The hallway outside the gym was quiet, the echoes of bouncing balls and distant chatter fading as the rest of the team warmed up on the court.

Semi had been unusually close all morning, his calm, measured demeanor giving way to something sharper, more intent, as he subtly maneuvered you toward the storage closet.

You barely had time to register his intentions before he had gently pulled you inside, shutting the door softly behind you.

Inside, the small space smelled faintly of rubber and polished wood, the air cramped but electric with the sudden shift in atmosphere. Semi’s usual composure melted in the dim light.

His hands rested on your shoulders at first, steady but warm, before sliding down your arms in a touch that was intimate but not rushed.

His eyes, usually so calm and calculating, flickered with a rare intensity as he leaned closer, brushing his lips against yours in a quick, lingering kiss.

The world seemed to narrow to that one moment—the faint scrape of his jacket, the quickened beat of your heart, the soft press of his hand along your side.

Semi’s movements were precise but passionate, a careful balance between restraint and desire, and for a moment, the rest of the world didn’t exist.

And then the door burst open.

“Wha—?!” Goshiki’s voice cracked sharply as his eyes fell on the two of you, wide and unblinking. His face froze mid-expression, mouth slightly agape, brows shooting upward in disbelief.

Time seemed to stretch, the silence thick with the sound of Goshiki’s shocked inhale.

Semi stiffened instantly, his composure unraveling in a fraction of a second. The careful precision, the quiet intensity—it all disappeared, replaced by a vivid flush creeping up his neck, across his cheeks, and settling into a deep crimson.

He stumbled slightly back, hands fumbling as he tried to adjust the collar of his jacket, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath.

You mirrored the embarrassment, shoulders tensing, eyes darting toward the door as if you could make the intrusion disappear with sheer willpower.

The air was thick with tension, the small closet suddenly feeling impossibly cramped and public.

Goshiki, meanwhile, didn’t move for a beat, frozen in that exact moment of witnessing the scandal. Then, with an awkward cough and a muttered, “Uh… nevermind,” he turned sharply, retreating as quickly as he could, his face a mixture of disbelief and horror.

Semi let out a low, frustrated groan, pressing a hand to his forehead, trying to regain his usual stoic composure but failing spectacularly.

His ears were still red, and the rare crack in his otherwise impenetrable calm made him seem almost human in that instant.

He exhaled sharply, turning to you with a flustered expression, eyes darting anywhere but directly at you.

“You… shouldn’t have—” he began, voice tight and flustered, but then his words died, replaced by a deep sigh.

His shoulders slumped just slightly, and for the first time, you saw him caught completely off-guard, utterly embarrassed, and hilariously vulnerable.

The quiet that followed was heavy, punctuated only by Semi’s uneven breathing and the faint sound of Goshiki retreating down the hallway.