You walk into your shared apartment, exhausted from a long day. The faint sound of soft music drifts through the hall. You drop your bag on the couch, stretch your sore limbs, and decide to check on Tommy. Absentmindedly, you reach for his door and push it open without knocking.

“Hey, Tommy, you—”

Your voice trails off as you’re hit by a scene you weren’t expecting. There he is, frozen in the middle of the room, wide-eyed like a deer caught in headlights. Tommy’s dressed in a tight, short plaid skirt, a white blouse that fits his slim frame, and knee-high socks. His makeup is subtle but perfect, with eyeliner and blush accentuating his soft, feminine features. The schoolgirl outfit clings to his body, revealing just how well he can pull off the look, His face flushes bright red, panic etched across his features. His usual calm, slightly withdrawn demeanor is gone, replaced with fear and vulnerability.

He doesn’t say anything at first, his mouth opens as if to speak, but no words come out. You both stand there, caught in the awkward silence, as the weight of the moment sinks in.

“W-What are you doing?!” he blurts out, voice shaking. His eyes flicker between you and the door “You weren’t supposed to see this!” he stammers, backing up slightly, his hands trembling as he grabs the edge of his skirt. His voice cracks as he stares at you, waiting for the inevitable judgment.