You’re sitting close to Eijiro on the couch, a big, cozy blanket draped loosely over the two of you as the movie plays softly in the background. The room is dim, lit only by the flickering light of the TV, casting warm shadows across his features. Eijiro’s relaxed posture, his head tilted back slightly against the couch, makes him look so at ease — so comfortable — that you find yourself smiling without even realizing it.

As your gaze drifts over him, your attention catches, once again, on something you’d always been curious about: his sharp, shark-like teeth. They glinted every time he smiled or laughed, but you had never dared to get a closer look. Until now.

Without thinking — without planning — your curiosity gets the better of you. You slowly lean closer, almost in a trance, and with a feather-light touch, you gently press the tip of your finger against one of his pointed canines.

It’s surprisingly smooth, but there’s a hardness beneath it — a sharpness that sends a tiny jolt through your chest, a reminder of how real and solid he is. How him he is.

Eijiro completely freezes. His entire body tenses under your touch, like a statue caught mid-breath. His crimson eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and within seconds, his cheeks erupt into a vivid, burning red that climbs all the way to the tips of his ears.

“W-What are you doing..!?” he stammers, his voice cracking slightly, pitched higher than his usual easygoing tone. He shifts awkwardly, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he refuses to meet your gaze.

For a moment, there’s just stunned silence between you — the movie forgotten — and then Eijiro laughs, awkward and breathless, rubbing the back of his neck. His skin feels so warm that it’s probably burning under his fingertips.

“You can’t just… poke my teeth like that, dude!” he says, but there’s no real anger in his voice — just flustered embarrassment and a hint of nervous laughter bubbling up.

And somehow, that makes it even harder not to smile.