“Akashi,” Furihata whispers, breath coming in shallow pants. His hands are clenched for warmth at his sides, having forgotten his gloves, something Akashi must remember to gently scold him for later.
“Yes, Furihata?” Akashi whispers back, allowing the quiet atmosphere to guide his tone. A few minutes ago, they had been walking the lonely streets of the shopping quarter just a few blocks from Furihata’s quiet suburb, when the brunet had gently tugged at the fabric covering Akashi’s elbow. Thus, they were now standing face to face just before a crosswalk they were about to cross. The street was similarly abandoned thanks to the chill in the air, but that had done little to daunt Furihata as it had the rest of Tokyo. He always did get a little restless when stuck inside for too long, especially on the weekends. Especially when Akashi rode the train all the way from Kyoto, just to see him.
At the brunet’s lapse into silence, the redhead steps slightly closer, one brow furrowing in worry. “Furihata?” His hand comes up as if to touch, but just as quickly lowers itself back to his side.
Furihata startles out of his reverie at Akashi’s smooth voice, having raised slightly to gain back his attention. “S-sorry,” he stammers, and, really, he was useless. Furihata shakes his head before looking down at the ground, at their feet. Wasn’t that curious? Akashi having stepped closer meant their feet were now practically touching. They were now as close as two people could be without being in each other’s arms. The brunet’s face colors at the overly sentimental rot clouding his brain. But still, he wonders how close their noses would be if he looks up, being the second (third?) longest body part to jut outward. He suddenly wants to look up more than ever, but his stomach rolls at the idea of looking into the eyes of the boy he was embarrassing himself in front of. His hands unclench and come together in front of his body, now clasping together in a nervous fidget.
Akashi was growing even more concerned at the nervous display before him, even as his heart warms at the adorableness of it. Really, it was impossible to feel cold around Furihata. Akashi suppresses a chuckle at the sentimentality. However, there was truth to it. This time when he reaches his hand out, it does make contact, his fingers gently latching under Furihata’s chin, still soft from youth. Akashi briefly wonders if Furihata would ever grow hair in that spot. He hopes he’s around to see it. He tilts the brunet’s face up to look at him, the redhead’s eyes roving the plains and juts, an action he would never tire of. Furihata is beautiful.
“Don’t be sorry. Tell me what’s on your mind,” he soothingly commands, his voice falling back to a whisper.
Furihata is powerless to the soft command. “I-I,” he starts, losing his nerve. They had been walking, earlier, Akashi lightly telling him about the goings-on of Rakuzan and his team, (avoiding his family life as he usually did on happier days), the brunet brightly chirping in when conversation dictated, when he suddenly felt something well up inside of him, like a balloon being filled with too much air, ready to burst at any moment. And so, he had stopped their walk without much further thought. He had something important he had to say, he just needed the nerve to do it.
“Yes?” Akashi prompts. Having never been the sort for patience, it was curious how endless his supply of it was when it came to Furihata. His and the brunet’s teammates always made sure to teasingly comment on it, usually at the expense of Furihata. However, Akashi never paid it any thought. To him, it was simply something else that was extraordinary about his rival Point Guard, among the endless list of other things. Something of note, but not to worry about.
“I just wanted to say that…” Furihata sucks in a breath here. Akashi’s hand now rests on the brunet’s cheek (as soft as his chin) having migrated at his earlier stammer. Something else to note, but not to worry. The redhead waits, not pushing, afraid Fuirhata might lose his already frazzled way if he interferes too much. “I-I really like you, Akashi-kun. A-and I never want to not be in your life…” At this, the brunet really did fizzle, the balloon gently letting out the air instead of popping. Still, Furihata couldn’t help but think there was something else.
At his confession, Akashi’s ears become pink and not because of the chill. His mouth fell open, (“you’ll catch flies!” the brunet once said between barking laughs) staring in awe and wonder at his friend. “I…” it was his turn to frazzle. He was used to loyalty, of course, but not of the sort Furihata willingly handed him just now. The sweet and simple kind, given through free will and love, not through fear and force. “I would welcome that very much, Furihata-kun.” The redhead is now smiling broader than he has in days (seven, in fact, since the last time he saw Furihata). He would welcome that, very much. His hand falls to Furihata’s shoulder, squeezing once, before turning around to continue their pleasant walk.
Furihata isn’t done. He’s still overcome with the desire to confess…what? He has no idea, just knows that calling “wait!” to the retreating redhead is the correct course, because something is now fluttering within him, cutting at his insides, like butterflies with knives for wings.
Luckily, Akashi turns abruptly at the word, Furihata rushing back up to his spot in front of him, feet-to-feet, nose-to-nose. “I love you!” he blurts, no rhyme or reason, but he does. He does. He feels it, knows it like the Psalms he reads in church on Sundays. Knows it like a softly whispered prayer said before bed or mealtime. Warmth always washes over him in those quiet, reverent moments, as they do when he’s around the redhead. Simple, pure love. Something of note, but not to worry about.
This is the second time today the redhead has been rendered speechless, an act that he doesn’t usually enjoy, having much to say about very many things, but it’s not unpleasant so he lets the moment pass. None too soon that he does, does he have a boisterous, blushing brunet jump on him, arms crossing around his neck, and panting breath wetting the side of his neck. The surprise jolts him and on instinct his own arms come round the brunet’s waist. Soft iloveyou, iloveyou, iloveyous, are being whispered like a fervent chant into his skin. Lips brushing him around the “you”, making him shiver and blush himself.
“Furihata…” Akashi breathes, “Furihata!” Furihata bursts up from his burrowing place in Akashi’s side, his face a more vibrant red than the redhead’s own hair. Giving him no time to recover, he smashes his lips to the brunet’s, not caring they’re in public. His own insides had been filling up with an unnamed need to do something about their growing friendship, but he hadn’t the guts Furihata had. No matter now, he thought, working his lips against his mousy Furihata’s. They were plush, like warm pillows, and soft as clouds. Unbidden, Furihata makes a whimpering noise, his hands moving themselves to Akashi’s hair. Prompted by the action, Akashi swipes his tongue across his brunet’s lower lip, earning him a delicious noise that travels straight to his groin.
Just as suddenly as it starts, it stops, Akashi slamming the brakes by grasping narrow shoulders and pushing backwards. “Furihata…” he breathes again. Their faces now match, looking like twin tomatoes still attached to the stem. They’re now looking everywhere but at each other, their sudden passion moments earlier leaving them unable to function.
Furihata recovers seconds before Akashi does, and looks up at him from beneath his fringe. “So…does this mean the feeling is mutual?” He means it jokingly, but his pulse is frantically picking up speed all the same. He couldn’t stand it if Akashi had just been teasing him.
Akashi smiles gently, his hands dropping from Furihata’s shoulders to adjust the lapel of his winter coat. “Furihata, there is nothing and nobody in this world that makes me feel as calm and peaceful as you do. There is no way I am ever letting you leave my side. Not after that.” And at that, he catches one of Furihata’s fidgeting hands, tugging the brunet along to continue their noon-day walk. Nothing will separate him from me now.
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