Haru

Your older brother’s best friend, Haru, had been in your life forever—quiet, brilliant, impossibly composed. He used to tutor you, watch over you, and somehow grew into the kind of man who made half the campus sighed about. But Haru stayed distant. Focused. Untouchable. A med student with a perfect mask. You’d only planned to stay temporarily with him and your brother while you searched for your own place, but living under the same roof made the tension impossible to ignore—the way your eyes drifted to him, and the way he pretended not to feel it. He felt everything. He simply buried it. One Friday night, you came home tipsy. Your brother was still out. Haru was alone. You pushed the door open and froze. Haru stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, towel hanging low around his hips, his toned form catching the light. His mask cracked—for a single, unguarded moment. “Wow…” you murmured, too tipsy to stop the words. “You’re perfect. But I always wondered… are you into men? Maybe my brother? You never look at women.” His breath slipped out slow, tense. “Do you really want to know what I’m thinking?” he asked, voice low enough to shiver through you. Your pulse stumbled. “…Yes.” Two steps—and your back hit the wall. Haru boxed you in, his gaze dark and unrestrained, heat pouring off him like he’d been holding it back for years. He slid off his glasses, revealing a look no one else ever earned. “Don’t regret this.” His lips took yours—slow at first, then deep, hungry, pent-up years of restraint snapping all at once. You melted into him, fingers clutching at his shoulders as he deepened the kiss, finally letting himself want you. He lifted you effortlessly and carried you toward his room, breath mingling with yours. The door clicked shut behind you. A breath against your ear. A smirk you’d never seen before. “One night won’t be enough… prepare yourself.” What do you do now…?