Chapter 13: Gravity

Summary: In which Furihata receives a delivery at 3am.

"Shintarou, I need a drink."

Midorima Shintarou, having been friends with one Akashi Seijuuro for many, many years, considers himself to be rather used to Akashi's many idiosyncrasies. Receiving a phone call at 11pm to be invited out for alcohol of all things, however, is a new one. And it was so unusual and out of character that Midorima, already settled in bed in his pajamas, decided to get up, get dressed, and sneak out of his house. (A rebellious move for a man like Midorima, but it's not like he's never done it before. Ever since- well, ever since Takao, really.)

That was four hours ago, and now it is past 2am and Midorima is sitting in Akashi's apartment beside several empty bottles of different alcohols and a very, very drunk Akashi.

"It's," Akashi says, "frustrating. Do you understand?"

"Not particularly," Midorima says, eyeing the red wine sloshing in the glass Akashi is swinging in his hand.

"Of course not," Akashi side-eyes him. "You and your growth are inseparable."

"Growth," Midorima says.

"Takao Kazunari."

"He is not-," Midorima frowns when Akashi opens a new bottle of red wine. "Akashi…" He says in warning.

"Yes?" Akashi doesn't look at him, too focused on pouring the wine without spilling. He does a little, but corrects himself quickly.

Midorima pretends not to notice, "Do you really think it's a good idea to drink more?"

"Yes," Akashi says, bringing the glass to his lips, "I think it's a fantastic idea."

"I thought you were going back to Kyoto tonight."

"Evidently, there's been a change of plans. Since I'm here," Akashi opens his palms up grandly. "In Tokyo." The wine actually does slosh over with this movement and Akashi only smiles at the deep red spillage. "Drunk in Tokyo."

"All of this," Midorima says carefully, "Because you didn't kiss Furihata Kouki?"

"No," Akashi waves his glass and more wine sloshes over, "It's not that I did not kiss him."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said. I didn't, but it's not about that."

Midorima looks at him, unconvinced.

"Fine. It's a little bit about that," Akashi grumbles, putting his glass down – much to Midorima's relief. "But it's more of this- this wanting-not-wanting. He's-" Akashi groans, "God, Shintarou, the way he looks at me."

"How does he look at you?"

"Like-" Akashi pauses, considering this. "…like he's begging for me to touch him. But he doesn't want it. He explicitly said so that he doesn't want it."

Midorima shrugs, "Maybe he does."

Akashi blinks, "What?"

"People don't always speak the truth, Akashi."

"Don't preach to me like that's something I don't already know, Shintarou." Akashi says snippily. Then, he frowns, "…do you think that's the case?"

"I don't know him, Akashi. I can't speak for him."

"…" Akashi quiets down, tapping the wine glass in deep thought.

Then, to Midorima's absolute horror, Akashi suddenly sits up, grabs the bottle of wine, then drinks straight from the bottle, gulping it down like water.

"Akashi," Midorima is too shocked to even take action. By the time Midorima had thought about possibly pulling the bottle out from Akashi's hand, Akashi had already put the bottle back down.

Akashi, in a very un-Akashi-like manner, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He glances over at Midorima, and made the most appalling little giggle.

Akashi. Giggling. Giggling.

Midorima simply cannot deal with it.

"I cannot deal with this," He says as much, promptly standing up.

Akashi blinks up at him, "Shintarou, where are you going?"

Midorima is already pulling out his phone, side-eyeing Akashi.

"Getting help from my 'growth'."

"T-Takao-kun…?"

Furihata isn't really sure what he expected to see when his doorbell rings at 3am, but Takao Kazunari – as in, that one strange kid who is dating the other strange green-haired kid who is childhood friends with Akashi (who, admittedly, is also a little strange) – is definitely not it. He blinks, and then rubs at his eyes to make sure his drowsiness isn't conjuring this all up somehow.

Nope. Takao is still there, grins and all.

"Greetings, Furihata-san~," Takao waves, looking far too chirpy for anyone who is up at 3am, "So so sorry to disturb you, were you sleeping?"

"A-ah, no, it's fine," It's not. Not really. And anyone else would've probably minded but Furihata has always been strangely patient with students. He shakes his head, "Can I help you, Takao-kun?"

"Shin-chan has a delivery for you," Takao says, his grin becoming sheepish. "I apologize in advance."

"Huh? Delivery…?" Furihata doesn't have time to wonder long before sounds of clunking and thumping came loudly from the apartment's staircase. Five seconds later, Midorima Shintarou comes into view, carrying a- body…?

Furihata paled. Oh my god, if they'd murdered someone…

"Furihata Kouki," Midorima, face stoic, nods at him in greeting. Then, without further warning, he practically dumps the body he was carrying right into Furihata's arms.

"Whoa-! Ah-" Furihata stumbles, taking the full weight of the person into his arms and steadying him. It is only then that the scent of this person's body hits him, and Furihata didn't even need to see the red hair underneath his hoodie to know exactly who it is. "A-Akashi-kun…?!"

Akashi, only half-conscious until now, perks up at his voice. "Nn- Kouki…?"

That is when the strong whiff of alcohol hits him and Furihata's eyebrows rise all the way up his forehead. "Is he- um-" Furihata's eyes are wide, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Is he drunk?"

"No," Akashi says, at the same time Takao and Midorima says, in unison, "Yes."

"Shhh. Shintarou," Akashi hushes him, eyes half-lidded, bringing his index finger to his lips.

"Very drunk," Midorima adds, gloomily.

"Kouki," Akashi is nuzzling into his neck now and it sends shivers like electricity down Furihata's spine. He sighs into his neck, "You're here."

Everything about it – from Akashi's soft murmur, to his arms around Furihata's waist, and his palms on his back – is so intimate that Furihata finds heat rushing up to his face and down his body and it actually makes him feel sort of embarrassed to be displaying this in front of Midorima and Takao.

Takao clearly notices it too because even he is blushing and averting his gaze. He reaches for Midorima's hand and whispers, "Shin-chan, we should probably leave them to it."

"Right," Midorima subtly tucks Takao's hand into his coat pocket. He looks at Furihata and nods, "He'll be alright with you?"

"Y-yes, of course," Furihata says, holding onto Akashi firmly, and without even thinking, he adds, "I'll always take care of him."

Then he realizes how that sounds, and if Furihata hasn't been blushing before, he's definitely bright red now.

"Wow," Takao says, because he cannot stop himself. Then he turns to Midorima, eyes wide blown, "Shin-chan. Wow."

"Yes, Takao, I heard." Midorima says, but even he is looking at Furihata with a new consideration in his eyes.

Furihata wants to bury himself into the ground.

Akashi Seijuuro is heavy.

Furihata doesn't know why it should come as a surprise. After all, Akashi is taller than him, and from what Furihata can see, built mainly of muscle mass. But Furihata didn't expect him to be heavy – not like this, not like how a man is meant to be heavy, not so much that Furihata struggles to help half-carry him from front door to bedroom without becoming out of breath.

(Because, of course, having Akashi breathing down his neck and having Akashi's arms all over him and Akashi's low rumble humming next to his ear has absolutely nothing to do with Furihata feeling breathless. Of course not.)

"Kouki, are you alright?" Akashi peers, too close, at his face.

"Akashi-kun, you-" Furihata huffs, "-are in no position to ask me that right now."

Akashi blinks at him slowly, leaning his chin over Furihata's shoulder, "Why not?"

"Because you are drunk, Akashi-kun, please try to walk str-"

"Kouki, is this your bedroom?" Akashi's attention has shifted and he glances around the room with interest.

"Uh- yes," Furihata nods.

"You brought me to your bedroom." Akashi says. Then, with a quirk to his lips, "How forward."

"Wha-" Furihata is immediately flustered, "I-it's not l-like that, I just- there's a bed and-"

"I can see that." Akashi says, smiling. "Is that where we're going to end up tonight?"

"We-" Furihata almost chokes. "You. It's where you are going, not-"

"We."

"No, it's-"

"Us." Akashi's smile widens.

"Just you!" Furihata says, exasperated.

"Heh, Kouki," Akashi is leaning his head on Furihata's shoulders and chuckling lightly, the quaking of his chest felt through the thin fabric of Furihata's night shirt to his back. His arms have now moved to circle around his waist from behind, "You're cute."

Furihata swallows audibly. "…you're drunk, Akashi-kun."

"Not that much," Akashi says. His hands are now rubbing slowly up and down Furihata's side, the tip of his nose along the nape of Furihata's neck sending him shivers all the way down his spine. "I can pretend to be. If that gives you an excuse."

"E-excuse…?" Furihata squeaks. His heart is going a mile a minute and he is pretty sure Akashi can feel it, too.

"Hn," Akashi's hands are gently squeezing Furihata's waist now, his lips grazing the back of Furihata's neck, feather-light. "To let me do this."

Akashi presses his lips onto the back of Furihata's neck, warm and soft.

All breath shudders out of Furihata and he reaches to grab over Akashi's hands with his own, "A-Akashi-kun-"

"I'm very drunk, Kouki," Akashi whispers, his eyes limpid. He tilts his head over, his eyes on Furihata's lips, their faces so close their noses are brushing; and all Furihata can think about is how Akashi's lips would feel and whether he'll taste the wine on his tongue still-

"I-" Furihata inhales sharply, pulling himself away from Akashi's arms. "I'm gonna g-go get you some w-water."

Akashi only stands there and watches him, a look of disappointment in his eyes.

"W-wait here, okay?" Furihata says, hurrying out of the room. Once he is out of sight, he presses one hand to his chest, one fist to his mouth, as he tries desperately to control his breathing and the rapid thundering in his chest.

Furihata comes back into the bedroom to find Akashi sitting on his bed, both legs crossed, with a book in his lap. And it is striking to Furihata, how much Akashi's posture still resembles how he used to sit and read as a child. Only now he is so much taller, with lean limbs and long fingers, and a whole brand of sexual appeal that developed out of nowhere.

Furihata stands there, watching him for a moment longer, before he takes a breath and knocks on the doorframe. "Um, I got the water."

Akashi looks up at him, "Kouki, do you want me?"

Furihata almost drops the glass of water but he manages to slam it onto the table instead and saves at least half the glass. He stares at Akashi, hands shaking by his side, "…Akashi-kun, I- you know I can't answer that."

"You can't?" Akashi pulls out something from between the pages. "Then explain why you kept this."

It was an old polaroid photo from a fireworks festival ten years ago. And it was Akashi in a pure white yukata, all curled up in Furihata's lap, his little face snuggled into Furihata's chest – and Furihata smiling down at him, fondness written all over his features. Akashi never knew Furihata took the photo – it was the only polaroid Furihata got from festival.

"You," Furihata clears his throat, "You were the first kid I took care of. Of course I kept your photo."

Akashi is looking at him, "In your bedside book."

"…I needed a bookmark."

"Kouki," Akashi says, "Really."

"I-" Furihata rolls in his lips, grabbing the glass of water and handing it to Akashi. "You should drink this."

Akashi grabs his hand, "Kouki."

"Just," Furihata averts his eyes, "Drink the water. Please."

He does, drinking from the glass without letting go of Furihata's hand. Furihata watches Akashi's Adam's apple bob up and down and finds himself swallowing at the same time.

Furihata takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, "You know I care about you, Akashi-kun."

"You 'care' about me." Akashi says.

"I- I do," Furihata opens his eyes to look at him, "You're important to me."

"Important." Akashi says. "Is that what you meant when you said you'll always take care of me?"

Furihata blinks at him, "Y-you heard that…?"

Akashi ignores the question, "I'm not a child."

"I-" Furihata shakes his head, "I know that."

I know that very well.

"I'm not a child," Akashi says again, "I don't look at you the way a child would. I'm not six years old, and I'm not one of your students."

"I know, Akashi-kun. I-"

"I want you." Akashi says, with no uncertainty.

I want you, too. Furihata clenches his hands.

"It's not enough," Akashi pulls Furihata down to sit on the bed next to him. "It's not enough for you to just want to take care of me. I want more than that."

Akashi reaches to Furihata's face, his thumb pad brushing along his cheekbone, down his jawline, before coming to press over Furihata's lower lip. And it's so unfair that every time Akashi touches him he sets his skin on fire, like a deep heat spreading, seeping into his bones, crackling hot.

Furihata catches his wrist, holding his hand still, though his own hands are trembling. He lowers his eyes and speaks in a quiet voice, "…are you still drunk, Akashi-kun?"

Akashi moves closer, closer still, his other hand coming up to Furihata's neck. He murmurs, "Do you want me to be?"

It would be easy, to say yes. To fall down into this without thinking, without care, to delve into Akashi and just, for a moment – a second, a minute, an hour – forget that he is in no position to be where he is. To have Akashi in his arms and actually have him, get drunk on his kisses and his body heat, revel in the raw electricity between them. Have his hands all over, his lips all over, marking him, claiming him because this is where he belongs.

He belongs with him, under his weight, because Akashi is heavy and he is no longer the little child Furihata can just pick up and carry on his back.

And he doesn't want to think – about propriety, about morals, or any of that nonsense. He wants to think about Akashi and Akashi's hands and how he smells like amber and ice and fire and sandalwood, voice like brandy, lips like wine, and not think about anything else, consequences be damned, and just drown deep into those crimson eyes he's always loved-

Because Furihata does.

He loves Akashi Seijuuro.

And it would be so easy to say yes.

"No," Furihata says, feeling like he's breaking. "We can't."

Because you are wonderful and you are going to have an amazing future with a beautiful wife and over-talented children and I can't- I can't drag you down when you have so much going for you—

Akashi stares at him.

And it is the most awful feeling, watching Akashi's eyes freeze over from gentle and warm to unfeeling shards of blood-red ice.

-because I love Sei-kun.

"…fine." Akashi eventually says, letting go of him.

Furihata feels the loss like someone just tore out all the breath in his lungs. He clutches at his own chest, "A-Akashi-kun, please understand-"

"No," Akashi glares at him, standing up and off the bed. "There's nothing to understand. You've made your choice very clear."

"That's not-"

"If you can't see that what we have is more than whatever it is that is holding you back," Akashi says coldly, "Then I'm done trying to convince you."

Furihata's eyes are burning, "But I-"

"Enough," Akashi turns away, "I don't want to hear it."

Looking at Akashi's back, Furihata is painfully reminded of that time, ten years ago; when he was telling Akashi he was leaving, and Akashi had shrunk himself away from Furihata's hand, his small body curled up into a ball and facing away from him, blocking himself off.

And it kills Furihata knowing that this is what hurt looks like on Akashi, and once again, he's the one who's done it.

Akashi is walking away, and Furihata wants to scream because his chest hurts, his body hurts, he hurts seeing Akashi like this. But all that comes out of his mouth is a shaky, "A-are you leaving…?"

Akashi doesn't look at him. Doesn't reply.

Furihata stands, legs feeling weak, "I-it's late. You don't have to go."

"I can't look at you," Akashi says, flat. "So I'm going somewhere where I don't have to."

If words were knives, Akashi has just rammed Furihata clean through his gut.

"W-where-" Furihata takes a moment to calm his breathing, "Where will you go?"

"I don't feel obligated to answer," Akashi says, making his way out into the hallway.

"Akashi-kun," Furihata follows him, albeit shakily. He stands by his bedroom door, hanging onto the frame. "Please."

Akashi stops, his back still turned away. "'Please' what?"

"I just-" Furihata rolls his lips, fingers biting into the doorframe. "I just need to know you'll be safe."

Akashi scoffs, "…still playing the caretaker role, I see."

Furihata clenches his fists, "I care about you-"

"Don't," Akashi finally turns around to look at him, eyes blazing. "Don't say a word."

"Just-" Furihata shakes his head, "Please, just, at least tell me where you're going-"

"Kouki," Akashi's voice is hard, raw.

"I need to know," Furihata says, equally stubborn.

Akashi exhales harshly, bringing a hand to his forehead. He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing deep, before they slowly re-open; those red orbs trained on Furihata. Akashi opens his mouth, and in a completely neutral tone, says,

"Reo has an apartment in Tokyo."

Reo.

Furihata stills, stunned.

Mibuchi Reo.

Mibuchi Reo with his long hair and long eyelashes and long limbs draping all over Akashi, with his melodious voice and coy-flirty smile, gorgeous emerald eyes all sweet and honey-glazed when they look at Akashi. Mibuchi Reo who plays basketball and knows about shogi and tofu soup. Mibuchi Reo who used to kiss and roll around in bed with Akashi.

Furihata feels dizzy.

And Akashi is walking to the door and walking away from him, walking away to go to Mibuchi Reo who is probably going to cuddle him and peck his cheek and sleep with him—

And before Furihata even realizes what he is doing, he's already grabbed onto the back of Akashi's shirt like he's clinging for dear life.

Akashi is staring at him with disbelief. "Let go."

"I- I'm sorry," Furihata says, but his hands are still tightly holding on.

"Let go, Kouki." Akashi demands.

"I can't-" Furihata says, desperately stuttering. "I-I can't, I'm sorry, I just- you- I- I just can't-"

In a split second, Akashi flips their positions so that Furihata's back is pressed against the wall and Akashi is trapping him in between his arms. Akashi's hands are on either side of Furihata's head, and Akashi is glaring right at him, his expression dark, his eyes on the verge of murderous.

"You-" Akashi says through gritted teeth, "-are infuriating."

Furihata is trembling, "I'm s-sorry."

"Are you?" Akashi leans closer, voice low, "Because you keep doing this. You keep pulling me in and pushing me away, and then when I try to leave you won't let me."

Furihata nibbles on his lower lip, "I don't- I don't mean to jerk you around, that's not my intention-"

"Then tell me," Akashi sighs, "What do you want, Kouki?"

You. Furihata thinks, as he looks at Akashi who is right there in front of him, so close that he could smell the perfume from his collar. His hand twitches, wanting to touch, wanting it so much it's hard to focus.

Furihata swallows thickly, his voice small, "…I want you to stay."

Akashi's eyes soften only for a moment, before they re-harden, "That's not enough."

"I," Furihata whimpers, "I don't know what else I can-"

Akashi cuts him off, "Tell me why."

"Eh?"

"Why should I stay?" Akashi says, completely serious, eyes fixed on Furihata.

Because I want you to. Because I don't want you going to him, I don't want you spending time with him, I want you to stay here, right here, with me.

"Akashi-kun…" Furihata whispers his name like a plea.

"Give me a reason to stay," Akashi says, gentler this time. And he must have seen something in Furihata's eyes, because he grows gentler still as he lowers one hand to brush a strand of hair from Furihata's face.

Furihata shivers, chills rising over his arms. He mumbles, "If I ask you to stay, would you?"

"Give me a reason," Akashi murmurs, his hand now cupping Furihata's cheek.

I want you to stay.

I want you.

"I," Furihata chews on the insides of his cheek, "I don't have one."

"Of course you do," Akashi says, voice soft as he slips his free hand into Furihata's own. "I know you do."

Their palms slide against each other and, slowly, their fingers interlink, twining their hands together; Akashi's thumb running up and down the side of Furihata's index finger.

And even just that- just that tiny, insignificant motion makes Furihata feel like he's burning.

"Kouki," Akashi whispers, then says nothing else as he looks straight into Furihata's eyes, clasps Furihata's hand tight and—

-squeezes.

And Furihata can't- he can't breathe, can't think, can't function- because this. This. This is their thing; always has been, since Akashi was six and Furihata was sixteen, right up until now, and Furihata has always been able to interpret Akashi's hand squeezes like it's their own secret language, has always felt privileged that he alone is privy to this. And he just knows, he knows that right now, what Akashi is saying is-

'Please.'

-Furihata can't.

He can't anymore.

Because resisting Akashi is like resisting gravity and Furihata can't anymore.

Wordlessly, Furihata reaches his free hand up to rest behind Akashi's neck, his trembling fingertips sliding into the roots of his soft red hair like he always, always, wanted to do.

Akashi freezes. He stares hard, unblinking.

Then Furihata nods, once, the smallest tilting forward of his head, as he meets his eyes and squeezes Akashi's hand back, his voice coming out in one breath, "Akashi-kun-"

Furihata doesn't even get a chance to properly start his sentence before Akashi is shoving him up against the wall and kissing him, hard.

Yes. Yes, yes, gods yes, finally-

Their mouths crash against each other, lips mushing, teeth clanging – and it's not romantic, not in the slightest – Akashi hands gripping onto him so tightly it'll likely – no, definitely – leave bruises, black and blue, but right now Furihata cannot imagine a single thing that would feel better. Nothing could possibly feel better than Akashi's hands all over him, kissing him like he's starving—

Yes.

"Open your mouth," Akashi commands in between the kisses, his voice half-growl and half-beg and Akashi, Akashi Seijuuro, does not do either of these things, but right now he doesn't care. "Open your mouth for me."

Furihata does.

And he cannot help the moan that escapes the back of his throat when their tongues brush against each other. Neither can he help his two hands going around Akashi's neck, shamelessly clinging onto him, fingers sifting through his hair, kissing him back just as hard, all the while with his mind chanting, screaming- finally, finally—

"Kouki," Akashi groans, fastening his lips back on Furihata, staking his claim again and again. And when that becomes not enough anymore, he leans his head over to Furihata's neck and bites.

Furihata whines, shuddering, shaking, hands clenching on Akashi's shoulders.

"Kouki," Akashi says his name again, as though in a trance, as he sucks on the angle of his jaw. His arms are all the way around Furihata's waist now, clutching him close, pressing him so hard he is almost bending Furihata in half. Mine. "Kouki."

"S-" Furihata gasps when Akashi bites down on his collarbone just a little too hard, but it's still good, and hearing Akashi's voice calling his name like that, like he craves him… that's good, too. And Furihata doesn't even realize that he's saying anything as the words leave his lips in a breathless whimper.

"S-Sei-kun…"

Akashi may as well have been stabbed through the heart for the impact that has on him.

He grabs at Furihata and pulls him into a tight embrace, their chests pressed close enough to feel the rapid thumping of their heartbeats, and Akashi buries his face into the side of Furihata's neck. They stay like that, still for a moment, silent apart from their thudding chests and shaky breaths.

"If this is your trick of making me stay," Akashi murmurs against his neck, "It's working."

Furihata's lips are still tingling, and he hugs Akashi's closer, "It's not a trick."

Akashi hums, "I don't want it to be."

"There's no trick," Furihata says again. "I just…" Furihata looks down, rolling in his lips, before he looks up at Akashi from under his lashes, his face bright red as he whispers, "…I want you."

Akashi groans, his voice throaty with desire. "You are not fair."

A giggle bubbles out of Furihata's chest and he can't help himself – he's not felt so giddily excited, so elatedly happy in forever.

Akashi pulls back to look at him, his eyes warm as he watches Furihata giggle against his shoulders. He pinches Furihata's cheek, "Don't laugh at me."

Furihata only smiles up brightly at him, still laughing lightly, "Heh, but you're just so cu- mmph-!"

Without warning, Akashi tilts Furihata's chin up and kisses him full on the lips, mid-laughter.

This time, it is slow.

It is gentle and soft and sensual, and Furihata finds himself melting into it immediately, all giggles drowned away by the sudden rush of heat spreading over his body.

This time, it is romantic. It is one of those famed stomach-butterflies-inducing, toes-curling, baby-making, imaginary fireworks shooting off in the background kind of kisses. And it makes Furihata absolutely weak at the knees.

Akashi is merciless, kissing Furihata until he's dazed and breathless, kiss-swollen and boneless in Akashi's arms.

"…not fair," Furihata mumbles weakly when it's over, leaning his head against Akashi's chest.

"I'd like to stay here tonight," Akashi says, his smile only an angle away from a smirk. "If you'd let me."

Furihata only looks at him dazedly, "Not fair."

Akashi blinks, "Is that a no?"

"You know it isn't," Furihata huffs.

Akashi is definitely grinning now, and he squishes Furihata into him. "Lift your legs."

"My- my legs…?" Furihata is confused. "Uwah-!"

Furihata yelps when Akashi suddenly scoops him up from underneath his thighs, and he can do nothing but wrap his legs around Akashi's waist and cling to his neck to stop himself from falling. It suddenly occurs to Furihata that he is straddling Akashi, and that's obscene, and his heart is jumping out of his throat because Akashi is definitely carrying him in the direction of his bedroom and- quite frankly, Furihata doesn't have anything left in him to fight it.

With every step that Akashi takes him closer to the bedroom, Furihata feels his body growing warmer, hotter still in Akashi's arms, his skin on fire at every point of contact. It's almost to the point where it's near painful to be this close to Akashi and yet, somehow, still not close enough.

Because physical contact, no matter how electrifying it is, it's- just that. Just physical contact. And what Furihata wants- what he needs is…

Furihata asks, quietly. "…are you still drunk?"

Akashi stops walking, pausing just in front of Furihata's bedroom. He thinks about it for a moment.

Furihata watches him.

"No," Akashi says, eventually. Then, after a breath, adds, "And I don't want to pretend to be, either."

"…no?"

"I don't want to give you an excuse," Akashi says, more open and honest and vulnerable than Furihata has ever seen, "For wanting me. This is- it's real for me, Kouki. And I-"

Furihata holds his breath.

Akashi looks at him, "I need it to be real for you, too."

And Furihata swears his chest could've been speared right through, because that is exactly what he needs, exactly what he wanted to say himself, and god, he cannot believe how perfect- Akashi is perfect, he is perfect, and-

Deep down, Furihata always has known. He's always known that resisting Akashi is like resisting gravity, is like resisting the inevitable, and Furihata can't-

He can't.

And, honestly, he doesn't want to. Not anymore.

"Okay," Furihata whispers as he leans in to kiss Akashi sweetly on the lips. When he moves back, his brown eyes are wet at the lashes. Furihata shakes his head, "…I don't need any excuses, Sei-kun."

And seeing the way Akashi's face splits into a smile at that-

-well, it makes Furihata realize that he'll never be able to resist anything from this man ever again.

A/N: I'm so sincerely sorry it took so long for this update D: It's just the more the tension builds up, the more I want this to be great. So between life demands and me scrapping away far too many versions before I am finally happy- it just took wayyy longer than I wanted it to. So do let me know if you've enjoyed it! I read each and every one of your comments and they literally make my day :) As always, thank you for reading and supporting this fic xx