When you agreed to this fake relationship with Bokuto, this was not what you had in mind… at all.

You had expected something simple, minimal, convincing enough to satisfy your coworkers without requiring the two of you to completely destroy your sense of peace in the process. What you had not expected was for Bokuto to commit to the role like his life depended on it.

It started the very next morning after you introduced your boyfriend to your friends at the cafe.

You had barely settled into your seat when someone near the entrance to your department suddenly let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like barely restrained excitement. You looked up just in time to see Bokuto walking in with two coffee cups in hand.

Your stomach dropped instantly.

“Oh,” Yui said from somewhere behind you, voice dripping with amusement. “Look who’s here.”

You immediately sat up straighter as Bokuto made his way over, completely unbothered by the attention already following him through the office.

“Morning,” he said easily, holding out one of the drinks toward you.

You stared at him. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.” He grinned. “But boyfriends do this kinda thing, right?”

Before you could even process that sentence properly, Bokuto leaned down slightly and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

Your brain shut off. Actually shut off.

The entire department erupted instantly with a mix of squeals, and gasps, and ohmygods. Heat exploded across your face so fast it physically hurt.

Meanwhile Bokuto just straightened back up like he hadn’t detonated a bomb in the middle of your morning.

“See you at lunch?” he asked casually.

You stared at him for a full second before managing a weak, completely incoherent nod.

“Cool,” he said brightly, then walked away like nothing had happened.

The second he disappeared from your sight, you dropped your face directly into your hands. The teasing from your coworkers was merciless after that.

And somehow, Bokuto only got worse.

Every lunch break, he appeared outside your department at almost the exact same time, leaning casually against the wall while waiting for you like this had been your routine for years. At first, you tried walking normally beside him.

That lasted less than two days.

Each time you brought up the necessity of how openly affectionate he was being with you, his excuse would always be the same each time—

“Authenticity,” Bokuto had said solemnly after grabbing your hand in the hallway one afternoon.

“You cannot keep using that word to justify things,” you hissed, trying not to combust as several coworkers walked past.

“Yes I can.”

“No you can’t.”

“It helps the immersion.”

“There is no immersion!”

“There is for me.”

You nearly tripped over nothing. Bokuto, unfortunately, found your suffering hilarious.

The worst part was that he never acted embarrassed about any of it. Not the hand holding. Not the casual touches. Not the way he’d suddenly rest his chin on the top of your head while reading something over your shoulder, completely unaware of the psychological damage he was causing you.

One afternoon, you had been focused on replying to an email when Bokuto appeared behind your chair out of nowhere. You barely had time to register his presence before a warm hand landed gently on top of your head.

“There she is,” he said affectionately.

Your entire body froze.

Across the room, Mika made a sound like she was witnessing true love in real time. Meanwhile, you turned slowly in your chair to stare up at Bokuto in disbelief.

“…Why are you like this?”

“What?” he asked innocently. “You’re cute.”

You felt your soul leave your body.

Again.

And somehow, despite how absurd this entire arrangement was becoming, despite the embarrassment and the constant teasing and Bokuto’s apparently limitless dedication to authenticity—

You were beginning to get used to him.

That was the dangerous part.

At some point, your days had started unconsciously revolving around him. You noticed it slowly, in embarrassing little ways that crept up on you before you could stop them. Expecting to see him outside your department around lunchtime. Looking up whenever someone loud passed by because there was a decent chance it was Bokuto. Catching yourself glancing at your phone during slower parts of the day because he usually sent at least one stupid message before work ended.

It was bad… objectively bad. And apparently only getting worse.

“You’re sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” you muttered immediately.

Beside you, Bokuto made a noise that very clearly meant he didn’t believe you for even a second.

The two of you were standing near a food truck parked along the side of the street just outside the office building, the late afternoon air still warm from the sun. Around you, other office workers lingered in small groups, conversations blending into the distant noise of traffic and the occasional hiss coming from the grill behind the counter.

“I’m serious,” you continued. “He called me into his office over one formatting mistake. One.”

Bokuto nodded solemnly. “Tragic.”

“And then he kept talking about professionalism like I committed tax fraud.”

“Mm.”

“I fixed it in less than two minutes too.”

“That’s rough, buddy.”

You turned sharply toward him. “Can you stop sounding entertained?”

“I’m not entertained.”

“You literally are.”

“I’m listening very seriously right now.”

“You’re smiling.”

“That’s unrelated.”

You narrowed your eyes at him while Bokuto grinned shamelessly, entirely too pleased with himself as he leaned against the side of the truck.

The worst part was that he had been listening to you complain for nearly ten minutes now, and somehow you were still going.

“And another thing,” you continued before you could stop yourself, “why does he always act like the department is collapsing every time someone makes a tiny mistake? Like, relax. Nobody died.”

Bokuto hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe he just enjoys being a sadist.”

“Well, he should keep it contained to the damn bedroom.”

That finally made Bokuto laugh properly, loud enough that a few nearby people glanced over. The sound was like a sudden burst of sunshine—raw, unvarnished, and completely impossible to ignore. You watched him, his shoulders shaking with the force of it, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

He didn't care who was looking, didn't care about the line at the food truck or the mundane setting of a street corner. He just laughed until he had to catch his breath, and for a terrifying, fleeting moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be standing there beside him.

The domesticity of the moment hit you with the force of a physical blow. Standing there, waiting for lunch, trading complaints like a couple who had been doing this for years—it was a trap, a dangerously comfortable illusion.

And just as quickly as the warmth flooded your chest, you slammed the door on it.

You whipped your head away, staring intensely at the handwritten menu board of the food truck. Your heart was doing a frantic, traitorous rhythm against your ribs, and you felt the heat crawling up your neck. Get a grip, you hissed to yourself, the words a silent mantra. This is all fake.

Your attempts to reel yourself in were interrupted when his hand rested on your head. His touch was startlingly gentle, a warm, grounding weight that traced the line of your hair before retreating. You whipped your head around, eyes wide, only to find him looking down at you with a smile that felt dangerously soft—too fond, too genuine, far too real for someone who was supposed to be reading from a script. 

Then, he leaned in just enough to tilt his head, his voice dropping into a low, playful hum. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

The air practically vanished from your lungs. You nearly choked on your own saliva, a harsh, strangled noise escaping your throat before you lunged, smacking his hand away with a frantic, uncoordinated swipe.

“Go away,” you mumbled, your voice dropping to a desperate, shaky register.

You pivoted on your heel, putting your back to him and staring intensely at a nearby trash can as if it held the secrets to the universe. You could feel your face burning, the heat spreading from your cheeks all the way down to your collarbone, turning you a shade of red that you were certain was visible from space.

What the heck was that?

Your brain felt like it was short-circuiting. How could he say something like that so casually? So easily?

It was a line—a classic, textbook boyfriend line—but he delivered it with an offhanded comfort that made your pulse hammer against your ribs. Every rational part of your brain was screaming at you to remember the "fake" label, but your traitorous heart was busy doing backflips. You huddled further into yourself, desperately trying to cool down before he noticed you were completely falling apart.

You heard Bokuto chuckle softly, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate right through the space between you. Before you could retort, a voice from the food truck window barked out your order, cutting through your spiral. Bokuto stepped forward, effortlessly snagging the paper bag of tacos in one hand and expertly balancing the two drinks in the other, his movements smooth and practiced.

"Let's go, babe," he teased, his voice dropping into that infuriatingly smooth, affectionate tone again.

Your arm jerked forward, an instinctual, frustrated swat, but you caught yourself at the last millisecond. You didn't want to be the reason those drinks ended up all over the sidewalk. You settled for rolling your eyes so hard it almost hurt, your face still radiating heat. "Let me hold something," you insisted, reaching for the bag. "You're going to drop it."

Bokuto just shifted his weight, deftly dodging your hand with a grin. "Relax, I’ve got it. I've got a grip like a pro."

"Bokuto, really," you pressed, glaring at the precarious stack of cups. "If you drop anything, you're going back down there to buy another one. My lunch isn't going to be the victim of your overconfidence."

He laughed, that easy, infectious sound bubbling up again, making it impossible for you to stay genuinely annoyed. "Okay, okay! Point taken. I promise, the tacos are safe under my protection."

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you started walking towards the office. You were still vibrating with the lingering embarrassment of his earlier comment, but as he fell into step beside you, looking so completely unbothered and content, you couldn't help but wonder if you were ever going to survive this "fake" arrangement without completely losing your mind. 

The days after that blurred strangely in your memory.

Not because nothing happened, but because too many things did. Lunch breaks together became routine. Bokuto started appearing in your department often enough that nobody questioned it anymore. Your coworkers had fully accepted the relationship as fact, and unfortunately, Bokuto seemed determined to make it as believable as possible at every opportunity.

Which was why you now found yourself seated inside a karaoke room with a drink in hand and a growing sense of dread.

Mika and her boyfriend had just finished massacring a love song together to thunderous applause from the rest of the group. Laughter filled the room as Mika dramatically bowed from the couch before collapsing into her seat again, still wheezing.

“Okay, next!” Yui announced, grabbing the remote before tossing it toward Bokuto.

Without hesitation, he caught it one-handed. 

Your stomach immediately sank.

Bokuto leaned forward slightly, scrolling through the song selection screen while everyone else shouted suggestions over one another. The flashing lights from the television reflected across his face as he scanned lazily through the queue.

“Oh!” Yui suddenly pointed at the screen. “Add that one!”

Bokuto’s finger froze mid-air against the scrolling list. He leaned in, peering at the title Yui had pointed out, and a slow, lopsided grin spread across his face.

“Oh,” he said, his voice dropping into a tone of mock-seriousness. “This? This is actually the song I confessed with.”

The room went dead silent for a heartbeat, and then—

“What?!” Izumi shrieked, a laugh already bubbling up in her throat.

Bokuto stood up, unbothered by the collective gasp, and headed toward the front of the room. He glanced back over his shoulder at her, his expression perfectly deadpan. “Yeah. I’m serious. This is the song I confessed with.”

Your jaw dropped, your neck snapping toward him so fast a sharp jolt of pain shot through your spine. Excuse me? When had you ever agreed to a confession song? And more importantly, when had it ever been… that?

The room erupted.

“Wait, hold on!” Mika roared, clutching her stomach as she leaned back against the cushions. “You confessed with Justin Bieber?!”

Mei was already leaning heavily against Fumiko, both of them doubled over and wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. “No way! That’s actually a crime!”

“That is absolutely insane,” Yui added, cackling as she drummed her hands on her knees.

Izumi was shaking her head, grinning wildly. “That is the corniest thing I have ever heard in my entire life! You’re kidding, right?”

Bokuto didn’t even flinch at the roasting; he just leaned against the speaker, looking entirely pleased with himself. “Hey, at least it worked,” he said, flashing a grin that was far too bright. “She’s my girlfriend now, right?”

He nudged his head in your direction, and the room turned its collective gaze toward you. You could feel the heat radiating off your face, turning your skin a bright, indignant shade of crimson.

“Wow,” Mei laughed, pointing a finger at you while shaking her head. “I didn’t know you were one to fall for such obvious clichés. I thought you had standards!”

“I am not—” you started, your voice pitching up in a desperate attempt to defend your dignity, but Bokuto cut you off before you could even finish your sentence.

“She couldn’t help it,” he teased, winking at the group. “She thought I was charming.”

The room absolutely lost it. The girls were howling with laughter, and even Mika’s boyfriend let out a loud guffaw, standing up to dap Bokuto up in full support of his ridiculousness. Bokuto laughed along with them, his eyes finding yours with a look of pure, unadulterated mischief.

He turned back to the console and pressed the screen, the track blasting into the room immediately. He held out another microphone toward you, his eyebrow raised in a silent, playful challenge.

“Why not we sing it together?” he asked, his grin widening.

"What?" you squeaked, your voice barely audible over the beat pumping through the room.

The cheer from your friends was deafening. "Get up there!" Izumi shouted, clapping in time with the music. "Don't leave him hanging!"

Bokuto gave the microphone a playful shake, moving closer to you until you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "Why not? It’ll be fun," he promised, his eyes dancing with that familiar, maddening sparkle.

"It's a solo, though," you hissed, shaking your head so hard your hair whipped across your face. "You don't just 'make' it a duet. That's not how music works."

He just shrugged, looking entirely unbothered by your logical protest. "We can always make it into a duet if we take turns after each line. Come on, don't tell me you're scared of a little Biebs."

Knowing there was no way out—not with the entire group watching and Mika already filming with her phone—you begrudgingly reached out and snatched the microphone from his hand. You stalked to the front of the room, grumbling under your breath about how you were going to make him pay for this later.

As you stood next to him, the screen began to scroll the lyrics in vibrant, neon colors, and the performance was in play.

At first, it was exactly as chaotic as you expected. Bokuto sang like he had no shame at all, exaggerating every line, moving around the small space like he was performing for a stadium instead of a cramped karaoke room. You could barely keep up with your own lines without laughing, half embarrassed and half amused at how seriously unserious he was being.

The room was loud again, everyone reacting, cheering, laughing, completely absorbed in the performance.

And then, somewhere in the middle, it shifted.

It wasn’t obvious at first.

Bokuto was still singing, still moving, still playful—but when the song reached the bridge, his energy changed just slightly. He turned toward you without making a big show of it, and for a second, it felt like the noise in the room dulled in comparison.

He wasn’t grinning anymore. Just singing, and looking at you—not in a teasing way. Just… steady. Like the joke had stopped being a joke for half a breath too long.

Your hands tightened slightly around the microphone without you realizing it.

Then the moment passed just as quickly as it came.

Bokuto straightened again, laughter slipping back into his expression as the song moved forward, the room’s energy catching up once more.

By the time the chorus hit again, he was fully back in performance mode, pointing dramatically toward you as he sang the final part with exaggerated confidence.

“If I was your boyfriend—”

The room immediately exploded into cheers again.

Bokuto threw himself back into the chaos like nothing had happened, laughing loudly as he finished the song with way too much energy, completely shameless once more.

And you?

You just stood there for a second after it ended, still holding the microphone, still trying to understand why that brief moment in the middle felt louder than everything else combined.

By the time the song ended, the room had fully erupted again.

Cheers, laughter, and overlapping teasing voices filled the space as Mika practically collapsed into her boyfriend’s side, still laughing while everyone around them reacted to what had apparently been one of the most unnecessarily entertaining performances of the night. The energy didn’t settle; if anything, it lingered, warm and loud, like no one was quite ready to let go of the moment yet.

You let yourself be guided back to your seat beside Bokuto.

He dropped down easily next to you, as if he belonged there, and without thinking twice slung an arm over the back of your chair. Not around you, not fully, but close enough that you were very aware of him beside you in a way you couldn’t quite ignore.

Around you, the teasing continued.

“That was actually kind of insane.”

“He committed way too hard to that.”

“Why did that lowkey feel romantic though?”

You gave the appropriate reactions at the appropriate times—small laughs, brief smiles, just enough participation to not seem absent. But most of your attention wasn’t really on the group anymore.

It was stuck on him.

On the way he had looked at you during that brief shift in the song. The way the joking energy had softened for just a moment, like something underneath it had almost surfaced before being buried again just as quickly.

You shifted slightly in your seat, fingers tightening around your drink.

Get a grip.

This was still the same thing it had always been. Fake. Convenient. Something that worked because it had to.

Nothing more.

Bokuto, meanwhile, was laughing freely at something Mika’s boyfriend said across the table, completely relaxed, completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just taken up more space in your thoughts than he had any right to.

Then, without warning, he leaned slightly closer. His voice dropped just enough for only you to hear.

“See?” he said casually, like he was continuing a conversation that had nothing particularly important about it. “I knew we’d sound good together.”

Your breath caught for a second, but you didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t wait for one either.

Just as easily, he turned back toward the group again, laughing at something someone else had said, slipping right back into the conversation like nothing had happened at all. Like he hadn’t just left your thoughts in complete disarray.

You sat there very still, very aware of the arm resting behind you, very aware of how close he was. And then, almost without thinking, your gaze drifted back toward him, enough to look at him properly from the side.

He was smiling at something Fumiko said, eyes bright, posture relaxed, completely at ease in the middle of everyone.

And you just… watched him. A little longer than you meant to, quiet in a way no one else would notice. But something in you, for the first time, didn’t move away from it.

you’re confused.

why were you told by your parents to meet up with them at keiji’s dorm? why were you told to stand side by side with keiji, and why are both of your parents here?

this is so unlike… any of them to do.

it's either they finally got to their senses, or they pulled a ultra combo move and teamed up to break the two of you up. the latter makes more sense, but, why?

your parents look at keiji’s mom. they gave a knowing nod, and turned back to the both of you.

they hate each other. why would they team up? what is up their sleeve? do they have their own hidden agendas here? is this going to be a battle? this is like, negative and negative... maybe the math is true? when they're multiplied...

your brain is malfunctioning right now.

“we’re… sorry.”

silence fills the room.

you and keiji? confused. your parents? looking... different. actually... apologetic. you think so. you've never seen them do that a lot anyway.

it takes a while before your mom breaks the silence.

“we… we’re sorry we took this long. it’s embarrassing to say it took all of this to happen to make things better.”

“yes. we have seen enough, and,” keiji’s mom joins quietly, “we understand.”

you glance at keiji, confused, while he’s looking intrigued at this new side he was seeing.

this is weird.

“actually, i saw yn the other day when i was going to meet you, keiji. she was having a meeting, i assume for some organization she's a part of.” his mom explains, and this surprises the both of you.

keiji remembers - this is why she didn’t come over that day.

"i'm sorry for accidentally spying on you, but,"

she continues,

“yn, you’re passionate. and i have seen that myself. i apologize for making you feel like i did not recognize you. i was wrong for that." she tilts her head for a light bow in apology.

“i… thank you.” you slowly reply, still sinking in what was happening.

“since i saw you there, i’ve been thinking that… maybe i was the one who was distracted. not you, nor keiji. honestly, maybe you guys had it together this whole time. we were the only ones making it worse.”

she looks up to look at you, guilty.

these words are… you’d never think this would come out of their mouths.

“and keiji,”

she now turns to her son. his eyes widen a bit, paying immediate attention.

“i’m sorry for putting so much pressure on you. even when i did, you did not fail. once.” she takes a step forward towards her son, caressing his arm.

“i realized how much i was letting you go through, and i couldn’t even let you be in love. that’s…”

she shakes her head lightly in regret.

“i’m sorry. you don’t need to prove anything to me. i’m so sorry i made you think you had to.”

she caresses her son’s cheek, “thank you for being the best son.” she smiles apologetically, hoping it reaches him somehow.

“i know the wound i gave you isn’t easy to heal, but i’ll be patient, like you did with me.” she taps his arm again, and takes a step back to where she was.

keiji was speechless, his eyes watering.

he couldn’t believe the words he had heard from his mom. it feels like it wasn’t his mom - he honestly feels skeptical, but… he always wanted to hear that from her.

his lips part, finding the words to say.

“i… i’m glad you think that way now, mom. thank you for your words. i appreciate it.”

he gives her a small smile, and looks away, hoping a tear doesn’t fall. you console him by rubbing his back, and he relaxes into you.

you give him an assuring smile as he glances at you.

that night when you both met after he went to your house, you could see it in his eyes. he was genuinely hurt and disappointed.

keiji’s a man of diligence. whatever he believed in, he would work hard to get it. so you could see how frustrated he was when he couldn’t convince both of your parents - even if there was absolutely no evidence for them not to.

and even when he was hurt, he never went over the line. you think everything that keiji has did over the past few weeks were valid and right. never once, did he do anything that was selfish or rash.

he's perfect, really. makes you think you want to make him feel that he doesn't have to be perfect all the time. he can be just your keiji.

“we’re sorry too, keiji.” your mom says.

“we can see how you are with our daughter, and you really lift her up.”

“being the nosy parents we are, we saw your posts online.”

another surprise of the night. well, not that surprising.

“we were upset at first, but,” she glances at you,

“when we saw how much you made her happy, and how much she was enjoying herself…” you see her eyes tear up, so she looks back at keiji,

“it… we… started to feel wrong.”

“we… take back what we said.”

your dad finally speaks up. now, this is making you cry too.

“we see your intentions.”

“we’re worrywarts and complicated, but we can accept the fact that you’re dating. i hope you can accept us as yn’s parents, slowly, as well.”

keiji gives your parents a grateful look and nods, “no problem, mr. and mrs. y/ln.”

they smile at him, and their eyes slowly move to you.

“our yn.” your mom sweetly smiles. “you’re right.”

“we did teach you to become your best in everything you do. as parents, we did not want anything to hinder you... until we did. we were what was stopping you.”

she sighs.

“we apologize for being helicopter parents. we promise we will let the both of you breathe from now on.” she gives a small, sheepish chuckle.

you look at the ground with a polite smile in response.

“keiji has been taking good care of you, and we’re relieved you get to be someone like that.”

god, finally.

they can see now.

“we want you to be able to tell us anything. so we decided to be more willing to listen to you. please feel free to come to us for anything, both of you.”

your dad adds, eyes moving between you and keiji as he speaks.

there was a moment of silence before you could even say something back. you want to say thank you, you want to say i told you so, you wonder why the hell it took this long.

but honestly you’re just… relieved. like a big burden was taken off your shoulders.

“wow…” you finally reply, chuckling.  “thank you for that. i know it’s not easy, but…”

“let’s keep communicating, yeah?”

you give a smile. this is so unusual to happen, and you can’t seem to wrap your head around what’s happening.

but no matter what, you appreciate hearing these words come out of your parents’ mouth.

you both hope this is the start of something great. not just for you, or keiji, but for them as well.

your parents nod. they ask if it was okay to hug you, and you gently agreed. your mom and dad approaches to give you a warm hug, something you did miss.

you glance to see keiji doing the same with his mom, and you smile at the scene. while you were still watching them, mrs. akaashi's eyes meet yours and smiles,

"can i hug you too?"

you of course, say yes. and keiji does the same to both of your parents, shaking hands with your dad.

is this scene even real?

you're now back besides keiji, his arm around your shoulder. you take it in - both of your parents are smiling together, and so are you. what a turn of events. just when you guys 'let it be'.

“so… now that we’re done arguing whose the best between the two of us,”

keiji grabs your hand, intertwining it with yours.

“shall we be the best couple now?”

you laugh.

like you already haven’t been that.

notes

the end *bows*

i hope it was cute...

i'm also sorry it took me long well life happens amyryt

i hope you all loved merit!yn and merit!keiji <3 i love them even though i cant keep up w them

if you read this smau til the end, thank you so much !!! i appreciate y'all <3

til the next one ! i cant wait to make new ideas yipee