This Has Been In My Drafts For Too Long - Tumblr Posts

in which ayato is enamored with his vice president who (probably) wants nothing to do with him

a/n: modern au, he's the president of the student council, did i already say i love whipped men, 3.9 wc , pt 2

the president is a huge pain in the neck.

"do you know where ayato is?"

the school is unbearably hot. the deathly combination of the lack of working air conditioners and clusters of hot, sweaty, overheated high school students crammed in tiny school rooms leaves the day feeling longer than it is. despite every window in the student council room being open, you still feel the back of your uniform slightly stick onto your back. you would rather be anywhere but in the school building at the moment. however, your wishes were naught as the lack of a certain presence leaves you popping your head through most of the classrooms in hopes of finding a glimpse of the light haired man in one.

"i think he went to speak with his homeroom teacher." someone offhandedly mentioned, one of many on the committee who were unfortunate enough to be tasked to stay after school on a hot humid day.

"can you tell him to look at these proposals whenever he comes back? i’m about to head home-” "are you looking for me?"

the voice you’ve agonizing to hear (for once) pops up beside your ear, much too close for comfort. you’ve been subjected to such antics for too long to react to the warmth that caresses your ear without warning. the papers in your hands find their rightful place on the president’s face.

"yes. every first year class has turned in their proposals for the school festival. you need to look over and approve them." he catches the paper in his hands, a small pout present on his face, promising no good from the familiar glint you catch in his eyes.

"aw... and is it not your duty as the vice president to assist her precious, hardworking president?" he winks, casually sliding next to you while slender fingers dance to place itself on the small of your back, urging you to walk alongside him, opposite of where you had desired to go.

there were many thoughts of struggle and ideas of how to run away, however you (unwillingly) resigned to your fate once more. he always ends up getting his way no matter how much you try to go against it – he was persistent when he wanted to be (and during the most inconvenient times).

“yeah yeah, hard working my ass.” ayato blissfully ignores your words as you’re led to a separate table that ayato has claimed for the both of you. a small desk farther from the rest, next to the window facing the gardens outside. you seat yourself as ayato sets down the papers, looking more pleased than he should in his situation. perhaps it was because he managed to drag his poor vice president to aid in work that should dutifully be his. paying no mind to the daggers sent straight towards his face, he reaches under and pulls your chair closer towards him.

“it’s too hot to be this close to you.”

“it's easier to work together this way.” is his reasoning. cheeky bastard. you hold back your bubbling urge to knock the satisfied smirk he has on his face. you and him both know that these proposals don’t need two people to look at one.

surprisingly, working with Ayato was easy – he’s unusually quiet, and efficient as he works. it's no wonder that he was the only candidate for his position. the only sounds between you two are the rustles of the pages and scratching of your pens against paper.

the student council room slowly starts to settle down as the day runs by, and the overbearing sun starts to take its rest. when the stack of papers have all been marked, you and ayato are the only ones left in the room. irritably enough, you’ve been coaxed to stay after school once again because of your incompetent president who claims that he can’t finish anything unless you’re by his side.

you take a chance to lay your eyes on the man beside you - basking in the warm glow of the sunset, the soft orange hues tint his pale blue locks, the backlight caressing his features, accentuating the beauty that is kamisato ayato. he looks overwhelmingly charming. not that you’d ever tell him; it’d only encourage his already shrewd personality to be more exasperating to deal with.

“let’s walk back together.” he interrupts your thoughts. the teasing smile on his lips tells you that he’s definitely noticed you staring, but he’s holding back his words for once. the chair underneath you screeches unpleasantly against the floor when you abruptly stand up and tug your school bag along you.

“then hurry up. the last train is going to leave soon.” you can hear his silent chuckles as he follows after you. together, you let ayato drop off the proposals in the teachers room before trekking to the station nearby the school.

ayato doesn’t need to ride the train, neither does he need the train pass he purchased. you’ve seen the sleek ebony car that has dropped off him and his sister in the mornings and picked them up in the afternoons. you’re not sure when he suddenly desired to ride the trains in favor of using his luxurious personal chauffeur, which still stops by daily to take his sister.

the cabin in the train is nearly empty, save for the couple of adults who just got off the late work hours, appearing as if they fought through a hurricane, or the few students like yourself clustered together after a study session. you and ayato seat yourself at an empty bench, his shoulders brushing against yours. the ride was mostly filled with comfortable silence between you and the cerulean haired man beside you, save for the few times short remarks were exchanged.

in a particularly quiet moment, something faintly falls onto your shoulder, your body jolting in surprise. wisps of silky blue strands tickle the sides of your face, leaving trails of heat in its wake. his body leans into yours, lithe hands falling from his lap to brush against yours, his touch burning against your skin.

“ayato…?” his name softly falls out of your lips, careful to not rouse him if he was asleep. the man doesn’t respond to his name, long, pale lashes shut against each other. you let yourself relax from the shock, allowing his head to tuck snugly in the crook of your neck. (you take his bag as well, just so there is nothing that could bother his slumber).

a hushed chuckle permeates the air in the train, coming from a granny who holds light tote bags, no doubt filled with groceries from around the block. you turn to look at her, slightly embarrassed at the position you’re in.

“the joy of young love. you should see the way he looks at you. it reminds me of my husband’s eyes.” her words bring a flush to your face when you register what she had meant.

“ah, no no, we aren't like that.!” you desperately will yourself to stay still in your seat, no matter how much you would like to push the man off of you to clear up the misunderstanding, lest he wakes up from a well deserved rest. reluctantly, you’re left to wallow in humiliation as the older lady only laughs a little louder and stands up to walk to the door.

“then don't keep him waiting long.” she's off before you can respond. even though part of your life drained out of you from the conversation, you can feel small tremors beside you on your shoulder. …the little minx was awake the whole time. you really should have never had any consideration for this certain thorn on your side.

“... be quiet or i'll really make sure you go home with more than neck pain.” there isn't any more movement or sound coming from the pale haired man beside you. the hands that had brushed against yours inches to rest on top of yours. a subtle movement you chose to ignore, much to ayato’s satisfaction.

it is unbearably hot today…

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“... and i’ll go hand mr. zhongli the list of third years who will go on this year's trip.” you flip through the packet to briefly scan the details before lifting your eyes to look at the siblings in front of you. “while the president needs to work on looking over these proposals turned in this morning.”

you can't help but give a pointed stare to the two new stacks that have found their way to the table, courtesy of the various classes who had their papers turned in at the last moment. ayaka takes a peek at her brother quickly before giggling airily, sliding the packet in your hands to hers before standing up.

“no, you stay here and i'll get this to mr. zhongli. you and my brother have a lot to look through after all.” a discreet wink is shot towards the pale haired man while a groan bubbles from your throat at her words, hands desperately grabbing onto hers as a silent plea of protest. contrary to his belief, she knows how insistent ayato is to keep you constantly nagging at his side, much to your dismay. she keeps quiet of how horrendous he is at keeping his feelings in check, of all the times he’s (mildly) abused his position just to have a sliver more time together, of how this is the first time she’s witnessed her brother become infatuated with someone. it wouldn’t hurt to assist him now and then.

“work hard!!” with a firm thud, the door is shut, leaving you and ayato left in the room alone.

“...do you actually need help with these.” he doesn't say anything, but taking a look at the cheshire smile he gives you says a thousand words, taunting you along with the dreaded stack of papers that await you.

“i should really make a run for it one day.”

“then i would chase you and bring you back.”

“maybe i should resign from my position.”

“then i will too.”

“...” his cheery facade doesn't falter. “please perish the thought, president. the student council relies on you.”

“does that include you?” you don’t dare to look at his face at the moment, no doubt carrying an expression that hopes to tempt you to say what he wants to hear (you always end up doing so, regardless of if you’ve sneaked a look at his face or not. who wouldn't be weak to a face like his). wordlessly grabbing a stack of papers, you push it in front of him, as well as tucking a pen between his fingers.

“i’m on the council, of course i do.” his lips part again- “no more talking. focus.” you maneuver yourself to sit where ayaka used to be. ayato’s quiet protest immediately stops and he instantly becomes focused, appearing a little more pleased. a little mannerism you’ve learned about ayato after realizing that he became (slightly) more compliant after you were directly beside him. you reach for a stack as well, falling into the familiar flow with him once again.

a knock on the door surprises both of you. it's unusual for someone to do so at the student council door. you stand up and open the door, meeting the anxious eyes of a girl you're not familiar with. she looks slightly disappointed, but doesn’t say anything while you both stare at each other.

“did you need anything from the council?” you start the conversation, cracking a polite smile to combat the uneasy air around her.

“ah- um, is ayato here?” you take a second to register her question. your eyes trace her figure, taking note of the neatly tamed hair and fresh pink shine of lip gloss on her lips. it finally dawns on you what her intentions were.

“ayato, someone is looking for you.” you nod your head towards her before turning back to seat yourself again, burying yourself back into what you were working on before. ayato leaves the room with the girl, softly pulling the door closed behind them.

you can’t delude yourself into believing that you didn’t have some sort of idea of what a young, attractive girl wanted from the most desirable man attending the school. even though he’s been rumored of having a less than favorable crafty attitude that takes years off the vice president's life, no one can deny the charismatic attributes that he flaunts with ease. (and most definitely no one can deny the irresistible visage that is a blessing to the eyes).

it isn’t long before you’re knocked out of your thoughts when the door slides open once more, ayato walking in looking no different than when he had walked out. “that was quick. what did she need?” you feign innocence, part of you curious of what he would tell you.

“nothing important. just another trivial confession.” surprisingly, despite his naturally flirtatious personality along with the stream of confessions he receives, ayato has never dated anyone in the three years you’ve come to know him. if anything, you’ve come to learn of the amount of methods he’s resorted to in order to avoid the amount of confessions he has to deal with. one of the first you remember was finding him perched on top of a shelf, a sight contrary to the composed president you’ve known (how the hell he even managed to climb up there is anyone's guess).

you’re certain one day ayato would be able to feel the captivating feeling of love, and choose someone as his partner sooner or later. your chest pangs at the thought unconsciously. you figure you’d rather not hear about his effortless successes in the romance department while you’ve had less than pleasant experiences.

you hum in response to his words. “‘just another’? im jealous.” these noncommittal words peak the interest of the man beside you.

‘jealous’? did you have someone in mind already? ayato has always been sure of himself, certain of presenting his best front around you. yet nothing he’s done seems to have swayed you, with you growing despondent to his advances, he’s left to hope for any shred of attention you give him, to hope that you continue to spoil his selfish demands and no one else’s. he’s not sure of where he stands in your view, was he just some president that you catered towards because he was your senior? or was he just the older brother of your closest friend? would you let others as close as you let him? his entire body churns at the thought.

he slumps over slightly onto his forearm, peering up at the face that crosses his mind constantly, tracing the slopes of the features he’s long memorized. you notice his stare, narrowing your eyes before bumping his forehead with your hand, in the process moving the strands of blue hair that fell in front of his eyes before looking back at the papers in front of you. he burrows his head in his arms, feeling miffed. it must be idiotic to feel jealous of some sheet of paper.

suddenly this distance doesn’t feel enough anymore…

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

you’re faced with one of the most extravagant houses you’ve ever seen in your lifetime when you walk past the gates and towards the door of the kamisato estate. even though you’ve been here a few times in the past, the sheer size of the house never fails to amaze you. it doesn’t take long before ayaka rushes out to pull you into her house, her steps holding a light jump to them in excitement.

“what should we do together?”

…

perhaps you both should have thought twice about your agreed choice of activity. or waited for thoma to come back before attempting to tamper with anything in the kitchen. both of you having been stuck between textbooks more often than pots and pans led to your skills in the kitchen no better than a toddler. looking at your faces alone, someone would assume that both of you managed to explode everything you had attempted to make. flour caked your cheeks, multicolored frosting lined the tips of your noses, and mysterious colored stains have covered the pure white fabric of your uniforms.

despite the struggle and the sacrifice of the kitchen (and cycling through various amounts of recipes), both of you manage to make cookies and safely shove them into the oven. “we really should’ve worn some aprons…” you pinch the front of your uniform away from your body, looking at the many stains that scatter around your blouse. “maybe i should go home and change.” coming out of her giggling fit, ayaka nearly agrees before she suddenly has a thought cross her brain. a maid is reminded that the young mistress of the family indeed shares the same blood as a certain cunning master of the kamisato household when she happens to pass by the kitchen and looks at the smile that stretches across her lips.

“ah, you can change out of your uniform here while we wait for the cookies to bake. i’ll have them washed before the stains become permanent.” she tugs your arm close to her. “i have clothes i can lend to you.” you hum in appreciation, feeling the slightly uncomfortable sticky feeling of your uniform on your skin. you’re led through an unfamiliar hallway and into a dimly lit room, fully furnished and lightly decorated. it looks suspiciously familiar… ayaka digs through one of the drawers before pulling out a neatly folded shirt.

“here’s an extra shirt for you!!” ayaka sounds too eager while handing over the neatly folded shirt with a fresh scent distinctively wafting from it. “i’ll also go change. please wait for me here.”

you thank her before nodding in confirmation, the shirt now in your possession with you alone in the silent room. with a breath of relief, you unbutton your blouse and peel it off your body, setting it down on the floor before pulling on the new shirt. with it unraveled, you finally notice how abnormally large it draped over your figure, much unlike ayaka’s petite sizing. rather, it seems more consistent to the sizing of a certain ocean eyed male of the house, your fingers hesitantly moving to pull each button closed, one by one. perhaps ayaka had made a simple mistake. you didn’t really have any other options anyways.

…

ayato’s not sure where he should be looking right now. the bag that rested on his shoulder lands on the floor with a thump, his wide eyes meet yours. his lips tremble and he can’t prevent himself from letting his eyes wander onto your frame - his shirt adorning your body reaching mid thigh. his shirt. the slight movement you had made snapped him out of his daze, realizing his current position.

“ayato? what’s taking so long?” thoma’s voice echoes through the hallway, his steps sounding closer and closer. ayato moves before his mind can catch up, immediately shutting the door and twisting the lock. “??? is everything okay??”

“yes, i’m fine. you can go first. i’ll be there soon.” his calm words reflect nothing of how his mind is utterly pleased at the sight that greets him, something he doesn't want to share with others. you looked so captivating in his clothes, much better than he had ever imagined. his eyes follow the movement of the sleeve when it slides down your shoulder, his gaze making you shiver with it’s unfamiliarity.

“not that i’m complaining,” his cracks an impish smile that promises no good, slowly approaching you with light steps while you take one back at the same time. “but how did you end up here? in my clothes no less.” the implications behind his words send a visible flush to your face though your eyebrows are scrunched up with a glare sent in his direction.

“ask your sister.” he hums lightly at your words, no doubt choosing to omit them in his mind. his eyes are still tracing your frame, having never left the moment he had stepped into his room. archons above, you really don’t seem to know the conflicting emotions he’s battling at the moment. you’re backed into the edge of his bed, and land onto the soft cushiony sheets with a light bounce.

ayato approaches you before lowering to his knees. one of his hands reaches to gently tug the fallen sleeve back to its original position. his hand travels upwards, his thumb reaching to nudge off the leftover batter on your face. “did you make cookies with ayaka?”

“mhm.”

“did you make some for me?”

“your favorites? of course. it probably doesn’t taste good though.”

“i think they will.” he’s dangerously close to you, his hands pressed beside your legs while his face is mere inches away from yours. a distance that allows you to clearly see the entrancing ocean that swims in his eyes, the only thing in his vision is you. his lips slowly lean up towards yours, coaxing your eyes to widen in surprise, though your head doesn't move away.

he stops short, millimeters away from connecting your lips, his breath brushing against yours.

“oh, i almost did it.” your heart twinges with disappointment when he backs away, no longer able to feel his warmth in proximity. “sorry.”

for all the years you've spent by ayato, you’ve become well-versed at reading his emotions no matter how small, or how well he thinks he can hide them. you would be a fool to not notice the genuine desire that swirls around his expression, his pupils blown wide with affection. you’d certainly be a fool not to notice the regret when he pulls back. how unfair.

you tug at his tie, pulling his face towards yours, allowing you to land a soft kiss on his lips. “do you do this with everyone?” his eyes beam brighter than the surfaces of the ocean.

“just the one i like.” encouraged by your actions, he’s eager to lean towards you once more, but was blocked by your hands. “why can't i kiss you..” you can feel the pout he sports against your hand, almost looking no different than a kicked puppy.

“you only get one,” a drawn out whine is stifled against your lap when his head drops onto it in dissatisfaction. “..my love.” the endearment is foreign on your lips, especially directed to the man you’ve been beside for the past three years.

it seems the phrase satiates him for the moment. his arms now let loose to wander around your waist, sweetly caressing your body slowly. your hands find purchase in his hair, brushing out the unruly blue strands that stick out from nudging against your lap, feeling each strand slip between your fingers smoothly.

the tranquil moment shared between you two unfortunately doesn’t last long. “do you remember the bet that you lost against me? i want to use it now.”

“THAT WAS A YEAR AGO.”

your boyfriend is a huge pain in the neck.

extra:

“welcome back!! the cookies are done!!” a soft cheery voice echoes through the kitchen, muffled slightly by the hand that covers her face, no doubt covering the knowing look she has at the sight of both of you together in the kitchen, ayato unbearably close by your side. thoma also looks up with his face stuffed with a cookie, about to greet you two before another thought crosses his brain.

“wait, isn’t that ayato’s shirt??!”

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inspired by mostly (ancient) Greek folk and Byzantine music