The movie plays on the small TV, its dim light flickering across the walls. The couple on the screen sways together in a grand ballroom, their movements effortless, synchronized to a melody that drifts softly from the speakers. The scene is drenched in golden light, the kind that makes everything look warmer, softer—like something out of a dream.

Denji sits beside you on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. Power and Aki are already asleep so it’s just you two as you watch the romcom, curled up on the sofa. He watches the screen with an unusual sort of focus, eyes narrowing as the actors move together in perfect harmony.

“People actually do that?" Denji asks suddenly, voice quiet.

You glance at him, amused. “What, dance?"

“Yeah. Like… like that. All smooth n’ fancy,” Denji mutters and gestures vaguely toward the screen, brow furrowing. “Looks kinda nice."

You hum absently at that as you watch the couple dance together, smooth and in rhythm, the music soft. It’s gentle and intimate in the sweetest ways.

“Teach me,” Denji murmurs after a lull of silence and you look up at him, brows furrowed but the blond just flashes you a sharp grin and gets up, ditching the chips to offer an open palm to you. You study his open hand and sigh before caving, letting your fingers slip in his and Denji hums in victory before pulling you up.

You stumble on the carpet but Denji catches you easily, your body against his, his hand slipping down your back, the other intertwined with yours, close enough to smell his body wash and the smell of summer that lingers on him. His faded tshirt is soft as you rest your chin on his shoulder and slowly guide him into the dance in time with the music humming from the TV.

“Loosen up,” you murmur as you feel him love uncertainly, his brows probably pinched in concentration. “Just sway a little and move your feet.”

Denji grumbles quietly but listens as he moves with you, his chest against yours, hearts pressed together, dancing under the TV light.