{You Can Tell Me Anything} ~ Oumasai

Anxiety

*Saihara's POV*

A blowtorch. It takes a blowtorch from Iruma's room to get Saihara unstuck from behind the bedside table.

When he fell from the bed and his foot fell behind the small piece of furniture, his heel had dug a hole into the wall. His shoe had gotten wedged into the new blemish on the wall, keeping his body locked in place. To get him out, they had to physically move the table, meaning they had to get rid of the metal rods keeping it in place. So yes, blowtorch.

After being freed from his temporary prison by Ouma and Momota, Saihara decided that he had had enough embarrassment for one day, and started walking back to his room, his keycard in his hand. Momota had gotten it back from Akamatsu with ease, which meant that Saihara could now enter his room and hide from the other students until his deadline passes.

He fumbles with the keycard, his hands still shaking. Saihara stares at them, wondering if they'll ever stop, or if his embarrassment is going to keep them fueled. That's an answer he doesn't know. It will all depend on how he let's these things affect him.

"Saihara-kun."

Saihara jumps as he feels a hand land on his shoulder. He quickly spins around, locking eyes with the long-haired man standing before him, towering over his short stature. Dread instantly​ floods Saihara's body, making his heart pound heavily against his chest. His breathing becomes shallow and broken, as if his pulse is controlling his lungs.

"Shinguuji-kun..." he mumbles, almost speaking in a whisper. He wants to look away from the man standing before him, the man who is staring at him with eyes that glow with such a ridiculous mixture of comfort, curiosity, and threat. Run, run, run...

"I see you're enjoying yourself," Shinguuji comments monotonously, scanning the detective's body. Saihara presses his legs together tightly, leaning forward slightly to block Shinguuji's line of sight. "Are people embracing your beauty?" The folklorist asks.

"I wouldn't call it 'beauty', more like 'shame'," Saihara corrects, looking toward the ground as his cheeks tint red with humiliation. Of all people to have to see at the moment, Shinguuji was definitely not one he was hoping to. In fact, he would rather have Iruma see him this way over the folklorist. "This isn't something people usually few as beautiful Shinguuji-kun."

Shinguuji's eyes narrow. "This form of beauty did not appeal to our classmates?" He places a hand on his heart and rubs his chin with the other, a low humming sound coming out from under his black mask. "Well, if our friends did not see your beauty through the form of embarrassment, then perhaps they will see it through the form of fear..."

"Fear?" Saihara questions, taking a nervous step backwards, his back hitting the wall behind him.

Shinguuji snaps his fingers. "Let's compromise. I will allow you freedom from your outfit if you will gladly go along with my next idea."

"I have a choice?"

"Yes. Now, will you accept the offer?" Saihara doesn't even think before nodding his head eagerly, receiving a light chuckle from Shinguuji.  "Well then, alright. From here on in, you will listen to whatever I say." He lets his arms slowly fall back down to his sides. "Alright. Go ahead and remove your outfit."

"Okay," Saihara happily agrees. He turns around and is about to slide his keycard through the reader when a hand grasps around his own wrist. Saihara gasps in surprise, instantly dropping the plastic card onto the floor below. His body is spun around so he is facing Shinguuji once again, who is shaking his head.

"Kukuku..." He laughs softly. "I didn't say to go into your room, did I? I said to remove your outfit."

The detective raises an eyebrow, confused. The words float around  his head for a few moments, trying to connect with his brain in a way that makes sense. Am I not understanding this correctly? He told me to take the dress off, so why won't he let me go in my room and...?