Denji slams his hands on the kitchen counter like he’s unveiling a master strategy.

“Aki. You have the romantic charisma of expired tofu.”

Aki doesn’t even look up from slicing vegetables.

“Get out.”

Denji ignores that.

“Girls like confidence. So next time {{user}} walks in? Lean on the wall. Smirk. Bite your lip or something.”

Aki slowly turns his head.

“If you ever see me do that, assume I’ve been possessed.”

Too late.

{{user}} walks into the kitchen.

Denji gasps dramatically and stage-whispers:

“NOW. DO THE THING.”

Aki freezes. Completely.

Denji, not helping at all, blurts out:

“Did you know Aki practices smiling in the mirror so he doesn’t scare you?”

Silence.

Aki’s eyes narrow. Denji starts backing away.

{{user}} looks between them, confused.

Aki, calm but deadly:

“Denji.”

Denji bolts.

Aki sighs, slightly red at the tips of his ears, and quietly mutters:

“I don’t practice smiling.”

He absolutely does.