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8:13 am - s.akito

Shinonome Akito doesn't and hasn't loved.

He adores and loves his mother of course, and she reciprocates full heartedly. Him and Ena may constantly argue but they both know very well that they'd die for each other. But in an romantic context he's absolutely repulsed.

Akito doesn't want it. Music is above everything and everyone. Relationships can't compare to the fleeting moments of the spotlight during a show—nor the exhilarating satisfaction of noticing improvement after excruciating hours of practice.

It's such an ugly concept too. His father only hurts his sister, almost singlehandedly ruining her art career and being the sole reason she can't believe in herself anymore— all while justifying his actions with the excuse of love.

Akito doesn't want love either. The only enticing desire that ever came to visit him were self improvement. It's a satisfactory way of living. Unlike others he never suffered from pining for another nor struggling to pick up the pieces of his own heart— it can't happen if he doesn't open it up to anyone at all.

It was futile thought, no matter how much he tried to follow that philosophy, or how long he's been able to abide by it— because right next to him lies the disruption in his peace.

Sunlight bleeds through the curtains, illuminating your sleeping expression, Akito observes the gentle rise of your chest, entranced with your gentle breathing.

Romance is stupid. So is love, trivial and useless, if it hurt his family then why should he bother luxuriating in it. It's foolish, an utter waste of time, something only an idiot would bother pursuing.

Yet he finds himself here, remaining in bed just to stare at someone, despite the fatigue itching behind his eyes.

Even with your hair in a mess and your face lazily squished against a pillow, it's one of the most ethereal sights he's ever laid his eyes on. A sight only for him. Akito always adores how you look no matter what, but something about seeing you at full peace makes him smile a bit harder.

He hated it, loathed how you were the bane of his existence, the fault in his once flawless discipline. Akito always prioritises practice. He doesn't spend money unless it was for the sake of his performances. And he abides his strict sleep schedule constantly.

But here he is, hours past the time he usually wakes up, admiring the person he's probably spent almost tens of thousands of yen on, even if there's a bit of drool accumulating on their bottom lip.

Akito can go on about how much he hates you. Ever since you stepped into his life, he found himself skipping practice to hang out with you. Prize money went to buying you your favourite books, and the time reserved for picking out song lists went to binging all of your show recommendations. One of his solo shows were entirely forgot by him; all because he felt the urge to blurt out his feelings for you.

You're a flaw. A weakness. A falter in what he calls control.

Initially, he thought he lost it. With how he was constantly reminded of his infinite adoration for you, it didn't take long to accept.

Every detail of you is imprinted in his mind. Your rambles sooth his stress; you could be complaining about someone and it'd still be music to his ears. The way you express yourself is so sweet to him, as smooth as honey and saccharine like the summer air. Your touch is warm, a comforting spring night that flushes his face red every single time.

Being loved was just as addictive. No one's ever bought him flowers, or written him poetry or little love notes during class. He'd never kissed someone until you, nor laughed so hard until he gasped for air.

Through half lidded eyes he notices movement in your body, with a yawn your arms reach out to Akito, though not quite enough to pull him closer. He obliges to your motions, muscular arms wrapping around you as he plants a kiss on your forehead.

"Mornin'."

You respond with incoherent murmurs, burying your face into his warm chest, pressing against his now racing heartbeat. He stifles a laugh after seeing your reaction, patting your head.

A glimpse at the time and he knows he should probably go home soon. His mum must be worried after he stormed out of the house late at night, almost breaking down from hearing another argument invade the comfort of his room.

"I need to go." Raspy and careful, he whispers into your ear. "I'll see you at school." His movements halt as you cling onto his wrist.

"Stay. Please."

As if second nature Akito complies. His body obeys before he can even process your words mentally, returning to your initial position with him. He takes it as an opportunity to throw your blanket back onto you.

"Are you sure...? Didn't you have a morning shift today?"

"I wanna stay here with you."

And I would stay here with you forever, if I could. "I'll be here for as long as you'd like then." Another kiss. This time on your cheek.

"Can't go to work anyways." He asks why, mumbling with his face against your neck. "'m sick."

Akito withdraws. "Really?" Urgency wards off lethargy. Was he out of it? He didn't notice you cough or sneeze, and your breathing seemed stable too.

You nod, wearily. "Yeah. Lovesick." Akito flicks your forehead, almost instantaneously.

He ignores your complaints. "Idiot. Don't worry me again." He scolds you as if a smile wasn't tugging at his lips. "C'mon, sleep more. We stayed up late last night."

"Worry about yourself more. You literally carried me to my room because I fell asleep on the couch."

He shrugs it off. "You're not heavy."

In return, you scoff. "Still would've been more convenient to sleep there."

"You say that as if I wouldn't shoulder the weight of the world for your sake." His lithe finger poke your cheek. "One more hour. Sleep just that and I'll buy you lunch later."

"As if you ever let me pay."

Akito shrugs again, he'd do anything for you, that included making sure your wallet was never empty. His father was rich, might as well make the most of it even if he loathes him. "Bookstore as well, then."

You give in, surrendering to his deal. "Fine. Since you're so insistent."

And so he grins at his victory, tucking you in again and joining you. He intertwines his fingers with yours, calloused thumb stroking your knuckles as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Akito feels so relax that it finds it unsettling, it's as if he never broke down from hearing his family argue— as if said struggles never existed in the first place.

Love is still poison to Akito, only you seem to make it appear so intoxicating— if it's you he'll allow himself to indulge in said venom, even if it puts his fragile heart at risk.

taglist (send an ask to be added) : @yuzurins, @chigirizzz (not a proper fic but take a drabble in the mean time)