𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 - 𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘬𝘦𝘪𝘫𝘪

Pretty Girl

Sorrymom

Every individual was seeking some sort of passions. A strong inclination of desire. Wether it was defined by an obsession or simply by harmony. Either way, it did define one's self.

An extravagant fondness which sharped one's traits, perhaps their appearance as well.

Akaashi's passion was divided into two: Volleyball and Writing. However, it seemed as though he did have a more efficacious devotion towards writing. At least that is how Minori perceived his behavior on court.
He was indeed present, nevertheless, analyzing his actions, for all she knew, he was fidgeting a lot.

Yet she did not know anything about volleyball. She did not care about people competing against each other, trying to find out which team could hold a ball in the air the longest.
In any case, that was the impression she got of this game. It did not enthuse her at all.

The girl couldn't tell him this, however. It would have broken his heart.

"Well, that was something!", Minori smiled awkwardly approaching the male players.
In fact, she did just witness her first volleyball match, a new experience at last. A new memory she could have told her future children about, some would have said.
She now observed the men, perceived their soaked clothes, acknowledging another aspect: Sweat.
She absolutely despised the thought of humans exuding sweat through their skin because of physical exertion.
Though this mechanism was completely normal and well, organic, it disgusted her.

"You're still here?", the girl now discerned a tender voice near her figure. Turning around, the ocean met with the acid soil, interacting with one another, leaving hints of bright sparkles behind.
He tried to hide his joy, but his expression gave him away.
"I told you I wanted to meet your friend.", she put on a smile herself, reaching out for the ball he was holding between the palms of his hands.
Frankly, she did not become aware of the sudden change of feelings the boy went through after her spoken words. Fortunate enough for him.

"Bokuto! You were magnificent! Extraneous! You're basically the best volleyball player in japan!", Minori ran towards a quite bulky man, whose hair was styled up to the sky, tints colored grey drawn in the ends of his strands.
He was already screaming, hence she tried matching his energy, and especially, getting his attention. It worked. Surprisingly.
"Hey, hey, hey!", he greeted her in amusement.
Bokuto did have an extroverted and
tender-hearted nature.
Akaashi always called himself lucky for being friends with him, despite their contrast personalities.

Therefore, he did not care wether the pretty girl enjoyed his elder friend's company better than she liked his. Because neither did Akaashi like his own company. Whenever he was on his own, it got quiet around him. He could have been in a room with hundreds of people and still, he felt alone nonetheless if Bokuto wasn't with him.

It did annoy him.

His glance still wandered around the two people that had now begun a conversation with one another. By all means, Bokuto was naturally good with strangers or people he barely knew, it was more than easy for him to make new friends. Akaashi was aware of his popularity amongst others, he was aware of his attractiveness, definitely certain that Yoshikawa and him were a good match by just staring at them.
He was indeed envious of him, desiring nothing but to be like him someday. Adapting a few of his character traits at least.
So he found himself fidgeting with trembling hands, again not knowing how to stop as anger started to burn inside his heart.

"Akaashi, come here!", a female angelic voice interrupted his thoughts, as the boy witnessed his two friends gazing in his direction. Hence, he exhaled deeply before approaching them nervously. As he joined them, he noticed the young woman still holding onto his ball, thus he surveyed her hands more precisely. They were gracile and smooth, the type of hands an artist or pianist had. She had put on polish on her nails, the colors of nature reflecting on them. He associated them with a field of flowers, the sun beaming down on the plants and animals serenely walking around, attempting not to break any of those flowers.
He often got lost in his imagination.

Suddenly, he felt her hand move to his, stopping his movements, and whilst the dreamy boy looked up to the person who initiated their actions, he perceived the same charming woman beaming at him just like the sun was at the flower field.