Classes dragged by with the weight of lead. Kuro sat through lectures, his quill scratching idly against paper, but his thoughts never lingered on the words being spoken. They drifted back to the memory of Mika's lips on his, the way Mika's cold mask had cracked, the way his hand had trembled ever so slightly against Kuro's jaw.
Every glance at Mika only made it worse. Mika sat beside him, perfectly straight-backed, his face the picture of control. And yet… the faint pink that betrayed him whenever Kuro leaned too close was impossible to miss.
When the final bell rang, Mika was the first to rise. He didn't look at Kuro, simply muttered, "Follow me," and walked out.
Kuro trailed after him, weaving through the thinning crowd of students. Whispers followed them—as always—but Kuro barely heard them. His focus was on Mika's shoulders, the rigid tension in them, as though holding back something sharp and dangerous.
They didn't stop until they reached an empty alcove, shadowed and quiet, tucked away from prying eyes. Mika turned abruptly, his pale eyes pinning Kuro in place.
"You need to stop looking at me like that."
Kuro blinked. "Like what?"
"Like you know me," Mika said, his voice low, sharp. "Like you think you see something that isn't there."
Kuro didn't flinch. He stepped closer, his voice steady despite his racing pulse. "Maybe it is there. Maybe you're just scared to admit it."
For the first time, Mika faltered. His breath hitched, his gaze flickering, his control visibly slipping for a fraction of a second.
[HOLY s***. He's done for. You cornered the ice prince and he's melting. This is gold. Absolute f***ing gold.]
{…He's not melting. He's fighting.}
[Same f***ing thing. Fighting what? His hormones?]
Kuro almost smiled at Elvastia's comment, but Mika moved before he could react. His hand shot out, grabbing Kuro's wrist and pulling him flush against his chest. His grip wasn't rough, but it was tight, his pale fingers trembling faintly.
"You don't understand," Mika muttered, voice raw beneath the cold edge. "You keep pushing, and one day I won't stop."
Kuro's breath caught, but he didn't pull away. He tilted his head up, eyes locked on Mika's. "Then don't."
The words hung between them, heavy and dangerous. Mika's jaw clenched, his gaze darkening. He leaned down just slightly, his lips brushing close enough to ghost against Kuro's—close enough to set every nerve alight—but then he stopped.
His forehead pressed against Kuro's instead, his voice breaking into a whisper. "Idiot. Do you know what you're asking for?"
Kuro's answer was quiet, firm. "Yes."
For a long moment, Mika said nothing. Just silence, his breath warm against Kuro's skin, his hand still locked around Kuro's wrist. His pale cheeks carried the faintest, unshakable blush.
Finally, Mika pulled back, sharp and sudden, releasing Kuro as though burned. His cold mask snapped back into place. "We're done here."
He turned quickly, striding away before Kuro could answer.
[What. The. F***. He almost—he was RIGHT THERE! I swear to every god out there, if he keeps pulling this s***, I'll lose it.]
{…He's trying.}
[Trying? He's torturing himself—and you. I don't know which one of you is the bigger idiot anymore.]
Kuro pressed his hand against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, and whispered in his thoughts, {Even so… I'll wait.}
And he followed after Mika, not letting the space between them grow too wide.