Chapter 12: Accidents Don't Happen This Close

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The next morning, Arashi opened his closet.

Empty.

Well—not empty. Just suspiciously missing certain things. Like his favorite hoodie.

And one of his oversized black shirts.

And that damn grey cardigan he never wore in public but liked to wear around the house.

"…This little—"

Arashi stormed into the living room. Ken was there. Reading. Calm. Innocent. Too innocent.

Wearing the oversized black shirt.

"Ken," Arashi growled.

Ken glanced up, brushing his bangs aside. "Morning."

"You're doing this on purpose."

Ken smiled faintly. "Doing what, Arashi?"

"Stealing my entire closet like it's a shopping mall."

"Relax," Ken said, standing up and stretching. The shirt drooped off one shoulder again. "It smells like you. It's comforting."

Arashi's eye twitched.

"You're messing with me."

Ken stepped closer. "Am I?"

Arashi blinked.

Ken was too close.

Again.

Something about the quiet confidence in his tone—the way he wasn't flinching, wasn't backing away—made it worse. Or better. Arashi wasn't sure anymore.

"Fine," Arashi muttered. "You wanna play?"

Ken tilted his head, intrigued.

Arashi turned on his heel and walked back into his room.

Two minutes later, he walked out.

Shirtless.

Loose pajama pants hanging low on his hips. Still towel-drying his hair. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Ken blinked. Slowly closed his book.

"You forgot your shirt," Ken said, trying not to stare.

"Nope," Arashi said flatly, throwing the towel aside. "I'm just… comfortable."

Ken's mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

"You're doing this because I wore your shirt."

Arashi leaned against the wall casually, arms crossed, bare chest on full display. "What? You said it's comforting."

Ken stood, flustered for once. "You're ridiculous."

"Say it."

"Say what?"

"Say I look hot."

Ken scowled, walking toward the hallway—but Arashi stepped forward at the same time. Their shoulders collided. The hallway was narrow. Too narrow. They both moved the same direction. Then again.

And then—thud.

Ken stumbled into Arashi's chest.

Arashi instinctively grabbed his arm to steady him.

Chest to chest. Bare skin on fabric. Ken's hands pressing slightly into Arashi's stomach.

For a split second, no one moved.

They both froze.

Arashi's breath hitched.

Ken's eyes flicked up.

"Your heartbeat's fast," Ken whispered.

"You're pressed against me," Arashi replied hoarsely.

They stared at each other.

And just when it felt like something might happen—

Ken pulled back.

"…Pervert," he muttered, walking away quickly, ears red.

Arashi exhaled sharply, leaning his back against the wall and looking up at the ceiling.

His hand touched where Ken had gripped him.

Warm.

Too warm.

This wasn't hate anymore.

Not even close.

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