[ 𝟏𝟎:𝟎𝟕 𝐏𝐌 ] — 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 (𝐀𝐊𝐊𝐔𝐍)
“i win,” you chuckle, and atsushi stops brooming for a second, turning to where you look out the window. the small flecks of snow falling are enough to spread a wide grin across your face—and he knows it’s not just because you won the silly bet he’d made with you earlier. “it snowed tonight.”
who knew the stupidest things kept love interesting, he thinks to himself, shaking his head as he sets the broom down.
“snow couldn’t have waited until tomorrow to fall?” he groans, and you smile smugly to yourself, pressing your face against the glass to get a better look at the small white flakes that fall.
“look how pretty,” you murmur, and he grins to himself at the fog that spreads across the glass as you speak, walking up to you.
“back up from my window,” he pokes your side, making you glare at him. “it’s new, your nose pressing against it is gonna ruin it before i can get my first client,” he teases, and maybe the stupidest things are meant to keep the spark alive because you can’t seem to hide the smile fighting on your lips, and he can’t seem to get enough of the sight.
“very excited to see you wipe the windows,” you snort. “maybe now you’ll learn to clean up after yourself.” pouting slightly, atsushi grabs your hips, pulling you close as his head slots itself to its rightful place—securely tucked into your neck. and when your fingers thread through his locks, he thinks that maybe things will all work out somehow.
you give him that faith, and he holds onto it. fears melt and worries cease to exist when you’re around, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll find a way out of all the hurdles together.
“i clean,” he mumbles. “never said i was good at it, but i do it,” he insists. laughing, you rub over his back, taking in the little salon before you, pride swelling in your chest. it’s all his, and you can’t stop the small cluster of emotion from forming, squeezing him tighter against you.
“your apartment’s a mess,” you shake your head, and he squeezes you tighter, throat dry from the question stuck in it. “you can’t clean to save your life. ‘s okay, you got me,” you hum. and he wants to let the words out so badly, now more than ever.
just ask, he tells himself, and each time, atsushi fails miserably.
“you can,” he blurts, making you glance down at him. “clean, i mean.” furrowing your brows, you process his words.
and god does atsushi want to die, he wants to slam his head against his brand new glass window and wither away. maybe he should’ve given up like usual this time, it wouldn’t have been as bad as this.
“n-no, i mean like…clean my apartment, and…n-not that i think you’re like…a cleaner or anything…cause why would i? you’re not…that’s not what i think of you,” he rambles, and by now, his face isn’t tucked into your neck comfortably anymore. instead, it’s in front of you as he looks down and speaks, and the new lights he’d set up just the other day bring out the little specs in his eyes perfectly.
you bite back a chuckle as your boyfriend rambles away, trying his best to save face. and you shouldn’t—you’d be awfully mean if you did—but you can’t help but add a little more anxiety to his plate.
“so, are you asking me to be your personal cleaner or something?” you raise a brow, and panic settles into his expression even further, and you almost feel bad. almost, but he’s too cute this way, and you’re nothing if not a little obnoxious—it’s just the way things go.
“no! of course not…y-you…i was just…i-i thought that, you know…?” he doesn’t quite know what he’s saying at this point, and it takes all you have not to laugh.
“you thought why not get me to do your dirty work for you? gonna make me clean this window for you too,” you point to the glass behind you, and atsushi whines, digging his face back into your neck, slumping his weight into you as you chuckle.
“you’re being mean,” he groans.
“sorry, baby,” you giggle. “just couldn’t help it.”
and now, determination settles into him, and he’s going to ask you this damn question if it’s the last thing he does. six fancy restaurants, four home dates, and two perfect chance opportunities later, and atsushi still hasn’t asked you to move in with him, and he’s sick of being a coward—he’s brave, he’s been up against worst, and he’s lived.
“you can have my apartment,” he blurts out. and by now, he thinks he should just give up at this point, it’s clear this isn’t going to go right no matter what he does. slumping into you, he sighs, and you let out a quiet giggle.
“aww, that’s sweet. the whole thing? you’d let me have it?”
“forget it,” he says glumly, but the small kiss you press to the side of his head lifts his spirits some.
“is this your dorky little way of asking me to come live with you?”
“is this your mean little way of saying yes?” he counters, but a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips, and atsushi thinks that even if his delivery wasn’t all that great, the stupidest of things keep love interesting anyway.
“i move in, be your little cleaner, greet you in a cute little outfit, is that the plan?” rolling his eyes, he pulls out of your neck once more, pressing his forehead to yours. and the new lights of his salon bring the specs in your eyes out too.
“depends. are you on board?” chuckling, you pinch his cheek, and your smile is contagious, he can’t fight the large grin that spreads across his own face—and you haven’t even said yes yet.
“i’ll think about it,” you say, and he pouts playfully, pressing a soft kiss to your nose.
“i’ll upgrade you from cleaner to roommate. how’s that? i’ll help with the cleaning too,” he offers. maybe, just maybe, atsushi thinks, things might be okay after all. he’s got you, and the constant fear of his life behind the scenes dissipates when you’re around.
“you suck at cleaning,” you remind him, “but yes. i’ll take it.” and with a soft kiss shared between the two of you, you both seal the deal.
