Haru paused in front of Hoshi, adjusting the frame of his round glasses with both hands. His messy black wolf cut was pushed back by a headband, though a few stubborn strands still threatened to fall over his eyes. The soft sharpness of his features, paired with his slightly serious, focused expression, gave him a quiet, composed charm. Dressed neatly in his school uniform—a collared shirt, striped tie, light sweater vest, and a structured blazer adorned with a crest—he carried an effortlessly polished, almost academic elegance.
"Do you think glasses look good on me?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with a hint of uncertainty.
Hoshi didn't answer immediately.
Seated comfortably in a sleek office chair, he simply watched.
His pale skin contrasted with his long, tousled silver white hair, loose strands falling over his face in a way that seemed careless yet deliberate. His vertical sharp, blue, almost piercing eyes softened as they lingered on Haru, filled with quiet affection. Resting his lips lightly against his gloved hand, he tilted his head slightly, as if savoring the sight in front of him.
For a moment, he wondered—how had someone like Haru become his?
The room around them was silent, save for the soft hum of the city beyond the towering windows. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling glass, illuminating the modern office space—papers scattered lazily across the desk, binders neatly lined on white shelves, and a small green plant adding life to the monochrome palette. It felt both orderly and lived-in, like a place where time slipped unnoticed.
Hoshi pulled him closer.
Closing the distance between them, his presence warm and steady. Without hesitation, he slipped his arms around Haru's slender waist, pulling him gently closer, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"You look good in anything," he murmured softly, his voice low and filled with quiet affection. "But like this… you're distracting."
His hold tightened just slightly, not enough to restrain—just enough to keep Haru there, with him.
He relaxed his head on shiharu's flat belly
Haru's fingers slipped gently into Hoshi's hair, combing through the soft strands with quiet affection. The simple touch made Hoshi pull him closer, tighter this time, burying his face against Haru's clothes as if seeking warmth, as if anchoring himself.
"You're being awfully clingy lately…" Haru murmured, his tone light, almost teasing.
Hoshi lifted his head, a faint smile resting on his lips. There was something almost feline in the way he looked at him—soft, devoted, as though he existed solely within Haru's presence.
"You don't expect me to be nonchalant," he said quietly, "when I have a work of art this close to me."
Before Haru could respond, Hoshi stood, effortlessly lifting him and placing him onto the desk. The sudden movement caused Haru's glasses to slip, falling into his lap. Hoshi noticed immediately, picking them up with surprising care and placing them back onto Haru's face, adjusting them with gentle precision.
For a moment, he simply stared.
Then, slowly, as if drawn by something deeper than thought, he cupped Haru's face in his hands and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek… then another, trailing over the faint beauty marks that adorned his skin.
Haru didn't stop him.
Instead, he let out the faintest breath of amusement, one eye closing in a subtle wink as Hoshi continued, his affection growing more unrestrained with each passing second.
"I'd be… lonely," Hoshi whispered, his voice trembling with something fragile, something aching. "If someone took you away from me, Haru…"
He rested his head against Haru's shoulder, his arms braced on either side of the desk, caging him in without force—only closeness. His long hair fell forward, veiling his expression.
Haru's gaze softened.
"You have nothing to be afraid of," he said quietly. "In the end… my safest place will always be in your arms."
Hoshi froze.
Then slowly, realization dawned—and with it, a bright, relieved smile that seemed to lift something heavy from his chest.
"Then make me yours," he murmured, half-laughing, half-pleading. "What if someone else takes you away? …Though I know it won't happen. Don't even imagine it."
That smile—
Haru couldn't resist it.
He pulled Hoshi forward and kissed him.
The suddenness caught Hoshi off guard, but only for a heartbeat. Then he melted into it, as if he had been waiting—aching—for this moment. His response was immediate, deep, almost desperate. His hands moved instinctively, removing the headband from Haru's hair, then the glasses from his face, setting them aside as though nothing else mattered.
His fingers slid into Haru's hair, gripping gently, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened—messy, breathless, consuming.
Haru's arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him in just as fiercely.
Time blurred.
And when it finally broke, it was Hoshi who pulled away first.
He didn't go far.
Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around Haru, holding him as if afraid he might vanish.
"I'm sorry… I'm really sorry…"
The words came out in quiet fragments before fading into silence.
Only then did Haru realize—
Hoshi was trembling.
"Hoshi…?" Haru's voice softened, laced with worry. "What's wrong? Talk to me… you're shaking."
He gently patted his back, trying to soothe him, but Hoshi only tightened his hold.
"I didn't think it would take this long…" he whispered faintly. "I'm so sorry… I'll come back to you soon. You just have to wait… a little longer. And when I do…"
His voice faltered.
"You have to promise to forgive me."
Before Haru could respond—
Hoshi slowly faded into nothing.
Gone, as if he had never been there.
—
Shiharu woke with a sharp breath, his body jolting upright in the darkness of his room. His chest rose and fell heavily, his hand reaching out instinctively—grasping at empty air, as if trying to stop something from slipping away.
"Hoshi—"
But there was nothing.
He stumbled out of bed, barely steady on his feet, and rushed out of the room. The house was silent, swallowed by the stillness of midnight. The cat, awake in the corner, merely watched him pass without a sound.
Room after room.
Hallways. Corridors. The garden.
He searched everywhere.
"No… no… please…" his voice broke. "Please, come back…"
The rain had begun to fall.
At first, he didn't notice.
Only when the cold soaked through his clothes, clinging to his skin, did it register—but he didn't care. He stood there, letting it drench him completely, as though it could wash away the lingering ache in his chest.
A dream.
It had only been a dream.
Yet it felt too real—too vivid, too painful.
As if losing him there meant losing him in reality too.
He dropped to a squat, his trembling fingers tracing a name into the wet ground.
Hoshiyuki.
The rain washed it away.
Again, he wrote it.
Again—it disappeared.
Over and over, until—
A shadow fell over him.
The rain stopped touching the ground beneath his hands.
An umbrella.
This time, the name remained.
"You're so pathetic."
The voice was quiet, not cruel—just… honest.
Shiharu didn't need to look up to recognize it.
Yurina.
"Just like me," she added softly.
She extended her hand slightly beyond the umbrella's edge, letting the rain fall against her skin, watching the droplets gather and slip away.
"We're both pathetic."
She lowered herself beside him, close enough to share the small shelter.
Shiharu said nothing.
He was too tired… too empty to respond.
So they stayed like that—
Side by side in the rain,
One breaking,
The other quietly understanding.