he watches , blankly — perhaps stupidly — as all edge erodes from every crisp feature molding the boy opposite him . soft and simple it goes , castaways of florets and sharp teeth along the sea , waves of contemplation steadily washing over him to pull an inch of crease off his brow with each turn . katsuki seems to dog - ear several thoughts between them . evidently , none are worthy to speak of .
slower and slower he dulls , plain as a pit or the pallor of his scheme . the breadth of silence has seemingly left him barren ; soft and moon - eyed ; as barely - there as he could stand to be and then some past what he could not , stripped of all but the precarious incline of breath , untethered to the earth as the sun - blanched ash of his hair . denki’s nerves light anew .
for a long , long moment , he feels too looked upon . too out in the open , too aware of himself in comparison .
it is , of course , not at all the first time he’s ever thought the other boy to be so stunningly beautiful — but it’s by far the most prolific in all idle cases . having that natural inclination to romance seems to have actually done nothing for him all these years . speaking honestly , katsuki is not the only one on fire today .
speaking honestly , denki has found himself growing unfathomably softer , too .
you are impossible , katsuki tells him , and he finds no real reason to disagree . as well as he’s come to learn him , denki knows he might not ever quite understand why katsuki says the things he does , why thoughts might sit on his tongue one way but manifest themselves another . it’s as maddening as it is endearing , and denki knows he’s not as wholly bothered by the ambiguity of the sentiment when he truly lives to devour all the meat of the peach surrounding it . he does so again right now , practiced and eager , as he connects himself to a trembling cupid’s bow .
their faces mash awkwardly , slight soreness where noses collide as neither thought to tilt his head . foreheads brush familiarly and denki would savor the memory if he had hunger for anything but the words he chases , realigning himself along katsuki’s mouth to find them properly .
the hand shaking between them betrays a trained stillness . denki snuffs the movement through compression , smothers it beneath the soft of his chest and links arms around katsuki’s waist to hold him close , choke it further .
if any hints of uncertainty had previously sat between them , be it between towers or the tremors that threaten their integrity , katsuki is given no time to question it while denki kisses him here , here , and here . smiles against him there and there , drags delight to the edges of his jaw until the smaller is buried in the crook of his neck , looking out to the ( thankfully ) empty hallway behind him .
hands have maneuvered themselves elsewhere — one between the blades of katsuki’s shoulders , the other smoothing over the soft spikes protruding from the back of his head . the material of his flannel , tried as it may be in its age , feels different now on another body . denki holds him tighter through it . a second , second skin .
grin unrelenting , he drops another kiss somewhere irresponsibly , lost in the junction between ear and neck . ❛ you know i won’t apologize for that , ❜ he delivers there , and it’s meant more like : i will never say sorry for this moment between us .
a pipe - dream. katsuki is not allowed this. the gritty, in - between deliciousness of love that sticks itself like caramel between his teeth and spills inside him with an insidious goodness. there is not a thing listed in his long, reddened ledger that makes him even a fraction worthy. what denki gives is too much, too good. katsuki is not enough, he hasn’t worked hard enough, has not earned the thrum of the heart his palm presses flush against. oh, but he wants it. he does not shake here. there is no breadth for it. too held, too sanded - down around the usual edges. denki is the only one who knows how to calm him down, even as he lights him up.
you know i won’t apologize for that. (it wasn't a bad thing — that impossible-ness and he will tell him this eventually in a thousand different ways; aloud, too, when katsuki feels deserving of the returning phrase.) katsuki doesn’t know if it’s the kiss or the impossibility he means. both seem likely. it matters less which is the intended. the result is the same.
a pipe - bomb. looped in the circuit of denki’s arms, katsuki is nearly, himself, electric. denki strikes a match and presses it to his skin, serving to detonate a ripple of heat over him that had he a drop of sweat on his body would have ignited them both. even chilled and dry, it almost does.
raw edges leave him open like a wound is — the hiss of his breath between his teeth indication that denki might as well have kicked an ankle out from him, achillean as it seems.
❛ i don’t want an apology for that. ❜ as always what he does want lays quiet in the space between his words, dog - eared as noticed, for later interpretation. brimmed with love and love’s revelation in equal measure, katsuki hopes denki never apologizes for making him feel this way; seals the wishful thought by using chest - captured hand to press only enough distance between them to steal denki’s mouth in a more adjusted kiss.
the rush simmers where the rest of him is a turning over from pipe to fever dream.
free hand pledges loyalty to denki’s waist with a fistful of shirt - side, a ballroom practiced lead gently suggesting the direction for their bodies. ethereal as the moment has made him, katsuki no longer wishes to continue this particular non - conversation in the hallway. if they topple more towers in the wake of a stumbling dance, re: denki’s stacks, katsuki decides the chaos of their burning to be a good thing.
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