Some part of him must surely have expected the answer. Still, it isnât until Anat has spoken the words for himself â (âyesâ; and even âof courseâ, as though no other reply could have been possible) â that Shin allows himself to acknowledge that itâs precisely what heâd hoped to hear. And he had hoped, he realizes now. More so than he could ever have thought. He canât help the flush of heat and nerves which crawls up his neck as Anat insinuates himself closer, nor the way that he grasps tightly at those gentle fingers and bows beneath the weight of Anatâs black eyes, words lodged dumb and giddy upon his tongue.
âIâm glad,â the squeeze of his hand says, for all that he can only stammer out a soft, quaking giggle, and feel utterly absurd on the tail of it.
(Words that he doesnât mean to say â words that he doesnât realize he can say just yet, more breath than voice â and which he very nearly swallows right back down. But by now heâs this far along, and by now Anat is looking at him with those heavy, waiting eyes. Visibly stuttering upon the brink of a question, Shinâs mouth drags into a wobbly smile in spite of himself, his eyes dropping meekly shut.)
ââA-are you. Intending to kiss me then, perhaps?â
  It was far from a question he could have ever anticipated, and it ended up being no shock to himself that he hadnât immediately had an answer. Though-- the acknowledgement of this wouldnât stop the fluttering in his chest, and he is stuck in silence; as if it were the only thing that had prevented him from simply stammering. How could he have an answer, after all? This was like nothing he had ever done before, no closer bond had been formed before between he and anyone else, ever before.
  Instead, his guise of confidence remains, Anatâs smug, yet gentle smile the only thing he will let Shin see-- at least for now. Itâs much too embarrassing, much too weak for someone of his stature to be nervous around anyone-- even as safe as Shinâs presence was, Anat could not allow himself to be assured.
  Despite his own mental preparation, the words still manage to get caught in his throat, tangled enough to make him choke; an outward composure was becoming much harder to handle, though, he knew that he had to do this, otherwise, they would be both too timid to even consider making the first move.
  â I hope you donât mind if my answer is yes. â
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