"Oh," Ishigaki says, wide eyes slowly following over to the still very much damp clothes strung up on Midousuji's bike. "I see." His eyes settle on the bicycle for a long moment, but he's not really looking.
His brain buzzes. It’s not a big deal. Ishigaki has seen Midousuji naked plently of times, regardless of the fact he only just now noticed how pleasantly sharp the edges of his hip hones are. It's the same man. The same dick.
"Right."
Ishigaki lifts himself from his knees, trying to force his footing to be as casual as possible, but his legs feel stiff when he's thinking so hard about it, and the closer he gets the more he's caught analyzing how little room he has to walk between the wall and Midousuji and how stupidly small everything about his apartment is.
Ishigaki stares at the gap in the hallway and stops, mouth formed into a disgruntled line. The only option would be to slide against the wall at this point, and he knows there is no way he could go hip to dick with Midousuji and survive from it.
There's a long pause before Ishigaki eyes up at Midousuji expectantly, and suddenly they're locking eyes.
Midousuji is already staring at him, his expression impish as ever, like his toothy smile is telling him he knows something Ishigaki doesn't.
Ishigaki freezes, expression faltering, and now he can feel the way blood rushes to his face in a way he tried so hard to prevent.
Midousuji only does a weird little laugh, stepping to the side with his palms pointed flat to the other end of the hall. His eyes dart between Midousuji and the bedroom door.
He takes a hesitant step forward. Ishigaki tilts his head distrustfully, eyebrows raised and jaw slacked.
And then he slips.
Ishigaki hadn't notice that the water dripping down Midousuji's body was also forming a thin puddle beneath them. He catches himself, but the damage has been done. Ishigaki straightens himself after a back-and-forth dance of finding his footing, hands theatrically spread beside him for balance. And just as quickly as he had slipped, he sighs, posture deflating as he lies his palm over his eyes.
OKAY!!! WhATEVER I GUESS.
"The Kotatsu... is set up..." Ishigaki says plainly and quietly, sliding his hand down his face and resting it over his mouth. His other hand is placed, finally, on his bedroom door knob. He hadn't even thought of the clothes, if Midousuji is staying the night, or what he should pick out. "If you want to warm up after."
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His brain buzzes. It’s not a big deal. Ishigaki has seen Midousuji naked plently of times, regardless of the fact he only just now noticed how pleasantly sharp the edges of his hip hones are. It's the same man. The same dick.
"Right."
Ishigaki lifts himself from his knees, trying to force his footing to be as casual as possible, but his legs feel stiff when he's thinking so hard about it, and the closer he gets the more he's caught analyzing how little room he has to walk between the wall and Midousuji and how stupidly small everything about his apartment is.
Ishigaki stares at the gap in the hallway and stops, mouth formed into a disgruntled line. The only option would be to slide against the wall at this point, and he knows there is no way he could go hip to dick with Midousuji and survive from it.
There's a long pause before Ishigaki eyes up at Midousuji expectantly, and suddenly they're locking eyes.
Midousuji is already staring at him, his expression impish as ever, like his toothy smile is telling him he knows something Ishigaki doesn't.
Ishigaki freezes, expression faltering, and now he can feel the way blood rushes to his face in a way he tried so hard to prevent.
Midousuji only does a weird little laugh, stepping to the side with his palms pointed flat to the other end of the hall. His eyes dart between Midousuji and the bedroom door.
He takes a hesitant step forward. Ishigaki tilts his head distrustfully, eyebrows raised and jaw slacked.
And then he slips.
Ishigaki hadn't notice that the water dripping down Midousuji's body was also forming a thin puddle beneath them. He catches himself, but the damage has been done. Ishigaki straightens himself after a back-and-forth dance of finding his footing, hands theatrically spread beside him for balance. And just as quickly as he had slipped, he sighs, posture deflating as he lies his palm over his eyes.
OKAY!!! WhATEVER I GUESS.
"The Kotatsu... is set up..." Ishigaki says plainly and quietly, sliding his hand down his face and resting it over his mouth. His other hand is placed, finally, on his bedroom door knob. He hadn't even thought of the clothes, if Midousuji is staying the night, or what he should pick out. "If you want to warm up after."