, say something, break this moment before it was too late.
But he didn’t.
Because Hiori hadn’t moved forward. Not yet.
And that was worse than anything.
Because the waiting was unbearable.
Because Rin could hear his own heartbeat pounding so hard he was sure Hiori could hear it too.
And then, Hiori lowered his head just slightly.
Their noses brushed.
And Rin snapped.
He grabbed Hiori’s collar and yanked him down violently, their lips colliding in a desperate, bruising kiss. There was nothing soft about it, nothing hesitant. It was a collision, an implosion, a flood of everything they had held back for too long.
Hiori moaned against his mouth, a little startled, but he recovered quickly.
His hands found Rin’s waist, slipping under the fabric of his hoodie to touch burning, soft skin. Rin shuddered violently under the contact, each touch sending waves of heat through his body.
It was too much.
It was consuming.
And it wasn’t enough.
Hiori’s fingers pressed into his skin, slowly trailing upward across his torso. Rin arched into him, seeking more—more of everything.
He should have stopped.
He should have said this was a mistake. Was he even gay?
(Yes.)
But then why was every cell in his body screaming otherwise?
Their ragged breaths filled the small space between them. Rin could still feel the warmth of Hiori’s lips against his, the imprint of his fingers on his skin, and it was as if every nerve in his body was still burning with uncontrollable want.
Hiori was still above him, those ice-blue eyes locked onto his, hazy, unsettled, yet glowing with something indefinable. He hadn’t pulled away. He hadn’t tried to run.
And Rin… Rin didn’t even think to push him off.
— “We just fucked up,” Hiori whispered, his voice rough, laced with an uncertainty that didn’t suit him.
Rin let out a short, nervous laugh, his heart still hammering in his chest.
— “Yeah.”
But neither of them moved.
It was like they were suspended in time, stuck in a space where anything was possible, where reason had no place.
Then, slowly, Hiori raised a hand and traced his fingers along Rin’s jawline, following the curve of his skin with a gentleness that clashed with the brutality of the kiss they had just shared.
Rin shivered, an involuntary tremor that pulled a breathy sigh from his lips.
It was the final straw.
With an impulsive move, he flipped their positions, pushing Hiori beneath him. The mattress creaked slightly under the weight of their silent struggle, but neither of them seemed to care.
He wanted him so badly.
Rin found himself on top, their legs tangled, their breaths mingling just inches apart. He had placed his hands on either side of Hiori’s face, caging him in an invisible trap.
And yet… yet he was the one who felt trapped.
Because Hiori was looking at him with that damned intensity, that damn confidence, that damn smirk—like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like even while underneath, he was still the one in control.
Like he knew Rin was already falling apart.
— “So you don’t really think this is a mistake, do you?” Hiori murmured, his voice too calm.
Rin opened his mouth, then shut it immediately.
He wanted to say yes. He wanted to pretend this was nothing, that they could act like it had never happened.
But Hiori raised an eyebrow, and that damn smirk tugged at his lips.
— “Rin.”
His name, spoken in such a low, rough voice, sent a shiver straight to his gut.
He was going to answer, to fight back, to say something before he completely lost himself.
But then Hiori moved.
His fingers slipped beneath Rin’s sweatpants, brushing over his underwear with slow, deliberate precision.
Rin jerked violently, a shaky breath escaping him before he could stop it.
Hiori smirked, this time for real.
— “You’re sensitive,” he murmured, his gaze darkening slightly.
— “Shut up and keep going,” Rin rasped.
But Hiori didn’t listen.
His fingers kept moving, exploring every inch of skin with that unbearable slowness, as if savoring each second, as if he wanted to leave an imprint that would never fade.
Rin should have pushed him away.
He didn’t.
Instead, he collapsed against him, his forehead pressing into the crook of Hiori’s neck. His breathing was too heavy, too fast, and Hiori could probably feel the heat radiating from his skin.
But he didn’t care.
Because he was the one breaking.
Because Hiori was driving him insane.
Because he wanted more.
— “What do we do?” he breathed against Hiori’s skin, his voice trembling with a tension he could no longer contain.
Hiori withdrew his hand and ran it through Rin’s hair—a gesture both tender and possessive.
— “Do you want to stop?”
The answer caught in Rin’s throat.
Because he didn’t know.
Because he had never felt anything this intense before.
Because he didn’t want to think.
He lifted his head, met Hiori’s gaze.
Then, without a word, he kissed him again.
Fuck, no, he didn’t want them to stop.
(Neither did we.)