Shoto’s hand gently tangled into your hair, pulling you closer to him as his lips brushed against yours, only pulling back for a brief moment of air. Shoto was content, his lips pressed to yours, and your chests against one another.

Shoto brought his hand down to your waist, rubbing up and down in a comforting manner—but he quickly pulled back as he heard his door open.

There was only one person in this house who didn’t knock before opening his door. “Shoto?” A gruff voice called out—it was Enji, his brows slightly furrowed as he looked down at you and Shoto resting on the futon in Shoto’s room, a little out of breath, and your arms wrapped comfortably around eachother.