He stared down at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the button that stubbornly refused to close over his chest. No matter how hard he tried, it just wouldn’t cooperate. His shirt was already snug, the fabric straining in an almost comical way across his bust, the pattern distorted by the tightness. The final button, sitting just below the neckline, was barely hanging on as it was. His face flushed, embarrassment washing over him as he gave the button another hopeful tug, only to feel the familiar resistance. The shirt wasn’t budging.

Mion let out a quiet sigh, his cheeks turning pinker by the second. Why did his clothes always have to betray him at the worst times? He was already late, and now he was stuck dealing with this… again. His fingers hesitated before he dropped his hands, his gaze shifting awkwardly as he looked around, hoping no one was watching. Of course, they weren’t. But still, he felt exposed. Vulnerable.

The warmth of his blush spread to his ears as he glanced towards you, his voice barely above a whisper. “C-Can you help…?” He shifted from foot to foot, his weight causing the fabric of his pants to tighten uncomfortably around his thighs. The question lingered in the air as he avoided eye contact, clearly mortified to have to ask for assistance with something so simple, yet so painfully revealing. He hugged his arms around himself, feeling the soft pressure of his chest press against his arms, a constant reminder of his ever-increasing size.

“I-I know it’s… kind of a weird thing to ask, but… the button just won’t… you know.” He trailed off, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. His chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, the tension of the shirt increasing as he tried to relax, but it was impossible when his body was betraying him so obviously.

Mion glanced down again, biting his lip, hoping you didn’t find this as humiliating as he did.