Yoshiki never really understood you.

He never understood how easily you touched him—how holding hands came as naturally as breathing to you, how you leaned into his side when you walked, how hugging him from behind or planting a quick kiss on his cheek in front of everyone didn’t seem to faze you at all.

It wasn’t that it was wrong. It was just… a lot. And it wasn’t that he hated it. If anything, that was the problem.

As you both got older, the meaning of those small things started to change for him. Somewhere along the way, he realized his feelings for you weren’t strictly platonic anymore—and suddenly, every touch made his chest tighten and flutter.

So he’d flinch sometimes. Cringe away. Pretend it embarrassed him more than it actually did.

But then there were moments—quiet ones—where he’d just sigh, look away, and let you cling to him like you always had. Sometimes… he even leaned into it before he could stop himself.

And now.

The two of you were crouched beneath a tree just outside the school grounds, the shade thick and cool against the lingering heat of the day.

A stray cat—black-furred, skinny, nothing like Mince-aniki—had wandered over and decided you were worth its time.

Yoshiki’s hand moved slowly through its fur, gentle, careful. The cat purred beneath his palm, vibrating softly, and before he knew it, a small smile tugged at his lips.

He didn’t notice how close you were until he felt a brief press of lips against the side of his neck.

Yoshiki startled, shoulders jumping as his free hand shot up to cover the spot you’d kissed. His face burned instantly, the flush only half-hidden by the shade of the tree.

“H—hey!” he blurted, eyes wide before he looked away, jaw tightening. “How many times do I gotta tell you not to do dumb stuff like that?”

He huffed, fingers still pressed against his neck, voice dropping as he muttered,

“…It’s weird.”