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Everything was beige and cream-tones and blissfully blank until Asahi leaned over, resting his chin on Nishinoya’s shoulder for a moment, letting the boy relish in the feeling of weight on his body, and he said, “I’m in love with you, Noya.” Then, like a spark and so many fireworks, the world burst into color, the brilliant deep black of their uniform, the warm brown of Asahi’s sweater, the metallic silver of the train. Nishinoya was very still and then he turned, his eyes wide with wonder.
"Say that again," he said.
Asahi could feel discomfort and embarrassment writhe in his stomach but he set his jaw and forced his mouth apart and he said, “I love you, Noya. I really do.” His voice was quiet, unlike Nishinoya’s loud proclamations, and if he did not make an effort to speak up, he might be drowned by the sound of train tracks.
He’s out of his comfort zone and in doing so, every sense of his seemed heightened; the murmuring around him seemed so noticeable; he could hear people’s voices distinctly and also worried if anyone can hear him. Nishinoya’s hair was so golden. “Don’t,” he said, when Nishinoya did not stop staring up at him, “don’t make me say that again, please, I’m not sure I can.”
"No," Nishinoya said. "Please do."
Asahi kept the words in his mouth for a whole stop and a half before leaning down again and murmured, “I love you, Noya.” He juggled it around again between his teeth and said, “Yuu.”
"Say it again," Nishinoya breathed.
Asahi wished he was the type to say those kinds of things as much as his loved one wanted, but he wasn’t - he pressed his lips together and shook his head. So Nishinoya rose up on tiptoes and pressed his nose against Asahi’s cheek. “I love you, Asahi,” he whispered. “I love you!”