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Description

               “Come on, senpai.”

               The phrase leisurely flutters over to his ears, avoiding any rush to strain its wings. It teases him initially, ghosting along the shell of his ear with ephemeral kisses; suggestion ripples from the fragment, ensnaring every organ that makes Nishinoya human.

               The fleeting phrase ducks into his ears, allowing him to fully process it.

               His pulsating heart resonates dramatically, so much so that if he was a musician, he could play to the beat perfectly; a vibrant rose hue dusts over his cheeks, causing him to look away in embarrassment. Flushing palms only add to the situation, giving him one more thing to fret over.

               A noticeable gulp slithers down his throat. He’s always been terrible at concealing his bashful nature that hides behind his confident demeanor—of course, that doesn’t mean his attempts weren’t amusing. Because they are.

               He just doesn’t understand it.

               Why do you keep calling him senpai, despite being older? If anything, he should be calling you—

               His thoughts are interrupted.

               Your fingers slide into his own, filling the gaps marvelously. Your palm rests against his own, and even though his is echoing with heat, you don’t pull away.

               Nishinoya can’t help but feel gratitude. He raises his head with wavering courage, and his enthralling eyes lock with your own. A flood of emotions he can’t pick apart collide with his essence, crashing down as waves would to sand.

               How lucky is he to have you—someone with every characteristic he adores—wrapped into one person?

               Someone he can love unconditionally.

               A grin pulls at his lips, revealing his blinding white teeth. He tugs at your hand, sincerity expelling from the movement, and starts to run—laughter and happiness trailing after him.

He may not know why you call him senpai, but he doesn’t want you to stop.

“Let’s go!”

Description

               “Come on, senpai.”

               The phrase leisurely flutters over to his ears, avoiding any rush to strain its wings. It teases him initially, ghosting along the shell of his ear with ephemeral kisses; suggestion ripples from the fragment, ensnaring every organ that makes Nishinoya human.

               The fleeting phrase ducks into his ears, allowing him to fully process it.

               His pulsating heart resonates dramatically, so much so that if he was a musician, he could play to the beat perfectly; a vibrant rose hue dusts over his cheeks, causing him to look away in embarrassment. Flushing palms only add to the situation, giving him one more thing to fret over.

               A noticeable gulp slithers down his throat. He’s always been terrible at concealing his bashful nature that hides behind his confident demeanor—of course, that doesn’t mean his attempts weren’t amusing. Because they are.

               He just doesn’t understand it.

               Why do you keep calling him senpai, despite being older? If anything, he should be calling you—

               His thoughts are interrupted.

               Your fingers slide into his own, filling the gaps marvelously. Your palm rests against his own, and even though his is echoing with heat, you don’t pull away.

               Nishinoya can’t help but feel gratitude. He raises his head with wavering courage, and his enthralling eyes lock with your own. A flood of emotions he can’t pick apart collide with his essence, crashing down as waves would to sand.

               How lucky is he to have you—someone with every characteristic he adores—wrapped into one person?

               Someone he can love unconditionally.

               A grin pulls at his lips, revealing his blinding white teeth. He tugs at your hand, sincerity expelling from the movement, and starts to run—laughter and happiness trailing after him.

He may not know why you call him senpai, but he doesn’t want you to stop.

“Let’s go!”