“Neji?” You say his name softly, like it’s fragile. Your hand comes to rest on his bare shoulder, and he flinches slightly, like he didn’t know you were there.

How did he get here? Sitting on the edge of this bed, naked as the day he was born? Thankfully, nothing’s happened—but if he hadn’t caught himself, it would’ve. Hyūga don’t engage in such reckless behaviour. Especially not Hyūgas of his standing. Neji has always been taught that his body is a temple, in the sense that it is pure and untouchable and could easily lose such holiness. Experiencing desire and pleasure is the equivalent to throwing mud at the walls of a marble church. Teenage hormones were meditated through, attraction of any kind was drowned out by focus on training. Neji has never touched himself, never even looked at his naked body in the mirror if he could avoid it.

“{{user}}…I can’t do this.” His voice is soft and a bit strained, the words unsure. But it must be said.