Shiro watched the man with a curious interest and felt his chest swell at the kindness and bashfulness that the man was showing him. He clearly gave the impression that the mispronounciation was his fault and the way the man’s head dipped and his brows furrowed sheepishly was adorably entertaining as it was kind. Mistakes weren’t something that Shiro made without consequences and he avoided mistakes as much as he could by taking minimal risks. His interactions with this man was a considerable risk and his anxiety within the situation was incredibly high.

Yet somehow he was losing his grip on that anxiety. His grip on the wooden structure had loosened considerably and the ache in his back from holding it so straight and rigid was dying away as he relaxed and allowed the water to keep him floating there. In the back of his mind, Shiro was still ready to run, but in the front of his mind he was content watching and listening, learning and observing.

He watched, fascinated by the man as he spoke slowly and said his name. Shiro copies the mouth movements silently, then felt his skin prickle and glanced at the man’s hand. Again he enjoyed the feeling. Having been out of the water for so long his skin was dry now and the rough texture was like sandpaper. The man’s soft skin moving against it made soft scratching noises and it sent an oddly intimate shiver down his spine. He returned his gaze to Kieth’a quickly and once again he tried copying the movements, “K..ee..thss.”

The last sound felt strange and silly in his mouth. His tongue felt too big in his mouth and the sight of the serious, pale, beautiful face before him sticking out his tongue was so out of place it was hilarious. Combined with the odd sound that Shiro made, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Like a much needed release of tension, Shiro laughed, brightly grinning and throwing his head back as he did. His laugh was soft and ripples through his whole body. Yet somehow, he didn’t feel ashamed of the silliness, instead he felt at ease.