"More than okay." Daichi's used those before and they work just fine, especially in the whole not setting every inch of his skin on fire kind of way. Now, however, he has an additional sense of attachment to them because now--even if they smell exactly like the dryer sheets half the campus uses--they're Suga's. The laundry he dries with these will smell just like Suga's laundry. That idea fills him with a soft kind of warmth; it feels almost sentimental but is it possible to be sentimental about someone you met half an hour ago?

Then again, it could be an entirely different kind of warmth because despite the fact that he was raised to be polite and respectful and not get into people's personal space, Daichi's finding it difficult to move away from Suga. The fact that the other boy doesn't seem to be in any kind of hurry isn't helping, either. Daichi keeps looking down at him as he nods. "Did you want to meet then or maybe a little later? I'm done at one so it's all the same to me but I don't want you to feel rushed or anything."

He doesn't really move forward. It's just a shifting of his weight in place but it seems like there's that much less space between them. He can hear his father's voice telling him that's the opposite of polite, that it's worse, but it's a very far away sound and Suga's so close. "We can go whenever you're ready, just take your t--"

DING.



The dryer tumbling Daichi's towels announces the completion of its fluff cycle with a deafening ping and Daichi flinches. He'd momentarily forgotten where they even were and the sound startled him in a way that's really just embarrassing. The towels don't need to be folded, he could easily leave them there, but the delicate tension of the moment is broken. He chuckles a little, self-conscious both of his reaction to the dryer and his actions just before it went off. Hopefully the return to reality doesn't make things completely awkward, because he'd like to try to get that feeling back again, sooner rather than later.