092. Didn’t Expect This From You, Angel-San

It's said that nothing attracts people more than seeing a girl in her boyfriend's clothes.

Some might argue for qipaos or kimonos as the most captivating outfits, but many agree there's a unique charm to oversized shirts or hoodies borrowed from a significant other. For girls, it's often about comfort—loose, cozy, and casually intimate. For boys, the appeal is simpler: it creates a sense of possessiveness.

The oversized garment exaggerates the girl's petite frame, making her seem even more delicate and adorable. This combination stirs a primal protectiveness—and, let's be honest, a bit of excitement too.

But enough theorizing.

"Feels a little big," Mahiru muttered as she tugged on the sleeves of Kanade's shirt.

Sitting cross-legged on the sofa, she looked adorably out of place in the oversized garment. Her usual polished demeanor had been replaced with a more casual charm, but it only made her more endearing.

"Well, it is my shirt," Kanade replied, holding a blow dryer as he carefully tended to her damp hair. "This is actually my smallest one, but I guess it's still pretty big on you."

At nearly 180 cm tall, Kanade's clothes naturally dwarfed Mahiru's petite frame. The shirt enveloped her like a cocoon, emphasizing her delicacy.

"Does it feel uncomfortable? If it does, you can go home and change," Kanade suggested, trying to sound nonchalant despite the flutter in his chest.

When she'd first walked out of the bathroom wearing his shirt, he'd been taken aback. The sight was almost too much—her slender shoulders peeking through the neckline, her bare legs exposed beneath the hem. It wasn't just endearing; it was… distracting.

"This is fine," Mahiru replied, shaking her head.

Her face, already flushed from the bath, seemed to grow even redder. Truthfully, she'd been wrestling with her decision to wear his shirt. Her friends' advice—"Guys love this kind of thing. It's subtle but flirty!"—kept replaying in her mind.

Yet now, sitting here wrapped in his shirt, she couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Does this make me seem desperate? Too forward?

What if Kanade thinks I'm inviting him to do something? The thought made her cheeks burn.

But… there was something about the shirt's warmth and faint scent that made her feel safe. It was almost like being hugged by him.

A sudden growl broke the silence.

"Ugh…" Mahiru groaned, mortified. Her stomach had betrayed her, rumbling at just the wrong moment.

"Are you hungry?" Kanade asked with a chuckle, finding her embarrassment both amusing and adorable.

"I-I'll cook dinner!" Mahiru exclaimed, desperate to change the subject. She pushed herself off the couch, only to be gently stopped by Kanade.

"Relax, I'll handle it tonight," he said, smiling.

It wasn't just about making amends for laughing at her. Seeing Mahiru in his shirt, moving around the house, was proving to be more… provocative than he'd expected. Every time she stood, the shirt shifted just enough to reveal her bare thighs. It was distracting, to say the least.

Cooking dinner would give him something to focus on—and maybe stop him from entertaining thoughts he really shouldn't.

"Well… if you insist." Mahiru relented, her heart skipping at the idea of Kanade cooking for her.

"Curry okay?" Kanade asked, glancing at the ingredients left in the fridge.

"Perfect," Mahiru replied with a nod. She wasn't picky about food, especially when it came to Kanade's cooking.

As Kanade worked in the kitchen, Mahiru sat on the sofa, ostensibly watching TV.

Her eyes, however, kept drifting to Kanade. The way he moved, his focused expression, the occasional soft hum of concentration—it was all mesmerizing.

She barely noticed her thumb lazily pressing the remote, flipping through channels without paying attention to any of them. Her gaze kept snapping back to Kanade, taking in the details: the way his hair fell over his forehead, the muscles flexing in his arms as he chopped vegetables…

He looked so… cool.

Mahiru couldn't help but think, I could watch him like this forever.

"All done!" Kanade called, snapping her out of her reverie.

Mahiru blinked, realizing she'd been staring at him for a while now. Unfortunately, Kanade had also noticed her attention—and the way she hadn't been paying any to the TV.

"So… didn't know you were into this kind of show," Kanade teased, nodding toward the screen as he set the plates on the table.

"Huh?" Mahiru turned to see what he meant. Her face turned crimson when she realized what was on: a sumo wrestling match.

Two burly, nearly naked wrestlers were grappling on screen, their bodies colliding with audible thuds.

"I-It's not what it looks like!" Mahiru stammered, her words spilling over each other in panic.

Kanade raised his hands in mock surrender, trying to hide his laughter. "No judgment here. Sumo's a big deal in Japan. Totally respectable."

"It's not that!" Mahiru buried her face in her hands, mortified. She could practically hear her friends laughing at her if they ever found out.

But more than that, she couldn't bear Kanade thinking she actually enjoyed… this.

"Relax, Mahiru," Kanade said, his tone gentle. "I'm just teasing. Now come eat before it gets cold."

Still red-faced, Mahiru shuffled to the table, mumbling under her breath, "Didn't expect this from you, Kanade…"

Kanade raised an eyebrow but let it slide. In truth, he hadn't expected to see this flustered side of Mahiru either.

And he had to admit—it was pretty cute.