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The student council room is always empty at this hour, once the rest of Kamome Academy has already gone home and only the hallways are left with that orange light that makes everything feel slower than it is. Teru knows this well; that's why he doesn't knock before opening the door, as always, expecting nothing out of the ordinary.
What he finds, however, is not the usual.
Akane is standing by the window, pocket watch in hand, halfway put away, and his hair — normally short and neat — now falls tied back in a ponytail, long, dark, moving in that way Teru finds so delicate.
Teru stays still in the doorway a second longer than necessary.
—Give me a moment —Akane says, not looking at him yet, putting the watch away in a hurry—. I'll untransform now.
—No need.
Now he does look up, and Teru can see the exact instant surprise turns into suspicion. —What do you mean, no need?
—No need. —Teru closes the door behind him. Locks it—. Sit down.
—No.
—Aoi.
—No, I said. I don't know what you're up to, but no.
—Sit down.
—I said no! —Akane takes a step toward the door, and Teru blocks his way with no visible effort, with that maddening calm he only has when he's already decided how the conversation is going to end.
—Last chance.
—Or what?
Teru doesn't answer with words. He slips the bead bracelet off his wrist — the same one he's used so many times to restrain him — and before Akane can take another step, he wraps it around his body with a speed that's almost offensive for how little effort it costs him.
—President! This is an abuse of—!
A gentle push, barely needed, since Akane's arms no longer have any way to hold himself up, and he ends up seated in the council room's chair, his heart pounding faster than he'd like to admit and no clear idea what's happening.
—What do you think you're doing? —he asks, in the voice he uses when he's angrier than he actually is, the one Teru stopped taking seriously a long time ago.
Teru doesn't answer right away. Instead he steps closer, and his hand rises to Akane's cheek, brushing it lightly, with a care that clashes completely with the roughness from a moment ago. Akane goes still, breathing slowly, trying not to let his face show how much effort it's taking to stay composed.
—Your ears look good, all red like that —Teru says, quietly, almost to himself.
—Shut up.
—They match your hair.
—Teru.
—What? It's a compliment.
—It doesn't sound like one when you say it like that, with that face like you're holding back laughter.
—I'm not holding back anything.
—Liar.
But Teru is already stepping away, circling slowly around the chair, unhurried, his hand sliding from Akane's cheek down to his neck along the way, until he ends up standing behind him. Neither of them can see the other's face now, and Akane finds that, strangely, a relief — it's easier to let his expressions slip when no one's looking directly at them.
Teru removes the tie holding back what little hair was gathered, and all of it falls loose at once.
—Mind telling me exactly what you're planning? —Akane presses, tugging a little at the beads without any real intention of escaping.
—Nothing in particular.
—I don't believe you for a second.
—Fine. You don't have to.
Teru's fingers sink into his hair with no warning, no explanation, and Akane swallows back whatever he was about to say next.
—...What—
—Shh.
—Don't "shh" me, this isn't—
—It's a mess, you know that? —Teru comments, carefully separating a tangled strand.
—Forgive me for not having time to brush my hair between transforming and handling literally everything else.
—Didn't say it was a problem. —A pause, and a smile Akane can't see but guesses is there anyway—. I like the mess.
—That makes no sense.
—A lot of things about you don't. You should be used to that by now.
Akane huffs, indignant, and tugs at the beads again, with no result beyond making Teru laugh quietly behind him.
—This is completely unnecessary.
—And yet, here you are.
—Because you tied me up, you jerk.
—Watch your language, Vice President Aoi.
—I'll watch whatever I want the moment—
—The moment what? —Teru gives a gentle tug to a strand, almost playful, and smiles when he hears the small sound of protest that escapes Akane without permission—. You can't do anything about it. It's adorable, honestly.
—It's not adorable, it's humiliating.
—Could be both.
—You're seriously impossible.
And they carry on like that for a while — Teru braiding and unbraiding strands with no real purpose beyond enjoying it, commenting out loud on whatever catches his attention, and Akane answering each remark with a different complaint, each one a little less convincing than the last.
—You don't know how to braid.
—Neither do you. I could be a secret braiding genius and we'd never know.
—I seriously doubt that.
—Such little faith in me, Aoi.
—The exact right amount of faith.
Because at some point, between one tease and the next, between the playful tug and Teru's low laugh every time Akane protests, something in him starts to give. It's not that he stops being annoyed — he's still annoyed, or at least still acting like it — but the annoyance starts mixing with something else, something warmer, harder to name, that settles in his chest every time Teru laughs like that, without the perfect student council president smile, but with that clumsy, genuine laugh that only comes out when he thinks no one else is watching.
Akane has never, in his entire life, felt so embarrassed. Not because of what Teru is doing to him — which would already be reason enough — but because of how much, deep down, he doesn't want him to stop.
—...I never thought you'd like this —he says finally, so quietly it almost gets lost in the sound of his own fingers fidgeting against the beads holding him.
—Hm?
—This. —Akane makes a vague gesture with his head—. Touching my hair, like this, transformed, with... —he hesitates, searching for the word— with all of this on top. I don't know, I thought it would seem strange to you... I... I don't know.
Teru's fingers stop moving for a moment.
It's true, and they both know it: Teru has spent years treating the supernatural as a threat to be contained, as something that deserves neither compassion nor patience. When he met Akane, that part of him reacted exactly the way it always reacts — with distrust, with distance, with hostility. But at some point, without Teru being able to name the exact moment, he stopped seeing a Clock Keeper when he looked at Akane. He started seeing, simply, Akane: stubborn, responsible to the point of exhaustion, capable of blushing to his ears over a badly disguised compliment. A boy who never chose any of this, who was dragged into a contract he never asked for, and who nonetheless remained, underneath all of it, exactly the same person Teru had fallen for.
—It doesn't seem strange to me —he says at last, and means it—. I hate the supernatural. That hasn't changed, and it probably never will, not completely. But you're not that, to me. You're just you, even with your hair longer and tangled. Those are completely different things.
—Akane —he adds afterward, quieter, not using the "Aoi" he always uses in front of others — just the name, said with a tenderness that leaves no room for any joke behind it.
Akane feels the heat rush to his face all at once. It's not exactly that Teru doesn't call him that before — he does, when they're alone, when no one else can hear them — but the tone he used this time, low, almost solemn, as if the name carried different weight coming out of his mouth in that exact moment. He tries not to let it show, even though he knows perfectly well Teru can't see him from where he's standing; he smiles toward the window anyway, hiding the smile against nothing in particular, just because he needs to do something with his face before he loses control of his own expression completely.
—That's very cheesy —he manages to say, finally, his voice a little less steady than usual.
—You asked, basically.
—I didn't ask anything, you just—
—I heard it in your tone of voice. It's practically the same thing.
—That makes no sense.
—Nothing I do makes sense with you. And yet, here we are.
Teru leans down, without warning, and presses a short kiss right to the back of Akane's neck. He doesn't say anything after, as if hoping Akane will let it pass without comment, but of course he doesn't.
—What was that?
—Nothing.
—That wasn't nothing, I felt—
—Shut up and let me enjoy the moment.
—You didn't even let me—
—Akane.
—What?
—Shut up.
Akane laughs, a short sound, almost surprised at himself, and something in the tension of his shoulders finally gives way completely. Teru notices — notices how Akane stops resisting, how he simply lets himself be, with his hair between Teru's fingers and the beads still wrapped around his body, still muttering complaints under his breath every so often, because that part of Akane is never going away, and Teru wouldn't want it to.
—You know —Akane says, after a while, in a tone that tries to sound casual and doesn't quite manage it—. I still don't understand why I agreed to date you.
—Liar. You know exactly why.
—Enlighten me, then.
Teru leans forward, until his chin rests on top of Akane's head, in a gesture that looks more like a clingy child than the student council president.
—Because when I asked you out, you said yes before I finished the question.
—That's not—
—And because deep down, you like me too.
—A little bit is a big claim.
—Your ears say otherwise.
—You're going to keep saying that line nonstop, aren't you?
—Until they stop turning red, yes. So, by my count... never.
—You're insufferable.
—And yet~
Akane sighs, but it's a sigh with no real resignation behind it, the kind Teru has learned to recognize as the sound of someone who stopped pretending to be annoyed a while ago, even if he still sounds annoyed out of pure habit. He turns his head as far as he can, trying to look at him even just sideways.
—Fine —he says, quietly, almost resigned but not quite—. I agreed to date you because I wanted to. There's your answer. I'm not saying it again.
It's the first time he's said it like that, no detours, no complaint to hide behind, and Teru feels something tighten in his chest, warm, clumsy, completely out of his usual control.
—I wanted to too —he answers, and it sounds so sincere it even surprises himself a little.
And then, he slides his arms over Akane's shoulders, wrapping him from behind, his head coming to rest in the crook of Akane's neck, right where his pulse is beating faster than Akane would like it to show.
—...Teru.
—Mm.
—What are you doing now?
—Nothing... just this.
—That doesn't answer the question.
—There's no question to answer. I just wanted to be like this for a moment.
Akane doesn't say anything, though he can feel the warmth of Teru's breath against his neck, steady, calm, and something in his chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with the embarrassment from before.
—Let go of me —he says, finally, though with no real force behind the order—. That's enough for today.
—Five more minutes.
—You said that ten minutes ago.
—Then five more minutes, starting now.
—Teru.
—What?
—Time doesn't wait forever, and neither will I. Let go.
—Five minutes.
—No.
—Five.
—I'm going to get genuinely angry if you don't let me go right now.
Something in Akane's tone shifts enough that Teru, for the first time all night, hesitates for a second.
—...Really?
—Really.
Teru stays like that a moment longer, his head still resting in the same place, thinking that, honestly, it was good while it lasted — having Akane completely to himself, no student council in the way, no supernaturals to exorcise, nothing but his hair between his fingers and Akane's complaints, which never sounded so much like "don't stop" as they did tonight. Better to keep the moment exactly as it was, he decides, than stretch it out until it stops feeling this good.
With one simple, almost resigned motion, he turns the beads back into a bracelet and slips it back onto his wrist. He squeezes Akane once more, a short, almost shy hug, before letting go completely and stepping back. He stays standing behind the chair, though — no longer touching him, not his hair, not his shoulders, nothing.
Akane takes a second to stretch his arms, to get the feeling back in them, and just as Teru starts thinking that's where the night ends, he feels fingers close around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down with a force that doesn't match the calm expression Akane had a moment ago at all.
The kiss catches him completely off guard. It's not soft, and it's not brief — Akane kisses him like he's spent the whole night wanting to and hadn't been able to, because he hadn't been able to, tied up like that, unable to close the distance himself even once.
When they pull apart, it takes Teru a full second to remember how to talk.
—I thought you were going to get angry if I didn't let you go.
—I was going to get angry if you didn't let me go and kept not letting me do this. —Akane still has that red on his cheeks that Teru finds so lovely, his hand still fisted in his shirt, with no apparent intention of letting go—. It's not the same thing.
—You could've said so earlier.
—And miss seeing you that surprised? Never.
Teru laughs, quietly, resting his forehead against Akane's, in no hurry to straighten back up.
—Maybe I should tie you up again and not let you go.
—You're terrible.
—And yet you love me.
—And yet I love you, yes, even though you're an insufferable president with a spoiled-child complex who ties people up without permission.
—That's very specific for something that isn't secretly a compliment.
—It's exactly what it looks like.
—I'll happily accept it, then.
Teru doesn't wait for a response before pulling him close again, gives him a short kiss, and then wraps one arm around Akane's waist while the other rises to tangle in the half-undone braid he left there himself. Akane, with no hesitation or resistance this time, hides his face against Teru's neck, feeling the other smile against his skin.
—Five more minutes —Teru repeats, almost a whisper now.
—You've lost count of how many times you've said that.
—I was going to say I mean it this time.
—You said that last time too.
—And the time before that.
—Exactly.
But neither of them moves.
Akane, his face still hidden against Teru's neck, with no intention of admitting it out loud, thinks that this time, definitely, Teru won.