Absurdism - doctrine that we live in an irrational universe

It had been three weeks since Kōki had seen Seijūrō, and he hadn't been happier and felt more free in years. Instead of being woken up at six by persistent text messages he could lay in a bit (pondering how nice it was to be lonely) and he could walk to school in his own bloody time instead of being picked up by a bloody private car sent by the bloody Emperor.

Apart from one blip when he felt so desperately lonely and the house felt so empty that he almost picked up the phone to call him. He had managed to resist, though, and felt so disgusted that his primary instinct was to call Seijūrō and not his parents who, though living a couple of hundred miles away, could be there in a little over a couple of hours if he really needed them. To really tell himself that he would get over the temporary insanity he threw away anything that related to Seijūrō and systematically went through his phone to delete his number and all photos and every text message which had been sent between them, as well as every email on his computer (he was ashamed now at the types of emails he'd sent to Seijūrō in the height of their affection). Seijūrō had probably done the same anyway, with a lot less heartbreak.

Although, the walk to school was a bit boring, he had to admit. He'd forgotten just how long it was and how the unchanging road continued for ages. The first couple of times he underestimated just how long it was and had to sprint the last half-kilometre - thank goodness for Riko's crazy training routine or he never would have had the stamina to keep such a pace up. But after a while he got used to not having someone to wake him up or take him to school or be with on a Saturday when he had nothing but homework to do.

He'd gotten used to, as well as everything else, Seijūrō texting him to tell him what the weather was like as it would determine what they would be doing that evening. And one morning when he was running late he got outside without checking to see that the sky was heavy and overcast and just over a quarter of the way there the heavens opened and a spectacular downpour began, immediately drenching Kōki to the bone.

He wrapped the quickly-pitiful jacket tighter around his body and ducked his head with a groan. He hadn't even brought an extra set of clothes.

A car pulling up next to caught his attention when the door opened - Kōki skittered backwards; was someone trying to kidnap him for ransom or something? his parents weren't rich, and he had no particular connections who would be interested, oh god, was he going to be sold into slavery? - but he recognised the car. And promptly wished that it was in fact a slave trader.

"Can we talk?" Seijūrō said. Kōki ignored him and continued walking. Worse than a slave driver. Much worse.

"Kōki!" Seijūrō sounded offended. That bastard.

When Kōki continued walking Seijūrō got out of the car and ran to him to grab his arm. "We need to talk, Kōki."

No matter how much he struggled he couldn't release himself from Seijūrō so he settled for glaring at him. "You said everything you needed to."

"Don't tell me about what I need to say, Kōki."

The laugh Kōki gave sounded more like a sob, and some of the water coming down his face was too warm to be rainwater but he gave one last struggle. Seijūrō reluctantly let him go. "Same old Akashi, I see," he said harshly.

"Not exactly," he answered.

Kōki pushed his hair back furiously. "Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?"

Seijūrō only gazed at him with wide eyes for a moment, which didn't help Kōki's composure. Why was it that he still had such an effect on him? "No, I don't," he answered. "I'm just telling you how it is."

He'd never hated anyone as much as he hated Seijūrō at that moment. For a moment, he was honestly worried that he would do something like punch him or push him into the path of a car. "Just…" he bit his lip hard and lifted up a hand when Seijūrō started to move closer. "Leave me alone. I just want to go back to my old life and forget everything that happened."

"Let me just explain."

"You already explained everything, Akashi." And that he had. It had been a bet, nothing more, instigated when Kuroko said that Seijūrō wouldn't be able to make whoever he wanted fall in love with him. A bet. Everything was a fucking bet.

And the worst part was that Seijūrō had won.

Kōki broke away from him and walked on, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, wishing that he had the disposition and bravery to actually hit him.

"Just leave me alone, Akashi."

What he hadn't expected, though, was for Seijūrō to move to block him and drop to his knees. "Fine. You know me. You know I'd never be in this position. But I'm begging you, Kōki."

"What are you doing?"

"What I should have done from the beginning."

Kōki watched him uncertainly. Somehow, even in this posture he managed to keep some of his regality. Even with his hair dripping and his clothes clinging to him he had a beauty which was wholly inaccessible to Kōki. "Just get up, Seijūrō."

He only realised when Seijūrō's expression turned painfully hopeful that he'd used his given name. But, in fact, it didn't make him heed Kōki's words more; he merely caught hold of Kōki's hands and remained on his knees. "This is nothing compared to what you deserve, Kōki."

He certainly always had known how to turn a phrase into something compelling and beautiful with those eyes. Kōki's resolve was battered at relentlessly; he felt like a tree in a storm.

Envisioning himself as a willow, he pulled Seijūrō up. "Don't. There's no point."

"Kōki…"

"It's not like it would have worked." For some stupid reason he still kept hold of Seijūrō's hands. "We're not on the same level, Akashi."

"No. You're by far my superior in everything that matters." Kōki closed his eyes and shook his head. He wasn't a willow, he was an oak tree snapping and getting struck by lightning and everything was being torn away from him. "Let me give you a ride to school."

Kōki plucked at his soaked jacket. "I'm taking a day off. And I'm already soaked so it doesn't matter."

But if one thing hadn't changed it was that Seijūrō was easily stronger than him and forced him into the car, ignoring his struggles and protests. "You'll catch your death, Kōki. You'll take the car home."

The driver didn't even need directions, just 'Kōki's house, please' to start him going in the right direction. Kōki moodily stared out of the window, until a soft fabric started brushing his hair back. "What…?" He turned back to see Seijūrō patting at his hair with a towel and flinched back.

"Sorry." He meekly handed Kōki the towel.

Kōki turned back to the window. "Why did you even come here?"

"Because I want to try again."

"Try what again? We weren't even in a real relationship."

"I'll get on my knees again, Kōki."

"There's no need for that."

"I'll prove to you a thousand times over that I love you."

He said it so earnestly that Kōki almost believed him. His acting skills were certainly formidable; Kōki wondered that he hadn't joined the drama club.

"And I'll do my best to be worthy of you." He bowed his head slightly.

The crowning touch, really. Such a position of subservience… the car stopped in the driveway and the door swung open automatically.

Kōki didn't move, though. His stomach sank like a rock in a pond but he still pressed a quick kiss to Seijūrō's lips before shaking his head and stepping out.

The text that came when he'd gotten inside and firmly locked the doors came from an unknown number, but could only be one person.

A thousand times over. I promise.

And Kōki knew he would succeed, in the end.

He was absolute, after all.

—

Omake

When the doorbell rang a couple of hours later (whilst Kōki was wrapped in a blanket still shivering) the fact that he hoped it was Seijūrō didn't scare him as much as it probably should have. It hadn't taken much, then, to work himself back into Kōki.

The rain was still coming down outside and Kōki didn't even let him talk before he pulled him in and kissed him. He made a sound of surprise - he'd managed to surpriseAkashi Seijūrō - and Kōki was surprised by how much they were both trembling. Being with someone in that way, with the entire future stretching out in front of them, Kōki realised that the wind battering at him wasn't Seijūrō's doing but his own, some psychological representation of his loneliness and stubbornness. And who better to harness the wind but Seijūrō?