❛ stop, STOP -- you're gonna walk into a trash can you fuckin' -- ❜ snappy and rude as per usual , denki's SPECIAL DAY not enough to force him to pull the reins in on that particular aspect of his personality , but at least there's no real /heat/ to it as he drags his blindfolded boyfriend through the narrow walkways leading to their seats , doing his BEST not to let him veer into objects or /people/ as they go. ( 1/2 )
he’s nervous, and it shows in the way his hand is /sweating/ ( as is the rest of him, truthfully ) and the MOMENT they’re seated he’s quick to /yank/ his hand back, grumbling out a quick spoken : ❛ you can take it off now, sparky. ❜ a swallow. he waits ‘til request ( demand ) has been obliged and denki is able to take in the full situation before adding a much softer , ❛ happy birthday ‘n all that. if you uh … if you hate it , just .. we can always leave , yeah ? ❜ ( 2/2 )
the response he receives is not so much verbal as it is tangible, in which case dumbstruck speechlessness is aided by the sudden, ticklish shift in electric current between them ; like the feel of a summer thunderstorm brewing in the air, although not enough to be anything more than personal. static clings to the nape of either of their necks — stiffens the tips of ashen blond and pulls it upright as if by some soft, invisible force. denki does not notice even as his own hair mirrors this odd dance.
the situation at hand had been prologued by an appropriately busy afternoon, one that made it hard to corner denki alone with what rounds of classmates buzzed in and out to toss him well wishes on his birthday. he’d then presumed katsuki’s eerie quietness was to blame on discomfort amongst their audience — figuring he probably wanted to hurry things along for whatever adventure lay ahead, eager to get his boyfriend back to himself — and remained juxtaposed in unbothered contentment throughout most of the journey there.
( although it’s important to note that he’d been visited by a certain amusement in the fact that never in a million years would he have pegged katsuki for one sappy enough to exercise the old blindfold trick. he actually found that to be pretty adorable, but the air between them felt too oddly dissonant to properly voice that notion. )
and so goes the story of how unrelenting cheeriness gradually came to be escorted by a flare of nerves. the itch to prod further at the holes adorning his black jeans was suppressed only by the fact that katsuki had gone out of his way to make sure denki had dressed himself nicely that morning, resulting in sleek streetwear and the rare presence of jewelry adorning his ears, neck, and fingers. he probably would have proved a much prettier sight sans the thick cloth keeping him in the dark, both metaphorically and literally.
and as if the sounds bustling around him weren’t disorienting enough, the fact that katsuki was practically condensing in his grasp was all but amping that newborn anxiety. whatever instinct he may have had to comfort him was lost in the wave of overstimulation, leaving him useless in the the bumbling stray behind the taller as he attempted to navigate him through wherever the fuck — feet shuffling in shallow steps as to avoid any further incidents involving the tip of his boot and the back of katsuki’s heel.
but now, finally here in the much - awaited present, with blindfold lain forgotten in his lap as if it hadn’t been absolutely grating him the entire way here, denki sees, quite clearly through eyes lit like highbeams, just exactly what his boyfriend had been so steeled off about all day — and god, if he’s not absolutely vibrating in his seat.
❛ katsuki, ❜ he breathes after a vicious cycle of opening and closing his mouth wordlessly, the name as fresh on his tongue now as it had been the very first time he uttered it. ❛ you idiot. ❜
urge beckons to repeat it. you idiot, you idiot, you idiot. only out of concern that the recipient might take offense as if the word held any real weight does he fight to keep it under wraps — though the conflict of containing his elation in a way that didn’t firstly highlight how dumb his boyfriend was for assuming he would hate literally anything about this is proving to be an entirely different struggle.
honeysweet sentiment layers over the action of his fingers sewing what little space remains between them to slip amongst those much thicker, ignorant now to the clamminess ever - present there as golden eyes fall on the owner. ❛ i love this. i love this. like — ❜ he twists around once more, gaze bobbing off each head in the audience as they take their respective seats around them.
❛ — like, i seriously can’t believe this right now. you did this for me? you did this … for me? ❜ repetition evidently helps comprehend the setting into reality, if not prove a little annoying in its refusal to just get his thoughts out plain and straight. ❛ i … i’m stunted, dude. i don’t know what to say. you gave me a blindfold. i stepped on your foot, like, nine times. i thought — or i didn’t think — ❜
recapping what no longer matters seems a useless feat, leaving him raking empty stutters and wild gestures with his free hand as the smile spreading up freckled features seems to only grow impossibly larger.
❛ i love you. ❜ and it just sort of happens ; foreheads lined with a warm hum of electricity, the irregular difference in shape between either nose as they brush past one another a scene that does not at all embarrass him in this room of onlookers abuzz. he loves him.
