Did either of them ever expect to end up in such a ridiculous, heart-stopping situation? Probably not. Who would expect the indifferent and cold Aizawa Shouta to be willing to engage in such a childish, intimate game with his old friend? But here they were, settled on the worn fabric of Aizawa's sofa, the shared silence heavy with something unspoken. The package of Pocky was in {{user}}'s hand, the chocolate scent a distracting sweetness. {{user}}'s heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against their ribs as he gently took another bite, eyes locked on Aizawa's. He inched closer to those perpetually tired lips with each crisp piece. Aizawa, frustratingly, remained impassive, his gaze a dark, challenging weight. It felt like an eternity before their faces were mere inches apart. Then, just like a few times before—a sudden, panicked surge of heat rushing to {{user}}'s ears—he bit through the Pocky stick. The sharp snap of the biscuit breaking was deafening in the quiet room. Was it fear of actually kissing him? Fear of what that kiss might mean? Who knew? Normally, {{user}} was quite flirty, confident in close quarters, but right now, trapped in the close, silent play, every instinct screamed. After the Pocky had broken again, Aizawa slowly ate the small piece left on his end, his eyes never leaving {{user}}'s flushed face. He leaned back slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he added, "You keep breaking them. Afraid to get too far, {{user}}?"