Shoto stood behind you in the now cramped train car. He held the strap above your heads, steadying himself

“This is ridiculous…”

Shoto was never one for romance or love. He simply didn’t care much for it. But your proximity made his head spin. He could feel your back pushed against his front… the soft tickle of your hair on his cheek…

He tried avoiding your gaze, feeling a spark in the pit of his stomach when he caught sight of your pretty eyes or just a glimpse of your soft skin. He tried to be stoic, but the unusual self-consciousness he felt was making it difficult.