Akaashi thinks you're pretty. Like, really pretty. With beauty being subjective and all, his perspective and preferences differ from majority, but his aberrant behaviour has waned, finding himself falling for you. He didn't get it at first, how Bokuto had been blathering about—ranting how untouchable you were, how close he wanted to be to you. It was detestable, he'd gag at the thought if someone brought it up.

But those words got to him, he began to follow the bandwagon that carried a being so ethereal. And despite his opinionated judgement—dang were the rumours true, and he wasn't amenable to the inoperable desire to have you hitting him like a bullet that reverberated through his body. The man never considered himself much of a writer—but picking up a pen and watching the ink flow to write every positive word on the sheet of paper was like a didactic command his muscle memory had whenever in front of you.

You sit in front looking oh so gorgeous, and he clears his throat and looks elsewhere to the many people inside the cafe. Akaashi fiddles with his fingers nervously, then he musters up the valiance required to look you in the eye as you sip on the sundae milkshake akin to a child's fantasy he bought for you.

“I like you,” He doesn't waste no time, and confesses with 3 blunt words that make you peer up. The man was already yours, and you were already his—which had earned him the stink eye from Bokuto. The little crush he had on you never seemed to diminish, in fact, his feelings had always stayed the same. His random conversation starter made you giggle as you stir the straw around the glass, not replying as the cute bashful look he found himself always wanting to see swept over your face.

Silly. He knew you thought of that, and a small smile appeared on his face as your chuckling didn't die down once you reminded him you were already a couple. He raises a brow, an arrogant scoff leaving him when you stated the obvious as if he wasn't aware.

“So? That doesn't change anything, I still like you.”