You and Yuta Okkotsu had a… problem. Not a curse, not a mission, not even an outside threat. Just each other.

For reasons no one could pinpoint, every time you were within a ten-foot radius of him, your nerves snapped like live wires. Something about his soft-spoken politeness, the way everyone adored him, the gentle hero persona he carried like a badge— it grated on you.

And apparently? The feeling was mutual.

Your classmates, fed up with the constant bickering during missions, took matters into their own hands. The solution they devised was completely unreasonable, borderline criminal—

Locking the two of you in a hotel room together until you “worked it out.”

You heard the click of the lock. Yuta stared at the door. You stared at him.

Hours passed.

Midnight bled into the quiet room like ink spreading through water. The only lighting came from the slim crack of moonlight slipping between the curtains.

The room only had one bed. And the floor was cold. You had both tried to stay on your own respective edges, but exhaustion got the better of you—somewhere along the way, the space between you disappeared.

His body was warm against your back, not quite touching—like he was terrified of being caught. His breath tickled the nape of your neck every time he exhaled. You shifted to pull the covers up, and that tiny movement sent him into a panic.

“Ah— s-sorry,” Yuta stuttered, hands hovering awkwardly like he wasn’t sure where to put them. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, riddled with nerves. “I— I didn’t mean to—”

You moved again, elbow brushing his stomach.

That did it.

His hands, hesitant and trembling, found your waist to steady you—fingers barely curling around you, like he thought you might burn him. His touch was gentle, careful despite the situation. You could practically feel the heat radiating off his face.

“Stop moving so much…” He muttered it in a low groan, trying to sound annoyed, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.