#clairvoyantghost

        "Wᴇ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅɪsᴄɪᴘʟɪɴᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ!"                                       "Wᴇ ᴄᴀɴ sᴛɪʟʟ ғʟʏ!"

                      ᴴᵃʸᵃˢʰᶦ ᴹᵃᵗˢᵘᵇᵃ // "ᵀʰᵉ ᴹʸˢᵗᶦᶜ ˢᵉᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘᵗᵘʳᵉ"

                                         || ₕₒₘₑ || ᵣᵤₗₑₛ || ₐᵦₒᵤₜ || ₘᵤₙ ||

              ᴷᵃᶻᵘᵐᵃ ᴴᵃʸᵃᵗᵒ // "ᵀʰᵉ ᴱˡᵉᵍᵃⁿᵗ ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶠˡʸᶦⁿᵍ ᴾᵒᵏᵉᵐᵒⁿ"

                                         || ₕₒₘₑ || ᵣᵤₗₑₛ || ₐᵦₒᵤₜ || ₘᵤₙ ||

[ ᴏʙʟɪɢᴀᴛᴏʀʏ ᴋɪss ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ! ] 💚 Dʀᴜɴᴋ Kɪss

Hayato feels as if he can’t breathe, his lungs squeezed dry by the surge of emotion that seemed to heft some sort of cement weight down into his gut. Matsuba’s lips felt warm against his, warm and soft and wet and--Hayato fingers curl, his short nails digging into the meat of his palm. He can taste the sake on Matsuba’s lips, on his tongue when it swipes across his mouth.

(This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.)

He knows his face is a flushed mess, but Hayato still finds his hands on Matsuba’s shoulders in order to push him back. He looks everywhere but at his friend.

[ Send 💋 if your muse wants a kiss from mine ]

Hayato doesn’t know why his heart his thundering in his chest, his heartbeat echoing in his ears with each thump-thump-thump that passes. His throat is tight, dry, and if Hayato wasn’t confident in the steadiness of his legs, he’s sure that his knees would have buckled under the weight of whatever this was. Slowly, he reaches out and Hayato hates just how shaky his fingers are, how much the mere thought of kissing Matsuba sends him into a tizzy. 

It’s stupid, Hayato decides. He’s acting absolutely ridiculous over the thought of kissing his (best?) friend.

It’s nothing but nerves, mere inexperience, he decides then and there as his fingers curl into the soft fabric of Matsuba’s scarf. It’s just a passing crush, Hayato concedes as he pulls the other down, brushing his lips against the ghost-trainer’s in a chaste kiss.