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"What are you working on?"
Akaashi looks up at me from his laptop, shooting me a small smile to begin.
"Just looking over some readings for the classical literature course I'm taking," He says as he returns his gaze to the screen. I nod, looking away with my hands tucked under my thighs.
Sitting with him once again at Koutarou's place, we wait for our third to show up. A few days after our dinner together, I accepted Akaashi's invitation to meet him here, under the impression that this could be the first step in making things feel normal again.
Yet, I feel restless. Even though I've made the decision to let us both move on, thinking about the lock clicking and the sight of Koutarou stepping in gives way to an intense rising in my chest.
I told him to pursue her. Looking set on moving on from me, I figured that was our last resort at some semblance of closure. I thought that he would be playing catch-up with his feelings, not me. All along, this is what I thought I wanted. I was wrong.
Out loud, I can say this was for the best. That's all I've mentioned to Akaashi, but the more I say it, the more it seems as if I'm doing it to convince myself the same thing, and it's not working.
Thinking about Koutarou brings about shame and regret; the idea of looking at him face-to-face only intensifies these feelings. I don't know how I'll react when he comes through the door. Maybe it was a mistake to accept Akaashi's invitation to come here. I'm not sure if I can look Koutarou in the eyes anymore.
"(Y/N)?" Akaashi's voice brings my attention back to him, and I only notice then that his gaze sits on me again.
"Hmm?" I respond, though distantly.
"... Something on your mind?" He says, without turning his gaze back to the laptop.
I take a moment to think before responding. The answer to Akaashi's question rests in my thoughts, but I feel as if I have to force it out.
"I'm thinking about doing the international university program," I say.
Akaashi's face quickly changes to reveal a look of shock. He shuts his laptop slowly to place it on the coffee table, his gaze trying not to leave mine throughout. The lack of response on his part, the main contributor to the silence, prompts me to respond further.
