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Bokuto strolled casually into the library, his hand closing around the thin strap of leather he used in binding his clothes and hair when he was out at war, and set it on the desk between them.
Atsumu’s gaze dropped to it, then his lips twitched. “Yer serious.”
“I don’t joke,” Bokuto responds.
Atsumu picked the rope up, running his thumb over the worn surface. He was quiet for longer than usual, then stood to pace around the desk. When he finally spoke, his tone was sharp like usual, as if he was trying to hide that he had already decided. “And what —ya just tie me up and that’s it?”
“You don’t get to decide what’s it,” Bokuto replied quietly. “you agree, you let me decide… You’re the one who insisted on paying a debt that didn’t exist in the first place.”
That bluntness hung in the air. Atsumu’s chest rose and fell, his eyes narrowing in thought but he didn’t move to leave or protest. Instead, he held out both wrists and whispered, “okay then … you decide.”
OR:
How the rude and unbending chief courtier finally learned how to bend, with the help of the war general.Series
- Part 2 of BottsumuWeek2025
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