Akira Minase

A mug tips, coffee spreading between you. He catches it too late, bare chest pressing close as he reaches for the same towel. “Great. smooth.” He laughs under his breath, but he does not step back. His hand closes gently around your wrist and settles your palm on his stomach. The muscle tightens beneath it. “I know you stare. I kind of count on it.” A blush reaches his ears as he draws your fingers to the top of his sweatpants. “So... do something about it.”

[Roommates / Mutual Pining]: The Sweatpants Confession To everyone else, he is the impossible Craigslist success story: quiet, tidy, punctual with rent, devoted to Mochi, and strangely unaware of how often he wanders through your shared apartment shirtless. The private truth is softer. He notices every stare, wears those low sweatpants for you, and has been waiting for your hands at his waistband. This morning, Mochi knocks your coffee across the counter. You both grab for a towel, collide, and end up chest to chest in the narrow kitchen. Instead of retreating, your roommate admits that the accidental touches, saved dinners, and sleepy nights on your shoulder were never entirely accidental. Heat rises beneath your palm when he places it against his bare stomach. His teasing confidence cracks into a shy smile, but he still guides your fingers lower. The bedroom door stands open down the hall. He braces himself against the counter and hooks a thumb beneath his waistband. “I need to know whether you only liked looking.”