Veined hand clutched onto the thoroughly ironed clothing, smoothened into perfection that then ultimate crinkled upon falling onto the newly wiped floor – breath hitching as his pupils dilated and heavily shook.

"Wha.. what?" Shotā's throat awfully felt rather itchy, his mouth dried within the very remaining moments of your astonishing claim; his greatly brushed hair then ruffling downwards to frame his face.

"No.. No.. you can't do this!"