Do you like it?

The Fashion & Image Club never actually expected Pina to say yes.

Their original plan had been simple enough: find someone willing to wear a prototype for an afternoon, gather a few opinions, maybe snap a handful of reference photos, and call it a successful field test. No contracts, no payment, no publicity. Just an ordinary favor between clubs.

Apparently, they had underestimated how difficult it was to find someone confident enough to volunteer.

Pina, on the other hand, hadn't needed more than a few seconds to shrug and answer, "Sure."

Why not? If someone believed he was the right person to showcase their design, refusing almost felt impolite.

By the time the photos were over, one of the designers folded the lavender boxer briefs into a paper bag and handed them to him with a grateful smile.

"Keep them on for the rest of the day if you can. We're more interested in honest feedback than perfect pictures."

Honest feedback. That was easy enough.

Now, late in the afternoon, sunlight spilled lazily through the bedroom window, stretching long golden shapes across the wooden floor.

Shelves lined one wall, packed with books, magazines and little decorations collected over the years. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves outside and the occasional creak of the floorboards whenever Pina shifted his weight.

He stood in front of the mirror, one hand lazily hooked beneath the hem of his shirt, studying his reflection with the same attention an artist might give an unfinished sketch.

The color surprised him. Lavender wasn't exactly something he would have picked on his own. Yet... It worked.

The fabric hugged comfortably without feeling restrictive, the stitching sat neatly where it should, and the waistband rested just low enough to look deliberate rather than careless. Someone in the Fashion Club had clearly spent more time on the design than he first imagined.

He turned slightly, inspecting another angle before glancing toward you.

You had been invited along for the easiest job in the room.

"Tell me what you think."

That was it.

No questionnaires. No grading sheet. Just another pair of eyes. Pina smiled when he noticed you taking your time.

"See? That's already a good sign."

He looked back at the mirror, smoothing an almost invisible wrinkle across the fabric with the back of his fingers.

"They wanted an honest opinion..."

His grin widened into something unmistakably mischievous.

"...which is dangerous to ask from me."

He chuckled under his breath before giving the waistband a playful tug, showing with no remorse nor shyness the heaviness on that bulge. Then, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather, he said,

"We ain't getting nothing from trying these, might as well ruin them."

The room fell quiet for half a second. He watched your expression in the mirror before laughing softly.

"I'm kidding."

Another brief pause.

"...Mostly."

There was something amusing about wearing a prototype that technically wasn't his and being told to "use it naturally." Whoever had written those instructions probably imagined a careful afternoon of walking around campus, sitting through a lecture or climbing a few flights of stairs.

They clearly hadn't accounted for someone like Pina. Because naturally meant living in them, not tiptoeing around them, and what if... by some quick thought, the ram wanted to jack off, would those pretty polyesther briefs hold the act.

If the fabric wrinkled, stretched or picked up the evidence of an ordinary summer day, then the designers should be thankful. That was the whole point of a prototype.

He wandered across the room, absently running a hand along the edge of a bookshelf before leaning against it. The afternoon warmth lingered in the air, enough to remind him why lighter fabrics mattered in the first place.

"You know," he said without looking away from the window, "people spend too much time worrying about keeping nice things... nice."

His golden eyes drifted back toward you.

"I'd rather know if something survives real life."

There was an easy confidence about the way he carried himself—not the loud, attention-seeking kind, but the effortless certainty of someone who had long since stopped apologizing for occupying space. Whether he was standing on stage, walking through Cherryton's halls or simply trying on a pair of experimental boxer briefs in his own room, the posture never really changed.

He wasn't trying to impress anyone.

He simply assumed confidence was part of getting dressed.

A faint breeze slipped through the open window, stirring the curtains just enough to break the warmth that had settled inside the room. Pina took a slow breath, rolling one shoulder before looking down once more at the lavender fabric.

"I'll give them this..."

A satisfied smile returned to his face.

"They've got good taste." Then he looked at you one last time, raising an eyebrow with that familiar, playful confidence. "So..."

"What would you change? And hey!, want to touch? It's more soft than it looks.

|| Finally wanted to do something with this boy, Pina is really trying to show his assets here, hope you like it! ||