Chapter Text
The day dragged on like flies on caramel, the syrupy smothness nauseating and entrapping, leaving you feeling in the emenency of drowning in the slow and sweet density of hours that refused to pass. If not for the pressing matters at hand, you would have given up on trying to work straight through this neverending day long ago, but with the deadline of this project fast approaching and your role in the group being scripting the entirety of the presentation, you decided to seclude yourself in the library in hopes of finishing off the base on which everyone will work out their own parts.
Your group of peers were as involved in the planning of the project as rats are involved in the admnistration of a professional kitchen — which is to say they intented to take all of the marbles and none of the responsability. You tried to resent them, but there was already enough on your plate to chisel away your forbearance for you to knowingly create a matter out of this. To put it simply, you rather just be done with it.
You felt the steady beating of your heart in your temples, rhythmic like the drumms that made thousands march into war, a collective percussion of thunder and lighting that, for a split second, even made your vision lose focus. You'd definetly be needing something for that headache later.
You use your tired hands to rub your face, trying to wipe away the exhaustion brought on by overworking yourself beyond the typical studying hours; ambition and sacrifice always walk hand-in-hand and you, aspiring and young student, seems somehow forever stuck in the liminal space between the two. You get your phone to check the time and catch a glimpse of your reflection on the sleek glass screen; your last year, and all of which that came with it, was visibly taking it's toll on you.
Checking the time, you knew the library would close soon. Only a few — those who were desperate in long and strenuous study sessions and the reckless, like yourself, who worked with little to no regard for their personal well being and health — remained in scattered tables full of their personal choices of research medias. You tried an experimental stretch and decided, as soon as you heard the painful cry for help coming from your spine in form of a loud and obnoxious "crack", that it was time to call it a day and give some rest to the tissues that held your existence together. It wasn't like the topics of your research were still making sense anyway; you'd get nowhere with this considering your current state of fatigue.
You had slowly started gathering your things, packing in no rush at all and even stopping at some point to just contemplate your aliveness and feel your own breathing, when you heard a familiar voice coming from behind you:
"I had a feeling I'd find you here."
You turn in your chair and are greeted by Akashi's cordial smile, polished and sweet and elegant and everything that brings immediate peace to your mind. "Ah, Akashi-san!" you exclame no louder than a whisper, your expression surprised and joyful like a child's. You keep the cordiality out of habit, muscle memory from the majority of the time when your relationship must be kept out of prying eyes, despite the fact you are mostly alone on this part of the library.
The rumors circling the Akashi family heir are already too much without any real fuel to them, and the redhead prefered to retain at least this part of his life a private matter. To you, it was just as good. Remaing under the radar and avoiding all that came with being a known face in a school like Rakuzan was an awfuly difficult asset to obtain.
"You've forgotten, haven't you?" he asks, pulling the chair besides yours to sit down. There is no real bite to his words regardless of the contents of his phrase. You scour the corners of your drained mind to try and remmember if you had any plans programmed with him for today. When you do recall, you cover your mouth with yours hands, completely stunned.
"I'm so sorry, Akashi-san. Really. Time got away from me. I just wanted to get as most as possible done today and ended up forgetting we were meeting up..." you set your expression into a apologetic one, regretful of the choice you made when you decided to keep on going after-hours. You simply did not remmember your plans to meet up and go home together. "I've held you up so long as well..." you make an exasperated noise, lowering your head on your arms on the table "Ahhhh, I'm so sorry!"
"That's alright. You were imersed on your work. That's very respectable, _______. Besides, I was also finishing some pendencies from the council, so you haven't held me up at all." he touches your back and awaits expectantly for you to look up at him. When you do look up, kepping your face still half concealed by your arms, you notice how his smile is warm and affectionate as he moves his hand up to you hair to pet it, amusement so obvious in his expression that his eyes are almost closed. You feel your cheeks heating up at that, flushed by the carefree display of affection in a place so public. "I just wanted to know if our plans are still standing."
You have heard how some of the students on the corridors sometimes refer to him as Prince, or even as Emperor, and although most of the time those aliases seem to you just immature and vain and too constricting to define Akashi's personality, there are times when you can't help but think you've gotten yourself a prince charming straight out of a fairy tale.
One of thoses moments is when he's playing. In court, he's as capable and mighty and commanding as the most remarkable of the emperors of times long past and, even with the sudden change you felt in him on his first year after the Winter Cup's loss, his imposing excellence remained as a second skin to him. It was mesmerizing, watching him play, you pictured him as sublime as a force of nature — equal parts wonderful and frightening in a way that made it impossible to look away.
Another one of thoses times was when you see him smiling at you like that, with the set of his shoulders spelling nobility and poise, his eyes glinting with something candid and honeyed and when his actions suggested all of the devotion he felt for you. You love him, dearly, and you find reprieve in the fact that the feeling is mutual. You raise your head, moving your chair closer to his.
"O-of course!" you stutter "That's it... If you still want to..." you speak slowly, as if testing the waters; a pointless disquiet tainting your voice. You hear his hushed laughter and there's sparks flying in your heart and butterflies in your stomach as if his laugh is the sound angles make when they sing in devoted content. He finds you endearing, and it becomes obvious by the way he relaxes into a more youthful posture and behavior when by your side. You love seeing him in the council meetings, and training in court, with his posture firm and impressiv; but nothing brings you more joy than watching him slip into the adolescent boy he is when there is no invisible expectation to fullfill and drive him to perfection.
"Of course I want to." he answers, lowering his elbow to the table and using it to prop his head on his hand, finding a better position to look at you from. "I know we were just going home, but I think we deserve a treat after this much work. What do you say? Are you hungry?"
Your first instinct stil is to let your humbleness win you over, even after so much time with him. You know he doesn't mind taking you in fun — and, most times, expensive — outings; in fact, he has told you more than once how he loves to spoil you rotten. Even so, you bite your lip in reticence and inhibition before answering in the way of propriety that you family raised you to:
"Wouldn't it be a problem for you? I don't want to be a bother." you ask. He sighs, almost unaudibly, and holds on of your hands in his.
"Certainly not. You could never be a bother to me, ______." he is final in his response; you are sure you can the sound os a gavel ringing distantly. After this, his face softens with love and hope "What do you feel like eating?" he presses you for an answer just with the look on his eyes that, besides being gentle and patient, is also demanding. You smile shyly, feeling your body's response to the prospect of food. And good food, considering the places Akashi has taken you before. You hope he can't hear the growl coming from your stomach.
"How about some guioza?" you propose.
"Sounds great. I know just the place." he smiles, standing up and offering his hand to you. After you have also stood up, he takes you backpack with him; you try to stop him, but he's having none of that. "Come on, I believe the driver is already waiting for us by the gate." you walk with him, watching with fondness as he passes by the librarian and greets her. She seems almost as warmhearted as you. You try to take back you belongings, only for him to switch the arm he is using to carry it with until he frustrates all of your tries.
He holds the door open for you to pass in a real gentleman manner, smiling as you timidly cross the open passage. After you gone through, he goes after you, calling your name. That gives you a pause, turning on your heel to stare at him expectanly.
"When we are alone, it would please me greatly if you called me just Seijūrō."
You let your jubilance seep through your face in the form of a juvenile smile, finding unmatched gratification in noticing that he mirrors your expression; there he is, your Seijūrō. The version of himself he shows only to you. His words are like an echo of a conversation from long ago, when he first requested you this. Your heart skips a beat just like that first time.
"It would make me very happy to do that as well, Seijūrō."
You let him take your hand as you walk to the car, happy and warm and full of young love.