Overview:
In which Akashi tries to pacify his fuming girlfriend after telling her off on the short dress she'd worn during dinner.
Story:
Seijuro believes himself the absolute, and no one dares question his claim. Not when his academic records are as ridiculously laudable as his performance as point guard in the basketball team. Not when the way his fingers work their harmony on the violin is as elegant as the manner upon which he carries himself as the son and sole heir of the Akashi family. And despite the rigid upbringing, Seijuro knows he wouldn't hesitate to defy his own father should he stand in his way.
Apparently though, Seijuro can't seem to induce the same level of reverence from his girlfriend – his girlfriend who, despite having been acquainted with his domineering tendencies since middle school, and despite being marginally average in nearly every aspect in comparison to him, still considers herself at par with his league.
Strangely enough, Seijuro finds this quite endearing. And besides, Yanagi Sakura only appears average in light of his phenomenal talents. She is, in fact, an outstanding student. Having topped her class in elementary, she hasn't left the ranks throughout middle school. In high school, she's lifted the bar a notch higher when she joined both the shogi and newspaper clubs – joined and championed the inter-high tournament for the former, and landed the associate editor-in-chief position only in her first year for the latter. She would have entered the piano club as well, but it would mean asking her parents to either have their grand piano repaired or buy her a new keyboard for her practices, neither of which would be practical for the family's expenses.
These Seijuro finds truly impressive. But what catches him off-guard – and eventually smitten – is Sakura's impartial and blameless heart. She blushed a little when he first asked her out, but she didn't squirm her way all throughout dinner the following night, a night which Seijuro still fondly recalls. She isn't one to easily complain as well, but when he had made her wait too long in the library – five full hours give or take a few minutes – she bluntly told him she'd eat ahead the next time, and probably just head home when she's done studying. And when she learned he was planning to get her a brand new grand piano for her birthday, she promised him she would never speak to him again. She told him later on how much she appreciated the gesture, but also how inappropriate it would be for either of them. And they both came to a peaceful closure on their first serious argument, and sealed it with their first kiss.
She is, in totality, an amazing girl. And being the amazing girl she is, she just isn't the type to bend to all of Seijuro's bidding.
So when she flaunts a black, body-hugging mini dress at dinner with the entire Akashi clan, and Seijuro – before either of them could even settle in their seats – drags her to a corner for a word or two of reprimand, she decides she's had enough. He can keep her waiting in the library for hours on school days when he has practice, or have her endure the outrageous dinner dates a decently average girl with average-earning parents can possibly manage, or make her his lone audience for entire weekends as he rehearses nonstop prior to his recitals. He can even count on her to fill in his notes when championship games force him out of his regular classes.
But this – him telling her off on her dress preference without even considering the favor behind the act, him telling her off when most of his family are within earshot – this she knows she can no longer tolerate.
Returning the intense gaze nobody else dares to challenge, she takes a full minute to strengthen her resolve. And then she turns toward the entire family, bows a full ninety degrees and smiles a quiet apology. Before Seijuro knows it, she is gone.
"Ah, seriously." His voice remains calm despite the silent yet fiery exchange with his girlfriend. Although he admits, nobody but she can get away with refusing dinner with the Akashi clan after accepting, much less after having just arrived.
He walks toward the edge of the table, adjusts his tie and bows before his father.
"I deeply apologize for this, but it seems –" he almost says Sakura, but upholds the formality and resumes, "Yanagi is feeling ill. I must take her home at once."
His father is clearly displeased, but doesn't stop him. Not that Seijuro can be stopped anyway.
Despite his overbearing attitude, Seijuro knows how to handle himself properly before people. As a matter of fact, he always endeavors to refine his manners especially when he is facing Sakura's family.
"I'm sorry for visiting this late," he says with a bow when he arrives at the Yanagis doorstep. It is only a little beyond seven, but he excuses himself regardless. "May I please speak with –" he nearly says Sakura again, but finishes smoothly with, "Yanagi-san?" He can't afford the slightest impertinence with the lady before him.
Sakura's mother is a decent woman with dark brown hair often braided towards the left. He can see Sakura's eyes in hers, but nothing more. This woman is too soft for Sakura's silent but tough character.
"Akashi-kun, what a pleasant surprise." Sakura's mother pulls the door wide to welcome the man in what seems to be her entire year's salary's worth of suit and tie. "Please come in." She guides him to the staircase leading up to Sakura's room, all the while thinking how her daughter has managed to crown the heart of such a catch as Akashi Seijuro. "She did tell me she's having dinner with your family. I wasn't expecting her to be home so early."
"She was suddenly feeling unwell," he says ruefully. "Thank you. Excuse me." With another bow, he ascends.
He knocks only twice. He doesn't wait to be entertained. He enters her room like he enters his own.
It is dark and chilly. He can't see anything in the poor illumination, but he knows her too much to know where she tucks herself when she's fuming: by the rooftop beside the chimney. He steps out to her balcony.
"I was calling you the entire ride here." He knows she's only a few feet above him, but he doesn't look up. He knows the only access to the rooftop is a retractable ladder. He also knows she's pulled it all the way up to prevent someone from climbing after her.
When three minutes pass and she still doesn't reply, he sighs, finally looking up. "Yanagi."
She sits by the ledge, her bare legs dangling in front and her palms planted on the roof beneath her.
She refuses to meet his gaze, partly because she's still seriously miffed but mostly because despite her fury, his hetero-chromatic eyes never fail to mesmerize her. Crimson on the right, eternally ablaze; and a gleaming tangerine on the left, often warm and dominating. But put together they are simply the loving eyes of Akashi Seijuro – her boyfriend, whom she is presently upset with. "You can drop the formalities, you know," she says. She doesn't sound angry. Tired perhaps.
But he knows better. "Sakura," he finally says. His voice is alarmingly calm. He has never imagined himself the type to beseech anyone, and with Sakura, her understanding nature has never pushed him to make use of even a pleading tone.
Today, it seems, would have to be an exception.
Softly, he begins. "Sakura, it's cold." Slowly. "Please come down." Gently. "And talk to me."
Sakura is astonished beyond comprehension. The Akashi is pleading me? The absolute Akashi? She can't help a knot form in her stomach as she strives to keep her cool. "I am talking to you."
Still calm. "Do you know why I don't often call you?"
She's already long accepted the fact that dating this man would entail maintaining an unconventional relationship through unconventional means, which includes not calling or messaging each other regularly like most normal couples do. She doesn't hate it but she also doesn't know why they don't do it. It suddenly makes her wonder what his point was when he told her he'd been calling her earlier.
There is a smile in his voice when he says, "Because I don't like talking to you when I can't see your face."
With that, she knows she's done for. And looking into his eyes, melting into his gaze, she is almost consumed with the urge to drop into his arms – almost. She reminds herself why she walked out of an important family dinner, why she had to slip off her heels and catch a speeding cab barefoot just to get home, why she nearly ripped her dress off in her haste to forget the embarrassment her boyfriend put her through, why she's up here in just a shirt and shorts enduring the cold. And she remembers. And she fights with every fiber in her body to resist this alluring, handsome man.
"Sakura." His calm is becoming more and more frightening by the minute. Does he ever lose his cool? Is he even human? "Sakura, you know I won't leave until you yield."
This seems to spike her agitation. "Then you don't know me at all."
Seijuro sighs. What a stubborn girl.
When he averts, his eyes land on a ribboned box sitting by the edge of the balustrade. His brows knit. He can't remember giving her a present recently. And if any man dares to woo her when it is public knowledge that she belongs to him, he swears to make that man lower his head and know his place.
He reaches for the box. It looks and feels expensive – no, ostentatiously extravagant. Must be a filthy rich bastard. His jaws clench. It is already empty, but there is a note slipped beneath one strip of ribbon. Definitely a suitor – a bold one, undeniably.
I hope you don't mind wearing this for me tonight.
I want to see how it looks on someone before my showcase.
Thankfully, I already know this will perfectly fit you.
As expected from Seijuro nii-sama's girlfriend.
Nii-sama?
"Ah, I was already in my first dress earlier," Sakura's voice suddenly fills the air, making him look up to her faint smile. "The sort that covered my arms up to my elbows, and flowed down to a little below my knees." She shakes her head a little. "When that suddenly arrived – you never told me one of your cousins is an aspiring designer."
Seijuro frowns, his murderous thoughts over a possible suitor gone with the wind. "Did I never?"
"I... can't imagine you agreeing," Sakura says, "to me wearing the dress your cousin designed. I mean, just look at that." She gestures down below, but Seijuro's eyes are pinned on her. "It's impossibly short. And tight. And too black – you know I don't like too much black."
"Sakura."
"But this is your cousin, okay? And I don't like to turn her down, not when she sounds so hopeful and expectant. I was doing her a favor, and for you to do that –"
"Yanagi Sakura."
She trembles at his voice. And she has to look away. She detests having to argue with him. She detests herself even more for wallowing in her anger. She doesn't want to appear a pouty girlfriend, but she can't help it. She cringes at the memory of her shame, of being told off by her usually collected boyfriend. But in the end, she really can't blame him.
She knew it would tick him off. She knew and yet she risked it anyway. And now she's sulking over something she already knew was coming. How foolish she is. Ah, if only he had picked her up earlier, he would have already asked her to change while she was still in her house. But he needed to fetch his grandparents, and she had already agreed to just meet him in the Akashi manor. He's brought her there countless times now anyway. And his father is a pleasant companion, albeit detached and occasionally gruff.
"I'm sorry, Akashi." She sighs wearily. "I want to sleep."
"Please come down, and I'll put you to sleep."
"Please don't do this now." The invitation is tempting though. But she is still too annoyed to face him. What will it take for him to leave?
And it occurs to her she doesn't have to come down to claim her sleep. She knows she's a statue in her slumber. She only has to fold her legs, wrap her arms around them and rest her head over her knees.
And she does.
It takes her less than a minute to drift off to dreamland. But just as she thinks she can finally get away with him, a loud thud jerks her fully awake.
She raises her gaze, and Seijuro is clutching the gutter with one hand.
"What the –"
Only half a second passes, time enough for Sakura to gape, for now Seijuro is crouched in front of her, his hand still on the gutter, his other arm atop one folded leg. His other knee rests on the roof for balance. How he managed to do that, she can't begin to imagine. All she can process at the moment is how dangerously close he is, his shadowed eyes impossible to read.
"A...kashi..."
"You forget this height is nothing for me," he says, and she can almost hear the chuckle in his voice. And why shouldn't he be amused? He isn't the tallest in his team, but he is captain – the first ever first year to be appointed in the history of Rakuzan High's invincible basketball team – for a reason. If he can dunk a ball at three meters, surely he can swing himself up by the gutter with ease.
She sighs, defeated. She will apologize for her misbehavior, just as he expects. She will tell him she won't do it again, just as he expects. And she will try to make amends to his family, just as he expects.
She is set to swallow whatever was left of her pride. So when she parts her lips to speak, and Seijuro cuts her off with a gentle hand over her own, all sense of coherency instantly shatters.
"Sakura."
Can a single word actually drive a person insane? She knows she hasn't gone crazy hearing her name before, but the way Seijuro says it sets a fire in the pit of her stomach, as if meant to consume the millions of butterflies fluttering therein only moments ago.
And as though that wasn't cruel enough, he gives her a most loving gaze she reckons only his mother probably ever witnessed. His eyes have melted into an odd mixture of apology and concern and remorse – she can't explain it. She only knows she can't stand it a second longer.
"It was rude of me," he says, leaning forward to collect her other hand. His skin is warm and hard, calloused perhaps from years of mastering both the violin and the ball. "I still don't approve of you wearing such skimpy clothing, but I truly am sorry. I will apologize to my cousin on your behalf as well. And I won't force you to forgive me, and I will respect and accept it completely if you still want me to leave."
Leave? Who said anything about leaving? Is he challenging her to break up with him? Or is he pertaining only for tonight?
He must have read the sudden panic in her eyes, because he smiles and closes their distance to kiss the crown of her head. "Calm yourself, love." He cants away to watch her cheeks flush a beet red. He knows she's both relieved and embarrassed, and only a tad bit annoyed. "I'm not hinting at a breakup."
The comment makes her bite on her lip, her face already in flares. Of course she no longer wants him to leave – after all that. Or has he also predicted it would turn out like this? That despite her agitation, she would end up forgiving him this easily? She can't tell. This man, when it comes to deciphering stuff, is just inhuman.
The way Seijuro has turned the tables around only makes her more embarrassed. And suspicious. And despite not wanting him to go away anymore, she takes a stand.
She doesn't relinquish his hold, but she evens her voice when she finally retrieves her sanity and tells him what she wants – or what she thinks she wants anyway.
"I'll talk to you tomorrow," she says. Her words are rushed, and she doesn't care. Surely that was already a very cordial and subtle way of telling him to leave, without any hint of a breakup of course.
Without hesitation, Seijuro complies. He gives her hands a light squeeze before turning towards the gutter and gliding gracefully to his descent. She listens to the fading sound of his footsteps. And then, absolute silence.
The clouds have gone and the moon has risen. Across the horizon the stars are overwhelmed, some of them disappearing behind the moon's bright glory.
And Yanagi Sakura has been gawking at the scenery for half an hour now from the time Seijuro left.
She has completely recovered from her ill feelings. She feels light-headed from the cold, but she thinks it's a good, emancipating feeling. Her lids have been attempting to drop completely for a while now, too. She decides it's finally time to hit the sack.
As she sets the ladder back into place, she thinks about going to the Akashis first thing tomorrow morning. She did say she would speak to him tomorrow – she just hasn't told him the possibility of it being at daybreak.
Or she can resort to calling him if visiting would seem too eager. Ah, but he said he doesn't like talking to her if he can't see her face. And although that was obviously flattering, she doesn't want it to be a probable cause of another argument.
Slowly, she finally descends. She hops on her last step, yawning and stretching. She peeks inside her dark room. At least Seijuro wasn't evil enough to lock her out. But then again, even if he was, he wouldn't do it for the sake of his pride. Besides, it would have been too childish. And Akashi Seijuro is many things, but he is never childish.
As her room is too dark to read the clock, she hauls out her phone from her pocket to check the time instead. Just a few minutes past eight. Too early to feel particularly exhausted. Damn, sulking and being upset seem to wear her out exceedingly. All she can think about is sleep, which is good actually, for if she retires the night early, she can greet tomorrow early as well. And the sooner she can speak again with Seijuro, the better it should be for her mental and emotional conditions.
It appears though, as she saunters for her bed, that her eyes are playing tricks on her. Or is it only her drowsiness creating illusions? She rubs her sockets with the heels of her palms.
What the hell is Akashi freaking Seijuro still doing in her room, sitting on her couch like a boss, one leg crossed over the other, his arms locked over his chest, his head ducked low enough to shadow half his face, and his bearings completely... vulnerable?
"A...kashi...?"
He doesn't stir, and she's on the verge of believing him a ghost. She takes two cautious steps forward, hardly breathing. And then another, and another, until she is standing right in front of him, until she is looking down at him.
She didn't feel it on the rooftop earlier; her sulking must have clouded her mind. But it suddenly feels so wrong – viewing him from above. She drops to her knees, quietly as to not disrupt his sleep, for he does appear to be in slumber. Without touching him, she lifts her gaze to finally see his face.
His adorable sleeping face.
She gasps. How can the absolute look this irresistibly cute? His slow breathing heaves his chest up and down, his square shoulders rising and falling accordingly. His scarlet fringe casts a pinkish glow to his cheeks, and for a fleeting moment she feels envious. She bites back a laugh. She resists the lethal urge to caress his face and pinch his cheeks and play with his nose, his eyes, his lips, his ears. Seijuro will probably kill her if she attempts any of those.
As she stares him down, she begins to realize one thing about his absolute authority. She has always wondered how his seniors are able to stomach him as their captain. It's true his plays are incredibly accurate, being the perfect point guard. But to become captain in his first year...
She has always felt it herself, the way Seijuro handles her and cherishes their relationship. He is simply reliable beyond compare. People can only trust someone when that someone has repeatedly met and perhaps exceeded their expectations. That trust comes naturally then, and in a sport where trust can either build or break the team, Seijuro stands alone as the most capable and most trustworthy captain. And that's on top of being an academic topnotch, a musical prodigy, and an able heir to one of Kyoto's most distinguished families.
But it is exactly because of this that he keeps such a straight face. He has continuously fortified his demeanor to never show weakness. He can claim he's doing it for himself, but she knows, somewhere deep inside, he's doing it for the people around him. She knows, because he's doing it for her, too.
He's doing it now.
She snorts. "Akashi, you idiot."
Having had enough of her musings, she rises to her feet, grabs a muffler from a wooden peg and wraps it around Seijuro's neck. She takes note of his outfit and, feeling a little shy, she reaches for his tie, slackens the knot as gently as her hands can manage and finally slips it off from choking his throat.
She sets the tie neatly atop her study table before fetching a second muffler and coiling it around her neck.
What is a comfy bed when Akashi Seijuro is sleeping on her couch?
Of course there's no telling if she'll still be alive by morning when Seijuro realizes what she's done. But this moment is too precious for her. So she takes a seat beside him and wills herself to sleep – except, she's too nervous to even relax. The pounding of her heart is deafening on her ears, and she knows the organ has risen up to her throat. She thinks of leaning on his shoulder, but she fears her trembling would finally wake him up. And then where will she be?
She sighs. If she wants to sleep beside him, she'll have to sleep like she usually does – like a statue. And she'll have to command her body to awaken before he does, just in case he'll go berserk.
The moment she closes her eyes, she feels the calm slowly take over. She nearly smiles.
"Don't open your eyes."
Her heart is instantly back up her throat, and she almost disobeys. The enormous effort she puts into sealing her lids is agonizing, but she endures. She really did wake him.
Seijuro seems to relinquish his seat. She hears a little shuffling, but she can't tell what he's really doing. She expects him to leave, but his weight is back on the couch beside her in an instant. The next thing she feels are her legs being covered. Ah, he's rid himself of his coat to warm her legs. Her cheeks warm as well and she can't be more thankful for the darkness.
Seijuro's hand is suddenly on her head. Her breath hitches, and she stops breathing altogether when he pulls her to rest on his shoulder.
"I take this as you having forgiven me," he mumbles into her ear, making her shiver in anxious delight. Regardless, her lips widen to a cheeky grin.
Seijuro seems to have sensed it. He breathes his own chuckle before sliding his hand down her side and locking his arm securely around her waist.
"Sleep, love."
Sakura snuggles closer. "Yes. Good night, Akashi."
"Seijuro," he says. "Just Seijuro."
She knows though that he knows she addresses him informally in her mind, and that he's just being considerate. "Hm."
Fatigue washes her all over again. But this time she's certain of a good night's sleep, without having to worry of what tomorrow may bring, and with the added bonus of Akashi Seijuro beside her. The last thing her mind registers before finally surrendering to sleep are Seijuro's sweet, soft lips pecking hers.
(c) shigesho