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1.
the sun is about to set when akashi seijuurou sees him for the first time.
the boy catches his gaze along the hallway, as if surprised to be noticed, and akashi’s eyes are ablaze with wonder, curiosity. almost mechanically, akashi offers a small hand upon introduction, smile practiced and formal as expected of an heir to a business empire.
his greeting falls on deaf ears, as the boy merely glances at his hand, a condescending glare aflame in gray, soulless eyes.
his presence is fleeting—akashi is reminded of someone in his past, belatedly realizing that he has hardly a name to remember this mysterious boy by as he watches him ascend the stairs.
it is four afternoons later that akashi learns of him—mayuzumi chihiro, third year, power forward—when the outgoing rakuzan captain is going over the basketball club’s paperwork, a resignation letter lying beneath the pile.
he takes the paper without so much a notice to the captain, and proceeds to the rooftop, steps calculated and light. there is a plan burning at the back of his mind.
‘hello. you are mayuzumi chihiro, right?’
moments later, akashi gestures for a handshake again, a deal brokered with the new phantom sixth man, and the grip that takes it is firm.
2.
mayuzumi would be lying if he said murdering akashi in cold blood in his sleep hadn’t crossed his mind in the past hour. the members have been running drills endlessly as punishment for having started late for a mere two minutes, and mayuzumi is sure his insides would rise to a bile in his throat at the exhaustion creeping in.
akashi’s eyes narrow at the slowing pace. ‘again.’
mayuzumi’s legs give out on his last lap, as he had likewise feared, and the sharp pain that shoots through his right ankle causes him to collapse on his knees, teeth gritting at the impact. his members crowd around him with suffocating murmurs of fake concern, his face shades paler than usual when akashi hovers. ‘step aside.’
there is not a hint of worry in akashi’s voice, always stern and distant, even when he pulls mayuzumi to his feet with calloused hands; not even when he casually volunteers to escort mayuzumi to the nurse’s office while giving out orders to carry on with practice, looping the taller man’s arm around his narrow shoulders as they stagger towards the exit of the gymnasium.
it is a little unnerving, the usual robotic behaviour, but mayuzumi likes to think he sees brief flashes of genuine concern in akashi’s eyes in these rare moments that they are without an audience, when akashi imperiously demands the attending physician for his senior to be well taken care of by all means.
‘what the hell are you doing, akashi?’
‘what is necessary,’ comes the curt reply, leaving no room for argument. how he manages to make every other person bend to his will is beyond mayuzumi. ‘i would not be doing this for someone i do not particularly need.’
mayuzumi is momentarily baffled, pain forgotten, but—
‘i have no use for an injured player, chihiro. i need you back on the court.’
just like that, the moment is broken. ‘for victory, i know,’ and mayuzumi, for all his doubts and wonder, is reduced to merely another piece of akashi’s shogi board.
there is a tremor so raw and suffocating in mayuzumi’s chest that he refuses to name.
3.
mayuzumi’s steps come to a halt when he spots a familiar mop of fiery red hair at his usual table by the window one morning. ‘why are you here?’
akashi looks genuinely perplexed, head tilted in a manner so innocent it disquiets mayuzumi in more ways than one. ‘is the library not commonplace for students?’
normal students, maybe, but you are anything but, mayuzumi thinks. the setting is unexplainably disconcerting, like a tilt in the equilibrium, because akashi looks almost out of place among the average. he takes notice of students eyeing their akashi-sama in sheer curiosity.
‘sit down,’ akashi all but commands, and mayuzumi declines too easily. but a quick scan through the area tells him the only available space is the seat next to his junior. grudgingly, he drops his textbooks on the table, earning himself a few death glares and a condescending hush from strangers he gives little to no shit about. akashi raises an eyebrow at his behaviour, lips pulled back into a rare grin. ‘must you be so rash, senpai?’
‘fuck you.’
in his haste to flip through the text, a page cuts through mayuzumi’s finger that it startles him out of his displeasure. he hisses under his breath, a drop of blood trickling down from the wound, to his wrist. like clockwork, without faltering, akashi reaches out and takes mayuzumi’s hand in his to inspect.
to say mayuzumi is bewildered is an understatement. his mouth hangs open, dumbfounded as he watches akashi pull a band-aid out of his pocket. ‘hold still.’
it is with great precision and expertise that akashi wraps mayuzumi’s wounded finger with the plaster, his movements careful around the torn skin. mayuzumi stares at him unbelievably—could this kid be any more peculiar?
akashi sighs, as if exasperated at the questions his senior refuses to voice out. ‘the club keeps a first aid kit for minor injuries.’
‘minor injuries... ’ mayuzumi repeats doubtfully through narrowed eyes. right. ‘and you just happen to have some in your pocket?’
‘yes.’ akashi’s palm is still pressed warm against mayuzumi’s, and neither of them move away. there is a sudden shift in the air, almost unsettling but electric—perhaps unknown to akashi, but very much alive in the way mayuzumi’s breath hitches. from this distance mayuzumi watches akashi’s eyelashes flutter with every blink.
‘i—‘
akashi is the first to let go, reluctance barely noticeable under a mask of usual indifference. he gathers his things without so much a glance in mayuzumi’s way. ‘i will see you at practice, chihiro.’
that evening, mayuzumi dreams of red hair and a jilted aura, of heterochromatic eyes that seemingly see through his soul, and he wakes up with a heart threatening to jump out of his chest with no one to catch it.
4.
‘we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, mayuzumi-san.’
gone were his days of total solitude on the rooftop he had unabashedly called his second home, that mayuzumi is no longer surprised akashi can waltz in with a sense of familiarity and amusement that mayuzumi’s habits have not changed since they have met.
before mayuzumi could respond, akashi surprises him with an apology so quiet that the change in behaviour sends shivers down mayuzumi’s spine, yet he dares not admit that this akashi, mellow and almost pleasant, he is unmistakably drawn to. ‘isn’t it too late for that now, your highness?’
akashi ignores the jab and sits on his knees across his senior, a careful hand around mayuzumi’s wrist—a desperate move for attention, it would seem. ‘i hope it is not so.’ mayuzumi makes no comment about the momentary vulnerability that crosses the younger man’s features. ’the burden of our loss is mine.’
‘look,’ mayuzumi sighs, closing his novel. akashi did always know how to garner his attention, and keeping it was hardly a chore. ‘you don’t have to be so hard on yourself. you have a couple more years of playtime ahead of you. i don’t.’
‘that may be so.’ akashi tightens his grip, fingers sliding pensively to tangle around mayuzumi’s own as a silent promise—an invitation, and mayuzumi can’t bring himself to pull away from the tide akashi brings. ‘i will take it back, our title.’
the determination in akashi’s voice makes mayuzumi hold his breath. ‘you better.’
akashi chuckles, and all at once, it boils down to this: it takes all of mayuzumi’s willpower not to kiss it off his mouth, to pin his former captain against the wall with feverish touches, with an eagerness so real it’s bound to go out of control. in a moment of complete surrender, he kisses akashi’s knuckles, instead—a gesture fit for a prince. no art so fitting could compare to akashi’s smile that widens. ‘will you be there when i do?’
‘brat.’ it’s funny, really, how things turn out. mayuzumi could have sworn he wanted nothing to do with this pompous child a year ago. but he knows that reality in itself, if he dares to accept it, will set him free.
so he does.
‘you know i will.’
5.
mayuzumi wakes up to clinical whiteness, to the putrid smell of antiseptics, and clipped voices of sheer panic from outside the door. his head is pounding, his chest heavy with relief as he vaguely recalls a pleasant walk back to the university dorms from a nearby bookstore turning into violence. the blood loss from the knife wound from attempting to fight back almost claimed his life when a group of men robbed him of a month’s worth of rent and allowance.
‘mayuzumi-san?’
a voice, soft and terrified, rouses him from his recall. by his side, akashi is distraught, aghast, lips bitten between his teeth and it dawns on mayuzumi. the fate of his attackers fell on the hands of justice, if the fury in the smaller man’s eyes, downcast and suspiciously wet, is anything to go by.
‘m’okay,’ mayuzumi reassures him in broken syllables, struggling to stay awake before he is consumed again by the painkillers running through his veins. he forgoes the questions whirring in his head for the hand in his own, the clear distress in akashi’s demeanor. ‘hey.’
i almost lost you, akashi wants to say, but the words die in his throat, rage and sadness come barreling down in the quiet trembles of his hands wrapped tightly around mayuzumi’s, the subtle quake in his shoulders burdened by fear. i almost lost you.
‘seijuurou,’ mayuzumi tries again. akashi gives a small nod to appease the half-conscious man, heartache masked by a short hum of acknowledgement. i’m okay.
we'll be okay.
0.
‘mayuzumi-san,’ akashi murmurs through the evening rush, teeth chattering behind his bare hands, seeking warmth with every exhaled breath. ‘i left my gloves back home.’
the christmas lights color akashi’s face red, green, and blue, but the glint in his eyes is serene. mayuzumi often wonders what akashi sees in moments like this, when his thoughts come like the ebb and flow of the waves across the shore on a calm day at sea.
a breeze passes, and akashi burrows further into his coat. the cold is unforgiving, and mayuzumi, though slightly irritated, proceeds to remove one glove, throwing it in akashi’s direction to put the damn thing on , you idiot, grabbing akashi’s other hand in his own. he ignores the tug in his chest, even if the flush in his cheeks is apparent. ‘who the fuck even forgets to bring gloves in the middle of winter?’
there is a smile, playful and somewhat mysterious, dancing at the curve of akashi’s mouth. and then it clicks.
‘you little shit,’ mayuzumi scolds him, but there is no bite in his words. there is fondness in the way his lips curl into a grin, in the way his gaze falls lazily on the pink at the tip of akashi’s nose from the biting cold. ‘you’re a royal pain in the ass.’
‘and yet you have fallen for me,’ akashi whispers amusedly, sight trained on mayuzumi’s scarf from five dates ago, at their fingers tangled underneath cascading snow. he becomes painfully aware of his own breathing and the skipping beats in his chest loud enough to drown out his thoughts of uncertainty and his fear of rejection.
mayuzumi coughs into his other hand. ‘that goes without saying.’
akashi lets the confession sink in, a wide grin creeping into his face as mayuzumi attempts to frown his reddening cheeks away. when he looks up, mayuzumi seems to find an ocean of revelations in his eyes, anchored down by the weight of whatis, and akashi knows he will be here to stay.
‘c’mon,’ mayuzumi clears his throat, tugging akashi closer to his side. their arms brush with every step, and it is so, so homely. ‘we’ll miss the movie.’
there is a feeling so warm and sure, simmering beneath akashi’s skin, and it burns him unbelievably so.