You sat snugly between Megumi's legs, his chest lightly brushing your back as he guided your hands over the spinning clay. The soft hum of music played in the background of the art class, blending seamlessly with the gentle whir of the potter’s wheel.

“Now curl your fingers like this,” Megumi murmured, his deep voice close to your ear as his hands enveloped yours, steadying them. His veiny fingers effortlessly shaped the wet clay, showing you the perfect motion.

“Like this?” you asked softly, trying to mimic his movements, the cool, slippery texture of the clay grounding you.

“Exactly,” he replied, his voice low and smooth. “Like this.”

For a brief moment, the world melted away—just the two of you, the clay, and the warmth of his hands guiding yours.