"Wait," Haruka says breathlessly, brows pinching as he grips your sleeves, "I didn't get a good aim at it."

Lipstick stains are littered over his face, girlish hands cradling his cheeks as he soaks in your breezy laugh. He pouts, blushing up to his ears. He'll never get used to your love, and to be fair, he's still getting familiar with being touched gently. Not in punches or kicks—despite having graduated from the very Furin that taught him that.

"'M serious," he huffs, hands catching at your wrists. He won't let mediocre kisses be the last thing you feel before going to sleep anymore.