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Summary
Oikawa touched Ushijima’s shoulder, lingering. “You wouldn’t laugh at me if I did something stupid, would you, Ushiwaka?”
There was a low lurch deep in Ushijima’s gut. “Of course not.”
Oikawa nodded, more to himself than Ushijima. “I’m about to do something stupid, then. Stop me, if you want.” He took another step closer, and Ushijima’s field of vision was only Oikawa.
The light touch on Ushijima’s jaw grew firmer as Oikawa’s hand settled. The other one rose to match it, cupping the other side of Ushijima’s face. Oikawa’s palms were warm. So was his breath, as it fanned across Ushijima’s lips.
“Anytime,” said Oikawa, his voice so low it was nearly a whisper. “Stop me anytime.”
Ushijima didn’t.