#knbdrabble

Okay, this got long, and we’re extremely sorry for the semi-hiatus. There are no excuses and honestly every day I want to write so badly but I just don’t have the time to do so. This post is not a comeback by any means, but it’s something until we can get our bearings together and maybe decide the future of this blog.

She’s the tear in my heart, I’m alive.

“Is it possible to...” Akashi hesitated, looking away for a moment, his hands linking together in a tight grip. “Love someone and hate them at the same time?”

“Well, it depends on the reasons. It’s very normal to dislike your partner’s little quirks and habits, like things that they do and that you’ve told them many times not to - and still love them.” The counselor gave a small smile. “Or the other way around.”

“I’m...not sure which one it is.”

The counselor tilted his head to one side. “Would you like to elaborate?”

It started with the small things.

Little things that were so minor, anyone would overlook them, or even see them as an endearing aspect. Refusing to eat the tomatoes in a salad, and giving them all to him. Taking off shoes so haphazardly that they littered the doorway, like a child. Forgetting to put socks into the laundry, and finding a heap of them weeks later kicked underneath the sofa.

Akashi had enjoyed these things, loved you for these flaws, because even though they were inconveniences, making more work for him, they were things that reminded him what it was like to be free, to not have a single care in the world - you reminded him what it was like to be unbound by rules or expectations.

But soon Akashi realised that he was being too much of a pushover, and that you were pushing your luck with your stubbornness. Asking him for favours at work, making him do errands, borrowing money for buying presents for friends and family. He did everything for you and rarely asked for anything back.

Then the arguments started.

“I know what I do and say is wrong,” you admitted honestly. The counselor simply nodded as you went on, “I guess I was trying too hard to get him to change. When I first met him, he was so...”

“Cold?”

“Emotionless.” You blinked. “He seemed so indifferent to things that didn’t matter to him. Like he didn’t have a heart.”

The counselor asked, “How would you describe your actions to him?”

You sighed. “That I hurt him. I really wanted him to feel. I wanted to make him angry, or sad, or happy. Anything at all. I wanted him to be more like a human being.”

“Would you say that your actions led to this rift in your marriage?”

You swallowed, feeling your throat dry up and something heavy weighing in your stomach, like a black ball of guilt. “Yes.”

You started off by acting. Pretending to lose your temper over things that could have been patiently sorted out, refusing to let Seijuurou do things his way, the logical and rational way, watching him for any sign of impatience, or anger, or anything.

But he was too perfect. He dealt with any problem you threw at him with a calm mind, like a computer with thousands of algorithms programmed to fix any issue.

So the acting became real. He was perfect anyway - surely he could accomplish anything you asked of him.

Right?

“I’ve spoken to both of you individually, and together, for multiple sessions now.” The counselor folded his hands together, regarding you and Seijuurou separately, sitting apart from each other. “And I’d like to end with some thoughts from both of you. Akashi-san, perhaps you would like to go first...”

You raised your hand tentatively. “If it’s okay, can I talk first?”

Seijuurou nodded, just barely, and you took a deep breath. “Sei, these years we spent together, even the years we’ve been married - every day, I have my doubts about whether you loved me at all.”

There was no response from Seijuurou, who kept his gaze cast downwards.

“I think I did change you, somehow. You are different from when I first met you. But not in the way that’s good for either of us. Talking about it has...eased my guilt somewhat, though. So even though I agreed to this counseling, my feelings about this relationship have not changed.” You glanced at the counselor. “I’m sorry for having wasted your time.”

You grabbed your things and hurried out of the office; until you stepped off the elevator and out into your street, you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding, your chest feeling lighter than ever.

“Akashi-san?”

Akashi looked up at the counselor, smiling awkwardly. “I’m okay. I was just thinking that perhaps this is for the best.”

“Is that your own opinion or a thought influenced by your partner?”

“Who knows?” Akashi coughed delicately. “It’s not like I can fix this anymore. The most I can do is to live with it, I suppose. Still, I’m grateful to have met someone like that. This marriage may not have been a gift, but it was still a valuable lesson. I just wish I could have said my part, as well.”

You may have injured me, you may have angered me and irritated me to the point of keeping me up at night, you may have disappointed me to an extent where I did not wish to come home to you - and yet it was an experience that I had never suffered before.

Since this is ImaHana, it’s worth noting that this is an interpretation of an unhealthy relationship - also Imayoshi canonically likes horse betting, although without betting money, but for the purpose of this story I’ll assume he does gamble money later on when he’s older.

Times that they loved each other:

Hanamiya watched the basketball swish through the net with a satisfied grin on his face, glanced over at Imayoshi who had a similar smile as the referee called, “Time’s up!”

The opposing team, a team of freckly middle school kids, grumbled and shuffled off the court, and Hanamiya called after them, “Go home and drink some milk before thinking about challenging us again, kiddos.”

“It was so worth it to skip calculus for this,” one of Hanamiya’s teammates laughed, walking over to the pair of them. “But man, you two are really good! You guys are new at the university, right? Have either of you tried for the school team? We could really use players like you - you two were practically unstoppable!”

Hanamiya opened his mouth to answer, but Imayoshi cut in smoothly, in that falsely bright voice of his: “Thank you for the compliment, but maybe some other time.”

The senior looked disappointed, and Hanamiya let himself be led away by Imayoshi, who was still smiling.

“What the hell are you smiling about, you creepy bastard?”

“Nothing - it’s just something they said.”

Hanamiya raised an eyebrow. “What, about us?”

“Mhm. It’s been a while since we played together, hasn’t it?” Imayoshi tipped up his glasses. “We haven’t played together since middle school, and yet we’re still compatible. Isn’t that nice?”

Hanamiya rolled his eyes, finally seeing where he was getting at. “Yeah, yeah, you just want to say that we’re like a match made in heaven, right?”

There was a knowing glint in Imayoshi’s eyes. “Well, you said it, not me.”

Times that they hated each other:

“I’m so fucking sick of your shit!”

The room was in utter disarray, the aftermath of a terrible fight. Hanamiya stood at the doorway, eyes wide and hair messy, his throat dry and bloody from yelling, glaring at Imayoshi who stood across him, looking just as disheveled.

“I can’t keep fucking lending you money all the time, you stupid idiot!” Hanamiya shouted. “If you keep fucking losing it in gambling!”

“I told you I’ll win it back,” Imayoshi retorted hoarsely. “Just one more time, I’ll pay you back, I know I’ll win this time—”

“Fuck no!” Hanamiya cast his gaze around for something, anything to throw, but there wasn’t anything, he’d thrown everything he could reach in his vicinity, and in that pause, Imayoshi took the opportunity to speak.

“Makoto, please, just this once—”

“Don’t call me that!”

In his hastiness, in his rage, Hanamiya lashed out blindly, and he felt the back of his hand hit something, hard - there was the sound of something clattering to the floor and Imayoshi was facing the wall next to him, redness blossoming on his cheek and his glasses, the lenses shattered, lay on the ground.

There was a long silence. Imayoshi scowled a little, testing his jaw, and bent to pick up his glasses, his movements dangerously slow.

“Well.” Imayoshi turned his glasses over in his hands. “I guess this is done for.”

They both knew that he wasn’t talking about the glasses.

Hanamiya wanted to speak, when Imayoshi added viciously, “It’s a wonder that it was able to last this long, you know - with all your crap that I have to put up with, everyday.”

Times where they stood up for each other:

“Back again, Four-Eyes?”

Imayoshi recognised the voice of that loan shark’s bald lackey, turning around quickly before the bloke could get the jump on him. “Hello again,” Imayoshi replied sweetly, with his nicest voice. “Now, before you ask, I’m very well aware of my debts, but I promise that with this race, I can pay you and your employer immediately—”

The bald man waved his hand dismissively. “Enough with the crap, Four-Eyes. Boss isn’t interested in your money. He knows you ain’t paying up, not today. Your horse ain’t going anywhere near the finish line.”

“How could he possibly know—”

“You’re a terrible gambler, Four-Eyes, your horse lost the moment it touched the damn racetrack. You’re too new at this.” Even as he spoke, he motioned to the TV screen behind Imayoshi, and with a dreading feeling in his chest, Imayoshi turned in time to see the race end, and the horse he’d bet on finishing in last place.

“Now then.” Abruptly Imayoshi gasped as a fist connected with his stomach, knocking the air from his chest, and a hand roughly grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him up to eye-level. “Boss knows you’re out of cash, so we’re going to do something a little different today to beat some sense into ya. Whaddya say we pay a visit to your cute little sister?”

Imayoshi’s heart nearly stopped. “No—please don’t, she has nothing to do with this…”

And just as quickly as the man had hit him, he suddenly let him go - unprepared for the lack of support, Imayoshi collapsed to the ground, coughing from the burning pain in his stomach, and the shadow of a figure loomed in front of him, standing between him and the lackey. He heard the lackey yell, “Who the hell are you? Don’t get in my way, boy.”

And a snide reply: “You don’t get in my way, baldy.”

Imayoshi croaked, “Makoto?”

Hanamiya scoffed. “I told you not to fucking call me that, Shou. Now shut up and watch how you’re supposed to deal with these fuckers.”

Times that they did not stand up for each other:

“How many times have I told you not to interfere?” Imayoshi paced the room, running a hand through his sweaty black hair in distress. “How am I supposed to deal with this now?”

“You don’t,” Hanamiya growled, grabbing Imayoshi’s shirt collar. “It doesn’t matter, Shou. Let’s just run. Run as far as we can. They’ll never catch us. We’ll be safe.”

“What about my family?” Imayoshi spat back. “My father, my sister - they’re everything to me.”

“You’re everything to me!” Hanamiya screamed, pushing Imayoshi back so roughly that the taller man stumbled back, partly from imbalance and partly from shock. “You tell me how I’m supposed to deal with you being hunted down and killed!”

Imayoshi saw red. He stood up and pushed back. “Don’t be so full of yourself, Hanamiya - you’re not everything to me. You’re nothing. I didn’t need your help and you made it worse when you stick your nose into my business. Do you hear me? You’re nothing to me. Nothing.”

Who doesn’t love angst served with freshly-baked suffering and a side of pain? We’re back!! Sort of. -Admin Fyre

You know how most love stories go. Childhood friends, who have always loved each other. Forbidden love, enemies to lovers. Soulmates, destined to fall in love throughout countless lives.

Then there were stories that just wasn’t meant to be.

It started out as just a distant crush, and you told yourself, I’ll get over it.

Two weeks later you applied for and was accepted as Rakuzan’s student council vice president - working hand-in-hand with Akashi Seijuurou himself.

Oh boy.

“I look forward to working with you,” he’d said with a polite smile, shaking your hand. You could only nod, still caught in a daze but all too aware of his hand in yours, his gentle yet firm grip.

When he let go you retrieved your hand quickly, almost in a panic, and something passed over Akashi’s eyes. You thought, he’ll remember that, and sure enough he asked, with a sad smile, “Afraid of me?”

Crap. You’d always been timid, and it didn’t help that your crush was someone like him.

Everybody knew what Akashi Seijuurou was like in his first year at Rakuzan. Then in second year, after the nationwide-reported match with the infamous American team Jabberwock, something about him changed.

Now, as a third year, he was a lot less scary, much kinder, and his record was as flawless as ever - basketball team captain, shogi club master, and student council president for the third year running.

And you, as a second year, having your last chance to get yourself together and maybe, just maybe, confess to him.

Okay, so maybe you weren’t going to get over it anytime soon.

“A relationship advice radio channel?” Akashi wrinkled his nose, looking skeptical.

You blinked, a little startled, before you realised that he was talking more to himself, peering down at a list of proposals by other prospective student committees. “I’m sorry?”

“The DJ club wants funds to host a weekly radio channel on the school website on giving relationship advice,” Akashi answered you, reading directly off the paper and adjusting his reading glasses.

It took you a moment to catch his words because you were taking too long staring at him, captivated by the intensity in his eyes and how his red hair had gotten long to the point that he had tucked a few strands behind his ear, and not to mention the glasses—

“Denied, I would think,” Akashi went on, frowning and putting the proposal aside.

“We’re denying it? Why?”

Akashi took off his glasses and gave you a stern look - and instinctively you cast your gaze down at the papers in front of you to avoid meeting his gaze as he answered: “It’s impractical. No benefit comes out of it - how many people will tune in to this channel, every week, without fail? And how many of those people will take that advice? Plus, are the high school students running the channel capable of giving solid advice on something as brittle as love? I wouldn’t think so.”

“Akashi-kun, do you have someone you like?”

You blurted out the question without thinking, bravely looking up to see Akashi’s reaction.

He only looked taken back for a moment, a brief second of vulnerability, and then he was back to his normal deadpan self. “No. I’ve got no time for—things like that. Grades and achievements and results - those are the things I need to focus on. Do you?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you opened your mouth to answer - only to realise that Akashi’s gaze had dropped back to the work in front of him. It wasn’t a genuine question he’d asked. It was simply a follow-up, to be polite, that’s all.

He wasn’t really curious about your answer.

“No,” you lied. “There isn’t anyone I like.”

“Ah.” Akashi nodded. “I see.”

OK I DID CHECK OUT THE SONG but at the same time I read a fic with the Hanahaki disease idea and I can’t let it go D: So I hope you still enjoy this!

Accompanying Soundtrack: かたわれ時 from 君の名は [Katawaredoki from Kimi no Na wa]

Hanahaki disease - an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love.

Uses Japanese flower language (hanakotoba) as reference.

Akashi had been doing a pretty good job of telling himself that he wasn’t in love with you until one day he felt something tickling his throat and before he knew it he was doubling over, leaning over the bathroom sink, coughing out flower petals. Some yellow, some red, some white.

Akashi knows exactly what it is, as soon as he sees the colourful petals spotting the pristine porcelain sink. He picks through the petals, the flowers, identifying each one and burning the sight of them in his mind, before he gathers them up and disposes of them down a toilet drain.

White petals: gardenias, for secret love.

Red petals: camellias, for being in love and perishing in grace.

Yellow petals: primrose, for desperation.

Damnit, Akashi thinks, as he tries to recall the details of the peculiar disease he has been overcome with. He knows it’s from unrequited love; but what was the end result of it? He can’t remember how to deal with the disease.

Was it that the patient’s love had to be requited?

Or did the patient have to give up their one-sided love in order to be cured?

Was the disease fatal? Could he simply leave it?

Akashi casts his mind back to the flowers, the image of them: and he thinks of the primrose flowers, bright yellow - for desperation.

“Well, they’ve certainly got that right,” Akashi mutters to himself as he exits the bathroom, hand over his mouth.

He decides to head home without telling anyone at work, including you.

“Akashi-kun? Are you in there? It’s me! I came to check up on you - and I may or may not have brought you lunch…”

Akashi’s so surprised by the sound of your voice floating through his apartment door that he freezes for a few seconds, staring blankly at the state of his room, unable to respond.

The floor has almost completely disappeared under layers upon layers of flowers, and there are more petals covering his bed, where he hasn’t moved from since he came home last weekend.

Over the days Akashi hasn’t had the strength to clean the flowers up. He’s only had the strength to drag himself out of bed just to eat and sleep, then he collapses again with flowers spilling from his hands, his chest hurting and his throat dry.

It’d gotten worse. It’d gotten so much worse.

The knocking came again. “Akashi-kun?”

Akashi dissolved into another fit of coughs, breaking the silence, feeling pain spike through his whole body; there was a crash and then you were standing at the doorway of the room, eyes wide and mouth open.

“I…” Akashi begins, but he can’t finish his sentence as another cough racks his body, and petals are spilling to the ground, looking about as ridiculous as it sounds.

“Hanahaki?” you whisper.

Perhaps this was it, Akashi thinks, refusing to look up at you. You recognised the disease. Perhaps you would return his feelings, perhaps you would understand, if you could identify the flowers and know what he was feeling, to watch you from afar and wish to love you but be unable to because…

“Akashi-kun.” You come closer to him, your eyes gentle. “You dummy. Who’s the idiot that you’re in love with? I’ll give them a pep talk, okay? You can tell me, you know. We’re friends, I’ll help you no matter what.”

Akashi feels his heart sink; his chest feels heavier than it ever has and his eyes start welling up with tears - but instead he coughs, pretends it’s from the disease, and thanks you for your concern and tells you that he’ll be fine, that he’s got the disease under control.

He pretends not to see the silver band on your ring finger, the engagement ring that wasn’t there before, that must be from your partner without a doubt, that seals his fate.

Either have your love returned, or give it up.

That was the condition for surviving the hanahaki disease - if neither condition is met, then death.

But giving up love is not as easy as it sounds.

The flowers had changed, too. Not just yellow primrose, for desperation. Yellow tulips, for unrequited love, and yellow roses, for jealously - all bright amber and golden-coloured, just like his left eye, as if mocking him, laughing at him.

I don’t have much time, Akashi thinks, as he looks down at the wedding invitation in his hands - from you and your partner. He looks at the picture attached, of you smiling and laughing with another person, and his fist clenches on the thin paper.

You’re the only one who saves me from myself.

It just so happened to be pure coincidence that, after getting caught smoking on-campus and being forced to do community service work by the university, Hanamiya found himself having to work at a nearby hospital where a familiar face was currently recuperating.

“Hanamiya?” The voice had always been too cheery for him to handle, and he found himself wincing and stopping on instinct. “Hanamiya, is that you? What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

Yeah, trust Kiyoshi to ask if there’s something wrong with him just because he was here at the hospital. He was always worrying about something. Hanamiya plastered a fake smile on his face, as condescending as he possibly could while carrying an armful of fresh towels.

“Kiyoshi. Been dying to see you.”

“You shouldn’t say something like that in a hospital,” Kiyoshi said paternally, sitting up on a hospital bed. Hanamiya leaned against the doorway of the room, regarding him with narrowed eyes.

“You’re as honest as ever,” Hanamiya let out a barking laugh. He was about to throw another insult when a petulant nurse snapped behind him: “Hanamiya-san! You’re not supposed to be talking to patients while you’re working! Get to it!”

Hanamiya rolled his eyes inwardly. “Yes, yes. Whatever you say.”

“Oh,” Kiyoshi said, at the same time as Hanamiya turned away to leave. “You’re working here? That’s kind of you.”

“It was either this or tutoring some shitty brats,” Hanamiya couldn’t help defending himself waspishly. “Stop mothering me, Kiyoshi.”

“I was only worried—”

“I’m going, before I get yelled at again. Have fun stuck in this place. I hope your injuries heal soon - I’m only worried about you, after all.”

And with that, Hanamiya slammed the door shut and stomped away.

Ugh. Why is he letting Kiyoshi get to him like this?

They got over their little spat in high school already. Sure, Hanamiya was pretty despicable back then when he hurt Kiyoshi and practically put him out of competitive basketball.

But being the forgiving angel that Kiyoshi Teppei was, he sort of let it go already?

Well, the Seirin goody-two-shoes stopped hating him as openly as before after Kiyoshi left to hospital, maybe because without him there as a physical reminder, it was more difficult to dislike Hanamiya.

Or maybe they just couldn’t be bothered to deal with him.

It hit him then, a realisation of why he felt so out of place, why he was so careless to get caught smoking on university campus, why he felt like this. In high school he’d always had his Kirisaki Daiichi teammates - the closest things he had to “friends” - by his side, and even if they weren’t there, there was always someone in the neighbourhood who recognised him, whether it was to insult him or avoid him.

Back then, people gave him attention. They despised him, or admired him, or feared him. He was somebody, but now in university, no one gave a shit about him.

The professors couldn’t care less about one more lazy student; the other freshmen kept their distance thanks to his high school reputation; his mom had never been a tall pillar of support and his “friends” from the basketball team had all split up in different universities.

No one knew him.

Except Kiyoshi was here, now. He was someone, and he’d finally given Hanamiya some kind of purpose, a target for him to torment instead of this deafening silence and emptiness.

Hanamiya shook his head. Was he feeling lonely? Hell no. Of course he wasn’t lonely. What the hell was he thinking?

“You’re looking a lot better today,” was the first thing Kiyoshi said, which made Hanamiya stop in his tracks.

He’d literally just entered Kiyoshi’s hospital room, insult on the tip of his tongue, when the Iron Heart spoke first and now Hanamiya had frozen like a deer in headlights, confused and startled. “What?”

“The other day you looked a bit...out of sorts.” Kiyoshi tilted his head to one side. “Seeing me brought back memories, didn’t it?”

Disgustingly honest as usual. Hanamiya wanted to throw up.

Even though Kiyoshi was right. Moving to university away from everything that he once knew was a huge change. Seeing someone he was familiar with - it made everything normal again, even if for a little while.

But no way in hell was Hanamiya going to admit that, and not to Kiyoshi Teppei of all people.

Hanamiya turned his chin up, smirk crossing his face. “You think you’re real motherly, aren’t you? Looking after your juniors, worrying about people. I’d just gotten bored of messing with university freshmen. I always had more fun ruining your life anyway.”

He turned away from the hospital door, stomping away with the unspoken promise of returning again soon.

There is nobody else who could love you the way I do.

By the time Akashi got to your dorm room, you’d already seated yourself in front of the laptop, armed with a bowl of popcorn and a box of tissues. Akashi allowed a smile to pass over his lips as he slid his bag off his shoulder, dropping it by the bed. “Already prepared, I see.”

“It’s the show’s finale,” you answered almost defiantly, tapping furiously on the keyboard. “It’s about to start. You only just made it in time, you know.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry that college work is more important than a TV show’s last episode,” Akashi deadpanned, in which you slapped him on the shoulder even though he continued, “What a truly monstrous world we live in.”

As Akashi had predicted, within twenty minutes you were already on the verge of tears and he was glad that he’d brought an extra box of tissues with him as you wept over the death of your favourite character.

“Why aren’t you crying!” You wailed, snatching whole wads of tissue paper from Akashi’s hand.

“Why would I cry over a character that doesn’t really exist?” Akashi asked sarcastically, but rubbing your shoulder reassuringly all the same. “This is called acting for a reason, you know. They’re not really dead.”

“B-but it’s sad!” You blew your nose loudly. Akashi sighed.

Half an hour after that, you were practically bawling your eyes out and Akashi had procured a third box of tissues from his bag, apparently more prepared than you were.

“The hero was going to propose!” You were crying, while grabbing Akashi by the shoulders and shaking him back and forth. “But he died to protect the heroine and even in his dying moments he was trying to reach for the ring so that he could tell her!”

“Someone help me,” Akashi said to no one in particular, eyes to the ceiling.

“Shut up! You’re supposed to be crying with me! What if I fought to the death to protect you and never got to tell you that I wanted to marry you?”

Akashi mimicked Midorima’s movements by taking your reading glasses off the top of your textbooks on your table and set it atop his nose, tipping it up with his finger like a knowledgeable scholar. “That wouldn’t happen simply because you would never resort me to that kind of cruelty - to marry me, only to die and make me a widower.”

You scowled at him. “Feh! Party-pooper.”

I kinda got carried away, so this turned into a whole scenario - oops?

-Admin Red

Fluff 13 - I missed the part where I was falling hard for you. 

“Bakagami’s going to the States? Why?”

“For college, apparently.” Satsuki answers, then huffs as if Aomine had donesomething to offend her, even though he hadn’t moved from his usual position onthe rooftop at all.

“Well?” She prompts. Aomine opens an eye.

“What?”

“Don’t give me that! Aren’t you going after him?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“He’s not going to come back, Dai-chan.”

Aomine feels his heart skip a beat. Why does his throat suddenly feel sotight? “That so? Good, he was annoying.”

He quickly turns his back so that Satsuki can’t see his face. “When’s theflight?” He asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

There’s a pause, then Satsuki speaks, voice soft. “Tonight. He’s heading tothe airport now.”

It’s getting dark and it’s all too quiet and I can’t trust anything now.

Also using the rest of the song as inspiration! -Admin Fyre

“What do you mean I’m not allowed in?”

You tried to keep your voice down, but it was hard to stay quiet with all the anger bubbling up in your chest. The butler at the door didn’t flinch from your outburst and continued to regard you dispassionately, as if he was used to this kind of thing.

“I’m very sorry, it is Master Akashi’s wish that you are not permitted to set foot in this mansion, nor to see the young master again.”

What the fuck. You knew that Akashi’s father didn’t think highly of you, but you never thought that you’d be forbidden to see your own boyfriend. “Why? Why can’t I see him?” you demanded. “I’m not leaving without a reason. I’m staying right here until Akashi Masaomi comes out here and tells me himself.”

The butler didn’t blink. “Suit yourself.” And promptly closed the door on you.

Angrily you stomped off the steps and peered up the walls of the towering mansion, trying to locate Akashi’s bedroom window. He should have heard your yelling. There was no way that he’d leave you standing here, right?

There was no way he wouldn’t come and see you.

Right?

And yet the minutes turned to hours, and the lights in the mansion began to switch off until everything was dark and quiet. No one had come to the door again and even Akashi’s bedroom light was off.

You shifted your weight uncomfortably from one foot to another, before opting to sit down on the steps. You’ll show them. You’ll wait here all night.

And yet it was nagging you, like a stone in your shoe. Had your relationship with Akashi reached a breaking point at last? After so long, after countless people had commented on the fragility of it, the glass-like nature of that trust and loyalty and faith.

How did you not notice that something was wrong? How had you failed to realise that you’ve been holding your breath all along, hoping and hoping that things wouldn’t end this way?

I’m so stupid, you thought. Like a moth that flies too close to the light after being in the darkness so long, you hadn’t noticed as your wings caught fire and began a spiraling descent to the ground.

As the sun began to rise and the birds began to sing, you rose from the steps, realising that no one was going to come out to you, and began your lonely walk back to your own house.

You thought you understood Akashi. You thought you knew what kind of a person he was - someone who could be unwaveringly faithful to the person he loved, no matter if his friends, his father, or even the whole world was against it. But then again, you reminded yourself, he’s been against the world since the day he was born.