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The morning is oddly quiet. So quiet he might even worry something had happened if not for Umemiya staring unblinking before him. He'd been his usual cheerful self until just a moment ago.
“Oh did you crop your jacket?” Tsubaki appears beside them, gaze following Umemiya's. Was that it? Considering how he dressed, Hiiragi assumed Umemiya didn't care much about this kind of thing.
“Does it look weird?” If it's that bad he can get another jacket, the school has extra uniforms. Admittedly he prefers it like this, it hangs just a bit nicer after trimming off a bit of fabric, but he can let it go if it looks so bad even Umemiya is stunned into silence.
“No, it suits you.” If Tsubaki says it then it must be true.
“Then is he sick?” He reaches out to touch Umemiya's forehead, but a hand catches his wrist, promptly dragging him off. Tsubaki tries to follow them but some first years block their path.
Umemiya cut past incoming classmates with an unnerving intensity, dragging Hiiragi close behind. He almost trips in the other's rush down the stairs.
His back pushes against the cool concrete. A dull ache spreads through his hips, Umemiya's large frame forcing them further apart, space between their bodies so thin even a single sheet of paper would struggle to fit through the gap. Hands circle his waist, thumbs tracing his rib.
“It's cropped.” He squeezes, eyes glued to the gap between the hem of his jacket and his belt.
“And yours’ hit the floor, what's up with you?” Fingers splaying as they traverse his stomach, pulling at his tucked shirt. He doesn't think he's ever seen Umemiya look so serious, it makes the hairs on his neck stand. “Seriously what's gotten into you?” He cups Umemiya's cheeks, trying to redirect his burning gaze anywhere else.
He regrets it, the full heat that simmers beneath the sky blue of his eyes only dawning on his as their lips crash into each other. His lungs pounding at his ribs, desperately grasping for what little air slips through the fading seam between Umemiya’s lips and his.
His fingers dig into Umemiya's shoulders, trying to stabilize himself with what little strength he can still muster. His visions blurs as they sink to the floor a tangled mess, only signal of their changing position being the slow slide of his back scratching against the wall and the hands swimming around his waist that keep trying to pull him closer.
When they finally break for air he's all but sunk into the floor, Umemiya panting wildly above him.
“It looks really good on you.”
He must've gone delirious from lack of air. To catch a glimpse of his stomach poking through his untucked shirt and feel how closely Umemiya pressed against him and lack the self preservation to not refuse the hungry lips that cover his own.
“Umemiya?” He's lucky Tsubakino's voice snaps both of them out of it.
“Really good.” It's his usual tone and Hiiragi feels like a pervert for the way it makes him blush.
He's grateful. He already feels himself crumbling in shame when he catches Tsubaki glancing back as he hastily fixes his shirt, he doesn't want to know how he'd fair if things had gone any further.
It least he doesn't look weird…