Akashi
I wave goodbye to my right-hand man, Midorima Shintarou, before walking down the small sidewalk, hands tucked snugly into my jeans, a small frown on my lips. To think that Midorima had dragged along a small cart, in which sat the most ugly raccoon statue I'd ever laid eyes on, along to our weekly shopping trip deepened my frown. I feel my face twist in annoyance as I recall the damn thing rolling behind us, emphasising every bump and discrepancy on the tar floor with a vexatious clatter.
Two girls passed by, arms interlocked and chuckling loudly in their tiny skirts.
"Did you hear? Adrienne felt it yesterday." The blonde starts, a scowl on her face.
"Obviously. She told me that she was just buying a new book in that small bookstore downtown and accidentally brushed against him! How romantic, right?!" The brunette with frizzled hair chirped back.
"Ugh, sounds cheesy as hell."
Of course, the infamous it. An all-important moment that only happens once in your life. It's like a 'Zing' from Hotel Transylvania – if you've ever watched it – but slightly more… magical. To summarise, when you meet your one true soulmate, your heart would glow as if every bloody star planted itself on your chest. Hence, it is no surprise that hormone-filled teenagers find such an experience a god-sent miracle.
"Of all things, why make the chest shimmer like the goddamn sun?", I think. "Why make the thing a blasted internal love arrow?"
While Kise finds my unrelenting hatred towards it a tad bit too over the top, I sincerely think the opposite. It is unnecessary and cliché. A load of too-good-to-be-true bullshit. Those that believe in the it, are either too shallow-minded or too desperate for love, in my opinion. One of which is probably true, since an Akashi is always right. I remember that Kise had also commented on the fact that I'd never get to experience true destined love since I shut down every possibility of finding a mate.
"Kise can say what he wants. I was never made to find love anyway." I think.
Now I feel even more irritated. The inane topic about glowing chests is brought up among my friends more than I'd like and I don't need to think of it myself.
"I need some fucking coffee." I sigh, combing my freezing fingers through my crimson locks. I look around for a nearby cafe, till I spot one with a sign that reads: "Teiko Café". I narrow my eyes at the peculiar name, but decide not to judge a book by its cover. Besides, I really need that coffee.
I'd pushed open the glass door expecting a single overworked barista to welcome me with a fake smile and monotone voice, considering the fact that it is mid-October – which meant that the streets were freezing – and it was already 10:57 PM. I was slightly surprised when I was greeted by not just one, but 3 friendly staff that welcomed the me in with a genuinely cheery "Welcome to Teiko Café!". The strong smell of freshly-ground coffee beans and pumpkin spice lattes still hung in the air as scarlet eyes scan the warm bistro and take in the college student trying to stay awake, hand levitating above lined paper, the lady in a lavender knitted sweater sipping on her hot chocolate and the giggling girls scrolling through their crushes' Instagram photo library.
I find myself slowly becoming enamoured with the quaint coffee shop. It doesn't take long for Teiko Café to rank number 1 on my "best cafes to buy coffee to stay sane" list, and for a good number of reasons – the soft jazz, its quiet and calm atmosphere, the non-zombified staff and of course, the unbelievably delicious coffee.
Before I can lay back into the cushioned seat and truly enjoy my caffè latte, I observe another patron walk in, this time, a boy my age, wearing a pair of red headphones. He has on a cashmere sweater with the words "WHAT'S NEW PUSSYCAT" written in soft Marian blue, his sneakers squelching on the polished floor. As the boy strides over to the empty table beside me, I notice that he and one of the staff are about to collide. Too late to warn the boy, I can only wince when a loud bump is heard as the barista falls onto the floor on his bum and the cup crashes onto the floor.
"What the bloody hell?" I hear the boy curse under his breath. He looks fine but the barista, not so much. The cup of hot chocolate is on the floor, the drink splattered on the wooden flooring and the cup in porcelain fragments.
"KUROKO!"
The other patrons around them immediately turn and stare, and the barista's colleague who'd shouted comes bounding over with a look of concern.
The hot chocolate had been steaming hot and warm mist is still swirling upwards from the puddle of spilt drink. I stand up and when I lock eyes with the fallen barista(whom I had to squint to find), my breath hitches.
Blue.
His eyes are blue. They're almost translucent, glossy, like the palest blue glass, too soft to be turquoise, too bright to be baby blue. They're beautiful, I think, noticing the way his lashes flutter as he blinks in confusion. His teal hair is tied up tightly in a high ponytail, and his skin is ghostly pale, making the red splotches where the burning liquid spilled look worse.
"Oh my god, I'm so sor— what the hell did I bump into?" The sweater boy shakes his head and looks around carefully, not noticing the blunette on this bottom in front of him.
The teal-haired boy takes my hand and slowly pulls himself up. He looks dazed, but quickly collects himself and bows.
"I apologise for my carelessness, I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you okay, Sir?"
The boy lets out a very feminine squeak but calms down when he finally registers Kuroko's presence. Blinking a couple times, he exhales in relief before waving his hand.
"I'm fine but you? Definitely not. I was the one who wasn't watching where I was going so you really don't need to apologise. Also, you might want to take care of… the, you know." I notice how the boy becomes increasingly unnerved the more he stared at him.
"What are you talking about?" The teal-haired boy said, subtle curiosity visible through his deadpan expression.
"I-Uh, I meant the, um-"
My patience runs thin, but my calm demeanor says otherwise.
"Go on." I encourage, hoping that the boy would just spit out what he wanted to say already.
"The… glowing." The boy finally finishes. His voice shrinks at the end, as he gestures between the blunette's and my chests.
"Glowing?" I blurt aloud, my face contorting into an incredulous expression, before sparing a quick glance at my chest.
And lo and behold, the boy had been right. My chest is glowing. My chest is fucking glowing. And so is the blunette's.
I suddenly become too painfully aware of what this means.
We
Are
Soulmates.
I cringe internally. This is too fucking cheesy for the me to handle. Christ, it's even cheesier than that bloody bookstore story.
Opposite me, sits my supposedly "destined soulmate" that fate had decided to slap on my Godforsaken ass. He's staring straight into my eyes, his apathetic face still as void of emotion as it was before the whole affair.
To be honest, it is quite impressive—the keeping of the straight face that is, not the soulmate shit. I still don't believe in fated love, no matter how beautiful he is.
We sit at opposite ends of a table in the break room that my soulmate's colleague, Takao Kazunari, so conveniently locked from the outside. Basically, we're banned from leaving till we sort this whole mess out. Even though I'm a customer. A few minutes pass before I decide to make this easier for everyone by taking a deep breath and willing myself into a crappily planned self-intro.
"So," God, what a horrible start. "My name is Akashi Seijuro, son of Akashi Masaomi and heir to Akashi Corporations. I hope we can become fast friends." Fast friends, my arse. All I want is to dissipate into nothing or for fate to take back whatever spell that has gotten me into this mess.
The blunette just nods before doing the same.
"My name is Kuroko Tetsuya. It's a pleasure to meet you too, Akashi-kun."
And that was it. We just sit in silence, looking anywhere but into each other's eyes by averting our gazes awkwardly.I take this this time to run my eyes across Kuroko's face, taking in the faint flush of his cheeks and the smattering of almost invisible freckles beneath those dazzling eyes. Pale pink lips on which I so desperately want to press the softest of kisses.
God, what I would give to stop the fluttering in my heart. I don't need this. I already have a lot on my plate— the piles of paperwork left unfiled on my desk, each page begging to be checked and stored in its plastic folder, and not to mention, my overly- controlling father who would prioritise his work matters over bonding time with his own son without hesitation.
Becoming soulmates with a commoner is disreputable, an act that is severely scorned by the upper class. Expected to act like a leader, such acts could bring disdain and harm my family name. Not that I had mind. The moment I met Kuroko, I already knew that my heart belonged to him and only him. Like we were meant to be, like there was an invisible thread that bound our hearts together, a bond so strong it's unbreakable. I'd felt blissful, to have met Kuroko, because in that tiny moment where we locked eyes for just one second, I had felt loved.
I felt the love in Kuroko's heart; Id felt it enveloping every inch of my being and awakening an insatiable desire to hang on to that warmth, and never let go. I'd felt fearful, that if I were to let go of that pale hand, I would lose everything. And this confused me, because I had never know what I felt like to be loved.
Confusion morphed into irritation and irritation into ridicule, and I let contemptuousness and sarcasm poison my little gay heart. "It's for the best",I think.
But is it really?
Kuroko
I have no clue how to feel. I don't;' know what to feel. So I resort to openly questioning the extremely inconvenient situation that Lady Luck has shoved us into.
"We're soulmates." I'd started softly. I knew I sounded pathetic. My voice had resembled that of a whine, instead of actual comprehensible words. I can see from the redhead's grim expression that he wants nothing to do with me or our current circumstances, and I fisted my apron, all the while waiting for Akashi to actually look at me for the first time since we got trapped inside. When we finally meet eyes, I repeat what i had said earlier, but with more confidence.
"We're soulmates."
"Yes, Tetsuya, that has been made apparent." The crimson-haired adult scoffed, giving me a glare.
I feel myself flush, but I brush off Akashi's disregard anyway and push on, hoping to squeeze even a small drop of cooperation from him.
"Already on first-name basis? We literally just met 3 minutes ago." I say.
"You got a problem with that?"
"Maybe." I tear my gaze away from his eyes, becoming slightly uncomfortable with the suffocating tension.
I hate the way he had spat out my name. Akashi had said it with such disgust, like it wasn't the name of his destined soulmate, like it wasn't the name that was supposed to taste like candy on his lips, like it wasn't the name of the person that Akashi was supposed to think of 24/7. And for some reason, that made me upset and a little bit angry.
Akashi
"You could see me." He spoke again, this time more calmly, possibly trying to lighten the mood. "I mean, I'm used to accidents since my presence is so weak that people never notice me."
This makes me feel a teensy bit guilty. I know that my snobbish attitude isn't helping Kuroko or myself, but I've found himself so deep in love, too deep in love, that I'm determined, more than ever, not to ruin both our lives.
"What now?" Kuroko asks timidly.
Instead of answering with a snide remark, I let out an exasperated sigh. "That's what I would like to know too."
"Are you okay with this?" Kuroko softened his voice now, and it sounded so fragile that I was positive that if it weren't for my perfectly honed skills of self-restraint, I would've lunged forward to embrace the tealnette and comfort him. I could coo to him and murmur that everything would be alright and press a kiss to his forehead.
I can't though. Not right now.
Not with my messed-up enough life.
So instead, I played the idiot card and answered Kuroko's question with another question.
"This?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and hoping that I sound convincing.
"Are you okay with this? Are you okay with us?"
Now that is a query that I can definitely answer with absolute confidence. Of course I was okay with Kuroko, in fact, I was more than okay with him. I was smitten, like a highschool girl in love, and it drains my pride to admit that to myself. But, I know that I can't have this. There has to be some mistake. There has to be someone out there who would do a much better job of loving Kuroko, someone who wasn't a jumble of unspeakably complex emotions, someone who would sit the pale-haired boy down every night and assure him that he was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to them.
And that someone, is not me.
I know the decision I have to make. I always do. And sometimes, that was what pained me the most about being an Akashi.
I inhale before letting my lie roll off my lips. It tastes bitter and disgusting, and my answer almost comes out as a croak.
"No."
Kuroko
I'm not going to lie, that hurt. I swear I could've heard my small heart break a little. You could say that the moment I laid my eyes on him, I thought he was the most beautiful person I'd ever witnessed in this cafe.
People often speak of the colour of eyes, as if that were of importance, yet his would be beautiful in any shade. From them comes an intensity, an honesty, a gentleness. Perhaps this is what is meant by a gentleman, not one of weakness or trite politeness, but one of great spirit and noble ways. What he is, what is beautiful about him, comes from deep within; it makes me want to feel how his lips move in a kiss, how his hands follow the curves of my body.
So, instead of breaking down like every teenager after getting rejected, I do the thing I'm best at doing: hiding my true feelings behind the facade I'd perfected years ago and my signature deadpan expression.
"Okay." I whisper, "Want to get out of here?"
I offer what I feel Akashi would want most. Not my love or even my company, but his freedom from this whole stupid glowy situation. If that was what he wanted, I would gladly provide it on the spot. Even if I'm basically letting the only person who'd ever have even the smallest sliver of chance of possibly falling in love with me—the person I'm destined to be with—run away.
No one's ever going to love me now, considering that I'm never actually seen by anyone besides Takao.
Still, I call my raven-haired friend and lie that we worked something out. I even smile, damn it. I'd flashed one of my rare smiles for something that wasn't even true. Takao seemed to believe what I had told him so he happily let Akashi go.
The redhead stood up, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and just left. He had left just like that. He didn't even say bye. And that broke my heart more than you could ever imagine.
"You guys look super cute together!" Takao tells me after Akashi left the shop.
I can only force my lips to curve upwards and murmur: "Don't ever say that, Takao."
My black-haired friend must've thought that I was just being shy because he didn't stop till we were out of the cafe and halfway to our cars.
When I reached home, I did the one thing I've never done since high school ended years ago.
I throw my head into my pillow and I let the tears flow down my cheeks. Big salty tears come naturally at the thought of my redhead soulmate, overflowing like a cup left under a waterfall.
That night, I cry myself to sleep, imagining Akashi sliding under the covers and wishing me a goodnight. Akashi running his fingers across my lips and my cheekbones. Akashi pressing his too-soft-to-be-real lips to my forehead and cuddling me to bed like soulmates do every night.
But it isn't real.
And the only time Akashi will ever love me is in my dreams.