I was chewing my pen, my brows furrowed. I lifted my hand to shove my glasses further up my nose but ended up stabbing myself in the eye; I wasn't wearing them.

"Oh, for the love of God..." I murmured.

I was sketching on a very strange-looking turtle. I knew I should be studying, but let's face it; I was the best student in my class, probably the best student in the entire English faculty, and if anyone could afford half an hour of drawing a weird turtle, it was me.

Despite, ever since I made that drawing of Toblerone's cat, I'd gotten into a frenzy, drawing animals with eyes containing stars and moons and planets. I'd even started drawing objects with the same eyes; a chest of drawers, a grandfather clock. They were turning out incredibly good. And I was currently drawing one of Tobirama's vases, that moon-coloured one with a tilted opening, with the same eyes. I had always drawn my pieces very gender-neutral but this time, I made it with a feminine woman in mind, making it with the thinnest lines reasonable for a tattoo and added little daisies. I even thought about colouring; most of my drawings were made to be black and white but the vase would be coloured, the vase the colour of the moon, the daisies white and orangey yellow.

I wondered who would wear a vase with eyes on it, anyway. Nobody. I was losing my mind. Not ever Toblerone would wear a tattoo of his own vase.

Toblerone...

I wondered why he was sometimes Toblerone, sometimes Tobirama. In the beginning, I had just been unable to remember his name, but now...

When he felt unreal, he was Toblerone. Toblerone was someone untouchable to me, someone who didn't know me or, if they knew me, did not want anything to do with me. Toblerone was a dream that would never come true.

Tobirama, however, was a man who knew who I was, knew what I wanted, and gave it to me. Tobirama desired me, and he desired me badly.

Tobirama was who he was when we were together.

I didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

"Fancy seeing you here."

"Shit!!" I screamed, jumping to the ceiling.

Tobirama had entered my little room in the library. Once again he looked very cosy, I couldn't help but think, and I wondered if he was playing some sort of character when he dressed to come to the library. He was wearing an oversized grey hoodie and even a black beanie pressing down his white fringe into his forehead, which made him look so huggable together with his glasses, my body hurt. He was, as usual, carrying a pile of books, but this time not about pottery, I couldn't help but notice, but about painting.

"Nice to see you, too", he said with a smile.

"Tobirama!!" I couldn't help but burst out, and before I knew it, I had stood up and gone to hug him.

He stiffened up at first in a way that let me know he was used to greeting his friends with hugs. And me neither, to be honest, as I didn't really have any friends. But after just a nerve-wrecking second, he put his pile of books down and hugged me back.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Because even if he had relaxed, I noticed something was wrong. There was an urgency to his hug, a desperation to hold me so I wouldn't disappear. It was endearing, yes, but incredibly out of character.

"Nothing passes you by, does it?" he asked.

"Not with you, no", I said, to which he kissed the top of my head. He sighed, sat down on the chair opposite to where I was sitting.

He looked at his pile of books.

"I need to improve my painting style", he said. "For my vases. I want to start painting them. Like, actually painting them."

I knew he was trying to win time before saying what he actually needed to say, and who was I to deny him?

"Like, an oil painting?" I asked.

"Yes. Landscapes and whatnot. I'm decent. But I have no knowledge about it."

"Will you show me?" I asked.

He smiled.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to paint the vase you made at my place."

I smiled and looked down.

"I'd love that", I whispered.

He started bouncing his leg, drumming with his fingernails on the books. I noticed he had several silver rings and had painted his nails dark blue. Holy shit. I swallowed, hid a little in my large, marine sweater. Was this a new feature he'd started up with since he'd started fucking a man? I couldn't imagine straight porn star Tobirama wear nail polish.

Finally, Tobirama removed his beanie, freeing his wild hair.

"I saw one of your films yesterday."

I waited to feel discomfort, embarrassment, fear. I waited to feel one of those many things I had always expected to feel when someone said they had seen my films. But I felt none of that. I felt only excitement.

"You saw me..." I whispered, looking at him.

He kept my gaze with the iron fist of his own.

I could see exactly what he'd seen then. My working thighs as I rode. My hair tumbling down my back. My lips parted in a scream.

My entire body.

He's jealous...

I shivered.

"It bothers me", he said.

"What does?" I asked, even if I knew I didn't need to; he was a man to tell you what he wanted to say without needing you to urge him on.

"I can't tell how much of it is acting", he said, which took me completely by surprise. "Did you want to be there? Had they asked you if there was anything you didn't like? Anything you didn't want to do?"

I looked to the side; I had a feeling who he'd seen me with. The nerdy brunette.

"I liked him", I whispered.

"Shhh!!" Tobirama said, holding up his hands; he didn't want to know. "But what if you didn't? What if he hurt you? Who will protect you if I'm not there?"

I jerked. Tobirama jerked as well. We were quiet, looking at each other. My lips parted. He bit his lower lip. It felt as if he'd grabbed my waist, thrown us both out of a steep cliff to land on thin ice and we'd gone through that ice only to discover that the water beneath was pleasantly warm. What did he just say?

He wanted to protect me.

"Tobirama..."

"Izuna."

I reached my hand out, took his.

"I filmed with a girl a few days ago", he said out of nowhere. I jerked, instantaneously trying to let go of his hand, but he held it put. "Don't be ridiculous. It's our job." Of course, he was right. "But it was then the thoughts started to manifest themselves."

"What thoughts?" I asked.

He was quiet for a while, as if what he said now would change things, that it would become real and he wanted to drag the moment out.

"That the porn industry is starting to bother me. And I want to either change it, or leave it."

I looked down on our hands then. A new sensation was teasing the skin on my fingertips; fear. If Tobirama left the porn industry, would he leave me, too?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the glass door to the little room. We both jerked, and our hands flew apart as if we'd been burned.

I flew up, a big smile on my face.

"Mom!!"

"Your mom is here?" Tobirama asked, but he didn't sound panicked, just warmly surprised.

I opened the door for her, and she was beaming.

"Izuna!"

She hugged me close, and I hugged her back.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I came to surprise you!" She turned to Tobirama, who had stood up.

Wait, what's up with Tobirama? He held his hands behind his back, looking down. I couldn't help but smile, and I felt something tug in my heart so strongly I thought I would burst.

Tobirama Senju was shy.

He was so big next to my mother, who was even shorter than me, but my mother was beaming at him.

"I knew you were studying here today, so I thought I'd come to surprise you. But then I saw you were not alone. So I went and bought this!" She held up a paper bag that turned out to be filled with several donuts and three mugs of hot chai tea.

"Wow, thank you", Tobirama said, all mother-in-law's dream. He reached his hand out. "I'm
Tobirama."

"Cynthia", my mother said. "But you can just call me 'Izuna's mum'."

"You've raised your son very well, Izuna's mum", Tobirama said, and I couldn't help but smile.

We sat down, drinking chai and eating donuts covered in glaze and all sorts of naughty things such as smarties and hazelnuts and sea salt. Tobirama was still, I saw, deep in thought.

"You seem deep in thought", my mother said, turning to Tobirama.

She was like that; open and honest with anyone. She could meet someone and treat them as if they were close friends immediately. Her style wasn't for everyone, but it was definitely for Tobirama.

He sighed, sipping his tea. I noticed he had a more sensitive mouth than me; I was known for drinking my tea when it was still boiling, but Tobirama had lifted the lid to let it cool for five minutes, blowing on it over and over, before even attempting to drink it. I found this contrast between us incredibly attractive for some reason.

"I'm starting to doubt my career."

I looked over at my mother, suddenly worried. What would she think of the fact that he was a porn star? What would she think of the fact that I was with him? Would she suspect I was a porn star as well?

But my mother didn't even ask him what he worked with.

"Tell me more", was the only thing she said.

"Well, I love my job..." I considered this. Did I love my job? I accepted it, but I wouldn't say I loved it. "It pays well and I'm good at it. But I'm starting to doubt the ethics. The customers are the only ones whose viewpoints matter. Ours doesn't. I've been put in situations I have not been able to handle well..." Tobirama glanced at me then. I looked away. "With a co-worker. I'm afraid it will happen again."

"Well..." my mother said. "You have three options. Change things, deal with it, or leave."

Tobirama opened the lid of his paper mug, blew on his chai again.

"Make it two options", he said. "As dealing with it is not an option. I want to try to change things first. If that doesn't work, I need to leave."

"Do you have people to support you?" my mother asked.

Tobirama looked at me then.

"Yes", he said. I blushed, but didn't look away. "Yes, I do."

Later that evening, I stood in front of my mirror in my room, looking at myself. I pulled my T-shirt over my head, inspected my short body, the scars from the candlewax. I traced lightly with my fingers over them, shivered. I was becoming erect, very, very slowly. I put my fingertips to my mouth, conjured up the memory of Tobirama's lips on mine, not when we were filming but when we were alone and he kissed me just for the pleasure of it. I put two fingers in my mouth, sucked. I moaned; I only touched myself when I was home alone so I could be loud.

I sunk down to my knees, sucked my fingers, started beating myself; the sensation of my fingers on my lips had made a switch go off inside me. Turned out I did have a sensitive mouth, just like he did.

Moaning loudly, I masturbated until I came.

And a distance away, in his tidy little apartment, Tobirama Senju was leaning forwards, his fringe so far down his eyes he considered a haircut, brows furrowed in concentration, painting a beautiful landscape on one of his vases.