Mailin’s POV

The bathroom is filled with steam, swirling around us, as the warm water from the shower splashes softly on the tiles. My heart hammers in my chest, my breath catching as I kneel down in front of Shota, reaching out to help him with his shirt. My fingers tremble slightly as they brush against his skin, the heat from the shower mixing with the warmth radiating off his body.

I swallow hard as I carefully lift his shirt over his head, revealing the solid expanse of his chest. The muscles beneath his skin ripple slightly as I pull the fabric free, and I can’t help but let my gaze linger on the lines of his abs. His bruises are dark, an angry reminder of the battle at USJ, and I force myself to focus on them—not on the way the water glistens as it slides down his chest.

Focus, Mailin. You’re just helping him. That’s all this is.

But even as I try to remind myself of the reality of the situation, my body betrays me. My heart races, my skin tingles with every brush of his, and the air between us feels heavy. Too heavy.

I kneel to remove his pants, my fingers brushing along the waistband. I bite my lip, my cheeks burning as I try to focus on the practicalities of what I’m doing, but the intimacy of this—of undressing him, of being so close—makes it almost impossible. I can feel the heat of his skin radiating off of him, so close I could touch it, and my mind is racing.

When I finally pull his pants free and stand up, stepping into the shower with him, the tension between us becomes suffocating. I can feel the steam wrapping around us, but it does nothing to ease the heat building in my chest.

I reach for the shampoo, the bottle slipping slightly in my trembling hands. Calm down, I tell myself. Just do what you came here to do. But even as I step closer to him, I can feel the weight of his presence, the electricity in the air between us. My fingers glide through his hair, lathering the shampoo slowly, deliberately, but I can’t ignore how every brush of my hand sends sparks shooting through me.

I try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s impossible. The proximity, the intimacy—it’s overwhelming. My gaze drifts over his shoulders, down his back, lingering on places I shouldn’t be looking. His body is solid, strong, every inch of him radiating a power that I’ve always admired. But now, being this close, it’s not just admiration. It’s something more.

I rinse his hair, my fingers sliding down the back of his neck, my breath hitching at the feel of his damp skin. The water cascades down his chest, following the lines of his muscles, and I can’t stop my eyes from trailing lower.

I force myself to look away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, but I can’t shake the image from my mind. The tension between us is thick, palpable, and I can feel the heat pooling low in my stomach. This is too much. Too intimate. Too...

I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too. If he’s as aware of the space between us as I am. If his heart is pounding as hard as mine.

When I move to wash his legs, kneeling in front of him again, the closeness becomes almost unbearable. My face is level with his hips, and I can feel his eyes on me, watching my every move. The steam wraps around us, the water from the shower cascading down his body, and I bite my lip, trying desperately to focus on the bruises, the injuries—anything but the fact that Shota Aizawa is standing naked in front of me.

My hand lingers on his calf as I wash him, the contact sending another shock through my system. The heat between us is suffocating now, and I can barely breathe, let alone think clearly. I finish washing him, stepping back slightly, but the air between us is still thick with tension.

---

Shota’s POV

The steam swirls around us, clouding the bathroom in a haze of heat, but it’s not the warmth of the water that has my body tensing. It’s her.

Every touch of her fingers feels like fire on my skin. Her hands, soft and deliberate, work through my hair, down my back, along my arms, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from reacting. The closeness, the intimacy of this moment—it’s almost unbearable. Every time her fingers brush against my skin, I feel a spark, a surge of heat that’s nearly impossible to ignore.

My muscles tighten as her hands slip lower, her fingers gliding over my bruises, the pain from my injuries mixing with something else—something far more dangerous. Her touch is gentle, careful, but every time her fingers linger, my pulse quickens, and I have to fight to keep my breathing steady.

She kneels down to help me with my pants, and the air between us shifts. It’s thicker now, heavier, and I feel like I’m standing on the edge of something I shouldn’t be. I can feel her breath on my skin as she works, and my fists clench at my sides, trying to keep control of myself. The way her hands move—slow, deliberate—it sends a jolt of heat through me, and I curse under my breath, trying to focus on anything else.

When she finally steps into the shower with me, the space between us becomes unbearable. The water pours down, slicking her golden hair to her skin, and my eyes are drawn to the way it clings to her shoulders, her back, the soft curve of her waist.

She’s trying not to look at me, and I’m trying not to look at her, but every movement, every brush of her hand against my skin, is a reminder of how close we are. Too close.

Her fingers move through my hair, lathering the shampoo, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. The way her hands glide through the strands, the way her body presses just slightly against mine—it’s torture. Every part of me wants to reach out, to close the space between us, but I can’t. I won’t.

But the temptation is there, simmering beneath the surface, and every touch, every glance, fans the flames higher.

I try to focus on the pain in my arms, on the bruises littering my body, but it’s impossible when her hands are on me, when she’s this close. Her fingers slide down the back of my neck, and I have to bite down hard to stop myself from reacting. My eyes drift down her body, the water cascading over her bare skin, and I curse again, turning my gaze away before I let it linger for too long.

She kneels again, her face level with my hips, and I freeze, my heart hammering in my chest. I can feel her breath, hot and soft against my skin, and my entire body goes rigid. Her hands move along my legs, gentle and precise, but the tension is suffocating. Every touch feels electric, every movement a reminder of the space between us—or lack thereof.

My gaze flickers down, just for a second, and I catch a glimpse of her before I force myself to look away. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. Not with her. Not now.

But it’s impossible to ignore. The way her hands linger on my skin, the way her breath hitches when she looks up at me—there’s something here, something we’re both trying desperately to ignore, but it’s growing harder with every passing second.

---

Mailin’s POV

The water continues to pour down, and I can feel the heat building between us. My hands are shaking as I finish rinsing the shampoo from his hair, my fingers brushing against his skin as I work. Every touch feels charged, and I can barely breathe with the tension thickening the air around us.

I reach for the towel, stepping out of the shower, but even as I try to pull away, I can still feel his eyes on me. Watching me. The weight of his gaze is almost unbearable, and my heart pounds in my chest as I wrap the towel around myself, trying to calm my racing pulse.

But the moment I turn back toward him, the tension snaps again. His eyes meet mine, and for a second, the world tilts. I hand him the towel, our fingers brushing, and the contact sends a jolt through me, my breath catching in my throat. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, spreading down my neck, but I can’t pull away. Not now. Not when the air between us is charged with something I can’t name.

I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.

“Mailin.”

It’s soft, low, but it hits me like a thunderbolt. My heart skips a beat, my entire body freezing in place.

I turn slowly, my eyes locking onto his, and the look in his gaze—dark, intense, heated—sends a shiver down my spine. There’s something raw in his expression, something that sends my pulse racing all over again.

I swallow hard, the air between us thick with unspoken words. This tension, this heat between us—it’s overwhelming. And I don’t know how much longer we can keep pretending it’s not there.

---

Shota's POV

The moment our eyes meet, everything else falls away. The heat between us is suffocating, the air thick with tension, and for a second, I forget how to breathe. Her blue eyes, wide and slightly uncertain, lock onto mine, and I see the same conflict swirling inside her that’s been gnawing at me since the moment we stepped into this damn bathroom.

She’s standing there, wrapped in nothing but a towel, droplets of water still clinging to her skin. My gaze drops briefly, betraying me as it lingers on the soft curve of her collarbone, the way the towel dips just low enough to tease at more. I grit my teeth, forcing my eyes back to hers, but the damage is already done.

My heart pounds in my chest, the tension stretching thin between us, ready to snap. Her golden hair is damp, framing her face, and I can’t help but think how beautiful she looks like this—raw, real, vulnerable. And so close.

“Shota,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. There’s something in her tone, something that sends a ripple of heat through me, and I’m caught. Stuck between wanting to push her away and wanting to pull her closer than I ever have before.

I want to say something, anything to break this moment, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I just stand there, staring at her, my entire body taut with tension. This isn’t right. We shouldn’t be standing here like this—feeling like this. But I can’t deny it anymore.

She’s been in my head since high school, buried deep beneath the layers of duty and distraction. But now? Now she’s standing here, inches away, and I can feel the gravity between us pulling tighter, drawing us in, like an unstoppable force.

I try to speak, but all I manage is her name. "Mailin..." It comes out rough, almost desperate, and the moment the word leaves my lips, I know there’s no going back.

She takes a step toward me, hesitant but deliberate, and my pulse quickens. Her eyes search mine, as if she’s looking for some kind of answer, but I don’t have one. All I know is that everything in me is screaming not to let this moment slip away.

We stand there, the tension between us growing unbearable, and I realize—this is it. This is the point of no return.

And I don’t know if I have the strength to stop it anymore.

---

Mailin's POV

His voice—my name on his lips—sends a shiver racing down my spine, pooling heat low in my stomach. The way he looks at me, the dark intensity of his gaze, is like a magnet, pulling me toward him. I can barely breathe, my heart hammering so loud I’m sure he can hear it.

We’re too close. Too close for this to be just a simple caretaker and patient moment. Too close for me to pretend that my heart isn’t pounding for reasons that have nothing to do with his injuries.

But I don’t step back. I should, but I can’t.

His dark eyes linger on mine, and I can feel the tension between us stretching taut, like the thin thread of control that’s been holding us both in check is about to snap. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, the muscles of his arms tense beneath the casts, and there’s something almost vulnerable about him, something that makes my heart ache and race all at once.

The towel around me feels too thin, too light. Every inch of me feels exposed under his gaze, and yet I don’t move to cover myself more. I just stand there, trapped in his stare, caught between the urge to step back and the pull to move closer.

My hand moves before I can stop it, reaching out toward him, the tips of my fingers grazing his chest—barely a touch, but enough to send sparks shooting through my arm. His body stiffens under my touch, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he seems to lean in, his breath catching as our gazes lock once again.

There’s so much unspoken between us. So much that’s been buried beneath years of duty, of focus, of pretending. But here, now, with nothing but the sound of the water and the heat of our bodies filling the air, it feels like those walls we’ve built around ourselves are crumbling.

“Shota,” I whisper, the word barely audible above the thudding of my heart.

But instead, the space between us shrinks, and the gravity pulling us together becomes too strong to resist.

---

Shota's POV

Her touch is like fire, sending a surge of heat through me that I can’t ignore. My skin tingles where her fingers brushed against my chest, and my breath hitches, my control slipping through my fingers like sand. She’s standing so close now, the towel barely covering her, her golden hair damp and clinging to her skin, and all I can think about is how much I want her.

This isn’t right. I know that. But every part of me screams to hell with what’s right, what’s proper. Because in this moment, all that matters is her.

“Mailin...” Her name leaves my lips in a breathless whisper, and it’s enough to break the fragile control I’ve been holding onto.

She steps closer, her body brushing against mine, and every nerve in my body ignites. The towel around her slips and falls, revealing more of her skin, and my eyes are drawn to the soft curve of her breasts, the way the water still clings to her.

I curse under my breath, my restraint hanging by a thread. If I move now, if I let myself give in to this pull, there’s no going back. And I’m not sure if I care anymore.

But as her eyes meet mine again, I realize I’m not the only one fighting this.

She feels it too.

---

Mailin's POV

This is too much. Too close. Too... intimate. But I can’t bring myself to step away.

Instead, I lean into him, my body betraying the rational part of my mind that’s screaming for me to stop.

The tension between us is unbearable now, thick and suffocating, and I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of something I can’t control. My fingers twitch at my sides, itching to reach out and touch him again, to feel the warmth of his skin against mine.

Shota’s eyes meet mine, and in that moment, everything else falls away. The world outside, the lingering pain from the USJ battle, the broken bones and bruises—it all fades into the background, leaving only the two of us.

I take a shaky breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I step even closer, our bodies almost touching. I can feel the heat radiating off of him, the magnetic pull drawing us together, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to close the distance.

But I want to. God, I want to.

“Shota...” I whisper, my voice trembling with the weight of everything I’m feeling.

He swallows hard and I can see the same struggle in his eyes—the same desire, the same conflict.

We’re both standing on the edge of something we can’t come back from. And I know that once we cross that line, everything will change.

But right now, standing here with him, the water still pouring down around us, I don’t care.

I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t care about the fallout.

All I care about is him.

---

Shota's POV

Her name is the only thing I can manage to say. I’m standing at the edge of something dangerous, something that I’ve spent years trying to avoid, and I’m not sure I can hold back anymore.

Her skin is soft, so impossibly soft, and the warmth radiating off of her seeps into me, setting my nerves on fire. Her golden blonde hair clinging to her damp skin, and all I can think about is how close she is. How easily I could pull her into me. How much I want to.

Her blue eyes lock onto mine, wide and uncertain, but there’s something else in them too—something that mirrors the storm raging inside me. She feels it. I can see it in the way her breath quickens, in the way her hand twitches at her side, as if she’s fighting the same battle I am.

I’ve spent years keeping people at arm’s length. Years building walls to protect myself, to keep the world out. But right now, standing here with her, those walls are crumbling, and I don’t know if I have the strength to rebuild them.

I should step back. I should tell her to leave. I should do something to stop this before it goes too far. But I can’t.

Because the truth is, I don’t want to.

“Mailin...” I whisper again, my voice rough, almost desperate.

Her name hangs in the air between us, and I can see the way her body reacts to it. Her breath catches, her pulse quickens, and for a moment, I think she’s going to step away. But then she takes a small, hesitant step closer, and the space between us disappears.

Her body is so close to mine now, the heat of her skin brushing against me, and every inch of me is screaming to close the distance. To pull her into me. To feel her against me in a way that I’ve been denying myself for far too long.

But I can’t move. I’m frozen, caught in this moment, torn between the desire that’s burning through me and the voice in the back of my mind that’s telling me this is a mistake.

But when she whispers my name again, soft and full of something I can’t name, all of that fades away.

In that moment, the only thing I care about is her.

---

Mailin's POV

His eyes are dark, filled with something that sends a shiver racing down my spine. The way he’s looking at me makes my heart race in a way I’ve never experienced before.

I’m so close to him now, close enough to feel the heat of his body, close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his muscles flex under his skin. Every inch of me is hyper-aware of him, of the way the air between us seems to crackle with something unspoken, something that’s been building for years.

His voice, rough and full of need, sends a jolt of heat through me, pooling low in my stomach. I can’t look away from him, can’t stop the way my body reacts to the nearness of his. My heart is pounding, my skin tingling, and I know that we’re standing on the edge of something that could change everything.

But I don’t care.

I take a small step forward, my breath catching as our bodies brush against each other, and the sensation sends a wave of heat crashing over me. His hand is still on my arm, his touch burning through me, and I can feel the way his grip tightens as I get closer.

There’s something in his eyes—something raw, something that makes my heart ache and race all at once. And I know, in that moment, that I’m not alone in this.

He feels it too.

“Shota...” I whisper, my voice trembling with the weight of everything I’m feeling.

His breath hitches, and for a moment, we just stand there, caught in the intensity of the moment. The water still pours down around us, the steam swirling in the air, but all I can focus on is him. On the way his body is so close to mine. On the way his eyes darken every time I say his name.

I want to close the distance between us. I want to reach out and pull him closer. But something holds me back. The fear of what this could mean. The fear of what might happen if we cross that line.

But as I look into his eyes, I know that I can’t hold back anymore. Because the truth is, I’ve been wanting this for years.

I’ve been wanting him for years.

---

Shota's POV

Her whisper—my name—cuts through the air, soft and desperate, and it’s all I can do to keep from pulling her into me. Every part of me is on edge, my heart pounding in my chest, my body aching with the need to close the space between us.

Her body is so close now, her skin warm and soft against mine, and it’s driving me crazy. The way her breath hitches, the way her eyes linger on me—it’s almost too much to handle.

I want her.

I’ve wanted her for years. But I’ve buried that desire, pushed it down beneath layers of duty and responsibility. But now, standing here with her, so close, so vulnerable, I can’t deny it anymore.

I can feel her body trembling slightly, can see the way her lips part as she looks up at me, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to close the distance. Not to reach out and pull her into me.

But I can’t. Not yet. Not until I know this is what she wants too.

“Mailin...” I whisper again, my voice rough, almost pleading.

Her eyes meet mine, and in that moment, I see it. The same desire. The same need. She feels it too.

And that’s all I need.

Without thinking, I close the distance. Her body presses against mine, warm and soft, and the sensation sends a jolt of heat through me that I can’t ignore. My heart is racing, my body is tense with the weight of everything I’ve been holding back, and I know, in that moment, that there’s no going back.

This is it. This is the point of no return.

But as I look into her eyes, I know that I don’t care.

Because right now, all I want is her.