Forever Under Your Influence

III

POV Akaashi

The white and black hair man is out of place here. Tall, strong, and professional, he is too perfect for a hidden, unaccomplished, underground gang. He is the one stopping his partner from hitting me. The man stays on the side, arms crossed, mouth shut, eyes glued at mines. Another victim would not notice him in such a modest role, maybe they would be too scared for it, but not me, not feeling your look all over my body while trying to protect me. Even when he is supposed to destroy me.

The other guy, nonetheless, almost seems like he has a personal quarrel with me. Screaming and walking around my chair like a trapped animal. It is somewhat ironic since this is their basement and who knows what these handcuffs were used for before they retained me in here. Such an expertise grip to tie me up and maintain me comfortable yet letting me know I am powerless.

"It's a simple question: where?" You are right. This interrogation is too simple to be even threatening. After completing the difficult part of capturing me, it is a shame. They will not get anything from it. At least I am aware of the risks I might be put after avoiding my security people. That does not mean I do not believe it is worth it. You, mister owl-eyes modified to watch me in the dark, are a risk to take.

"I just don't know. A puppet moves, it doesn't prepare the show, Mr. Kuro," I answer, fully realizing every stitch pulling together his sanity is about to break. "I'm chief at the marketing department. I control how things look, not what they actually are."

"That's so fucking useless for the monopoly in control of everyone's life," Kuro tells himself since I already know. The truth is, he is the only one whose job is being wasted. "Then you must know what has happened to the people who tried out your new product."

"The new suppressor? Yes. We are aware some families have been complaining of the effects created on those loved ones who decided to be part of Omicron in such an especial way."

"A company that kills and dies for old human values wasn't supposed to detach people of emotions with their technology," you finally say, stepping closer so the light can fall over your shoulders into my eyes, blinding me just as the Sun does. "Why making into robots those who you were trying to preserve?"

You, Bokuto, name to which Kuroo kept asking for help, crouch in front of me, you rest your forearms on my knees and till your head like a child too curious for their own or their parents' good. When you grab my chin to copy that same movement, my whole body gets jealous and trembles like a house of cards about to fall with the wind. Therefore, when you get closer to my ear, a simple whisper is all it takes to blow me away.

"Have you become one of those lifeless machines?"

"My life will go on for longer than all of yours combined. If you are asking if I have emotions, I do. I can feel every inch of my soul and body. It's a funny mortal feeling that I'll never get to experience, but, sometimes, life is the one killing you."

"How does it feel to die knowing that life comes afterward?"

"Just like falling in love."

"He's home" words resonated inside my head. Whoever is talking has one of our intracomunicators, an implant that allows you to speak directly into the mind of those that have a receptor, as I do.

Kenma comes down the stairs, cat-eyes shining and ears are attentive to their surroundings. Their tail moves lazily behind them, touching the wall and old stairs searching for Kuroo, who, ironically, runs to them like a little pup. They tell him something, their mouth still shut and so will be forever (a design mistake we had with the intercomuincator) and Kuroo answers with a gentle kiss and a nod. Such a soft couple, I am jealous and with Bokuto so close, who did not stop looking at me, it is difficult to resist the temptation of moving forward. Thankfully, the metallic grasp around my wrists is enough to keep me in place.