Chapter Text
He wondered how much chlorine he’d have to submerge himself in to cover the smell of roses, currently spread in an array that just barely hid the more delicate parts of his body. The flower in his mouth, held carefully between his teeth, was starting to clog his senses. He didn’t know if he could stand the bouquet at home after this – one that Makoto had brought him before he’d left for work that evening, now resting in their only vase. He’d feel bad if he made his boyfriend throw them out, though – he’d spent way too much money on them, even though Haru had reminded him time and time again to stop getting him gifts for such a needless holiday. The petals were strikingly red, a stark contrast against his pale skin, and more so represented blood than a symbol of romance.
Haru vaguely wondered who involved him in this, why he was laying down, stomach against cold, black tile, exposed to several photographers who insisted on finding angles that made him look even more seductive than he was already trying to be. He rolled over, spreading his legs a bit, knees bent a bit. One of the women from hair and makeup placed more rose petals across his abdomen and between his legs. He took the rose out of his mouth, resting it atop his chest, piercing blue gaze staring into the camera.
The people in hair and makeup had given him eyeshadow this time, pale pink on the outer edges of his eyelids, pearly white dusted on the inner corners. They never bothered with fake lashes, only a thin coat of mascara. His eyelashes were long enough already. Their makeup process was extremely simple - foundation, mascara, the occasional sweep of eyeliner, and light contouring. They made sure his eyebrows were waxed once every two weeks. He never minded that. Makoto worried when the came home those days, red marks burning against his skin. He worried a lot these days, constantly asking if Haru was being treated well at work, if they'd made him do anything he was uncomfortable with, if having sex was something they shouldn't do anymore (which it wasn't. If anything, the collection of lingerie that had steadily grown in their room was a bonus.)
Despite all that, Makoto was a pervert. He owned every single magazine Haru had ever been in and had gone shopping with him on multiple occasions to look at lingerie, insisting he was only there to ensure Haru wasn't revealing too much (he'd worn less).
After they finished the first round of shots, Haru stood, stretched, and went to his unofficial dressing room - a small room in the back of the studio that had previously been used for storage - to get his makeup touched up. The people in charge of hair added a bit of product into the black locks, tousling it a bit. Haru didn't understand, but he guessed he could see why people found it sexy. He turned and grabbed a pair of black panties, hems edged with red lace, pressing tightly into his skin when he snapped them on. He rolled up the high socks that had been paired with it, securing them firmly to his thighs until he was sure they wouldn't slip.
Another round of posing, camera clicks, and "turn a bit, Haruka," and Haru was able to get up. He grabbed his water and took a sip before tucking it away in his bag. He didn't take off the panties or the socks, simply pulling on his pants over them and throwing on his hoodie. No one minded, since he always brought them back undamaged. If he didn't, he at least found a pair to replace them.
Briefly, the manager showed him the shots and emailed the unedited photos to him upon request. On his walk home, Haru scrolled through them, then sent them to Makoto. The air was chilling, and he found that the socks did little to capture any extra warmth. Makoto never replied, which Haru hoped was a good thing. Maybe he'd gotten him flustered enough to distract him for a while.
When he got home, however, there was no reply to his greeting.
Makoto was slumped over on the couch, small box of chocolates in hand, asleep. Upon further investigation, Haru realized two of them had been eaten. He set the box aside and curled up next to his boyfriend. The movement was enough to cause his eyes to flutter open, taking in Haru and giving a sleepy smile.
"I meant to wait for you."
"Stop that. You have classes tomorrow."
"Only in the afternoon." He pressed a chaste kiss to Haru's lips. "Besides, it's Valentine's Day. We're supposed to spend the night together, right?"
"We do that everyday." Haru wrinkled his nose. "We're sleeping tonight. And sleeping in tomorrow."
"Haru-chaaaan..."
"Get up." Haru stood, grabbing Makoto's hand and tugging him until he followed. "It's bedtime." Makoto sighed, but caved, letting Haru lead him into their room. It wasn't until they were in bed that Makoto saw the blinking light coming from his phone.
"Did you text me, Haru?" He looked sad. "I'm sorry! I hope I didn't worry you!" He unlocked his phone to read the message. Haru decided that was a good time to take it from him and drop it in their bedside table's top drawer.
"It can wait. Bedtime."
"You're not gonna change?"
"No. Too tired." As if proving his point, he snuggled close to the brunette, burying his nose in his neck. Makoto chuckled, slipping his fingers into Haru's hair and petting gently.
"Goodnight, Haru-chan. Happy Valentine's Day."
"Night." Haru whispered. Something about Makoto's embrace was making him sleepier than he originally was. "Happy Valentine's Day."