Just let me - Uruha, Aoi
He was well aware of that, but he couldn’t help himself, for countless days they were touring his eyes kept drifting to the man on the opposite side of stage. He found himself staring at him off stage too, his mind wondering, his mouth wanting, his fingers just itching. Tonight something inside of him snapped, he just couldn’t fight it anymore this sudden urge proving to be stronger than him.
Regrouping his thoughts he knocked on the door. Some shuffling could be heard from the other side before Aoi opened them, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jersey pants, hair mussed, traces of styling products still evident in it. He looked beat, ready for sleep.
“Uruha?” he asked with a surprise evident in his voice.
“Can I come in?” Uruha answered with a hesitant question.
“Sure.” Aoi moved to let him inside.
Closing the door Aoi found himself with face inches away from Uruha’s. The lead guitarist gripping his arms tightly only added to his apparent confusion.
“What?” he started to ask.
“Aoi,” Uruha’s breath ghosted over his lips, “let me wash your hair.”
Regrouping his thoughts he knocked on the door. Some shuffling could be heard from the other side before Aoi opened them, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jersey pants, hair mussed, traces of styling products still evident in it. He looked beat, ready for sleep.
“Uruha?” he asked with a surprise evident in his voice.
“Can I come in?” Uruha answered with a hesitant question.
“Sure.” Aoi moved to let him inside.
Closing the door Aoi found himself with face inches away from Uruha’s. The lead guitarist gripping his arms tightly only added to his apparent confusion.
“What?” he started to ask.
“Aoi,” Uruha’s breath ghosted over his lips, “let me wash your hair.”