Chapter Text
“No more being in the Zone for today, Hayama-kun.”
“B-but – Akashi!” Hayama’s pleading was met with Akashi’s unyielding stare. A stare that would have been a lot scarier if both his eyes were still dichromatic. That being said, however, this stillwas Akashi, and the stare would have been intimidating to most lesser mortals.
And this still was Hayama, in whose existence self-preservation instincts can be called into question.
“I want to be in the Zone! Send me into the Zone! Come ooooon, Akashiiii…” his whine dragged on and on as he followed Akashi around the court. His movements were abruptly stopped as he slammed into Akashi’s outstretched hand.
Akashi had turned around and was now levelling a slightly amused, slightly exasperated gaze at him. “Hayama-kun.”
“Senpai,” Hayama corrected him, cheekily. Since the Winter Cup final, it had become an unspoken agreement that it would be slightly awkward for Akashi to call every member in his team a ‘senpai.’
Secretly, and quite frankly, most of Rakuzan thought it would be creepy and weird if he did start calling them that. Almost as creepy as his sudden personality shift.
“So, Akashi, you have to do as your senpai says, and send me into the Zone.” Hayama prattled on, smirking to let a fang through.
Akashi was about to say something when – “Leave Sei-chan alone, Hayama!” Mibuchi stalked over, bonking Hayama on the head. “He has better things to do than sending you into the Zone just because you want it, for the heck of it.”
“It’s better if we train in the Zone!” Hayama rounded on him, protesting. “We can reach 250%! That’s 150% more than 100%, which is the –”
Hayama would have said more, but Akashi’s hand was now on his mouth, stopping the torrent of words.
“As impressed as I am with your ability to do maths, Hayama-kun, there is a reason why I can’t send you into the Zone anymore for today,” Akashi said. His lips were quirked, and his hand was firm on Hayama’s face.
“I don’t want you to overexert yourself. The Zone can overburden an athlete’s body.” Akashi removed his hand from Hayama, and placed it on his shoulder, squeezing gently.
“In fact, I recommend you rest up for now, eat some sports supplements and stay away from too much white rice for now…” the rest of Akashi’s mother-hen smothering was lost on Hayama, as he spaced out.
“Wow, Akashi’s being so nice. His hand is so warm – wait, why am I so warm?” Hayama suddenly realized the flush rising at the back of his neck. He watched Akashi’s lips moving, wondering at the shape of them, suddenly noticing how perfect Akashi’s facial structure was.
He snapped back into attention as he heard Akashi say, “too much kappamaki, should cut down for your training menu.”
“No more kappamaki!” Hayama yelped. “Why?”
Akashi levelled another gaze at him.
“Sorry, I zoned out,” Hayama chuckled sheepishly, then brightened. “Hey get it? Zoned out–”
Mibuchi whacked him on the head before he could finish celebrating the pun. “You’ve been hanging around Seirin’s point guard again! It’s the third time this week!”
“Maybe you’re just weak to my jokes this week – ” Hayama looked around to see if Akashi was laughing, but then noticed he had already left.
Despite himself, Hayama felt disappointed.
***
“Izuki, you’ve gotta help me!” Hayama grabbed Izuki by the shoulders, shaking him.
“Whoa, whoa, what’s the matter, cheetah chasing your tail?” Izuki smiled brightly, proud of himself despite Hayama’s swinging him back and forth with his violent shaking. “Heh, get it, because –”
“I know, I know, I have animal instincts and I’m fast like a cheetah, good one, but this is more important!” Hayama collapsed into the chair in the cafe.
“What, more important than our weekly Punderings?” Izuki lifted one of his joke books, sadly.
“Yes,” Hayama said seriously. “I don’t know why, but I’ve been feeling…things around Akashi.”
Izuki stared. “You mean, feeling fear? That’s normal.” Hayama shook his head, slowly.
Izuki gulped. “We are talking about Rakuzan’s captain, Akashi Seijurou – split personality, can go from nice to ‘I’ll cut you up with these scissors’ – ”
“Cool, calm, collected, beautiful cheekbones, that Akashi, yes,” Hayama interrupted. “He’s good ateverything! And he’s really nice, he let me bring my skateboard into the basketball court one time–”
“You have a crush on Akashi Seijurou,” Izuki gasped in awe. Hayama blinked at him.
Then, because he could never help himself, Izuki continued, “You’re going to be crushed, literally.”
Hayama spluttered. “N-no way! Just because I can never do a layup properly when he takes off his shirt during training doesn’t mean –”
“I’ll help you win him over!” Izuki ignored him, immediately grabbing a notebook. He showed it to Hayama, a slow smile spreading on his face. “Not even Akashi Seijurou will be able to resist this.”
Hayama stared reverentially, mouthing the title of the book. “Pun your way into any Punk’s heart.”
***
“Hey, hey, Akashi! I’ll help you out!” Hayama ran over to help Akashi clear the courts after practice.
“Hayama-kun.” Akashi smiled at him. Hayama immediately felt a lump in his throat, and resisted the urge to sputter. “You’re being unusually helpful today. It’s not going to work if you think this will make me send you into the Zone for longer during next training session.”
“N-no!” Hayama squeaked, then cringed at the sound of his own voice. “I mean, I thought you might want some help.”
Akashi narrowed his eyes and stared at him. Hayama gulped again. He took a deep breath, running over the lines repeatedly in his head.
“Hey – Akashi! Don’t you think I should be a Center?” Akashi blinked at the sudden change in topic.
“Are you alright, Hayama-kun –”
“Because I want to be the center of your attention!” Hayama scrunched his eyes and yelled it out. His heart hammering in his chest, he waited for Akashi’s response.
He heard a sigh, and opened his eyes warily to an Akashi who was looking at him resignedly.
“Hayama-kun – did you get me alone here just to try your jokes on me? Is this like that time where you and Nebuya-kun made a bet to see who could make me laugh –”
“N-no!” Hayama waved his hands frantically, then rummaged through his gym bag.
“H-here!” He shoved a box into Akashi’s hands.
Blinking slowly, Akashi opened the box.
“D-do you like dates? How would you like to go on a raisin with me – wait no,” Hayama smacked himself on the head.
Akashi stared at the box of raisins in his hand.
“Hayama-kun…” he started slowly. Hayama peeked at him through the fingers he had covering his brightly flushed face.
“Are you asking me out?” To his horror, Hayama saw the beginnings of a smile spread on Akashi’s face. He was going to laugh at him! Or worse, stab a pair of scissors at him!
At that moment, Hayama felt as though something heavy and dull had suddenly sank into his chest, weighing him down. He wanted to go home and bury himself under his blankets. He wanted to go to the skateboard park and do so many flips he would forget that moment. He wanted to be anywhere but where he was, at that moment.
“I-I think I need to go! I need to…I need to help Mibuchi blow-dry his hair!” Hayama choked, turning around and walked as quickly away as he could without seeming like he was running away.
“Hayama-kun.” Akashi stopped him by grabbing him on the arm. Hayama refused to face him, staring instead at his shoes.
“Mibuchi-kun would never allow you to touch his hair.” Amused, yet kind. Hayama judged Akashi’s tone of voice to be safe enough for him to turn around.
When he did, he felt himself being pulled forward by a grip on his shirt, and lips on his own. Akashi smelt clean – he always did, despite captaining a boy’s basketball team and practicing for hours every day. Hayama felt his lips widen in a smile, and felt Akashi’s lips quirk up as well, on his own.
When they finally broke apart, Hayama threw up his hands in the air. “Yes!” he whooped. “I gotta tell Izuki that it worked!”
Akashi shook his head. “It wasn’t the jokes, Hayama-kun.” But he was still smiling, that smile Hayama now could not get enough of.
As Akashi leaned in closer again, Hayama could not help himself.
“You know what, Akashi,” Hayama said, impulsively. “If you were a basketball, I would never shoot you, because I will always miss you.” He inwardly brightened – another one to add to the books, Izuki would be so proud.
Akashi released a short, sharp breath, which Hayama almost dared to be a chuckle. Then he stepped away, to Hayama’s disappointment.
“Say that again and you’re banned from practice,” Akashi looked at him from the side of his eyes. “I don’t need a small forward on my team missing his shots.”
Hayama gaped and sputtered, but then he noticed the secret smile. “But then again,” Akashi stepped closer again, and Hayama leaned eagerly closer as well. “If you were a basketball, I’d never pass because I would want to keep you all to myself.”
Heart bursting with joy, Hayama leaned to press his lips against Akashi’s again, but then Akashi placed a hand on his mouth.
“Now, no more jokes like that for at least a month. I said that earlier in a momentary lapse in my judgement, not an encouragement for you to continue.”
And before Hayama could protest, Akashi covered his words with his lips.