Afterward, an awkward silence ensued between the two. The once lost emotion became still as one had a playful smile on his face and the other lowered his head, looking towards the ground as if he was searching for a coin, perhaps scattered randomly.
"..."
"Not gonna tell?" Liam's chuckle coming in from the front.
"...."
"Y-Yeah… I got locked up here by accident," Mize stammered, nudging the door awkwardly as if it would back him up.
Liam nodded, eyes still fixed on Mize's face.
"Mmm," he said, seemingly in deep thought. He continued to study Mize with those half-shut eyes, his head tilted just enough to make Mize even more nervous.
Then, out of nowhere, Liam leaned in and reached a hand toward Mize's face. Mize stiffened, caught off guard, his brain short-circuiting as Liam's thumb gently wiped something off the corner of his mouth.
Before he even registered what had happened, Liam pulled back with a tiny, unreadable smile. "There. Got it for you," he said, casually brushing his hands together as if wiping something off.
Mize's cheeks went scarlet, the blush spreading fast from his neck to the top of his head, the shame flooding over him in a tidal wave.
There was no hiding it—his face was heating up like he'd just been cooked over an open flame. The mortification was so strong it almost felt like a physical weight. OH GOD, KILL ME NOW, he thought, barely keeping himself from curling up in a ball right there.
He'd been caught with drool on his face, by Liam of all people, and now he was ready to sink into the floor and disappear.
"Th-thanks," he managed to mumble, looking down, gripping the door handle like a lifeline.
He tried to muster up some pride, but he was sure he looked more like a dying fish than someone trying to appear cool. "W-whatever… I don't know."
Liam's smile just widened, a glimmer of mischief flashing in his eyes as if he was enjoying this little exchange far more than he should.
"Oh?" he said, his tone dripping with mock surprise.
"Then let me show you."
And before Mize could even blink, Liam lifted the finger he'd just used to wipe his mouth—then licked it, his gaze still locked onto Mize's with an expression so smug it was maddening.
The shock of it hit Mize like a freight train.
His mind went completely blank as he stared, his mouth half-open in disbelief, the blood pounding in his ears.
The embarrassment was too much, he felt his face grow even hotter, his whole head practically steaming. He wanted to say something, do something—anything to stop the humiliation—but all that came out was a strangled, awkward laugh.
"W-what a nice weather," Mize blurted, his voice squeaking at the last word.
He desperately looked up at the sky, as though the clouds could provide some kind of escape, but even he knew it sounded ridiculous. "Ha, yeah… very, uh, nice weather we're having!" He faked a laugh, the sound so forced it made his skin crawl, and he immediately regretted it.
Liam chuckled, and the sound was smooth, almost… pleasant. He leaned back, hands in his hoodie pockets, seemingly enjoying every second of Mize's flustered meltdown.
"Yeah," he said, his voice rich with amusement, "beautiful night."
Mize clenched his bag tighter, gripping the strap until his knuckles turned white.
Of all the people I could've been stuck with, he thought, why did it have to be this guy? It was becoming increasingly clear that whatever game he'd thought he'd been playing, these guys were miles ahead of him.
He'd started thinking he was the one pulling the strings, but now, looking at Liam's calm, amused face, he realized he might've been the one getting played all along.
[It seems the host is not the predator... but the prey instead]
'Shut up'
==
==
Mize shifted awkwardly, swallowing the lump in his throat as he tried to muster even a scrap of dignity in front of Liam. The guy was staring at him which made his whole body go stiff, the amused, predatory glint in Liam's eyes all too obvious.
Mize felt like a little rabbit desperately trying to play it cool in front of a wolf—an utterly futile effort, judging by the smirk on Liam's face.
"Um... I-I'll just get going now," Mize stammered, glancing at his plush backpack slumped on the floor beside him.
He grabbed it, strapping it onto his shoulders, hoping he could slip away from this little scene as if nothing had happened. He spun slightly on his heels, heart pounding, ready to bolt down the stairs and escape this humiliating, disastrous encounter.
But then he felt a soft tug on his backpack. Liam's hand, firm, gripped one of the straps, pulling him back before he could take even a single step.
Mize froze, his stomach doing flips as he tried to imagine what was going through Liam's head right now.
The idea of facing him, of looking into those calculating eyes, felt unbearable. Oh god, he thought, maybe I could wear a paper bag tomorrow—anything, so he doesn't recognize me.
"W-what is it?" he managed to mumble, his voice barely more than a whisper, and he kept his gaze fixed on the edge of the steps just inches from his feet.
Every instinct was telling him to get out of there as quickly as possible, to make himself disappear. But Liam wasn't exactly the type to just let someone slip away.
"Let me walk you home," Liam said, his voice unexpectedly low, a quiet, almost magnetic sound that sent a shiver down Mize's spine. It wasn't a request. The way Liam said it was more like a command, wrapped up in an offer.
Mize coughed, fumbling with the straps of his bag as he tried to think up an excuse, any excuse to get out of this. "I-it's fine! Really… I can walk on my own," he stammered, wincing as soon as the words left his mouth.
Even he could tell that he sounded ridiculous, weak, and unsure like he couldn't even convince himself he was being honest.
He cast his gaze down the staircase, a winding spiral of glass and chrome that stretched down in sleek, elegant twists—a nightmare of a design for anyone not wanting to be seen.
Who on earth thought glass stairs were a good idea? he wondered, briefly distracting himself with a thought that only added to his growing discomfort.
If anyone else was around, they could see everything. His heart raced faster at the thought of trying to escape while looking this pitiful, with Liam staring him down.
But before he could find his footing, Liam took hold of the backpack strap again, pulling him in with a steady, unyielding pressure.
Mize stumbled slightly, and before he knew it, he felt Liam's arm wrap around his shoulders, drawing him close, while the other hand moved down—too close, honestly, to the small of his back, like Liam was taking a little too much pleasure in closing the gap between them.
"W-what are you doing?" Mize squeaked, his voice rising a bit too high, and he instinctively tried to step back, but Liam's grip tightened.
And then, without any warning, Liam leaned down and scooped him up, one arm slipping under Mize's legs, the other firm around his back. In one smooth motion, Mize was lifted off the ground, cradled against Liam's chest like he was some sort of fragile princess.
His whole body froze, every nerve alight with panic and confusion. This…this isn't normal, he thought, a mixture of terror and something else altogether clouding his mind.
I'm not into guys, but... Liam's firm grip and his calm, confident expression were stirring something that felt almost... too intense, too confusing. Mize's heart was thundering in his chest, his thoughts spiraling as he tried to make sense of what was happening.
Liam looked down at him, and their eyes met. Mize's face flushed a deeper red than he thought was possible, feeling heat rush to his cheeks.
The world seemed to narrow to just the space between them, Liam's unreadable gaze pinning him in place, leaving him helpless, with no escape in sight.
He knew he was blushing like crazy, his eyes darting away from that dark, piercing gaze, but there was nowhere to hide. He could feel the weight of Liam's stare, like he was memorizing every detail of Mize's flustered expression, enjoying every second of it.
The silence stretched, unbearably thick. Mize felt as though he'd combust if he didn't say something—anything—to break the tension.
"It's… um... nice weather today," he stammered, his voice sounding absurdly small. He let out a strangled, nervous laugh, trying desperately to act like everything was normal like he wasn't being carried like a damsel by someone who knew far too well the effect he was having.
Liam chuckled, the sound soft and rich. "Yeah, beautiful night," he agreed, a faint smile on his lips that only made Mize's blush intensify.
Mize clenched his hands into fists, trying to stay calm, to keep his composure. But with Liam looking at him like that, as though he was some sort of fascinating puzzle, his mind was blank.
How did I end up in this mess? He thought, biting his lip to keep from squirming in Liam's arms. Every second that passed was torture, the humiliating awareness that he was at Liam's mercy sinking deeper.
And to make matters worse, Liam's arms weren't just strong. They were annoyingly comfortable, holding him in a way that felt both protective and, somehow, possessive.
The firm grip around his waist was too steady, the hand supporting his legs too sure. The subtle warmth radiating from Liam's body only made Mize's thoughts grow foggier, the strange, confusing pull between them making it impossible for him to think straight.
Liam's expression softened, his gaze lingering on Mize's face. "Relax," he murmured, his voice low and almost gentle. "You look like you're about to bolt."
Mize's eyes went wide, his cheeks practically on fire. "I— I'm not—!" he spluttered, trying to wriggle free. But Liam just held him a little tighter, not letting him get so much as an inch. Mize glared up at him, trying to muster up some kind of resistance, but the expression on Liam's face stopped him cold.
Mize's face burned as he buried it into Liam's chest, hands clutching the fabric of his hoodie like it was the only thing grounding him to reality.
This is too much. Way too much. He kept his eyes tightly shut, every nerve on edge as he felt the steady beat of Liam's heart beneath his cheek. My head's on fire. I just want this over with.
A low, amused hum vibrated in Liam's chest, and he said softly, "Then… I'll take you home?"
Mize's face flushed deeper, a small, embarrassed hiccup escaping him. "D-do whatever you want," he mumbled, barely keeping his voice steady. "Just... take me home already."
Liam chuckled, warm and rich, and began to descend the stairs with a confidence that made each step sound out in the quiet space, echoing off the walls.
With each gentle jolt, Mize tried to steady his racing thoughts, but the calm, controlled rhythm of Liam's footsteps and the warmth of his hold made everything around them feel strangely serene, almost peaceful in a way Mize had never felt before.
There was something safe about being held like this, about letting himself lean into the quiet as they moved down the glass staircase. Mize couldn't help but sneak a glance at Liam's face, half-lit under the ceiling lights above.
He had this calm, collected expression—almost as if this whole ridiculous situation was nothing but a small amusement to him. And, well, Mize had to admit it—Liam was... good-looking. The sharp angles of his jaw, the way his lips curved up in that half-smile… it was all a bit too much.
He's the villain and also the protagonist, huh? The thought floated up, unbidden, as Mize took in every detail, almost unconsciously lingering on the strong line of Liam's jaw and the way his dark eyes seemed to hold a hidden glint.
If there was any truth to this guy's future potential, Mize thought, he might just be a limitless powerhouse.
And hey… that wouldn't be a bad thing, he mused. If he's strong enough, I won't have to waste my time with other men.
The thought made him smile, almost fondly, like some distant hope for an easy life as a goddess, one where he didn't have to navigate endless rivals.
After all… being fought over for all eternity might sound glamorous, but it's bound to be exhausting, he sighed to himself, allowing himself a final, tentative glance at Liam's face, half-hoping and half-dreading he'd look down and catch him.
But Liam just kept walking, that faint, calm smile lingering, his steady pace pulling Mize gently, inevitably, down the staircase.
[Host, please calm down the little brother down there]
'Shut up!'
'And it is calm!'
[Denial is the first step of acceptance]