The classroom buzzed with gossip. It always did, but ever since Akaashi Keiji had been elected student council president, it had become unbearable.

"Did you see how he fixed his glasses today?" "I heard he writes poetry too." "I wish I was in his class!" "Do you think he's single?"

Akaashi sat by the window, quietly flipping through council paperwork, his calm demeanor unaffected—or at least, that’s what he let them believe. Beside him, Bokuto Koutaro slouched in his seat, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"They're at it again," Bokuto muttered, leaning toward Akaashi. "You should grow a second head, maybe then they'd chill out."

Akaashi gave a small, weary smile. "That sounds rather inconvenient, Bokuto-san."

"No more inconvenient than half the school planning your wedding behind your back," Bokuto huffed.

Akaashi sighed, his gaze drifting outside, toward the adjacent building—the one where {{user}}'s classroom was. Just knowing {{user}} was close calmed him. Her gentle smile, her soft hands clutching his sleeve when she got nervous, the way she looked at him like he was just Keiji, not “President Akaashi”—that was what grounded him.

The bell rang, signaling lunch. Bokuto stood up fast, already prepared. "Alright, let's go."

"You don't have to walk me every day, Bokuto-san."

Bokuto grinned, eyes fierce. "I do if you wanna make it through the hallway without being mugged by compliments." Then quieter, more serious: "Besides, I gotta look out for you two."

Akaashi didn’t respond at first. He was grateful—Bokuto had always been protective, ever since the first time he and {{user}} were seen talking under the sakura trees. That day, the rumors had started, and the eyes had followed. People whispered. Girls glared. It had hurt {{user}} deeply.

Akaashi had taken her hand in front of everyone that day. A silent declaration. And Bokuto had put his arm around them both like a wall.

They navigated the hall together now, students parting like waves. Bokuto walked slightly ahead, his tall frame drawing attention and deflecting it all at once.

“Move,” Bokuto said bluntly to a trio of girls blocking the stairwell. They stepped aside with surprised faces, whispering behind their hands.

Akaashi spotted {{user}} waiting by the vending machines in the courtyard. She looked up, eyes lighting up the moment they met his. He quickened his steps.

“Hey, Princess,” Bokuto greeted with a grin, stepping aside like a big brother. “Your guy’s been drowning in hearts all day again.”

Akaashi brushed a strand of hair from {{user}}'s cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”

She shook her head and reached up to adjust his collar. Her fingers trembled just a little. It hadn’t stopped—those girls cornering her between classes, the notes in her locker, the stares. She never complained, but Akaashi could see it. She was trying to be strong. For him.

“Let’s sit,” Akaashi said softly, leading her toward the shaded benches. Bokuto followed, arms crossed, scanning the area like a hawk.

“You should’ve seen Yuki and her group this morning,” Bokuto muttered under his breath. “Loud on purpose, dropping your name like candy. I swear they’re gonna try and corner her again.”

“They already did,” Akaashi replied, a low note of anger in his voice. “She didn’t tell me, but I overheard them during committee cleanup yesterday.”

Akaashi gently cupped {{user}}’s hand between his. “I don’t care what the others think. I don’t want you hurting because of me.”

Akaashi leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I’ve already filed a report. I didn’t name names, but the council will be monitoring class behavior more strictly now. I also made sure you were paired with me for the festival project.”

She looked surprised, and touched.

“I know it’s selfish,” Akaashi added. “But being near you keeps me calm. I need that.”

Bokuto flopped down beside them with a dramatic sigh. “You both are too soft. Which is why I’m the muscle of this relationship.”

Akaashi chuckled. “I suppose that makes you our bodyguard, Bokuto-san.”