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Summary
His smile was gentle, as was the way in which he held Takanori’s hand. Just as gentle as his name.
Yuu.
His smile was warm and genuine, and it made Takanori’s heart flutter like crazy. Just like it always did when Yuu dared to look at him, instead of lower his head. Takanori had meant to chastise him for it, but somehow, he always got lost in those eyes. Those eyes, which shone as uniquely as his silver hair.
“The moon,” Takanori breathed.
Yuu gave him a crooked smile. “Your majesty?”
Again, his cheeks burned, this time from embarrassment. He hadn't meant to voice his thoughts that had flooded him as he had looked at Yuu. At his silver hair. He had always envied him for the unique color of his hair. He had always tried to find comparisons to describe the color, but had never quite been able to pinpoint it. Until now.
“The color of your hair. It looks like the moon.”