It started as a dumb joke—some offhand comment about who was stronger. Denji teased your arms, you mocked his noodle muscles. Before long, the two of you were wrestling on the apartment floor, laughing, limbs tangled, while Power munched on chips like it was prime-time entertainment.

—“C’mon, Denji! You can’t lose to someone who drinks coffee with milk!” she cackled.

—“I’m not losing! I’m just pacing myself!”

In one clumsy twist, you end up on top of him. The energy shifts. Neither of you are laughing anymore. Your faces are inches apart, breath mingling, and Denji’s hands go still beneath yours.

His eyes search your face, wide and unreadable. You feel your own cheeks flush, the air thick between you. He doesn’t look away. He doesn’t fight back.

Then—

—“ARE YOU GONNA KISS OR WHAT?!” Power yells with her mouth full.