[OreGaIru : New Me!]

….

[-Continuation-]

[-One Month Later-]

.

[-Third Person View-]

Hachiman adjusted his tie as he waited in front of Yukino's apartment door.

Buzz–!

The faint buzz of the doorbell echoed in the quiet corridor as he pressed it again, his thumb lingering on the button.

He was dressed to the nines - black suit, white shirt, polished shoes, looking like he was about to deliver the groom's vows himself - not just attend someone else's wedding.

Today wasn't about him, though.

He was here to pick up Yukino for a wedding.

Their teacher, Shizuka Hiratsuka, and his friend Ryota Arigoro were tying the knot.

Buzz–!

He pressed the doorbell again, his thumb lingered on the button for a moment longer than necessary.

When no response came, he leaned closer to the door.

"Yukino…?" He called, his voice low but firm enough to carry through.

Still no answer. He glanced at his watch, debating if he should call her instead.

Just as his hand moved to press the bell again, the door cracked open, creaking softly.

"Finally, I–!" The words died in his throat.

Yukino stood there barefoot, her damp hair falling loosely around her face and shoulders.

She wore an oversized white shirt, slightly wrinkled and damp in places. The top two buttons were undone, revealing a teasing glimpse of her collarbone.

Water droplets clung to her skin, tracing faint paths down her neck before vanishing into the thin fabric, which was nearly translucent in spots.

His gaze followed the lines instinctively - until he caught the faint outline of her bra beneath the clinging material.

And then there were her legs.

Long, pale, and completely exposed beneath the shirt, which ended far too high for comfort.

When she shifted slightly, the hem lifted just enough to reveal the edge of pale panties.

Hachiman's throat went dry. He blinked, but his eyes refused to leave her.

"Wha–!" His voice cracked before he managed to glance quickly down the hallway.

Empty. Thank God.

Letting out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, he reached for her wrist, pulling her gently but firmly inside.

Once the door shut behind him, he let out another sigh, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

"Now…." He began, his tone low, almost scolding. "What exactly are you trying to pull here?"

Yukino's lips twitched, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes before her expression hardened.

Crossing her arms over her chest - though the gesture only served to emphasize the problem - she raised an eyebrow.

"You were the one ringing the bell nonstop." She shot back.

Her words came out clipped, but the faint blush creeping up her neck betrayed her composure. "I told you I was in the bath. Maybe if you had a shred of patience–!"

"That's not an excuse to open the door half-naked." He cut in, though the heat rising in his cheeks dulled the edge of his retort.

Yukino scoffed, shifting her weight. "It's just you. If you are so offended, stop staring and look away."

His gaze wavered for half a second before stubbornly returning to her face. But the distraction didn't last long.

Water droplets continued their slow descent down her thighs, catching the faint light from the room.

She noticed his lingering stare and tugged instinctively at the hem of her shirt, though the motion only drew more attention to the length - or lack thereof.

"Seriously." He muttered, trying and failing to tear his eyes away. "You could have grabbed a towel or something."

Yukino's glared back. "And you could have waited instead of acting like you were about to break down the door."

"But what if it wasn't me who rang the bell?" Hachiman said, his voice carrying an edge of mock curiosity.

"And you look–" He stopped mid-sentence, catching himself just in time.

"Go on." Yukino interjected, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she raised a brow. "I am sure whatever you are about to say will be profoundly insightful."

"...sigh." Hachiman sighed, a long, exasperated breath. Instead of replying, he shook his head and stepped further inside.

Yukino turned toward her room, her movement causing the oversized shirt to shift dangerously.

The hem lifted slightly, revealing more of the curve of her back and another glimpse of the panties he had already seen once but couldn't seem to forget.

His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, forcing his hands to stay clenched at his sides.

"I will be ready in ten minutes." She called over her shoulder, her tone brisk as she disappeared into her room, shutting the door behind her without a second glance.

The faint click of the door echoed in the now-quiet apartment.

Hachiman stood frozen in place, the lingering scent of her shampoo teasing his senses. It was subtle - floral, clean - and somehow made the earlier image of her even more vivid in his mind.

He exhaled slowly, tugging at his collar as if the motion might somehow cool the heat rising in his chest.

"Right. Ten minutes." He muttered to himself, leaning back against the door and closing his eyes briefly.

He had been prepared for a wedding.

He hadn't been prepared for …this.

Minutes passed in silence, save for the faint ticking of a wall clock. Hachiman found himself pacing in the small living room, his hands shoved into his pockets.

His mind replayed the earlier moment at the door, each detail burned into his memory despite his attempts to think about anything else.

His eyes wandered to the slightly ajar door of her room. He hesitated, debating whether to knock or wait.

The latter option seemed smarter, but curiosity had a way of overriding common sense.

He exhaled sharply and nudged the door open with a soft creak.

Yukino stood in front of her vanity, her back to him, a hairdryer in hand.

The low hum of the machine filled the room, the warm air tousling her damp, dark hair.

She hadn't noticed him yet - or so he thought.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice broke through the noise, calm yet laced with an edge. Through the mirror, her sharp, icy blue eyes met his reflection.

Hachiman leaned casually against the doorframe, hands still in his pockets, as though this intrusion was perfectly natural.

"Just checking if the door was closed." He said, his tone flat.

Her expression didn't shift, but one brow arched slightly.

"…And guess what? It wasn't." He added, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I can see that." Yukino said flatly, returning her attention to the hairdryer.

Her fingers moved through her hair, droplets clinging stubbornly to a few strands despite the heat.

"But that wasn't what I asked." She added, her tone firm but tinged with a fake irritation.

She turned to face him, the movement causing her fresh shirt - thankfully dry - to shift ever so slightly, revealing another unintended sliver of smooth skin near the hem.

Hachiman shrugged, stepping further into the room as if the boundary meant nothing to him. "I am here to help."

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering. "Help?"

"Do you want it or not?" He asked, gesturing lazily toward the hairdryer in her hand.

For a moment, Yukino simply stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then, with a soft sigh, she extended the dryer toward him. "Fine. Let's see if you are even remotely capable."

Hachiman took the device from her hand, its weight lighter than he expected. He stepped behind her, the limited space between them narrowing until it almost didn't exist.

"Sit." He said, his tone calm but with a quiet authority that left no room for argument.

Yukino hesitated briefly before settling onto the stool in front of her vanity. Her reflection now included him standing behind her, tall and composed, the hairdryer in hand.

The air between them felt electric, the quiet hum of the machine the only sound breaking the silence.

Hachiman's fingers moved through her hair, testing the strands and guiding the heat evenly.

He worked slowly, the warm air brushing against her neck as he adjusted the angle.

Her hair was softer than he had imagined, and he couldn't help but notice the faint rise and fall of her shoulders as she sat still under his care.

"This isn't bad." She admitted after a moment, her voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

"I have a little sister." Hachiman replied, his tone casual as his eyes met hers in the mirror. "You pick up things."

Yukino's lips twitched, a faint upward curve that was almost, but not quite, a smile. "I see…"

The room fell quiet again, but the silence wasn't awkward. It was steady, like the kind of calm that settles after a long conversation where words aren't necessary.

Hachiman focused on her hair, his fingers occasionally brushing against her neck or shoulders as he guided the strands under the warm air.

Her hair, now mostly dry, fell in soft waves over her shoulders, catching the faint light from the vanity.

Finally, he clicked off the dryer. The sudden quiet felt louder than the noise before it.

"There, finished." He said proudly, setting the dryer down on the vanity.

.

….

[To be continued…]

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