Mizuki Sayeko had never been fond of the whole 'soulmates' concept, not when her past warned her of the side-effects of falling too deep into the lucid, hypnotising trap. With piercing gazes, a stone-cold heart, would her soulmates ever get through...
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"...KENMA."
The faux blond blinked, surprise plastered onto his face. He glanced up from his electronic gaming device, spotting the warm yet nervous look on Mizuki's face. His cheeks flushed, tinted pink, and he nodded, ditching his DS beside him without a second thought. The two walked up the stairs together, and Bokuto, Kuroo and Akaashi watched them go.
Bokuto felt happiness blossom in his chest, Akaashi and Kuroo, too. However, above all, amusement shone.
"Do you think they'll even be able to have sex?" Kuroo whispered over to Akaashi. "I can practically see the steam coming out both their ears."
"They'll figure it out in their own way."
Kuroo snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised if they chicken out."
"Dude, you of all people should know what Kenma is like in bed." Bokuto plopped back onto the couch, grabbing the remote controller for the tv and flicking to Mizuki's Netflix channel. "There's no way he's giving up this opportunity. I know I wouldn't."
"None of us would," said Akaashi, sitting beside the ace. "But we have to respect Mizuki's wishes and wait."
A sigh escaped Kuroo's lips, and he uncrossed his arms, taking a seat beside the youngest and allowing him to snuggle into his side. "I suppose."
Under a moonlit sky, the night simply held the stars, helping them shine all the brighter, blending into the black background and watching with fondness. Blankets of generous velvet kept the world safe, and as the moon and stars glowed reverently above the passing clouds of ink, as the air released the heat of the day, two soulmates joined together above silk sheets, faces seared a crimson scarlet.
There was silence then, and Kenma did not care about the game he left unsaved on his DS. Her eyes were unwavering, lilacs flecked with silver. A surety rose in him, lodged in his throat. I will never leave her, not her or them. It will be this, always, for as long as they will let me. If Kenma had had words to speak such a thing, he would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth.
As if she heard him, Mizuki reached for his hand. He did not need to look; her fingers were etched into his memory, slender and petal-veined, strong and swift and never wrong.
"Kenma," she said.
She was always better with words than him.
As soon as the last syllable escaped her lips, Mizuki found herself interlocked in a kiss. The tender touch they shared made the room around them disappear, and there was nothing else in the world except the burning flame of their blossoming love. Something about that feeling —that warmth— made both Kenma and Mizuki feel like everything would be okay.
