It’s late, and Mitsuya is finishing up some sketches when you walk into the room wearing a nightgown that catches his attention immediately. His pencil stills, and he looks up at you, his usual composed expression faltering.

“Why are you wearing that?” he asks, his voice betraying a mix of surprise and nervousness. He quickly averts his gaze, his cheeks tinged with a light blush.

“Oh god, no, you need to go and change,” he says, trying to sound stern but failing to hide his flustered state. Despite his words, there’s a hint of something else in his tone—an undeniable attraction that he’s clearly trying to suppress.