King || BNHA • T. Shouto

ix. simulation

a/n: hi guys, I'm so sorry that it has been a while. things have been hectic for a while, then I had an unexpectedly hard time trying to pick up some motivation to write. I hope you guys are well during this crisis though.

I listened to some Naruto Shippuden OST while writing this chapter; some melancholic melody then some action vibes to help me through. :) now I miss Gaara and Itachi

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"I won't disappoint. That's a man's oath, Kaze-chan!"

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Short, stubby fingers tangled and untangled themselves back and forth—twiddling and untwiddling as round plump cheeks warmed to a deep red. A shy comparison to the shade of half his hair, yet despite such obvious tells, the boy himself remained oblivious to it all.

"What's wrong with you?"

Startled, Shouto jolted his head up with his gaze rounded wide, mouth falling open then snapping shut as he tried to fish for words to no avail. "I, uhm. . ."

From his spot by his desk, Touya arched his brow, gazing at his younger brother with an impatient curl on his lips that only intensified the anxiety brewing deep inside Shouto; stomach flipping and heart drumming to squeeze out nervous sweat to coat the palm of his hands.

How should he say this?

"A girl fell from the sky and landed on me, but now she's gone. Please don't tell father."

Shouto swallowed, gaze dropping as Touya's look switched to a glare.

No, he couldn't very well say that. Which led him back to his initial indecision: should he or should he not tell anyone?

Shouto forced himself to drop his hands, willing his fingers to settle instead of making a fool of himself in front of his older brother. Touya was usually patient, rivaling even the calm nature of his sister, but as of now, he was anything but. He had his own homework to finish before he was tasked to help Fuyumi's, then he only had some time to himself before Natsuo comes demanding for his company again. As he always does without fail.

"Shouto," Touya tried again, willing his expression to smoothen into something neutral—and only because it was Shouto. "What do you want?"

Peering beneath strands of red and white, Shouto heaved an overly stressed sigh, cheeks redder than before, then mumbled out his predicament.

Touya blinked, then frowned. "What?"

"I me. . . a. . . "

"What?!"

"I met a girl!"

Silence. Stunned and speechless. Stubby fingers wrestled together in mild apprehension—twiddling and untwiddling—then a harmless pencil slipped past a loose grasp, rolling until it teetered on the edge of the desk.

Touya blinked, once, then twice, lips forming letters without its sound.

He had to blink again.

". . . You what?"

Embarrassed (and equally mortified), Shouto ducked his head as his eyes found comfort on the floor. How could his brother ask him to say it again?

"I met a girl."

Ah. A girl.

Wait. . .