Of reblogs and favs and oh my god is that my otp

For Keigo, that moment felt like a dream in slow motion. No, it was better than that. He’d imagined being this close to her countless times before, but none compared to the real thing. Her grip was strong for such delicate hands, and he wished he wasn’t wearing his flannel so he could feel her warmth through the skin, as inappropriate as that might sound. Yet, there was nothing dirty about it — far from it. What Nemu awakened in him was deeper, something raw and quiet and pure. He wanted to hold her, and to be held by her, until the edges between them blurred away.

It was stupid, and he’d never say it aloud, but maybe that was what love felt like. It made you long to be impossibly close to the one you loved. He’d seen something like this before in some cult movie, but never thought he would live it himself.

He shuddered. He held his breath. His hand trembled as he wondered if he should embrace her, offer solace, and keep her close to his heart. It lasted only a second, but that single second felt endless, leaving a multitude of new emotions within him. Nemu raised those beautiful eyes to meet his, and even in the flickering light of the screen, Keigo could swear he saw a tinge of redness on her cheeks. Gosh, her lips were so pretty… he’d give anything to kiss them just once.

Then she suddenly pulled away, as if startled by her own reaction, sitting stiffly on the couch with her eyes glued to the screen. The cold emptiness that followed made him release the breath he’d been holding. All his wishful wonders were in vain. She would never reciprocate his feelings, would she? He was just a nobody. A stray dog howling at the unreachable moon.

At least she was his friend.

At least… he was someone her instincts trusted, even if just a little. Enough for her to run to him when scared by a horror movie. The thought alone was enough to make his pounding heart feel happy.

His lips curved into a faint smile, and he stopped himself from saying anything. It wasn’t the time to sound cool; and drawing attention to their corner of the couch would only mortify her.

Before he could catch up with the movie again, another bloody scene made her reach for his hand. It was a subtler touch this time. Her fingers squeezed his, and when they relaxed after the scene, they didn’t let go. Keigo looked at her, but she didn’t look back. His face burned. She really wanted to hold his hand, right? Surely just for reassurance. He dared to turn his palm toward hers, worrying it might be sweaty, but... she didn’t pull away. He dared to intertwine their fingers and give a small squeeze, a wordless promise that he was there. And when the next fright came, she pressed his hand again.