image cred: perdizzion
The dorm common room was loud.
Not overwhelmingly so — just the familiar hum of voices, a TV playing something no one was really watching, Mina laughing too hard at something Hanta said. The Bakusquad sprawled across couches and chairs like they always did, half-relaxed, half-energized.
It felt normal.
Denki stood just inside the doorway for a second longer than necessary.
No one noticed. No one was watching him. No one was waiting for him to fail or freeze or prove anything.
Eijirou was already there, sitting on the same couch he'd been on that night. One arm slung over the back, posture open, easy. He looked up when Denki entered, his face lighting automatically — then, just as quickly, he checked himself. Didn't reach. Didn't beckon. Just smiled and let Denki decide.
Denki noticed that.
He took a breath.
Not the panicked kind. The grounding kind Makoto-san had taught him — in through the nose, out through the mouth, slow enough to feel his chest rise and fall.
Then he walked over.
He sat beside Eijirou.
Close.
Not accidentally-close. Not oops-I-ended-up-here close. Close because he chose the spot deliberately, hip brushing thigh, knees almost touching.
Eijirou stilled for half a second.
Not pulling away. Not leaning in. Just... present.
They talked. About nothing important. Training schedules. Katsuki complaining about something. Mina teasing Eijirou about his hair again.
Denki listened. Answered. Laughed.
His heart beat faster than usual, but it stayed in his chest. His hands trembled slightly — and then steadied when he rested them in his lap.
This is okay, he told himself. I am okay.
After a few minutes — not immediately, not impulsively — Denki shifted.
He let his pinky brush Eijirou's.
It wasn't an accident.
The contact sent a spike of adrenaline through him, sharp and bright — but it didn't steal his breath. He felt it, acknowledged it, let it pass.
Eijirou didn't react at first.
Then Denki curled his pinky deliberately around Eijirou's.
A full second passed.
Then Eijirou returned the gesture, slow and careful, like he was handling something precious. His thumb brushed Denki's knuckle once — not reassurance, not pressure. Just there.
No one said anything.
Katsuki noticed, of course. His eyes flicked over, lingered for a fraction of a second — then he scoffed and looked away like it was none of his business.
Which, Denki realized with something like wonder, meant it wasn't.
The room didn't implode. No alarms went off. No voice from the past crawled up his spine to tell him he was wrong.
Denki stayed.
Minutes passed. Then more.
Eventually, Eijirou leaned closer — not into his space, just near enough that their shoulders touched. Warm. Solid.
YOU ARE READING
Work it Out - KiriKami
FanfictionDenki loved his boyfriend more than anything in the world, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He couldn't even bring himself to hold hands in public. One day, determined to overcome his fears, he decided to go for it; he held Eijirou's hand in...
