saviour ✰ bokuaka

[ FOUR ]

Bokuto could hardly concentrate on his lecture. The image of Akaashi from the café—cheeks dusted pink, lingering glance under dark eyelashes, subtle smile that sent shivers down his spine—it was all too much to handle. It had been a week since then, but Bokuto found himself thinking about him constantly, mainly during times he shouldn't be. The middle of a class was one of them.

What was his issue? Bokuto was naturally flirtatious and caught feelings quickly, but mainly because he was bored. He didn't feel bored this time.

'Come on, Koutarou, focus!' he scolded himself. 'This is too dangerous.'

Bokuto slapped himself in the face with both hands, a little wake-up call he liked to use sometimes.

"Bokuto-sensei, are you alright?" Kindaichi Yutaro asked, a puzzled look on his face. Bokuto had nearly forgotten he was there.

"Oh, yeah, doing awesome! What'd you want to ask again?"

"You didn't grade my lab yet. You graded everyone else's and gave them back. It's no rush, I just wanted to let you know."

"Of course! Sorry about that, I'll get it to you soon."

"Thanks." At that, Kindaichi slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed out the door, leaving a dumbstruck Bokuto and a worried Hinata alone in the classroom.

"Um, Bokuto-san, you look kind of weird. Are you sick or something?" he asked, washing out the test tubes and hanging them to dry on the racks. "Akaashi has a class in a few minutes, so we better hurry up and get rid of all this equipment!"

"Akaashi has a class... Akaashi has a class!" Bokuto remembered. He jumped up from the desk and sprinted over to the lab tables he had set up, cleaning all of the supplies off, then folded them and set them against the wall. He grabbed the beakers in Hinata's hand and placed them on the drying racks beside the test tubes, then quickly stuffed the stirring rods and graduated cylinders into a random shelf. He had to place some of the glassware on top of Akaashi's books, but he hoped he wouldn't mind.

Hinata had already left when Akaashi's first student entered—Yachi Hitoka, who had coincidentally taken one of Bokuto's classes before she switched majors. It was a bit awkward seeing her, even though Bokuto reassured her that he didn't care that she dropped his class. She avoided his gaze as she walked in, biting her nails.

By the time Bokuto had finished cleaning up, half of Akaashi's class had filed in. He recognised a few faces other than Yachi: Goshiki Tsutomu, Kunimi Akira, and of course, the teacher's aide—Tsukishima Kei.

"Tsukishima!" Bokuto called, walking over to his seat at the front of the lecture hall. "What's up?"

"Please leave, Bokuto-san. We're about to start a class."

"I heard you've been picking a fight with my TA."

"Well, he was the one who set my papers on fire, so I think I'm not really the one to blame here." Tsukishima looked away, then started to flip through a notebook on his lap until he found an empty page.

"That's just his personality! He's boisterous! You should learn from him."

"Causing problems for others isn't exactly a hobby of mine. I don't think I want to be boisterous."

"It's all subjective," Bokuto said. Then, as he was about to turn on his heel and walk away, he asked, "Say, can I watch this lecture just once? I want to see Akaashi working."

"You've got it bad, huh?"

"What'd you say?"

"Nothing. Just sit in the back and don't say anything. There's an empty seat on the left."

"Thanks, Tsukki!"

"Don't call me that. And make sure Akaashi-san doesn't see you."

Bokuto climbed the stairs to the farthest row, then sidled through a group of grumbling sophomores to reach the aforementioned empty seat. He beamed as Akaashi walked in, feeling like an eager college student again. Akaashi looked undeniably scholarly in his suit and glasses, accompanied by his tweed coat snug on his figure. Although Bokuto hated his required literature courses in university, maybe he wouldn't have minded if he had a professor as stunning as him.

'Cute,' Bokuto mused as Akaashi made his way over to the chalkboard. For a moment he looked confused, as if he was searching for something, and Bokuto realised he was trying to find his green chalk which Bokuto had dissolved in hydrochloric acid the day before. He made a mental note to apologise for that later.

Akaashi started to talk about Russian guys and conscience and utilitarianism, but all Bokuto could focus on was Akaashi's eyes. He had never seen him speak so ardently about anything—his eyes were alight with passion as he paced from the left to right sides of the room, his hands moving energetically. Even though Bokuto was far away from the front of the hall, the intensity of Akaashi's words reached him. No wonder his students (including the sophomores Bokuto was sitting next to that looked half-asleep moments ago) were mesmerised by him; even Bokuto could barely tear his gaze away.

'What's wrong with me? God, my hands are sweating so much,' he thought.

Akaashi said something, and all his students opened their books right after.

'Crime and Punishment? Sounds sad.'

Bokuto leaned back in his chair and rested his legs on the table in front of him, watching as Akaashi read a passage from his novel.

Then Akaashi looked up and met eyes with Bokuto. His expression wasn't filled with enthusiasm anymore. It was filled with anger.