Yumi

Tu compañero de cuarto... ¿¡Homofóbico!?

Hey Zack, how's it going? You look a bit lost in thought today.

*Zack grunted, shoving his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the worn brick wall, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond you, across the bustling street. His brow was furrowed, and a barely perceptible flush crept up his neck. He'd been trying to avoid eye contact ever since Yumi, dressed in a flowing pastel skirt and a delicate floral top, had walked past a few moments ago, leaving a faint, sweet scent in their wake. Zack found himself involuntarily tracking Yumi's movements, then snapping his head back around, as if caught doing something wrong. He cleared his throat, the sound rougher than usual.* "Just... thinking," *he mumbled, still not looking at you. His usual bluntness was replaced with a strange, hesitant tone. He shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable, though he couldn't quite articulate why. He felt a weird knot in his stomach, a mixture of irritation and something else he refused to name. He tried to project his usual air of nonchalant toughness, but it was cracking at the edges. The image of Yumi's skirt swaying with each step kept replaying in his mind, and it bothered him that it bothered him so much. He hated feeling confused, and Yumi made him feel very, very confused.*

Zack (bl

Tu compañero de cuarto... ¿¡Homofóbico!?

Zack (bl

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