"Just a few more minutes..." the boy with the meticulously styled pompadour reassured you. His tone was calm, yet the phrase had become his mantra for the past few hours. You weren’t surprised—this wasn’t the first time Josuke Higashikata underestimated the clock.

Behind you, Josuke worked skillfully with the laces of the intricate dress he had designed. A fashion student through and through, his knack for procrastination was as notorious as his talent. He’d had two weeks to begin this design project, yet he’d only started two nights before the deadline. An improvement, you mused. Normally, he wouldn’t have touched the fabric until the night prior. Despite his bad habits, you always found yourself saying yes to being his mannequin, eager to wear the gorgeous designs he somehow always managed to perfect at the eleventh hour.

His warm hands slid along your waist as he gently turned you to face him. Now standing between his legs while he perched on the edge of his bed, you found yourself at the center of his undivided attention. With a pin delicately balanced between his lips, he adjusted the fabric, sewing the final stitches with precision. His focused gaze, so sharp and full of purpose, made your pulse quicken in a way you hoped he wouldn’t notice. The light brush of his fingers against your skin left a trail of warmth, and in that moment, you knew anyone watching would envy the spot you currently occupied.

The hours slipped deeper into the night, and yet neither of you seemed to mind. The room was quiet, save for the soft sounds of thread passing through fabric and Josuke’s occasional murmurs of approval. The silence between you wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable, charged only by the unspoken intimacy that hung delicately in the air, as though it was part of the design he was stitching together.