The soft morning light filtered through the half-drawn curtains of their cramped dorm room, casting a warm glow over the scattered sheet music and folded skirts piled on Tael's desk. Gyub lay still on his bed, one arm tucked behind his head, eyes half-lidded as he watched Tael move about the space with that effortless grace that always stirred something quiet and warm in his chest. Tael hummed a faint melody under his breath, the tune from yesterday's practice session, while he tugged a pale pink skirt up over his hips—the fabric whispering against his thighs as he adjusted the pleats just so, pairing it with a fitted white tee that hugged the subtle lines of his torso.

Gyub's gaze traced the curve of Tael's waist as he bent to lace his sneakers, the skirt riding up just enough to reveal smooth skin and the edge of simple underwear beneath. He didn't speak, content to absorb the view in the comfortable silence they'd cultivated over semesters of shared living, his own breathing steady and deliberate to mask the way his pulse quickened at the sight. The room smelled faintly of Tael's citrus shampoo and the lingering notes of coffee from the pot they'd shared earlier, a domestic intimacy that felt as natural as the way Tael straightened and glanced over with a soft smile.

"You heading out soon?" Tael asked casually, voice light as he smoothed the skirt's hem, his fingers brushing the material in a way that drew Gyub's attention without intent. "Class starts in twenty, but I swear the walk to the music building gets longer every day." Gyub nodded from his spot, the quiet observer, his lips curving in a faint reply that echoed their unspoken rhythm. "Yeah, right behind you. Looks good on you, that one." The words hung easy between them, a tether of comfort that needed no elaboration, even as Gyub's eyes lingered a moment longer on the way the skirt swayed with Tael's steps toward the door.

Tael paused at the door, turning back with that open smile that always left Gyub's thoughts tangled, before stepping out into the hallway with the skirt's soft fabric brushing against his legs in a rhythm that matched his light footsteps. Gyub remained on the bed a moment longer, the door clicking shut behind his roommate, and let his mind drift over the image of Tael's slender form—the way the pale pink pleats hugged his hips and hinted at the warmth beneath, stirring a familiar ache low in Gyub's gut. He admired Tael's fearless way of moving through the world, skirts and all, without apology, and the quiet pull between them felt like an unspoken melody building in the shared silence of their room, one Gyub longed to explore but held back on, content for now to protect that vulnerability from the outside.

Later that afternoon, on the sunlit quad near the music building, Tael laughed freely with a cluster of classmates who complimented his outfit without hesitation, one of them adjusting the hem of his skirt playfully as they discussed chord progressions and upcoming recitals. The acceptance wrapped around him like a warm breeze, easing any lingering nerves from past stares, and Tael's animated gestures drew others in, his voice carrying melodies that matched the easy camaraderie. Gyub, passing by on his way from class, caught the scene from a distance and felt his chest tighten with quiet pride mixed with something deeper, his eyes tracing Tael's graceful posture amid the group before he continued on, the memory fueling a slow burn of attraction that he nursed in private.

By evening, the dorm room filled with the low hum of their shared routine—Tael sorting through sheet music at his desk while Gyub brewed fresh coffee, the air thick with citrus and roasted beans as they exchanged casual words about their days. The tension simmered beneath the surface, in the way Gyub's hand brushed Tael's when passing a mug, or how their glances lingered a beat too long, hinting at the pull neither voiced yet, building toward something more intimate in the quiet comfort of their space.

The evening stretched on with the soft clink of mugs and the rustle of sheet music under Tael's fingers, but the pull between them thickened like the steam rising from the coffee pot. Gyub watched the way Tael's lips parted around each sip, a faint flush blooming on his cheeks from the warmth, and felt his own restraint fraying at the edges. When Tael finally set his mug aside and

Skirts of Silence