Chapter 9: Skinny Love
Summary: In which Furihata gets reacquainted with lucky items.
Furihata can honestly say he has never felt so ordinary in his life.
Which is saying something, because throughout all twenty-eight years of his existence Furihata has never been anything but ordinary; an average boy with average looks, average grades, average wealth… Nothing to complain about – it's far better than being below average at any rate – so Furihata has never given it much thought, fully content to coast through life in all its average-y beauty.
But as he stands there watching mere teenagers rule the basketball court as though they were made for it, Furihata cannot help but become starkly aware of his own mediocrity. Though, strangely, it is not envy that he feels but rather an overwhelming sense of awe (and disgust/admiration because, okay, that three-point shooter who can shoot from across the entire freaking court with that sort of laser-sharp accuracy is just- no), the star struck feeling similar to the first time Furihata watched an NBA finals.
Only here, there is Akashi Seijuuro.
And Akashi… Akashi is brilliant. Not that Furihata expects any less, because when is Akashi ever not brilliant? He's heard plenty of praise for Akashi's genius in basketball, but seeing it in action is a completely different story. Furihata finds it impossible to focus on anyone else when Akashi is on the court. His eyes are drawn to the way Akashi moves, the grace in his muscles, the way he watches his opponents with a calculating gaze that Furihata has seen enough times to recognize from a mile away. There's a power in his presence, a confidence in his stance, when he commands his teammates with an air of a born leader.
No wonder they call him an Emperor. Watching Akashi like this, it's hard to believe someone of this caliber is willing to spare a time of their day for him: plain, ordinary Furihata Kouki.
The ball hits the court just as the buzzer goes, and Rakuzan has won.
Furihata's eyes go to Akashi, and he isn't sure whether he is unsurprised to see that Akashi isn't smiling. He looks content, yes, but he isn't smiling. It's as though victory is nothing new for him – which, considering who he is, it probably isn't. Akashi is pleased, no doubt, but it's the sort of pleased that is- expected. Like when someone is pleased when their food arrives at the table at a restaurant.
The players take turns to shake hands. Furihata recognizes one of the Shutoku players to be Takao-kun, the one he met back in Kinosaki along with the strange pale blue-haired boy whose name he no longer remembers. Takao is something special on the court, too – he definitely wasn't exaggerating when he said he had superpowers. Him and the green-haired Shutoku ace together are unbelievable.
"Eh?" Furihata is startled when, during the handshake with Akashi, Takao suddenly starts pointing into the stands – pointing directly at all of a sudden those red eyes of Akashi's are on him, too, and Furihata's breath catches in his throat.
Akashi raises his eyebrows when he sees him. His mouth moves to say something, and Furihata isn't an expert at lip-reading but he can tell Akashi is saying his name. He can almost imagine the exact tone of voice, the enunciation that is unique to Akashi alone.
'Kouki.' Akashi mouths, and then his lips curl and it makes his entire face look gentler and Furihata has already forgotten to breathe by the time he comprehends that Akashi is smiling. A reserved smile, but a smile nonetheless.
And it makes Furihata giddy, because he has managed to make Akashi smile when winning the game hadn't, when hardly anything does, and that- that makes Furihata feel like maybe he's not so ordinary after all.
"You came to watch." Akashi says, when Furihata comes down from the stands to meet him on the sides of the court. The smile is gone now – the rare occasion disappearing as quickly as it came – but he still looks pleased, and it's a different kind of pleased from when he won the match.
"Of course I did," Furihata replies instantly, before realizing that he may have sounded a little too keen, so he adds, "I-I mean, I've heard a lot about the Generation of Miracles, but I've never seen a live game."
"Hm." Akashi hums neutrally, taking a sip from a bottle of water one of the Rakuzan players brought – served – him.
Furihata's eyes follow Akashi's adam's apple as it bobs up and down, appreciating the length and smooth expanse of his throat. There's still a light sheen of sweat on Akashi's skin, and Furihata watches as a droplet trails down Akashi's neck to pool into the dip between his clavicles.
Furihata swallows. It seems to be that two days without exposure to Akashi not only did not help Furihata become any more immune to Akashi's attractiveness, but it has also weakened any tolerance he may have built up.
And ugh, how does Akashi still look this fantastic when he's all sweaty? Possibly even more so than usual. How unfair is that?
"-acquaintance of mine."
Akashi is saying something but Furihata finds it hard to concentrate when he's too distracted by, ironically, Akashi himself. Maybe it's a pheromones' thing. They do say exercise causes a release of pheromones, something about the sweat pores-
"He appears to be in a trance. Is this some kind of new hypnotism trick of yours?"
"If I were capable of such abilities, Shintarou, Rakuzan would've won by an even greater lead."
"Che."
"Kouki," Akashi's voice calling his name eventually snaps Furihata's attention back. "This is Midorima Shintarou. You may remember him."
"H-huh?" Furihata blinks in surprise, because it's him – the impossible three-point shooter from Shutoku. His green hair is rather difficult to misplace, just like how it's rare to find someone with both red hair and eyes like Akashi.
"Eh?" Furihata frowns when he finds the Shutoku ace looks strikingly familiar.
Giving it some thought, Furihata remembers there used to be a child with green hair who hung out with Akashi back when he was little. The only child Furihata ever saw with Akashi, really – it's not that Akashi didn't have many friends, it's just- he didn't have many friends who he actually considered as friends. Akashi was too smart for most children of the same age, but the green-haired bespectacled boy was a fortunate anomaly. Furihata remembers he used to watch them play chess against each other and think to himself how their little green and red heads together reminded him of apples.
Which is not that different from how Akashi and the Shutoku ace look when they're standing together in front of him as they currently are, actually, now that Furihata is properly looking at them. Furihata squints at the green haired boy, at his glasses and his long lashes and the garishly pink unicorn doll attached to his hip; then slowly back and forth between him and Akashi until, finally, it clicks.
"Eh?" Furihata says again, louder this time, eyes wide.
Akashi raises an eyebrow at him, looking mildly amused.
"N-no way. You're that Midorima-kun?" The one with the weird toys. Yes, Furihata remembers him clearly now.
"That would be correct," Midorima says primly, nudging his glasses.
"Uwah-! You- you've grown so much," Furihata stares up at him and cannot help but comment, "You're so tall."
Akashi twitches just the slightest bit at that, and Midorima gives him a neutral sideways glance that manages to look quite smug. Akashi makes a mental note to personally make him suffer for it later.
"Ooh, I know, right? Shin-chan's sooo freakishly tall," Takao pops out from nowhere beside Furihata and casually slips into the conversation like the social butterfly that he is, grins and all. "I mean, it's amazing for basketball and things, and height is always a plus with guys, but you gotta see Shin-chan when he bumps into things. And then tries to play it off. Hilarious."
"Takao," Midorima says in a stern voice.
"What? It's true, Shin-chan. You're so dorkily clumsy it's kinda cute." Takao chuckles, skipping over to Midorima's side to loop an arm around his elbow.
Midorima frowns, "Don't cling. You are sweaty, it's-"
"-'unhygienic'. Yes, yes, future-doctor-san." Takao rolls his eyes playfully, letting go of Midorima but only to stretch up on his toes to whisper something in Midorima's ear with a mischievous little smirk on his lips.
And Furihata doesn't expect it at all when Midorima – the uber-proper boy who is even more stoic now than he previously was – appears to be blushing. Furihata blinks and blinks again but the subtle flush beneath the lens of Midorima's glasses is definitely there. Surely that's not right. All this overwhelming human talent around Furihata must be affecting his vision.
Midorima clears his throat, readjusts his glasses. "Excuse us," He mumbles before stalking off quickly.
Takao laughs as he skips close-by after him, only turning around to give Akashi and Furihata a quick wave before they disappear around the corner – but not before Furihata catches how Takao intertwines his hand with Midorima's just as they slip out of sight.
"Wow." Furihata says. And he tries not to think about holding hands with Akashi, or squeezing Akashi's hand, or just Akashi's hands in general.
"What is it?" Akashi stares at him curiously.
"Oh- um. It's just- I think they're kinda cute." Furihata says, truthfully.
"'Cute'," Akashi parrots, tilting his head in consideration. "Whilst I can appreciate that Kazunari can be described in such a way, I hardly think Shintarou fits the definition of the term."
"Huh? Oh, but I meant cute as in, uh, together cute."
"Together?" Akashi repeats, brows slightly drawn together, unfamiliar with not fully understanding what's going on.
"Eh?" Furihata turns to face him, now also confused. "Aren't Midorima-kun and Takao-kun dating?"
By the time they get to Akashi's apartment, Akashi is still fuming.
He's more frustrated at himself rather than at Midorima for not telling him – even though Midorima will be facing certain consequences for that, too – especially because it's so glaringly obvious now that he's been made aware. How could he not have seen it? Takao pulls Midorima around in a rickshaw, for heaven's sake.
To be fair, Akashi did have his suspicions about Takao – the boy looks at Midorima like he's the most adorable thing that's ever graced this planet, and this is Midorima we're talking about – but Akashi never thought Midorima would reciprocate. Akashi just finds it difficult to picture Midorima to be homosexual. Or bisexual. Or anything-sexual, frankly. Akashi has never seen Midorima show any interest in relationships or having any form of sexual intimacy with anyone, let alone another man. Aomine used to joke about how he bets Midorima doesn't even masturbate; the straight-laced, perfectly by-the-rules, golden boy Midorima. To think that he would be inclined towards men... Akashi has to admit that he did not see that one coming. And that only adds to the annoyance because he's Akashi and he's supposed to know things.
Meanwhile, Furihata is as quiet as a mouse sitting next to the brooding Akashi on his sofa, feeling like he's treading on a minefield. Why, oh why, did he have to be the one to break it to Akashi that his childhood friend is dating another boy? And why today of all days? Furihata will probably struggle enough trying to get through their unfinished conversation as it is. Ideally, he needs Akashi to be in the best mood possible. Needless to say, Furihata has once again shot himself in the foot with this one. But it was so clear to him, seeing Midorima and Takao together, Furihata just assumed that Akashi knew.
"Ano… I didn't know Akashi-kun moved out of your Tokyo house," Furihata carefully says, trying to stray him away from the subject.
"I didn't," Akashi's voice is clipped, though he is replying, which is better than the deathly silence during the car ride here so Furihata considers it a win. "The main house is unaware of this apartment's existence."
"Eh? How come?"
"I bought it when I moved to Rakuzan," Akashi explains, his eyes going slightly darker, "This way I can return to Tokyo without Father's knowledge."
Uh-oh. Landmine no. 1. If there's anything that can worsen Akashi's mood it's mention of his father. Furihata cannot backpedal fast enough, "A-ano… does your mother know of this place then?"
Akashi goes very still at that, and Furihata senses the drop in the atmosphere right away. He tenses, unsure what he's said. Akashi turns to look at him, and it's the first time Furihata doesn't recognize the emotion in those wide red orbs.
When Akashi speaks again his voice is frighteningly composed.
"My mother passed away when I was in fifth grade."
Furihata freezes.
It takes a minute before the information fully settles in, and Furihata feels choked. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't even know if he can speak. He just stares at Akashi, looking haunted, like he's just seen a ghost.
Eyeing him, Akashi frowns, "You didn't know."
It's not a question but Furihata shakes his head anyways. His voice is hollow, "I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't- I shouldn't have-"
"It's fine," Akashi cuts him off, voice detached. "It's been a long time."
"But I should've been there for you, I-" Furihata blurts out, and immediately feels stupid for doing so. Who does he think he is, that someone like Akashi would need him? But when Furihata pictures a young little redheaded child standing there all alone in front of his mother's grave, he cannot help but feel responsible. Protective. Which is ridiculous, because even if Akashi needed protection – which he most likely didn't – he was never Furihata's to protect. It'd be ludicrous of him to think so highly of himself and believe that Akashi would need him of all people-
"What would you have done?" Akashi inquires, interrupting Furihata's thoughts, "If you had been there."
"I would've-" Furihata stops himself, rolling in his lips, "Um- you'll just think it's silly of me."
"Don't be absurd." Akashi says it which such certainty that Furihata feels reprimanded. If it were ten years ago, a harsh pinch on Furihata's cheek would've accompanied that tone. Those soul-piercing crimson eyes from back then, however, remain intact. "Tell me everything you would've done."
"O-okay," Furihata nods, nervous. "Well, I- I would've… sat with you. Or stand- stood. With Akashi-kun. Um." Furihata clears his throat, takes a deep breath, "I just- I'd want to be there for you. And I- I don't know if it'd be much help, but I would… h-hold your hand. Because that's what you did for me, back when my mum got into that car accident, and it was like everything was falling apart but you were helping me hold it together with your tiny hands and- it was exactly what I needed. So I'd be there for Akashi-kun, too. The whole time."
Akashi is looking at him intently, silently, his eyes deep and strange.
Furihata continues, "I'd stay with Akashi-kun at your place, if you let me, because the nights are the worst part, and I wouldn't want you to go through it alone. I'd be there for any nightmares, and I'd stay awake to talk to you on nights when you can't sleep. I'd bring you your favourite tofu soup every day, and sneak you to see Yukimaru even if your father won't allow it. And when we're alone and it's dark at night I'd- I would tell you it's okay to cry, because you wouldn't allow yourself to. Because everyone expects you to be strong; to be your father's son; to be an Akashi. But with me you wouldn't have to be anything or- or anyone, you can just- be."
Akashi stares at him, unblinking, not saying a word.
"Ah-!" Furihata realizes everything that he's said, and he goes back to feeling self-conscious and small all over again. He curls back in on himself on the sofa, "I'm sorry, I- I've said too much, I-"
Furihata pauses mid-sentence when suddenly Akashi reaches over and touches the back of his hand to Furihata's cheekbone.
Akashi moves his knuckles down the side of Furihata's cheek – the touch light as a feather but feels like electricity in Furihata's veins – and goose bumps run from the back of his neck right down the back of both his arms. And Furihata can't even breathe; too afraid that even the slightest sound will shatter this- this fragile, delicate moment.
"Kouki," Akashi says, his eyes raw with intensity.
And it's too much; the way Akashi is looking at him, his voice, the intimacy of it all – too much how badly Furihata wants him, so much it hurts. It hurts, and that scares Furihata because it's becoming clear to him now that this is far more than a crush. And Furihata can't have it be more than a crush. Because what lies beyond that is out of his control and Furihata knows if he let himself fall, he'll fall hard. And when he lands, it won't be just bumps and bruises; it'll be broken bones and punctured lungs and a bleeding heart and- and Furihata can't.
So when Akashi's thumb moves to touch his lower lip, Furihata stops him. Gently, he takes Akashi's wrist and moves his hand away, lowering his own head to hide his burning face.
Akashi narrows his eyes, though he doesn't make another move to touch him. Watching Furihata carefully, he speaks, "You're about to say it again."
"E-eh?" Furihata looks up.
"After all you've just said," Akashi's voice is cold, "You're about to tell me you can't see me anymore."
As always, Akashi is right. Furihata swallows, "I-it won't be a permanent thing-"
"You mentioned that last time," Akashi levels his gaze at him, "I expect you have an explanation to provide this time?"
"Ah- y-yes," Furihata nods. "But it's- um- it's complicated."
"I believe my mental capacity will be able to handle it."
"O-of course." Furihata inhales, preparing himself. "I- um, well, my parents, that is- with me, I- ano, I-"
"Yes?" Akashi prompts.
"I'm getting engaged."
The silence that follows is deafening.
The temperature in the room drops by several degrees, and Akashi's eyes are so big in his skull that they look like they're about to pop out.
"Ah-! No, t-that came out wrong," Furihata quickly corrects himself, "I meant my p-parents, they're trying to set up a match for me. I-it's not like it's definitely happening. I haven't even met any of the girls, and I, um, I d-don't think I'll say yes to a-any of them anyway."
Akashi relaxes the fists he didn't even realize were clenching. There are sounds of wheezing from spots on the sofa where Akashi's fingernails had punched right through the leather.
"So. So, um-" Furihata continues, his voice growing smaller with every second Akashi stares at him without speaking, "T-that's why I can't see A-Akashi-kun for a while. Because it's- I'll be, um, b-busy. With the whole thing. A-avoiding it, that is."
"Busy." Akashi repeats, flatly.
It's really not fair how one word from Akashi's lips can make Furihata doubt everything in what he previously believed was a fool-proof plan. It had seemed perfect at the time; he's not lying for one (which would've been a massive mistake because it would take Akashi less than a second to see through him), and with this excuse it'll buy Furihata enough time away from Akashi to let the distance between them diminish his feelings.
The only problem is that Akashi appears to be entirely displeased and Furihata doesn't understand why.
"A-Akashi-kun," Furihata gathers the minimal courage that he has to ask, "Are you- are you mad at me?"
"What gives you the impression?" Akashi's voice is impossibly casual for someone who looks like they're about to burn everything down with those flaming eyes alone.
"Um, well," Furihata fidgets, "You're… glaring." That's a more subtle way of putting it. Not to mention, Akashi's hands are twitching like he wants to break someone's ankle – and not in the basketball sense, either – but Furihata thinks it'd be wise not to point that out.
"Hn," Akashi crosses his arms, "I'm not thrilled."
That much is obvious. What's not so obvious to Furihata is why. "Y-you're angry… because you won't get to see me?"
Akashi scoffs, "I'm hardly ecstatic about that, whatever your true reason for periodically evading me may be. But to answer your question – no, Kouki, I am not angry because of that in particular."
Furihata tries to pretend Akashi did not just completely dismiss his supposedly 'fool-proof' explanation. He bravely tries again, "Ano… t-then why are you angry?"
"I am angry," Akashi says slowly, looking directly at Furihata, "Because something precious to me is about to be stolen away."
Despite all efforts to convince himself that Akashi isn't talking about him, Furihata ends up blushing anyways. It's hard not to, when Akashi is looking at him like this; like he's indeed precious, and even more so, like he belongs entirely to Akashi.
And Furihata thinks he must be going crazy to yearn for that intense possessiveness in Akashi's eyes.
"S-something precious…?" Furihata has to ask, and hates himself for sounding hopeful. Because, surely, it's impossible. Akashi is practically a demigod and Furihata is- well, Furihata. There is no way that someone like Akashi would-
"You, Kouki." Akashi says, like it's simple. Like the words don't turn Furihata's world upside down.
Furihata stares at Akashi with eyes so wide they almost look comical. He gapes, like he's about to say something, before changing his mind and closing his mouth again, only continuing to ogle Akashi like he's grown an extra head.
Akashi tilts his chin, observing Furihata's reaction with interest, "You appear to be in disbelief. Do you mean to tell me that you have no inclination as to how I feel about you whatsoever?"
"…how- f-feel?" Furihata manages to squeak. What even are words anymore?
Akashi raises his eyebrows. "You haven't the slightest clue?"
Mutely, Furihata shakes his head.
Akashi stares, "How you managed to survive twenty-eight years of your life with this level of naivety is beyond me."
Furihata doesn't know what to say. His heart is thumping so hard against his ribcage he is half-afraid it might force its way out.
"I will have you know, then, Kouki," Akashi says, looking straight at Furihata, "That for the past ten years I never once stopped regretting letting you go."
Furihata inhales sharply. The words ache in his chest like an old wound being reopened.
"I never stopped wondering where you are, how you are doing – whether or not you would remember me if you saw me."
Furihata chews on his lower lip and wonders. Is it possible that they may have walked past each other without knowing? Been in the same place at the same time but kept missing each other? The thought makes Furihata sad – the kind of sadness that's just that extra bit lonely too.
"I never forgot about you. I never forgot a single moment between us. Ten years - and now that you finally return, some woman thinks she has the right to take you away from me," Akashi's face remains placid, but his red orbs gleam in a way that reminds Furihata of fresh blood, "It's infuriating."
Akashi hisses the word like he would kill said woman without hesitation, and Furihata knows he should be wary – every instinct in his body is screaming danger, blazing alarms at him. However, Furihata only hears them enough to be scared; not enough to make him run away. He may be a coward and possibly a fool, but Furihata is certain in the feeling that he doesn't want to run away and leave Akashi behind.
Akashi continues, "Being raised in my family, I never wanted for much, as there is little that I don't have," he pauses and, incredibly, those blood-red eyes transform right before Furihata's eyes. They soften, in that perfect way that makes Furihata feel weak in the knees, just as Akashi says, "But ever since I was a child, Kouki, I never stopped wanting you to be mine."
It takes everything Furihata has in that moment not to grab Akashi and tell him everything – tell him that, yes, he wants that too;that he is already completely Akashi's for the taking; that he wants nothing more.
But instead, Furihata sits there stiff with his hands clenched to stop them from reaching out to the one person who means more to him than he'll let himself acknowledge.
He realizes that Akashi is waiting for him to say something, but Furihata does not have anything to say. He's at a deadlock – he won't let himself fall into Akashi's arms, but he doesn't want to leave. What is it exactly that he's supposed to do, then? What can he even say?
"Ah-" Furihata gasps, too loudly, when Akashi reaches over to touch his face once again. And this time, when Akashi's thumb moves to touch his lips, Furihata doesn't have it in him to pull away.
Slowly, Akashi runs the pad of his thumb across Furihata's lower lip, stopping when he reaches the plumpest bit in the middle.
"Kouki," Akashi says, and Furihata shivers at the sound of his voice.
Akashi's index finger is beneath his chin, now, tilting Furihata's face upwards. Weakly, Furihata places his hands on Akashi's chest like an attempt at a barrier, but he cannot find the power to actually push him away. So Akashi moves closer, and closer still, and Furihata cannot stop himself from looking at Akashi's lips just as much as he cannot force himself to put a stop to this.
Because Akashi is right here, right in front of him, telling him that he wants this – wants him – and all the while smelling like ice and fire and something forbidden and completely addictive. Because he is Akashi who, since ten years ago, has taken up his very own space in Furihata's heart and never left. Because he is the same Akashi who looks at Furihata – plain, ordinary Furihata – like he's the only thing that matters in this world, with his eyes deep and dark red like wine and Furihata wants nothing more than to get drunk.
"Kouki," Akashi whispers on his lips, and Furihata feels like he's breaking apart.
Furihata closes his eyes, his fingers gripping Akashi's vest tight. In a trembling, uncertain voice, he murmurs, "A-Akashi-kun, I t-think-"
Then Akashi is kissing him and Furihata loses the ability to think altogether.
A/N: Nine chapters in and they only just got to first base. Yay for slow burn? xD
As always, thank you for all your comments and support – I love reading every one of your thoughts! I do try to update monthly (give or take a week or two) so thank you all for being super patient with this fic xx