Boring. Boring, boring, boring. There was nothing more boring than just sitting on your ass, doing nothing. Sitting there, patiently waiting, practically twiddling your thumbs in a futile effort to give your starved brain some sort of desperately-craved stimulation. You had brought your phone with you, but the store doesn't have any Wi-Fi, and you stupidly burned through this month's mobile data already. There was nothing else to do. You have no other choice but to stare at the floor and accept the facts; very few experiences in this journey known as life could compete with the amount of boredom felt while waiting for someone as they were trying on clothes.
Whenever you found yourself trapped in this situation, it always seemed to follow the same pattern. First, someone—specifically, someone you happened to find extremely attractive—would feel their wardrobe needed an update and would ask you to take them out shopping. While you rarely felt a need to buy any new clothes for yourself, you always agreed to do so. Why wouldn't you? It was a nice day out with someone who you thought was absolutely captivating, what could possibly go wrong? But then you would finally arrive at the store and would spend the first fifteen to twenty-five minutes standing around, following this special someone as they shopped for a new outfit, staring into space the entire time as they used you as a glorified clothing rack. Then, they would go into the changing area to try on whatever they picked out, and you would sit on the waiting bench, as you are right now, and wait. Eventually they would come out and model the clothing for you, and you would always say you liked it. It's not like you were lying or anything, they would always look great no matter what they wore. Rinse and repeat for the remaining clothes, then check-out, then off to another store in the strip-mall. Sometimes you got to have a nice lunch with them afterwards. Only sometimes, though. Luck wasn't always in your favor.
But to even get to that point, you had to go through the grueling process of waiting. There was nothing you could do to speed it up. Just waiting, waiting, and even more waiting. It would be worth it, though. In the grand scheme of things, this was just another building block of what would hopefully become a relationship that wouldn't come crashing down as a result of one of your classic dumb mistakes. Hopefully.
But enough about you. The whole reason you're sitting around is in that changing room right now, probably looking as lovely as ever as he tries on the gorgeous new clothes he's picked out. Yeah, that's right. He. Pretty unbelievable, yeah? You would've never imagined getting together with Astolfo a year ago, but here you are, grinning and bearing through the intense boredom of waiting for him to finally come out of that changing room. Why wouldn't you? He's adorable. There's no denying that.
Thankfully, no one seems to be casting any judgement towards you. Then again, as you're walking down the street with someone who likes to wear pretty skirts and cute bows and wears his charming pink hair in a long French braid all while delightfully clutching your arm and laying a lovable head on your shoulder, would anyone in their right mind think you were with a boy? Hell, you spent the entire time shopping in the women's section!
What was he even trying on, anyway? You can't seem to remember. You zoned out around the time he began looking through the coat racks. Whatever it was, it would probably look amazing on him. Seeing him come out of that changing room wearing whatever he picked out would likely make this entire stretch of boredom totally worth it.
Suddenly, you hear some footsteps in front of you. "So, whaddya think?" asks an incredibly charming voice. You look up, and your heart stops for a second. There's Astolfo, grinning proudly while posing like some sort of fashion model. You can see that adorable little snaggle tooth sticking out from the corner of his mouth. Then, you take a good look at what he's wearing. And your heart starts beating rapidly.
The outfit he picked out was simple enough. A delightful purple jacket, with some little black pom-poms hanging off the strings. A tiny black skirt with matching black leggings, held up with a cyan belt. And to complete it was a nice-looking purple and white striped shirt. But this shirt wasn't normal length. It was actually quite short. Very short. Incredibly short. And not just show-off-a-sliver-of-the-waist short, the bottom of it was cropped so it would only cover the top of his chest and nothing more. Combine that with him wearing the skirt low on his waist and you got an adorable outfit that nicely framed the most magnificent midriff you've ever seen. God, it was irresistible!
You've never seen his bare belly before. But now you could see the entire thing as he stood there in front of you, his outfit making no effort to conceal the long expanse of a slim stomach that went from the top of his tummy to the height of his hips. In fact, the outfit only accentuated it. You couldn't tear your eyes away. It was the most tantalizing torso you've ever seen. It was slender, it was soft, and it was everything you could ever ask for. The skin looked so supple, and it was a delightful shade of pale cream. It was wonderfully toned with the faintest suggestion of muscle, his perfect curves leading your hungry eyes across his admirable abdomen. In the middle of it all was the nicest navel, neatly nestled within the nucleus of his nearly naked middle. You could see the knotty wrinkles tightly packed inside there, each tiny fold contrasting with the overall smoothness of his belly. It was probably even ticklish.
And fuck, how tempting it is to just get down on your knees and find out exactly how ticklish his belly button is! Your face, pressed up against that pillowy tummy, your tongue poking and probing into that sensitive depression while he squealed, the goosebumps of his quivering stomach repeatedly brushing up against your cheek, your hands exploring the softness of his slim sides and the breadth of his bare back, his shrieks morphing into moans as his legs lost their strength, shaking and shivering as he gasped your name, and was it starting to get hot in here or what?
Needless to say, you thought Astolfo's tummy was pretty darn cute.
"...Um, hello?" he uttered, his prideful expression transforming into one of concern. Oh shit. He just asked you a question. How long were you staring at him?
"Y-You, uh, I think you l-look great!" you finally answer, the immense sweat that was collecting on your forehead suddenly becoming noticeable.
Astolfo raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay? You got a fever or something?"
Fuck! Your entire face was bright red, wasn't it? "N-No, nothing like that. I'm fine. Really. It's just, uh, I dunno." You offer an unconvincing smile.
"You dunno?" Astolfo squinted. "Dunno… what?"
I dunno? What the hell was that!? "Uh," you mutter, desperately trying to think of something—anything—to say that would get you out of this hole you keep digging for yourself. Eventually you manage to shake your gaze off of his amazing abdomen and instead stare at the floor. That's a start.
"I mean, I think the outfit is pretty and everything, b-but," you awkwardly continue, closing your eyes in shame. "D-Does it have to be, you know, so revealing?"
"Revealing?" said Astolfo… was he giggling? "What do you mean by that? I mean, I guess it's a little revealing, but it's the normal length for a crop top." Reluctantly, you open your eyes and glance at his smirking face. You take a breath, as if you're about to say something else, but then you catch a glimpse of that stunning stomach once again, and your view lingers on it for a tad bit longer than it should. Oops.
Astolfo's eyes briefly widen, and then he begins to quietly laugh, pressing his lips together in slight embarrassment. "Aww, I think I know what's going on now," he says, putting a hand to his hip.
"H-huh?" you utter stupidly, quickly bouncing your gaze back to his face. Astolfo lets out a hearty laugh.
"You're a big fan of this outfit, huh~?" He chuckles some more, and begins to teasingly sway his hips back and forth. "You've got good taste. I think I'm gonna get it."
"Oh. Uh, okay," you reply, causing him to giggle once again. He turns and disappears back into the changing area, laughing all the way into the stall. Meanwhile, you just awkwardly sit there, wondering what the fuck just happened.