Senpai's pissed. Oh, no doubt about that. But he's controlling it, waiting for the full explanation before unleashing hell. And me? I'm in full businessman mode, like I'm pitching a million-dollar startup to some high-ranking exec.
I casually pull the laptop closer, fingers tapping the trackpad as I navigate to a specific folder. "We did consider applying to be official creators on the publishing site," I say smoothly, keeping my tone professional—like I totally didn't just rope him into an unauthorized BL project. "You know, since official creators get paid per read."
Senpai's frown somehow gets deeper.
"But after some very thorough research—" I emphasize, even though our 'research' was mostly just us bitching about the terms over convenience store snacks, "—we figured out the publisher's terms are kinda fucked up. Super unfair. So, we ditched that idea."
I glance up, checking his reaction. Still pissed. Still glaring. Alright, moving on.
"Instead, we're planning to design merch."
Silence.
A damn long silence.
Then, finally—
"…You're fucking kidding me."
I turn the laptop back toward senpai, practically shoving the screen in his face, making damn sure he gets a good look at the merchandise designs we worked on behind his back—keychains and charms, art prints and posters, stickers and sticker sheets, acrylic standees, buttons and badges, washi tapes, mini memo pads and notebooks, phone grips and phone cases, tote bags and pouches, and not to mention… sexy dakimura.
Senpai's eyes, framed behind those big-ass round glasses, shrink like the brightness is burning his retinas—or maybe it's just the sheer horror of what he's seeing.
And man, he doesn't even bother scrolling down. No curiosity, no hesitation—just a flat refusal to even acknowledge the rest of the designs. It's like the first few are already enough to make up his mind: No fucking way am I playing along with this.
But after all the effort we put into this? Not happening. No way in hell we're stopping here.
I glance at the girls, gauging their reactions. Nanase-san pouts a little, subtly nudging me with her eyes. Right. Time to pull the last straw.
So, I shift in my seat, leaning back into the steel chair, arms crossed, mirroring his posture. Then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, I say, "Whether you agree or not doesn't really matter, senpai. You're up against all four of us. And besides—" I pause for effect, letting my grin stretch wider. "It's your fault this club's in this shitty state to begin with."
His frown deepens, and the sharp tsk he lets out practically echoes in this tiny, suffocating clubroom.
"I knew you were a fucking cunning bastard," he mutters, voice dripping with frustration. "You're planning something against me."
That actually makes me laugh. I mean, I get why he'd think that, considering my relationship with Maki, but seriously?
"Aw, just 'cause I'm seeing Maki doesn't mean I'm her personal hitman," I snicker, shaking my head. "Like, what exactly would I even get from ruining your life? Think about it. No matter how you look at it, that logic's fucked."
Senpai doesn't say anything. Just keeps that I'll-kill-you-in-your-sleep glare locked on me.
And so, I push forward.
"Yes, this whole pairing project? My idea. It's the only thing I could think of to keep this club afloat. That's it. No ulterior motive."
I stop.
Senpai's still staring, like he's trying to x-ray my soul for bullshit. And maybe… maybe he should be. Because for a split second, the thought crosses my mind—is this really just about the club?
I keep telling myself that, keep selling that excuse to everyone, including me.
But if I dig a little deeper… maybe, just maybe, I'm using this as an excuse to get closer to senpai. And if I were to say that out loud, what would he even do?
Will he punch me square in the face? Or would his face go red like a damn tomato?
I kinda wanna know.
But before I can even string together a sentence that might push him to react, Nanase-san's voice slices through my thoughts.
"Hasegawa-kun is right," she declares, arms crossed like she's leading some kind of rebellion. "You've got no reason to say no to this project, because you should take responsibility for what happened to this club."
Her stance screams confidence, but the way her lips are slightly pouted? Yeah, that tells me she's fully prepared to throw me under the bus if senpai decides to explode.
Senpai clicks his tongue, irritation practically radiating off him. "Tsk. I won't deny the state of this shitty club is because of me, but you—" he jabs a finger in Nanase-san's direction "—always decide things behind my back. And when shit hits the fan, guess who's gotta clean it up?"
His glare is locked onto her, sharp enough to cut steel. Meanwhile, Nanase-san? Just giggles, unfazed as ever.
Then, a heavy groan escapes through senpai's gritted teeth. But he doesn't argue… doesn't fight it.