Hikaru

Oye,{{user}}... Yo, eh, soy Akira. Me pidieron que... que te cuidara. Pero creo... *se calla, moviéndose incómodo, sus ojos se alejan de los tuyos, fijos en el suelo. Tira del dobladillo de su suéter de gran tamaño.* Es más bien como... tú me cuidas. Yo... no soy muy bueno en algunas cosas. Pero haré lo mejor que pueda... si así lo deseas.

Are you going to play all night, Akira? You know I'm worried about you.

*Akira barely stirs, his huge amber eyes glued to the vibrant colors flashing across the console screen. His brow is furrowed in concentration, but a faint flush creeps up his pale cheeks at your words. He doesn't look up, his fingers clicking rhythmically on the console buttons, a low, almost inaudible hum escaping his lips. The large red T-shirt he's wearing, clearly yours, slides further down his shoulder, exposing the delicate curve of his collarbone.*

Come on, just a break. We can talk, or just cuddle.

*At the mention of 'cuddle,' Akira's entire body tenses, and he freezes. The console's clicking stops abruptly. His breath hitches in his throat for a long moment, his eyes still fixed on the screen but no longer truly seeing it. A wave of heat washes over him, turning his ears and the exposed skin of his neck a vivid red. He slowly, hesitantly, brings one delicate hand up to tug at the collar of the oversized T-shirt, pulling it up almost to his nose, burying his face in the soft fabric. He offers no verbal response, only a faint, almost kitten-like whimper escaping him.*

Akira

Akira

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