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It’s jarring, losing the ability to see, even if it’s only temporary. Shouyou is surprised by how dark everything is. Not even a sliver of light slips through the silk tied around his eyes.
This isn’t the first time Kenma and Shouyou have done something like this—Shouyou’s wrists and forearms are still red from the other night with the ropes—but this whole arrangement has started only recently, and the blindfold...that’s a brand new experience.
The night had started out normal for the two of them: hanging out and watching a rerun of the MSBY Black Jackals vs. Tachibana Red Falcons game that Kenma had missed last week. On-screen, Sakusa expertly receives a nasty serve, bumps it near-perfectly to Atsumu, who then sets it to an eager Shouyou, hunger visible even through the TV. The Shouyou on-screen nails a tricky spike, cheering as soon as his feet hit the ground before being lifted off of them again by an equally excited Bokuto.
The current Shouyou, sitting in Kenma’s house on the couch, feels a heavy gaze land on him. He doesn’t try to suppress the shiver that rolls down his spine.
“Can we try something tonight?” Kenma asks minutes later, and Shouyou finally turns to meet his eyes.
This close, shoulder to shoulder, Shouyou can see the look in Kenma’s eyes so clearly. Shouyou likes all the different facets of Kenma that he’s been privileged enough to witness, but this Kenma, the one that initiates, is one of his favorites. This side of him doesn’t come out often, so Shouyou always feels a spark of excitement when it does.
That, and it flips a switch inside of him instantly: the desire to impress, to please, to make Kenma happy. Anything to break that mask of neutrality.
Shouyou answers with a smile and no hesitation. Yes.
So now, here he sits, shirtless and on the edge of Kenma’s bed, hands resting on his knees. Blindfolded.
By now, Shouyou has gotten used to the lack of light and has adjusted to using his other senses to make up for the gaps of information. He can feel traces of heat from Kenma’s body standing right in front of him, close but purposefully not close enough for them to touch. His breath is almost loud in his own ears; it’s coming out in near pants and picking up in tandem to his racing heart.
“How is it?” Kenma asks, and Shouyou tries not to flinch when Kenma finally touches him, just a thumb running along the shell of his ear.
“It’s good,” Shouyou breathes. Kenma’s fingers trail from his ear down to his neck, ghosting right over where his pulse has kickstarted, then further down to his collarbone. His fingers stop there for a second before he moves them again, featherlight as they run over Shouyou’s left clavicle, the gap in the middle, and then over the right one. “It’s—it’s really good.”
“I like being able to see you, though,” Shouyou adds seconds later, once Kenma has stopped trailing his fingers across his collarbone and started running them down his arm instead. Kenma starts with one, runs the pad of it down the length of Shouyou’s bicep, before flipping his finger over to run his nail down his forearm. The change in feeling, from the pad of Kenma’s finger to the smooth glide of the top of his nail, makes goosebumps ripple all over Shouyou’s skin.
Once Kenma’s finger has made it back up his arm, he does it again, only this time Shouyou can feel that he’s added a second finger, the pads of them running down his arm, flipping over at his elbow to continue down his forearm.
It’s methodical yet curious, like he’s testing out Shouyou’s sensitivity.
He’s so focused on Kenma’s fingers on him, the drag of them light and teasing, that he doesn’t notice that Kenma has leaned closer; Shouyou nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Kenma’s voice in his ear.
“Do you think it would feel like this? If you could still see me?” His tone is playful, just as teasing as his movements up and down Shouyou’s arm.
There’s an answer to that question, somewhere, and Shouyou tries to grasp at it and say something, anything, but in the darkness, everything is so heightened. He's made of glass, a toy set in an exhibit, on display just so Kenma can run his fingers over his skin over and over and over again, conducting electricity with every touch.
Shouyou finally remembers how to speak. He asks a question of his own. “Kenma, why did you want to do this?”
It’s silent for a moment and it crackles in his ears.
“It wasn't the most linear thought process,” Kenma admits, “I just was thinking…”
“About?” Shouyou prompts.
“The quick you used to do with Kageyama. The one with your eyes closed.”
“You were thinking about me in high school and wanted to blindfold me?” Shouyou teases with a smile. His previous question had done well to dispel some of the tension in the room, between them, just enough for Shouyou’s breath to come easier and recover some of his wit. The smiles don't last long though, because Kenma retaliates by pinching his nipple and Shouyou yelps in (mostly) not sexy pain.
“Don't be weird, Shouyou. I said it wasn't linear.”
Kenma quiets again, but he doesn't stop touching him. His fingers run across the silk of the blindfold now, over Shouyou's closed eyes, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his brow.
“Do you trust me?” Kenma asks quietly.
Oh.
The question catches Shouyou by surprise, given their history and their current...situation, but Shouyou thinks he understands.
Shouyou trusts Kenma in a different way than he trusts Kageyama, back then during his first year at Karasuno. He trusts Kenma differently than how he trusts most people, especially now. He’s placed a lot into Kenma’s clever hands. His career. His body. He hasn't regretted it since, and he can't imagine a reality in which he ever will.
Kenma’s hands have moved down to Shouyou’s shoulders again, cool against his warming skin. Despite his better judgment, Shouyou tugs the blind fold off so it's lopsided on his face, just enough to see Kenma with one of his eyes. Kenma will be annoyed, but Shouyou needs to look at him for this.
“I trust you. Really.” With anything, he thinks but Shouyou leaves that unsaid.
Kenma smiles then, rare and genuine, but Shouyou only gets a glimpse of it before Kenma drags the blindfold back and it's pitch black again.
“Don't take it off again, Shouyou. Unless I say so.”
“I won't, I promise!” Shouyou grins in Kenma’s general direction. “But I’m not sorry.”
A hand runs through Shouyou’s hair, gentle until it's not. Kenma tugs, sharp enough that Shouyou lets out a gasp, electricity sparking up and down his spine as Kenma tilts his head so he can hum into Shouyou’s ear.
“We’ll see.”