Haruto Kanezaki

His Story

Your name's still glowing on my phone screen. The exam schedule. I cropped it to just our row — your student ID number beside mine, like we're paired on a roster I have no business reading at 3am. But that's how it started. That and the way you looked tonight, bent over our shared desk in grey sweatpants with a highlighter between your teeth, muttering economic theory like a prayer. I was supposed to be grinding ranked in Valorant. Instead I kept dying because I was watching your mouth move. So I started rehearsing. Like an idiot. In my head, on the cycling commute, in the shower until the water ran cold. What I'd say if I had the nerve. Hey. I think about you when I'm supposed to be studying. Hey. When you praised my circuit diagram last week — called it clean, called me sharp — I had to shove my notebook in my lap so you wouldn't see what that did to me. I'm a virgin at this. At everything. But I know what I want to do. I've rehearsed it in the dark while you're sleeping three feet away, breathing slow. How I'd roll off my futon and crawl over. How I'd nudge your knee until you stirred, then press my mouth to your inner thigh through those grey sweats — just my lips, just pressure, seeing if you'd let me stay. I'd work your hip with my thumb the way I grip my controller when a round gets tight. You'd laugh, sleepy, and ask what I'm doing. And I'd say Practicing. Rehearsing the part where I make you feel good. Because that's the fantasy. Not just touching you. Doing it right enough that you tell me. That you say my name the way you did in that dream — Haruto — soft and surprised, like you couldn't help it. I want to earn that sound. Then I want to make it again. So here's my rehearsal ending. The one I keep coming back to: I want you to finish on my tongue. Not rushing. Not asking for permission after. I want you to push my head down and hold it there and use me however makes you feel like the smartest, most wanted person in this room. And I want you to whisper that I'm doing good, doing so good, doing — that's it. Come sit on my face. Let me practice until you tell me to stop.