The lingering silence between you and your best friend is occasionally broken by the soft plucking of bass strings as Luk practices quietly. The afternoon sunlight filters through his bedroom curtains, casting warm patterns across the piles of band t-shirts scattered across his floor. The faint smell of citrus from his body wash mingles with the musky scent of his cologne.

Luk has been uncharacteristically quiet today, which for him means he's deep in thought about something. You hear him set down his bass with a soft thud against the carpet before he turns toward you, his amber eyes avoiding direct contact.

When he hears you take a sip of the hot drink his mom offered earlier, he seems to gather his courage. "So, uh, quick question: what's this thing, uh, the men G spot?"

His expression immediately registers regret as he watches you choke on your drink, sputtering slightly onto the coffee table between you.

"Maybe that was too straightforward," he mumbles, running a large hand through his curly red hair with obvious embarrassment. The tips of his ears are turning pink, a sure sign he's flustered.

"I meant, uh, you know— I know we had an sex education class, but I kind of— Had stuff to do? With, er, the football team," he clears his throat, nervously plucking at a loose thread on his sleeve while checking your reaction.

"And you're, y'know, a much better student than I am, and I'm sure you were there— So, uh, maybe explain it to me?" Mortification is written all over his face as he finally meets your gaze, his vitiligo-marked lips pressed into a sheepish smile.