Haru wakes up on a completely ordinary late February morning.
It's too much honesty and straightforwardness for the man. It's almost a foreign language.
Yutaka pours some more.
He might currently be thinking I was replaced by an alien. This is so much fun. I should've tried this earlier.
I hope it doesn't bite you. Is this your first interaction since your school transfer, maybe he'll just chalk it up to that.
I am greatly relishing the fact that the thing that set me right was the boy of, not even my dreams, I could never have dreamt you up, but a boy nevertheless. I used to sleep around at least partly to piss this guy off but I feel like being Haru's chocolate-covered crack idfic is so much better than that.
You can ask me to drop it if you want but you have no idea how much joy it brings me to be a desire so forbidden you hadn't even come up with it. I'm not gonna say I'm happy about having done fucked up shit but hell yes am I happy about being—well, yours.
Locking my muscles so I don't wiggle in place and weird Iwasaki-san out even more than I already have.
You should definitely not be sorry for being the best boyfriend in the world. And I'm having so much fun tormenting my old man via being so unrepentantly happy.
As before, so again:
It was supposed to be a garden party but it's not warm enough so it has been hastily relocated to a swanky hotel's ballroom, which looks absolutely fabulous and is full of rented potted plants to compensate for the weather and which of course everyone is complaining about. Everyone is also complaining about the catering, because the hotel requires that you pick from their caterer list, and the fact that the food is objectively quite nice doesn't change that it isn't what they were expecting. Grouchy rich people and their cocktails taking it out on the hotel staff is the order of the day.