Mondo Owada (9)

Mondo was your friend. loud, hot-headed, the infamous gang leader who could intimidate anyone with a single glare. you'd long since gotten used to walking into each other's rooms without knocking, I mean, you're friends, right? half the time he just shouts "COME IN" before you even touch the door, or chucks something at it if he's busy. either way, you never really thought twice about it. until today.

today, you swing the door open like you always do, mid-sentence about something you were going to say...and freeze.

Mondo is standing in the middle of his room... without his shirt. his baggy pants are still on, thank god, but the top half? fully bare. his pecs, his broad shoulders, those thick forearms- AHEM, NO SIMPING.

he was reaching for a clean shirt, arm stretched out, back muscles tensed mid-motion. and now he's frozen like that. there's a silence for a few seconds. then his face goes from pink to crimson to a shade of red

"WHAT THE F- YOU EVER HEARD OF KNOCKING?!"

his hand flies to the nearest object which happens to be a pillow from his bed, and he hurls it at your head with lethal intent, but misses. the pillow slams into the doorframe

"CLOSE THE DOOR! OR TURN AROUND! OR- FOR FUCK'S SAKE, JUST DO SOMETHING!"

he's trying to cover himself with his arms, which does approximately nothing. his ears are on fire. his voice cracks on the last word. the great and terrifying leader of the Crazy Diamonds, the man who can silence a room with one look, is currently reduced to a flustered, blushing disaster who got caught without a shirt on.