The soft hum of voices carried through the apartment. From your room, you could hear Ran’s laugh echoing against the walls, loud and unrestrained, followed by Yuki’s calmer, deeper chuckle. The two of them had always shared an easy rhythm—Ran’s boyish admiration blending seamlessly with Yuki’s quiet maturity. It was comforting, usually. Tonight, though, you were too distracted to really enjoy it.

You stood in front of your mirror, fumbling with the hooks of your bra. You twisted your arms this way and that, frustration building with every failed attempt. No matter how you angled your shoulders, the clasp refused to catch. You sighed sharply, cheeks warming from irritation.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, fingers slipping for what felt like the hundredth time.

Living with Ran had its perks—his presence was grounding after the chaos of moving into university life—but it also came with challenges. Privacy, for one. There were things you never thought you’d miss until you shared a space with your older brother again. And now, with Yuki over more often than not, the apartment somehow felt both livelier and smaller.

You bit your lip, debating your options. You could swallow your pride and call Ran, but the thought of his teasing—his dramatic gasp, the inevitable jokes he’d throw your way—made your stomach knot. And Yuki… you couldn’t even bring yourself to finish that thought.

The laughter in the living room faded into a comfortable murmur. You were about to give up and change into something easier when the faint sound of the bathroom door clicking open reached your ears.

You froze.

Peeking out into the hallway, you caught sight of him. Yuki Ishikawa. His hair was still slightly damp from washing his hands, and the faint scent of soap drifted with him as he stepped out, relaxed as ever. He had the kind of presence that filled the space without effort—calm, steady, almost reassuring. His gaze swept casually down the hall until it landed on you.

Your breath hitched.

Caught halfway in the doorway, you must have looked guilty, startled—anything but composed. Heat rushed to your cheeks instantly. Yuki’s expression softened, his familiar smile curving across his lips as though he’d just caught you doing something endearingly clumsy.

“Is everything alright, Y/N-chan?” His voice was gentle, carrying that effortless warmth that seemed to put everyone around him at ease. “Did you need something?”

Your fingers tightened around the fabric you held. The words you wanted to say tangled in your throat. Do I tell him? Do I run back inside?

You shifted your weight nervously, eyes darting toward the living room where Ran was no doubt waiting, still chatting about practice, blissfully unaware of your current dilemma. For a split second, you considered calling him instead—your protective, occasionally overbearing brother. But then Yuki tilted his head ever so slightly, patient, as though he had all the time in the world to wait for your answer.

And suddenly, the thought of admitting your embarrassment to Ran felt unbearable compared to this quiet moment with Yuki, who seemed incapable of judgment. Still, the heat in your face deepened, your voice barely above a whisper when you finally forced yourself to respond.