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The first time Tomoro sees Raito with his hair down, he stops moving for thirty whole seconds.
It'd be hilarious if it isn't so embarrassing.
Truth be told, Raito doesn't immediately link it to something nice. His first instinct is to suspect that Tomoro's mentally calling him a drowned rat or something equally unflattering. Raito has heard it all during his younger years—during the time before he and others recognize his genius at copying others. It's part of why he likes his bandana so much; having his long hair out of his eyes gives an added bonus of being able to see things more clearly.
But there's no helping it now. With Team 7 working closely with Glowing Dawn on several missions, the boundaries between them melt away into nothingness. Eating together after a mission becomes the norm. Resting in Glowing Dawn's headquarters—and specifically, Tomoro's room—becomes increasingly often. And while things may have changed, Raito is still loathe to dirty his clothes, so showering and changing clothes in the privacy of Tomoro's room starts sounding like a reasonable course of action.
"Raito," Tomoro eventually says, sounding breathless. "You look so..."
He clenches his fist as he watches Tomoro stare at him. One wrong word, and he's going to use the damp towel around his neck to hit the other in the face.
"...so pretty," Gekkomon finishes for his partner, appearing out of nowhere. "A great beauty!"
It's Raito's turn to mimic a motionless statue. "Huh?!"
An exasperated Tomoro stops his partner from trying to lick the tips of Raito's wet hair and shoos him out of the room. "Sorry about that. Gekkomon's vocabulary is still a work in progress."
"...Figures." Raito's chest stops trying to squeeze itself into a mini-explosion. "Your Digimon is as fond of saying incomprehensible nonsense as you are."
Tomoro walks closer to him, until he's reaching out to touch the damp edges of his hair. It happens so smoothly that Raito doesn't manage to register the instinct to flinch or run away. Most people stay away from him—be it due to disgust or envy. During his time with Tactics, the only times people breach his personal space is whenever a punishment or increased training needs to be doled out. He should be used to expecting pain when someone approaches him, but that instinct is dulled in Tomoro's presence.
Then again, with how expressive the other's face is, and with how earnest his gaze is, it's basically useless to expect the other to hurt him. Physically at least. Emotionally is a toss-up.
"You look really beautiful," Tomoro tells him, with no common sense or sense of propriety whatsoever. "You're beautiful always, but you look even softer like this, Raito."
As if to prove his words, Tomoro continues to invade his personal space and starts helping him dry his hair, while both of them are standing up. The height difference between them suddenly seems so insignificant, now that Tomoro's leaning close and erasing their distance.
There's no way the other's not standing on his tiptoes. It'd be hilarious to point out, but Raito's too frozen to even manage to sneak a glance down at their feet.
Raito instinctively kicks the other's shins. "I think you should also leave the room, and also improve your vocabulary," he grouses, and even as Tomoro laughs at his reaction, he feels the tip of his heart being warmed, as if pinched directly by the other's fingers.
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