elusivecharcoal

You sat, cross-legged, on the carpet in front of the low table. The wood felt cold and smooth against your cheek as you rested your head against its glossy surface.

It was cold outside. The clouds quickly grew grey and heavy, and soon it began to rain, hard enough that the trees shook, and the wind started to howl.

“Hey, Akashi?”

The red-haired captain looked up from where he was seated, across from your slumped figure, pen in hand. Many pieces of lined paper, neatly marked with black ink, were stacked in front of him.

“Yes?” He asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

A wave of sadness rippled through you when you heard how tired he sounded. The thought of how much pressure he was under, from schoolwork, his teachers, the basketball team, and his father, was mind-numbing.

“It’s getting late. You should come to bed.”

There was a moment of silence in the vast room. Raindrops hurtled themselves at the roof, splattering on the shingles and leaving a trail of moisture in their wake.

Akashi sighed. You could almost feel his indecision wavering between choosing to stay up for a few more hours and retiring to bed earlier than usual. Minutes passed, and you began to hear the pen once again scratching dutifully away at the paper.

Feeling another rush of melancholy, you inhaled the scent of the fresh wood of the table and closed your eyes.

The whisper escaping from your lips was so quiet that it was almost inaudible.

“Please.”

At this, the movement of the pen quickly tapered off, until eventually, the only sounds in the room were that of the bullet-like rain and of yours and Akashi’s breathing. You kept your eyes closed, wondering when he would finally stop to rest.

Moments later, you felt someone move near you, their breath warm and reassuring. Akashi leaned down to where you were slumped over the table and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

His voice was soft, almost relieved, when he finally spoke.