CHAPTER 19
Kiyomi stood frozen at the center of the widening circle, his face burning a deep, humiliating crimson. The murmurs of the crowd pressed in from every side, sharp and suffocating.
He looked down.
White froth still clung to the floor around his shoes, the last bubbles collapsing into thin streaks against the polished linoleum.
Slowly, he lifted his eyes.
Takumi stood a step away, his usual confident grin completely gone. His face was twisted into a mixture of confusion and alarm, like someone watching a disaster unfold without understanding how it started.
"Kiki…?" he said quietly.
Kiyomi couldn't answer.
His gaze drifted past him.
To Izumi.
Izumi wasn't shocked.
He wasn't disgusted.
He simply stood there with his hands in his pockets, calm and composed in the middle of the stunned crowd. A dark, knowing smirk rested at the corner of his lips as he watched the last bubbles slide from the hem of Kiyomi's trousers.
Their eyes met.
For a brief moment, the noise of the lobby faded away.
And Kiyomi understood.
(He knew…)
A fresh wave of heat rushed to his face, but this time it wasn't just embarrassment. Something colder settled beneath it—realization.
Izumi tilted his head slightly, his expression almost amused, as if observing the predictable result of an experiment. He made no move to help, simply watching the chaos unfold with a cold, clinical fascination.
Without skipping another beat, Takumi grabbed Kiyomi's arm and dragged him away from the whispering crowd, heading straight for a nearby toilet. He shoved the door open, pulled Kiyomi inside, and slammed the lock into place.
The silence was deafening. Kiyomi began to tremble, the adrenaline of the lobby fading into a cold, crushing wave of shame. Tears began to build, blurring his vision.
"Kiki, are you okay?" Takumi's voice was low, thick with a mix of worry and confusion.
Kiyomi didn't answer. The first sob broke through his throat, and then the tears finally fell. He burst into a violent fit of crying, his voice echoing off the tiled walls. Outside, the sound of the commotion hadn't fully died down. Someone knocked on the door.
"Is he okay?" the voice sounded worried enough to be a threat.
Takumi studied Kiyomi's face for a second. The way his friend's shoulders shook and his eyes squeezed shut told him everything he needed to know: Kiyomi wasn't ready to speak to the world.
"Yeah, he's fine..." Takumi shouted back to the door, his tone firm enough to discourage any more questions.
Kiyomi cried for a couple more minutes, the weight of the last twenty-four hours finally pouring out of him. Eventually, the tears dried up into ragged, hitching breaths. Takumi waited patiently, his back against the door, until he was sure Kiyomi was calm.
Once Kiyomi's hands wiped the final traces of tears from his face, Takumi finally spoke, his voice gentle but probing.
"Are you sick?"
"No, I'm not..."
"Can you tell me what happened?"
Kiyomi's expression was a painful mix of sadness and embarrassment. He hesitated, his mind racing. He couldn't mention Izumi. After some thought, he decided to tell him what happened—partially.
"While I was showering... a soap accidentally got into my hole... I couldn't pull it out," Kiyomi said, his voice sniffling in between the words. It was a pathetic, humiliating truth, but it was the only one he could give.
Takumi's eyes softened, but his brow furrowed in concern.
"Can I see?"
(Takkun wanna see my hole?)
The thought flickered through his mind, but there was no fear in it—only a desperate need for help. With no hesitation, Kiyomi turned around and pulled down his trousers. Because he had been in such a rush to leave the house, he didn't have any underwear underneath.
He was completely exposed. The hole was raw, still dripping with the thick, white bubbly liquid that carried the cloying, sweet scent of Sakura into the cramped space of the stall.
"Bend over," Takumi commanded, his voice dropping an octave as he pointed toward the small porcelain sink.
Kiyomi obeyed, his heart thundering against his ribs. He moved to the sink and bent over, his hands gripping the cool edges of the basin. He saw his own reflection in the mirror—face flushed, eyes wide—as Takumi stepped in behind him. Then, he felt it: Takumi inserted his finger deep inside Kiyomi's hole.
He immediately moaned, the sound muffled by the tiled walls, as the stiff finger crawled in, seeking the source of the mess.
"Don't worry Kiki, I got you..." Takumi said, his focus entirely on the task. He moved with a clinical determination, his fingers sweeping through the slick, white froth to find the remaining soap.
Then, his finger found it. It wasn't big anymore, worn down by the night and the morning walk, but it was still far too slippery to grab easily. Without hesitation, Takumi shoved in another finger to gain a better grip.
Two fingers crawled in together, stretching him, and Kiyomi's waist danced in an instinctive, feverish excitement. He bit his lower lip hard, fighting to hold in more moans from slipping out into the hallway where the other students waited.
(Takkun~)
Takumi's nails finally clawed into the softening soap, the pressure pushing hard against the sensitive muscles inside. With a sharp, practiced tug, Takumi pulled the soap out.
It slipped out in a rush of white liquid, and the sudden release was too much. At the same time the soap left him, Kiyomi climaxed with his urine. The pee squirted forward from his little chick, splashing against the back of the sink in a sudden, frantic burst.
He turned back to Takumi, his legs shaking and his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath.
"Thank you, Takkun~"
"No problem," Takumi replied, his voice a bit gravelly. He tossed the small, dissolving remnant of the soap into a nearby trash bin with a decisive flick.
The two cleaned up quickly, wiping away the white foam and every trace of the accident as if nothing had happened. When they finally stepped out into the lobby, the air was thick with whispers. Students who had been lingering nearby were still watching the door, their hushed gossip spreading through the crowd like wildfire.
Kiyomi felt the stares immediately.
But neither of them looked back.
They simply walked toward the glass exit doors together, pretending the eyes burning into Kiyomi's back didn't exist.
"Takkun," Kiyomi whispered quietly as they pushed through the thinning crowd.
"Yeah?"
"Let's skip classes today… Too many people are staring. I don't like it…"
"Okay," Takumi answered without hesitation, tightening his grip on the strap of his bag as if ready to escort Kiyomi out of the entire campus if needed.
The moment they pushed the glass doors open, a shadow stretched across the concrete.
Someone was already waiting outside.
Leaning casually against the railing, as though the whole scene had been arranged for his entertainment.
Izumi.
"What do you want, Izumi?" Takumi stepped forward immediately, his posture shifting into the defensive stance of someone used to protecting his ground.
Izumi smiled.
It was that calm, polished smile Kiyomi had already learned to fear.
"I just wanted to see my friend."
(Izumi…?)
Kiyomi instinctively took a step back, his skin prickling. Izumi's gaze didn't linger on Takumi. It slipped past him, locking directly onto Kiyomi with a quiet, possessive glint.
"Right… friend?" Izumi added lightly, his tone carrying a meaning only Kiyomi seemed to understand.
Takumi didn't like it.
He stepped closer, invading Izumi's space, and gave his shoulder a firm shove.
"Back off."
Izumi's eyes flicked down briefly to the contact before lifting again, the smile still resting on his lips.
"No need to be aggressive."
"I'm just keeping your hands away from Kiyomi," Takumi replied, his voice low and edged with warning.
Izumi adjusted his jacket, completely unfazed. Then he looked at Takumi again, this time with a spark of curiosity.
"How about we have a match?"
Takumi's brows pulled together.
"If I win," Izumi continued smoothly, "I get to take Kiyomi home."
(What?)
Kiyomi's stomach dropped.
(Does he even know who Takumi is? He's practically an athlete already…)
Takumi stared at him like he had just heard the dumbest proposal in the world.
"You want a match?" he said, his voice flat with disbelief.
Izumi lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Just a quick one."
"What kind?"
Izumi glanced at the long concrete path that stretched from the glass door to the parking lot. "A sprint. First one to that tree."
Takumi followed his gaze. The distance wasn't long—maybe fifty meters. He scoffed.
"You're serious?"
Izumi simply smiled.
Students nearby immediately sensed something interesting happening. The whispers shifted, turning curious. Several people stepped aside to give them space, creating a makeshift arena.
Kiyomi's heart pounded against his ribs.
(Why is this happening…?)
Takumi rolled his shoulders once, already loosening up like preparing for practice.
"You sure about this?" he asked flatly.
Izumi pushed himself off the railing.
"I'm sure."
They stood side by side at the edge of the walkway. Someone in the crowd muttered, "Are they racing over a guy?"
Takumi bent slightly, settling into a runner's stance, eyes locked on the goal. Izumi didn't bother. He just stood there casually, hands in his pockets.
Kiyomi felt something twist in his chest.
(Is he… not even trying?)
"Ready?" Takumi said.
Izumi nodded once.
Takumi pushed off first. The difference was immediate. His body exploded forward with practiced speed, his stride long and powerful. Within seconds he was already several meters ahead.
Behind him, Izumi ran—but there was no urgency in it. His steps were smooth, controlled, almost leisurely compared to Takumi's aggressive pace. The gap widened. By the time Takumi reached the tree and slapped his hand against the trunk, Izumi was still halfway down the path.
Takumi turned, breathing hard but satisfied. He had won decisively.
Izumi jogged the remaining distance and slowed to a stop a few steps away. No frustration. No annoyance. Just that same calm expression.
Takumi wiped sweat from his forehead. "Happy?"
Izumi didn't look at Takumi. He looked past him, straight at Kiyomi.
"Yes," he said quietly.
And for some reason, the way he said it made Kiyomi's stomach drop. He looked around and realized what Izumi had done. The students weren't cheering for Takumi; they were staring at the three of them, phones already out.