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“Fuck.” is the only word Akito can muster as he sees the “Defeat” sign, bold and red, pop up on his screen. His team has just lost the national championships, beaten by some unknown, new team filled with gaming powerhouses. Honestly, Akito doesn’t know how to feel. He knows he’s supposed to feel like slamming his keyboard in frustration, or breaking down in the middle of stage, or going over to shake hands with their opponents while secretly wishing to beat them up.
Honestly, Akito feels none of that.
He was dragged into this anyways, being friends with one of their team members and having to substitute him for this tournament at the last minute. He regrets it, having to deal with a team that’s always boasting about their “superiority” and how they were basically guaranteed to win every tournament they took part in. It’s disgusting, and Akito finds it easy to hate them. They reek of arrogance, and all Akito cares about is cleansing himself of that putrid air around him as soon as possible.
Although…
As his team (annoyingly) groans about losing the match, he peeks over at the other team, catching a glimpse of one of his opponents, packing his keyboard and mouse while wiping beads of sweat that had formed during the match. Akito notices the split blue hair (how does that even work?) with slightly uneven bangs that barely covered his eyebrows, the pair of determined grey eyes that sparkled a little, and the chapped lips that drew a small pout at the mess of wires on his table.
Cute.
It’s as if fate is taunting him, because the stranger picks this exact moment to shift his gaze over, making direct eye contact with Akito.
Ah, he caught me staring. Akito feels his cheeks flush a little, embarrassed from being caught but also interested in finding out who this cute stranger is. He doesn’t know what compelled him but he decides to wave at the blue-haired stranger, wondering what his reaction will be. As Akito continues to stare with soft awe, the boy from across the room cocks his head, probably from confusion. His ears start growing red but his expression betrays that shyness, showing neutral indifference.
And then, the boy smiles at Akito.
The stranger has the audacity to collect his belongings and take his leave from the stage afterwards, leaving Akito dumbstruck. He’s rooted to the ground, his heart nearly thumping out of his chest, cheeks definitely as red as a tomato. Fuck, he’s so cute. What the fuck. Akito stays still, eyes to the ground and head replaying the cute boy’s smile over and over again. It was such a slight smile, the ends of his lips barely curving up, eyes holding a tiny glimmer of delight and curiosity, ears still recovering from the sudden flush of red. It was adorable, and Akito’s heart feels like it’s about to explode with affection for this stranger he’s known for 2 minutes.
Akito barely hears his teammates calling out for him, needing him for some interview about “being dethroned by the new champions”. He could honestly care less about the interview, but out of reluctant obligation and decency, Akito takes a seat next to his teammates, all performing theatrical smiles of their own. Their dramatic grins never reach their eyes, and all Akito wants to see is the boy’s beautiful smile again.
“It’s unfortunate that you were bested by the other team this time, do you have any words for your opponents?” The reporter asks, clearly reciting the prepared question from memory.
Akito thinks about it, thinks about asking the cute boy for his number on national television, thinks about asking him out on a date in front of the thousands of people watching him on stage. He imagines the blush creeping up on the boy’s cheeks, his barely noticeable nod and smile as he quietly accepts his invitation, his calloused, soft hands writing his number on a piece of paper for Akito.
“They did a really good job this time, but next time we’ll get our revenge on them, and they’ll lose on a bigger stage than this!” Akito hears his team leader speak. How formal. Akito knows his team leader will definitely thrash around and throw whatever object he can find in frustration when they get back to the holding room. Yuck.
Akito cuts in, mind only filled with mental screenshots of the boy’s smile, “To the blue haired boy with the cute smile, I’ll win next time.”
The crowd explodes in a mix of amazement, shock, and other emotions Akito doesn’t bother remembering. His teammates look at him with bewilderment (and some degree of disgust), feigning tense laughs and patting him on the back, albeit a little too hard. The atmosphere of the room takes a drastic shift from mild pity and support to rowdy and uncontrollable.
The interview is cut short as the reporter thanks his team for their time. Without hesitation, Akito gets up from his seat and heads for the holding room, determined to find the boy, his number and a date. He doesn’t really get why he’s so reckless and desperate all of a sudden, gunning for a guy he’s met for half a day at most and literally crushed him in the best of 3 match earlier today.
Maybe it’s because he’s been living in a world of cold, but that small, genuine smile was enough to melt all of him.
He doesn’t dwell on that though. That can wait, the cute boy can’t.
He scours through the different holding rooms and areas backstage, hoping for any sign of blue life. He finds nothing. The other team only has an interview a while after, and there’s not many places to go. Did he leave already? Did he feel disgusted after Akito practically confessed to him on national television? Did he want absolutely nothing to do with Akito and decide to run away?
“Were you finding me?” Akito jumps at the sudden voice behind him, turning around and looking at the pair of moon-coloured eyes he had been finding for the past few minutes.
“Ah, h-hey.” Great, he stuttered. Amazing first impression Akito. I’m sure that’ll make him fall head over heels with you. Internally chiding himself, he continues, “That was a great match, you played really well.”
“Thank you, I could say the same. It was a tough match and you had me on my guard most of the time.” There it is. That damned smile on the boy’s face that has his heart doing somersaults.
“Nah… I wasn’t that good. You picked out all my weak spots in the first minute, and your team’s coordination was way better than whatever crap my team was tryna’ pull.” And there I go, insulting my team in front of the enemy. Way to go, Shinonome. Way to go.
“We can argue about that again if we ever face each other. But,” Akito sees the boy take a deep breath, “I saw your interview.”
Ah, fuck.
“Was it true? That my smile is cute.”
Akito’s opponent asks him with the smallest hint of a pout, eyes shining with mischief and interest, red ears back to full force. Akito wants to take thousands of screenshots of his expression and save them in his head.
“Uhm,” Akito braces himself for the worst, “Yeah — I mean, that’s what I think. Not just your smile, you’re really good looking in general.”
“Oh? Care to elaborate? What part of me looks good?” The boy is grinning like a Cheshire cat now, his lyrical-like tone giving away his amusement. This boy is playing Akito like a fiddle, and he loves it.
“Uh — your hair looks really nice with the two tones of blue, your eyes look a little cold at first glance but it shines when you smile and it’s so endearing; your ears go red when you get embarrassed, I think; your lips are slightly chapped and they create the nicest and most genuine smile I’ve seen—“ Akito stops himself before he can go on, realising that he had rambled all about the boy to his face. Oh my fucking god.
“Akito, your ears are red.” Ah, that explains the slight warmth he feels at his ears— Wait.
“You know my name?” Akito asks in bewilderment. He doesn’t remember telling the boy his name, so how?
“I’ve been watching your matches since the tournament started. It was just your gameplay at first, but—“ his face is tinted with natural blush, “I think you’re pretty cute too.”
Oh.
I am so down bad for him.
Akito feels slightly more confident now, knowing that this boy feels the same way as him. So he asks, “What’s your name?”
“Toya. Aoyagi Toya.” The boy, no, Toya (of course his name is cute too) responds.
“Hey Toya, my name’s Akito. Shinonome Akito. Will you go on a date with me?”
Toya is smiling really brightly now; Akito thinks his light can rival the sun.
“Yes I’ll go on a date with you,” Toya replies, “Akito.”
Akito feels like his brain has short-circuited, seeing that damned cute boy; all he can think about now is Toya, Toya, Toya. He completely forgets about the red “Defeat” sign he saw on his screen an hour ago. That, and his shitty team, don’t seem to matter as much anymore. Not when he has a date with a cute, blue-haired boy; one whom he wants to kiss so bad.
If it’s Toya, Akito doesn’t mind losing a thousand matches to him.