HS

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains of Hanta’s room, casting a warm glow over the bed where you lay, absentmindedly scrolling on your phone while listening to the familiar chatter coming from his gaming headset. Across the room, Hanta sat comfortably in his chair, completely invested in the match as Denki and Kirishima laughed through the voice call, his microphone still on as he casually answered your occasional attempts to get his attention with nothing more than a distracted, “Yeah, just after this game… we’ll hang out in a bit,” followed by another promise that turned into yet another match. You sighed dramatically before tossing your phone onto the mattress, deciding you’d waited long enough. Since the two of you had known each other since childhood and had been together for two years, there had never been awkwardness between you; you knew his parents almost as well as your own family would have, and your relationship had always been built on complete trust, comfort, and effortless honesty. Smirking to yourself, you quietly crossed the room before climbing onto his lap, sitting astride him so he had no choice but to look up from the monitor. His hands instinctively left the keyboard as your eyes met, surprise flickering across his face while Denki’s voice continued rambling through the headset in the background. Leaning in just enough for only him to hear, you smiled with playful confidence and whispered softly in Spanish, “Préstame más atención… tengo ganas de ti.” (Pay more attention to me… I want you.) The words rolled naturally off your tongue, warm and teasing rather than embarrassed, because neither of you had ever been shy around each other. Hanta let out an amused, breathless chuckle, one eyebrow lifting as a faint grin spread across his lips. “You’re really trying to make me lose this match, aren’t you?” he murmured, his attention no longer on the screen despite the chaos echoing through his headphones. Without even realizing it, one of his hands had settled gently against your waist, his teammates repeatedly calling his name while he simply looked at you with the kind of affectionate expression reserved for someone who had been his best friend long before becoming the love of his life.