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The scratching of pen on paper. A sound, or perhaps a melody, that never grows old. Steady and spontaneous, it goes with the flow, never disturbing the silent comfort of the chilly afternoon.
Even as Akira drowns himself in his thoughts, focused and eyebrows scrunched, he does not—cannot—ignore your sleeping presence beside him.
A comfortable silence, and though his pen yet moves, he is careful in hopes that you do not stir. You truly deserve this rest, after all.
And so, the boy allows himself a short respite as well.
Leaning against his palm atop the table of one of Leblanc’s booths, Akira takes in his surroundings—browns, reds, oranges, greens. Beyond the windows, dusk shall soon arrive as well, and your not-so-productive study session shall soon come to a close, much sooner than he would personally like (and, same for you).
The television is near silent. The smell of coffee and curry is faint, and putting his pen and fatigued hand down, he turns to you next to him.
For a moment, he merely studies your features. The sight brings a smile to his face.
Slowly as to not startle you, he moves his head down to instead rest on the table, closing his eyes like you before him—truly some much-needed peace and quiet, and he feels warm spending it with you.
Not long after, however, you begin to stir.
Akira opens his eyes, and meets himself face to face with a still drowsy you, at first struggling to keep your eyes open before properly acknowledging the boy by your side. His lips are slightly curved up, the subtlety of the seemingly unconscious act giving you this tingling sensation. It’s not bad, but you don’t know how to explain it, and frankly, you couldn’t care any less as you bore into his pretty eyes (befitting a pretty boy like him).
“Hi.”
You murmur a greeting. The sound of your voice brings him comfort, soft as it is in this moment.
“Hello.” His voice barely makes it above a whisper, but you hear it loud and clear, your smile threatening to break through all your exhaustion.
There is a certain warmth in the small exchange, and you ease into the relaxing atmosphere as Akira continues on, “it’s getting late, you know.”
“So eager to get rid of me that quickly?”
You chide teasingly, though you may already know the answer to that question. Yet, as he muses—"well, if I had it my way, I’d prefer if I never had to let go of you at all.“—your heart still flutters, and it becomes much more difficult to keep a straight face.
You mutter in mock exasperation, "you and your silver tongue”, though you probably should have anticipated his cheeky response, “you know you like it… how about a closer first-hand taste?”
Waving him off whilst trying (and failing) to ignore your warm face and the loud beat of your heart, you push your head up from the table and slightly wince at the rather sudden change.
Akira moves to follow your actions, standing up from the booth’s seat—and with the rather clumsy movement due to drowsiness from the lazy afternoon, his arm often brushed against your own as he moved to make way for your exit.
Before you could leave the booth, however, he stopped you.
“Hm?” you squinted with curiosity into his own eyes, raising an eyebrow and hoping your nerves were not plain as day to see.
His arm is on the table, blocking you from moving further, and it is then you are suddenly aware of how close the distance is between you two, that if you just moved that much closer…
“Forgetting something?”
You blinked. Spinning around to check your surroundings once more, you quickly conclude that, “nope, nothing. Unless?”
That smile of his is dangerous, you think, but you are far too late to realize just how much it really is, and how susceptible you are to it.
“A goodbye kiss would be nice.”
Ah, and there his mischievous request is. For far more than just a single second, you don’t know how to react at all, though your eyes quickly betray you as they land on Akira’s lips far too eagerly than you would prefer. You take in a deep breath, exhale, and try to question, “…huh?”
“Well,” it seems as though it is then he truly grasps the gravity of the situation, as Akira turns away and clears his throat, “there’s no need to do it, of course.”
There it is, that ever so dependable and reliable smile—the same one that sets your heart racing, whether you like it or not. It’s small but noticeable, and you are aware of how he slightly steps to the side, giving you more room to leave whenever you want.
There’s red on his neck and ears as he takes a moment to fix his glasses, and turns back to you with a sweet yet sheepish smile. ‘Don’t worry about it’, is what his expression reeks of, yet the more he tries to subtly comfort you about being so sudden with such a selfish request, the more you gain more confidence to actually do it.
You take a step forward.
A small step, though Akira takes it as a sign of having to move backwards a little more, and it is then you realize that you wish to end the small dance between you both that has been lasting for quite some time by now in Leblanc, and take another step closer.
The deed is quick—a small peck by his cheek, dangerously close to his lips as his eyes widen in surprise and his head moves slightly and it almost scares you even more with how even the smallest movement could lean to your lips moving elsewhere, but the act is finished and you quickly retract. Your heart beats louder than it has ever before in his presence, and you swiftly turn to make your way out of the café as you merely let out a “see you, Akira!”.
And, all of a sudden, he’s alone with a shocked expression, a warm face, and his stature frozen still.
It is only when Morgana heads downstairs from the attic upon hearing the slight commotion that Akira moves from his place, sighing to himself as he pressed his palm over his forehead in defeat.
“Hm? Where is…”
He does not dare look at Morgana in this moment, knowing full well what he would say upon noticing his current demeanor—alas, he is not safe.
Morgana lets out what Akira knows full well is intended to be amused cackling, and now the boy probably regrets all of his life’s decisions. He cannot hide the small smile on his lips that refuses to go away, the red by his ears, neck, and cheeks, even as the time passes and they slowly start to fade.
“My god, you are smitten.”
Yeah, he’s absolutely right. He really is smitten over you.