ᴀᴋᴀᴀꜱʜɪ confessed his feelings in a handwritten note.
he felt silly, really. a grown man, working a full time job and living on his own as a (mostly) fully functioning adult, and he couldn’t seem to say how much he cared for you to your face? it was a shame how much akaashi’s overthinking truly held him back. he was a handsome man, with a tall, lean—though recently gone softer—build, a full head of soft and healthy hair, and a pair of beautiful chocolate brown eyes that had the ability to bring anyone to their knees.
but his mind betrayed him often, acting as his own worst enemy.
before he psyched himself out this time, though, he grabbed a pen and paper from his desk drawer. before he lost the courage, he wrote a note from the heart, explaining how wonderful you were—how you helped him believe in himself, offered advice and listening ears when needed, and brightened his days every moment you were on his mind—which was all the time, actually.
he hastily folded the note in the envelope, signed your name on the front, and placed it on your desk face-down before you and his other coworkers returned from lunch break.
and you did see it. reading every word over and over and over, your cheeks felt hot, stained scarlet.
akaashi didn’t want to look, but even if you didn’t feel the same, it was like a trainwreck—he couldn’t look away. in his peripheral, he saw—
you putting the letter away like it was nothing?!
his brows furrowed, confusion settling over his features. he was expecting you to at least meet his gaze; he wanted to see your pretty eyes, even if it was you rejecting him.
but then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. you were ethereal, destined to be his version of the epitome of beauty, his definition of divinity. you were intelligent, quick to match wits with any man who dared to challenge your skills in the workplace. you were incredibly funny—to the point that his drink (embarrassingly) once shot out of his nose at dinner when you told a story (he went home and took a shot of something stronger afterwards).
how could you, the embodiment of perfection, love a man like him, who fought gruesome wars in his mind on the daily?
this was, of course, until later that evening where you both were out at dinner with mutual friends. you mentioned an anonymous note, and that was when akaashi realized.
he forgot to sign the letter.
a/n: oh, akaashi…🙂↔️🙂↔️
please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2025.
