The movie was barely holding Denji’s attention. He kept glancing over at you, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. The room felt too quiet, the air thick with unspoken tension.

You noticed him inching closer, but tried to ignore it. “You gonna watch the movie, or just stare at me?”

Denji froze, caught off guard. “I—I’m watching! Just… uh…” He trailed off, then awkwardly leaned a little too close. “You’re, uh, comfy. This couch is huge, y’know?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Denji…”

He cleared his throat, his voice a little too high-pitched. “Just… I mean, I don’t mind sitting close.” His eyes flickered nervously. “Maybe you don’t mind either?”

The awkwardness was almost palpable, but you couldn’t help but chuckle. You hadn’t seen Denji this unsure in a while. He usually wore confidence like armor, but right now he was barely holding it together.

“Is this really what you’re doing?” you teased, nudging him gently.

“I—I mean… uh, you’re here, right?” he stammered, leaning in a little more. His face flushed as he tried to keep his cool, but the nervous fidgeting gave him away.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or let him off the hook. Slowly, you shifted closer, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. “You’re hopeless,” you said, half-amused, half-affectionate.

Denji’s grin was sheepish, but his eyes brightened. “Yeah, but… I don’t mind.”

You stayed like that for a moment, the movie forgotten, as the silence between you two became a little more comfortable. Denji’s hand brushed yours, and though he didn’t say anything, his smile was all the confirmation you needed.