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The wavering light twists Tetora’s expression in such weird ways; it makes it almost impossible to tear the eyes away from the sight. The dim fire from the candle illuminates the small space of the tent, it dances and threatens to blow out as Tetora gestures wildly with his arms, trying to project with precision powerful sentiments in the story that frankly, Hinata is afraid he stopped listening to quite a while ago.
He watches in awe as the warm light flickers, reflecting in Tetora’s eyes in the most enthralling way, entrancing, and how his lips move rapidly, falling to a rhythm with his fast paced story. Hinata feels himself grow queasy for not paying attention, but the toothy grin always present in his mouth as he rambles dissipates the insecure feeling away, and Hinata is so lulled into admiring the line of Tetora’s jaw and the dimples of his smile he’s just far too gone to care. So, it isn’t a surprise when Hinata excuses himself from Tetora’s tale and inquires if he can try something. Tetora complies, and the light in his eyes flickers, yet again.
Tetora closes his eyes and relaxes, just as Hinata asks him to do. He promises not to open them until he’s told to do so, also and Hinata breathes in to steady himself. Everything just goes downhill from there.
As he watches, Hinata discovers the contradictions in Tetora’s faux. How his cheekbones sit high and sharp on his face, and how the arch of his brows makes him look lost in thought, concentrated, even unnerving as it is. But the skin of his cheeks seems so tender; the soft curve of his thin lips is beckoning Hinata closer just to take a better look, it’s bewitching… It’s tempting.
Hinata shakes his head, blinking, but he doesn’t move away an inch. As if that weren’t enough, the light irradiating from the candle suffices, bathes him in an overwhelming aura, as if he belongs there, under the candle's ministrations. He looks ethereal. And Hinata starts to feel like the oxygen levels on the tent diminish the longer he stares, the longer he holds back himself.
So he gives into his longing, and runs his eyes over the line of Tetora’s fringe, crimson and black contrasting with the tan of his skin. He slides down the bridge of his nose, the thick of his short eyelashes, and the accentuated contour of his cheekbones. Hinata’s eyes linger in his jawline, though, and in consequence his heart speeds up the slightest bit when he allows himself a brief of adventurous wonder, and quietly scoots closer, enough for their knees to almost bump together; his sight deliberately dives down Tetora’s neck to the protruding shadow of his collarbones, peeking out of his yukata. Hinata gulps down the forbidden feeling of hunger as he spares a glance at Tetora’s ghosting pulse. Giddiness, he corrects himself. Or so he tries.
Tetora’s hands twitch in his lap, fists curling and uncurling with discomfort, and Hinata’s eyes shoot up to his face again, adrenaline courses through his veins at the prospect of being caught staring, but he finds Tetora has his eyes calmly shut, still.
He sighs heavily, but doesn’t attempt to do anything further from that, and Hinata slumps forward, exhaling as quietly as he can in relief. He understands, though; Tetora must feel nervous, maybe exposed. He contemplates how he hasn’t called out to him yet, not even a peek to confirm Hinata is still there. Perhaps Tetora is so trustful of Hinata he just doesn’t need to; perhaps he’s just simply naïve.
Anyhow, Hinata still grinds his teeth together. He should cut it off already, he knows, he’s done enough to dose himself calm for a while. But he yearns for more. And he debates between hitting the road and tickling Tetora for the record, or finding a way to reach out to him without jinxing the situation. He only wants to stop feeling, at all.
Then Tetora licks his lips.
You see, people are not only bound to test their own limits, but to reach them, break them. For taking risks is ingrained in their DNAs, and the thrill behind sinning, behind doing things that are not supposed to be done is all but exciting. All a person needs to break the rules is an incentive, something that ignites the spark of curiosity in their veins. After all, Hinata has always been a bet-it-all kind of person, and he often tends to rely on his instincts rather than his rationalizing.
For those reasons, it is to be expected that he ends up doing rather stupid things in these kinds of scenarios. Things like tumbling and knocking over a candle, screaming into someone’s ear for the sake of a laugh, or the forbid one out of them all; He leans in, mind blank. And finally, finally, kisses Tetora on the lips.
It is childish, how fast heat seems to creep up his neck and spread on his face, also how tingly the tips of his fingers feel when he ghosts them on Tetora’s shoulders. It is childish, how he allows himself to bask in the warmth of his lips for the longest second, savoring victory like the sweetest thing. It is childish. How he draws back sharply in fear, and how his stomach drops to his feet when he sees Tetora with his eyes wide open, mouth slightly agape. He had said the contrary when Yuuta had called him childish back then, but now, Hinata realizes, he might have been right all this time.
Because Hinata is in the verge of tears, and Tetora looks but a bit disheveled the moment he reaches out to him, words falling from his lips to deaf ears, it takes him a moment to barely register something that makes him pause. Hinata blinks, and rather crookedly, he asks Tetora to repeat himself. Because Hinata is in the verge of tears, and he believes his ears betray him just as Tetora opens his mouth to speak again.
‘‘Again,’’ Tetora says. ‘‘Broken promises aren’t manly, and I broke mine, so I’ll ask you one more time, Hinata-kun,’’
‘‘For I am a man amongst men, if you kiss me again, I promise I won’t open my eyes until you ask me to do so.’’
‘‘Is that the only reason why, Tetsu?’’ Hinata manages to stammer out. The blankets under him and the skirt of his yukata twist under his clenching fists. He’s hesitating, that’s a fact, but he can’t help finding himself drawing closer anyway, because it seems his will works well alongside his body, and the only thing holding him back is himself.
‘‘If it’s Hinata-kun,’’ Tetora rasps out. The slight trip on his words and the red on his face don’t go unnoticed by Hinata, and his heart skips a beat against his will. ‘‘Then there’s no reason for me to not want to kiss you.’’
Tetora holds Hinata’s hand. He sits back in his previous position, eyes never leaving Hinata’s. Hinata has to admit, he feels happiness over all things now, and if he looks as embarrassed as he feels, he might be matching Tetora even. After all, Hinata has always been a bet-it-all kind of person, and he often tends to rely on his instincts rather than his rationalizing.
So when he whispers his feelings to the air and leans forward, he snakes his hands on Tetora’s nape delicately, and the candle just wears out, leaving in stream a thin line of smoke as their lips meet sweetly for what definetely won't be the last time that night.