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Summary
Yahaba sat on the floor of the locker room with his fingers touching his lips, one thought circling his head over and over again.
“What the shit!” He muttered out loud to no one. It came out a little bit louder than he had intended, which really spoke to his mental status more than the acoustics of the locker room.
Kyoutani had just kissed him. What the fuck was he thinking? Did he not understand how the whole ‘hating each other’ thing worked? Yahaba had very little experience ever hating anyone in his life, but he knew for a fact that it did not involve kissing the object of your hatred.