Akaashi Keiji- love of my life

Darling, You

"Hi."

"Hi."

Should you be concerned that Akaashi Keiji is calling you at 1:30 AM on a weekday? Probably. That man never sleeps, but usually he keeps the sleep deprivation away from you, so this is new, uncharted territory.

"I can't sleep," Akaashi says, as if you hadn't been able to tell from the timing of this call. "Do you want to take a drive?"

"No, Akaashi, I want to sleep."

"Oh." He pauses. "Can I tell Bokuto-san about us?"

"What about us?" Ah. He's doing that thing again where he draws up a paragraph of dialogue in his head and only says the last sentence of it, neatly cutting away any context that might help you know how to respond.

"See, uhm... He's trying to snag me a date by the end of a MSBY function I already agreed to attend, and I need an excuse to turn them down. So can you... Help me out? Just for a night."

This is a bad idea. This is a terrible, horrible idea. "Yeah, sure." Dammit. He always lowers your guard so much; you'll agree to almost anything if it involves spending time with him because... hello? You're deathly in love with him, and he doesn't even know it.

(Or does he?)

"Go to sleep, Akaashi. We can talk about it in the morning," you tell him. What else is there to say?

"Okay."

(He doesn't go to sleep. You wake up to this text in the morning: good morning, darling! I hope that name is okay with you, lmk if it irks you or anything. Anyway, coffee date with me at 1pm? I'll send you the address. Sorry if this is weird. I'm just trying to get used to it so I don't sell myself out at the MSBY banquet and have to go home with some random girl who doesn't even know my name.)

Well, damn if that wasn't the message you'd always wanted to see. You find yourself texting back, good morning, love! I'll see you at 1:00. <3

In another universe, Akaashi Keiji would've made it big as a model. It's not something you've ever thought very intensely about, since you're so accustomed to him in his literary, baggy outfits and unbrushed hair. You could easily forget he was ever a high school athlete, given the way he drowns in sweatshirts and sweatpants and everything that looks remotely like a potato sack.

Now, seeing him in his fifth blazer of the afternoon, you can't help but ask, "Where the hell did you get these?"

Hesitantly pulling at the lapels, he shrugs. "They look bad, don't they? Let's go buy a new one; I told Bokuto-san they wouldn't look good on me."

"Akaashi Keiji!" You yell at him in some kind of instinct. He flinches at the full name address, but doesn't make much comment otherwise. "You look great; I'm just scandalized I've never seen you wear them before. I could kiss you, you look so great!"

The minute the words are out of your mouth, you've realized your mistake. You may be in his apartment, in his room, sitting on his bed watching him try on various outfits, but you are not his girlfriend.

He gives you a lopsided grin while your soul threatens to escape its earthen ties. "Oh. So which one did you like best? I'm going to say... Not this one."

It takes a while to figure out which one you like best, but after a long moment, you agree, "Not that one." Anyway, if he's not fond of it, then his uncomfortable expression will make it look bad on him anyway. "The navy one."

"Will you be able to color match?"

"Yes. You worry too much, love."

"...Because it's for you, darling. I already dragged you into this little game, so I might as well do my absolute best, don't you think?" Oh, god. Oh, heavens above. He sounds so earnest, it's unbelievable. If this is how he handles a fake relationship, you're not even sure you want to know what he's like in a real relationship.