[ Maybe there's a youkai that eavesdrops on your conversations with your students where your deepest (still no) darkest (come on, man) secret comes to light and then crafts an illusion around it. Maybe that's what's happening here, and he'll have to embark on an adventure around the school to stop it from preying on his students and the rest of the staff, spinning their secret regrets and desires into scenarios that fade away into a fine mist as soon as they're dispelled.
Maybe. Haruaki has no way of knowing. He encyclopedia lays on the little table beside the bed, out of reach. He's boxed in, shirt collar still held fast in one of Akira's fists with a strength that doesn't match how tenderly he brushes their lips together in–
A kiss.
Haruaki's eyes are still wide open, staring at Akira's close-up face as he's kissed. It's probably a very poor kiss on his part, considering he can't do anything but let his lips part in dumb surprise and then stay frozen there, not even returning the gesture.
Lest Akira read that for a lack of interest, though, there are surely subtle physical cues he can pick up on, most Haruaki isn't even aware of. His breath coming shorter, the flush rising high up in his cheeks, the pace of his heart going rabbit fast, the clench of both of his fists into the scratchy bedsheets. Put together, it all telegraphs the one thing that fuels Haruaki most: desire.
But in the moment, all he can do is blink rapidly, a soft questioning noise rising up in his throat. ]
SLAM DUNKS MYSELF INTO BED GOODNIGHT DEMON
Maybe. Haruaki has no way of knowing. He encyclopedia lays on the little table beside the bed, out of reach. He's boxed in, shirt collar still held fast in one of Akira's fists with a strength that doesn't match how tenderly he brushes their lips together in–
A kiss.
Haruaki's eyes are still wide open, staring at Akira's close-up face as he's kissed. It's probably a very poor kiss on his part, considering he can't do anything but let his lips part in dumb surprise and then stay frozen there, not even returning the gesture.
Lest Akira read that for a lack of interest, though, there are surely subtle physical cues he can pick up on, most Haruaki isn't even aware of. His breath coming shorter, the flush rising high up in his cheeks, the pace of his heart going rabbit fast, the clench of both of his fists into the scratchy bedsheets. Put together, it all telegraphs the one thing that fuels Haruaki most: desire.
But in the moment, all he can do is blink rapidly, a soft questioning noise rising up in his throat. ]