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"You're acting like Ryuuzaki used to."

"N-no, I'm not," is the weak retort before Kintarou adds, "and you know Sakuno-chan told you to use her first name now! S-since, since we– we're-"

Ryoma takes a sip of his ponta and points at him. "There it is."

"T-there's–? W-w-what do you mean, Koshimae?"

Ryoma turns away with what seemed like a laugh threatening to burst on his lips. He takes another sip and holds the can by the top with a swish. "That,” he states plainly. “-the stammers, the blushing," Ryoma's just smirking now. Kintarou takes to biting his lip instead.

"-and the fidgeting. Your bag will wear off faster that way."

"I'm not-!" Miraculously, Kintarou's voice goes down to a whisper as he looks away. The red on his cheeks complemented his hair nicely. "I just... I wanted to ask..."

Ryoma arches a brow. Kintarou's face is still flushed a bright red, fist clenched tightly at his sides and lips trembling.

"I just... wanted to- uh...hold...hands?"

All he hears is silence, before a small 'pft' echoes in his ears and the next second, Ryoma was chuckling in that way that was all too cool and knee-quivering. The nerve–!

Kintarou pulls his bangs down to cover his face.

"That's all it was?"

All Kintarou could manage to do was nod.

"You never asked before," Ryoma says, gently removing the redhead's hands from his face. "What's different now?"

He hears a low mumble. "Hm?"

"Well, we weren't... y'know before," Kintarou swallows. "-and before, it was just you and Sakuno-chan, and now I'm here too, and I have you both, and I asked Shiraishi on how this works and he said I should be more-?” His eyes trails the way Ryoma was holding onto his wrist. “Mindful-?, andandand–"

Ryoma lets go of him, and Kintarou tries hard to ignore the whine stuck in his throat. Ryoma huffs and flicks the visor of his cap upwards, almost exasperatedly.

Kintarou yelps as he gets a hard flick on the forehead.

"Ow!"

"Over thinking doesn't suit you," Ryoma says plainly. He tilts his head, thoughtful and contemplating. "It's adorable how much you care, though."

Ryoma doesn't resist the upward quirk of his lips. Kintarou was pouting, his hand covering his aching forehead. He sniffs and turns away, taking to playing with the strings of his racquet bag with a huff.

"All this over hand-holding..."

...maybe he did have a type.

Ryoma throws his now empty can of Ponta up and into the nearest trashcan. Its arch is perfect as it falls into the trashcan neatly.

He reaches and grasps Kintarou's hand firmly, leading him to their initial destination of any public tennis court in the area. Ryoma ignores the tingling in his palms and heat in his cheeks.

"Wait until Sakuno hears about this."

"Hey, wait–“ It takes a moment for Kintarou to understand what that meant. His face is a mortified kind of flustered.

“KOSHIMAE, NO!"