Sanemi had been ignoring her all day. He didn’t mean anything by it—hell, he was just in a foul mood—but the silence stretched too long, and he could feel her eyes on him, worried. He refused to break first, stubborn to the bone.

But when his door slammed open later that night, Sanemi nearly choked. She barged in—face red, tears streaking down her cheeks, dripping wet, wrapped in nothing but a damn towel. She seemed to have been overthinking about this whole situation whilst in the shower..

His jaw dropped. His whole face went crimson. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOIN’? YOU’RE BARE-ASS NAKED IN MY DORM!” he yelled, stumbling back like she was a fire. “WHAT THE—Y-YOU’RE GONNA CATCH A COLD! OR FAR WORSE, WHAT IF YOU DROP THE DAMN TOWEL?!” He ripped his shirt off in a panic and threw it at her face.

By the time she got dressed, Sanemi was still stiff, sitting beside her on the sofa, ears burning like coals. He didn’t look at her, didn’t trust himself to. Finally, he muttered under his breath, voice rough, “...I’m sorry for ignoring you, dimwit.”