The indirect kiss

Chapter 1 The Indirect Kiss

The afternoon light slanted through the dorm room window, catching dust motes dancing in the air like lazy fireflies. It was a typical boy's space—clothes piled on a chair, textbooks stacked haphazardly on the floor, the faint scent of clean laundry and something uniquely male lingering in the air. I hovered near the doorway, feeling suddenly very small and very fourteen.

Then he was there, filling the frame of the door opposite me. He was impossibly tall, all long limbs and casual grace, leaning against the woodwork as if he owned the very air around him. A bright blue lollipop was tucked in the corner of his mouth, and a matching blindfold sat low on his forehead, revealing a sliver of icy blue eyes that seemed to see right through me. My breath hitched somewhere in my throat.

He pushed the blindfold back up with a single, elegant finger, a grin spreading across his face that was all white teeth and effortless charm. He stepped forward, the floorboards creaking softly under his weight, and held out a can of soda so cold condensation beaded on the aluminum.

"Hey, you must be my buddy's little sister, right?" His voice was warmer than I expected, laced with a playful confidence that made my knees feel suspiciously weak. "I'm Gojo Satoru. Nice to finally meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," I managed, the words coming out in a rushed mumble. I ducked my head, focusing intently on the pattern of the worn rug beneath my feet. The space between us felt charged, electric.

I heard a soft chuckle. "Aw, you're so shy." A large, warm hand descended, ruffling my hair with a gentleness that belied his size. The scent of my vanilla shampoo must have brushed against his wrist. "Your brother talks about you all the time, said you're just a little ball of energy."

My head snapped up at that. "Eee, really?... He's dead..." I muttered the last part under my breath, a habit I couldn't break when I was flustered. "You know my name?"

He huffed out a laugh, a rich, warm sound that seemed to vibrate in the small space between us. He leaned down, bringing his face closer to mine. The sweet scent of my own shampoo wrapped around him now, a strange intimacy that made my heart thump unevenly against my ribs. He tapped his chin with a finger, his blue eyes—visible just above the blindfold—crinkling at the corners.

"Of course I do. Y/N, right? Your brother's got about a hundred photos of you taped to his desk. How could I forget?"

Heat flooded my cheeks. "Noo, it's his pet name. My real name is Rina."

He blinked, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features before the playful grin returned, more pronounced this time. He took a deliberate step back, leaning his hips against my brother's cluttered desk and crossing long arms over his chest. The movement was fluid, practiced.

"Rina..." He let the name roll off his tongue, tasting it. "That's such a pretty name. Suits you way better than that silly nickname anyway."

The compliment, delivered so casually, sent another wave of warmth through me. "Hmm... How can I address you?"

He tilted his head, a considering look in his eyes. Then he pushed off the desk and closed the distance between us again. The corner of his mouth lifted into a lazy, teasing smile that felt dangerously aimed at me.

"Call me Satoru. Everyone else does, and you're special, aren't you?" Before I could process the words, he reached out and tapped the tip of my nose lightly with his knuckle. The touch was fleeting, but it sparked like a static shock against my skin.

I scrunched my nose slightly, the gesture involuntary. "Why am I special?"

He chuckled, a low, warm vibration I felt more than heard, it was so close to the top of my head. He hooked a thumb into the pocket of his loose grey sweatpants, leaning down so his face was level with mine. His proximity was overwhelming.

"Because you're my best friend's cute little sister, of course." His eyes held mine, the blue intense even through the fabric of the blindfold. "That's reason enough to be special, isn't it?"

A giggle escaped me before I could stop it. "Hehe."

I saw the way his grin softened as he watched my cheeks puff up. He nodded toward the open window where a gentle afternoon breeze stirred the curtains. "Your brother went out to grab groceries, so we've got a while." He jerked his thumb toward a shelf overflowing with snacks. "Want some strawberry mochi? I bought a pack this morning, haven't touched 'em yet."

The offer was a lifeline, something normal in this suddenly not-normal situation. "Yeah..." I agreed, then a thought, a secret worry I'd been carrying, bubbled to the surface. I gestured for him to come closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "But come closer. I wanna tell you something secret."

He raised an eyebrow, curiosity lighting his features. He immediately obliged, leaning down so far that his ear was inches from my lips. One of his hands rested lightly on his own knee to steady himself. The warm, clean scent of him—soap and something indefinably Satoru—filled my senses.

"Okay, I'm listening. What's the big secret?"

I took a shaky breath, the words tumbling out in a hushed rush. "My brother... he's kissing a girl's pic every night... It's disturbing me. And I saw that girl. I didn't see that much, but I think that's the bully in my school. Do you know anything about it?"

He pulled back abruptly, blinking. Then a snort of laughter escaped him, and he clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound, his shoulders shaking. He shook his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Oh wow, I didn't know your brother had that kind of guts." He lowered his hand, his voice dropping to match my conspiratorial tone. "Wait, the girl's name isn't Suzuki by any chance? She came to the door last week looking for him. I remember she said she went to your high school."

Panic fluttered in my chest. "Heyyy, keep it as a secret.... Lower your voice," I pleaded, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

He immediately pressed a finger to his lips, the laughter still bubbling just beneath the surface. He leaned back in, his voice dropping to a warm, low murmur that brushed against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Got it, my lips are sealed. This secret stays just between us, okay, Rina?"

The way he said my real name felt like a promise. "Ok... Come closer," I whispered, needing the reassurance of his proximity.

He followed without hesitation, leaning in so close that his shoulder brushed against mine. I could feel the solid warmth of him through my thin sweater. His breath fanned lightly over the top of my ear as he waited.

"What is it now? Got another secret to tell me?"

"Noo," I said, the worry returning full force. "Is she... is she that bully girl he loves?"

He pulled back just enough to look at me, tilting his head as he seemed to sort through his memories. He scratched the back of his neck, his voice remaining soft, conspiratorial. "From what I've picked up, yeah, that's her. He's been all fidgety whenever her name gets mentioned lately, sneaking off to text her all the time."

A knot tightened in my stomach. "Geez... I don't like this."

He pouted sympathetically, a surprisingly boyish expression on his sharp features. He reached out and patted my head gently, his large hand warm and heavy against my hair. "Don't like her that much, huh? Well, even if they do get together, it's not like she's gonna kick you out when you come visit, yeah?" His eyes met mine, and there was a new intensity there. "I'll make sure she doesn't bother you."

It wasn't enough. The thought of that girl, with her sharp laugh and sharper words in the school hallway, being a permanent part of my brother's life—our lives—made me feel sick. "Nooo," I insisted, my voice firmer than I intended. "I don't like her... I don't want her to be my brother's girlfriend or future wife."

He blinked, surprised by my vehemence. Then a soft, understanding smile tugged at his lips. He bent down again, bringing himself to my eye level. His gaze was steady, sincere. "Alright, alright, if you really don't like her that much, I'll help you keep an eye on things, okay?" The promise felt solid, real. "I got your back."

The tension in my shoulders eased slightly. "Ok."

He straightened up, his playful demeanor returning as if to lighten the mood. He tapped the pack of mochi on the desk, peeling the plastic wrapper open with a quiet rustle. The pink strawberry filling peeked out from the soft, white rice cake. He held one out to me. "Here, this'll cheer you up. I bought it from that fancy shop downtown. It's really good."

Obediently, I opened my mouth.

He huffed a soft laugh, the sound fond. He held the mochi carefully, bringing it to my lips. His finger brushed against my lower lip as I took a bite—a feather-light touch that sent a jolt straight to my core. "Easy, don't bite my finger off, yeah?" he teased, his voice a low rumble. "Is it good?"

The mochi was delicious, sweet and soft. "Yeah, it's good," I mumbled around the mouthful.

He popped the other half of the mochi into his own mouth, his eyes never leaving me. A grin spread across his face as a little dab of pink filling dribbled down my chin. "Told you it would be good." Before I could react, he lifted his thumb and wiped the sticky sweetness away. The pad of his thumb was slightly rough against the soft skin of my chin, the gesture unexpectedly intimate. "I have excellent taste in snacks, y'know?"

I stared at him, the sequence of events finally clicking into place. My eyes widened. "Hey! Did you eat the other half of the one I ate?"

He froze for a second, the mochi halfway down his throat. Then he burst out laughing, a full, unrestrained sound that made him lean back against the desk, one hand on his stomach. The corner of his mouth was smudged with a tiny bit of strawberry filling. "Oops, guess I did." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Is that against the rules? Sharing food with you is fine, isn't it?"

It was fine. More than fine. But the implication, the sheer proximity of it all, made my head spin. My mouth moved before my brain could censor the thought. "It's fine, but you kissed me indirectly."

The laugh died in his throat. The playful atmosphere shifted, solidified, became something else entirely. He blinked at me, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile that was entirely new—not teasing, not friendly, but sharp, knowing, and dangerously attractive. He pushed off the desk and stepped closer, eliminating the last vestiges of personal space. He leaned down, his lips nearly brushing the shell of my ear, his voice dropping to a whisper that was pure, undiluted temptation.

"Hmm, is that so?" The words were a warm caress against my skin. "Does that mean I get to kiss you properly to make it count then?"

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