The magic that brought us together

Adachi crouched down, unable to look at his reflection any longer. He ruffled his hair in desperation.

In the past few weeks, he'd been about to tell Kurosawa countless times already, but something always stopped him at the last minute. He'd been running internal arguments over and over. Things like:

'What if Kurosawa doesn't believe me?

- I can prove it. It's very easy to prove.

What if Kurosawa feels embarrassed?

- Even if he does, he deserves the truth. Besides, he's not the least bit embarrassed about his feelings for me, so he'll probably be just fine.

What if Kurosawa doubts the sincerity of my feelings?

- Don't be ridiculous.

What if he won't let me touch him again?

- ... I can't believe I actually consider this an option because it's not.

What if he feels it's unfair?

- Well, there's a way to get rid of this power—'

"Ahhhhh, what the hell! Why is this so hard?"

It wasn't like anything in his living room would suddenly spring to life and give him the answer, and his reflection sure as hell didn't look like he had any good advice up his sleeve either. He looked and felt like a total mess. The evening was going to be a disaster if he didn't calm down soon.

Kurosawa was about to show up any second now and Adachi's hair stood on end again, after he'd smoothed it over at least three times already, only to ruffle it again.

A soft knock made Adachi jump. He quickly ran his hands through his hair in hopes that it would undo the latest damage.

On the way to the door, he held an internal motivational speech and after one last deep breath, he opened the door.

Kurosawa looked as gorgeous as ever, his smile already in place. Adachi couldn't help but smile back, all his worries suddenly forgotten. The evening would work out just fine. Whenever Kurosawa was around, Adachi felt secure and warm, like he could be himself without holding anything back. Kurosawa loved him unconditionally and would always be there for him.

'That's right. Unconditionally. Even if he knows of my power, he'll still love me.'

Maybe Adachi was just loath to lose the opportunity to spy on Kurosawa's honest thoughts, however mushy they were. If he told Kurosawa, he would always know that Adachi was listening and would probably censor his thoughts as best as he could.

"Good evening, my love," Kurosawa greeted.

Adachi only nodded and smiled wider in response.

Or maybe Kurosawa would make use of Adachi's ability to convey feelings that were beyond words. To make Adachi feel warm and loved, to give him self-confidence and strength—something he already did without knowing it.

"Your hair is messy. Were you stressing over something?" Kurosawa asked.

Without waiting for an answer, he stepped closer and adjusted Adachi's hair.

'Shame. He's so cute with messy hair, but we're going out after all, and to a nice restaurant no less. He surely wants it smooth. I'll definitely take a photo of bed-hair-Adachi though. If he lets me.'

Seemingly happy with his work, Kurosawa took a step back, beaming.

"Y-yeah, I was, but... but it's okay now."