Chapter Text
I try to restrain my hair for my interview, which my roommate, Kenma, couldn’t help me with since his boyfriend, Kuroo Tetsuro, needed him last night. And by needed, I mean, sex. Both of them always manage to snake their way into each other pants, and ironically, Kenma is the horniest one out of both of them.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was an Omega that goes into heat every time he hears Kuroo’s voice, sees him, smells him, or stands too close to him.
Love looks so exhausting, to be honest. I can’t do what they do ― fuck until my brain stops working and I blabber incoherent words. I can’t be bothered to receive or give in bed that much.
It’s not that I can’t have sex, or I don’t want to, I can and I do want to ― sometimes ― but doing it on the hour, almost every hour looks exhausting. Fuck, even my stamina has its limits.
What the hell do they eat?
But thanks to Kenma arranging ― and by that, I mean, beg me to stand in his place while he and his boyfriend fly to another country to fuck ― this interview for me, which I’m more than grateful for. I can finally speak to the one and only, Bokuto Koutarou, or Mr. Bokuto if he wants me to be formal, which I will whether he wants me to or not. I seek to have a successful interview with him for the newspaper that we, Kenma and I, work for. I can’t mess up. At all.
Kenma might not seem responsible but he is. He overworks himself a lot, to the point where his boyfriend does things like this to pull him away from his computer.
But dear god, did Kenma have to literally fly miles away to relieve some stress? What if I need him? What if I forget my lines? What if―
No, I can’t freak out. I have to drive there and come back with good news for him. He’s relying on me.
I exit the bathroom after giving up on my slightly messy hairdo and enter the living room with my tape recorder and notepad in my bag that’s swung over my shoulder. I eye the empty couch where Kenma usually would slave away on his Macbook Pro with his Airpods in his ears, playing Kuroo’s customized playlist ― ‘listen to this while you work’.
Although I don’t try to listen to what blasts out of his Airpods, I do manage to hear it while I lay on the other couch.
He always plays ‘You know’ by Yugyeom ― which is a remake of the American singer, Tinashe’s song, 2 On ― who is a member of the kpop band, Got7.
He plays the song so many times, I’ve memorized the lyrics by heart.
“I hope he’ll be alright,” I mumbled before I leave the apartment, keys in hand.
I stride to the elevator, jab my knuckle on the button to request one up, and once the doors open ― I step on and push the button with the number one on it to head to the first floor. Once the doors open again, I walk off and head to the garage where my car was waiting for me. I climb into the driver’s side and start my engine. I toss my bag in the passenger seat before driving into the busy traffic to head to Fukurōdani Enterprises.
After an hour or so of driving ― that consisted of me repeating the same questions over and over again to ask him ― I arrive at the breathtaking building. I saunter inside to see a woman behind the luxurious front desk, her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, as she types on the computer keyboard. I awkwardly clear my throat to attract her attention since there wasn’t a bell for me to ring.
Her eyes flicker up at me and she pushes her glasses up her nose. “Good morning, sir. How may I help you?”
“Good morning, my name is Akaashi Keiji. I’m here to interview, Mr. Bokuto. I’m the substitute for Kenma Kozume, who requested I come in his place.”
The woman nods and types on her computer again, her eyes peering at her computer screen as her eyebrows furrow together in concentration. She nods again before looking at me with a small smile. “You’re expected. Please sign this clipboard while I print you a visitor’s pass.” She hands me the clipboard that had a pen attached to it by a thin piece of thread.
I sign my name as coherently as possible and by the time I am handing it back to her, she's handing my visitor’s pass to me. “Thank you,” I say, grabbing my pass from her and sticking it to my chest.
She points to the elevators with her well-manicured index finger. “Take the elevator to the fortieth floor. His office will be down the hall, just follow the owl paintings. You won’t miss them.”
I bow to her before making my way to the elevators. I step onto one of them, press the forty button, and lean against the handrail. I inwardly sigh as I realize that my attire isn’t remotely close to ‘professional’ but as far as I’ve known Kenma. As long as you don’t stutter, mess up, or be rude ― they won’t care what you wear. Your demeanor will speak for you.
As the elevator whisks me up to the fortieth floor, I subconsciously hum the song again, ignoring the music playing from the speakers above me.
Once the elevator dings, rousing me out of the daydream I slipped myself into, I walked off and saw the first owl painting on the marble wall.
I walk to it and round the corner to see them all over the walls.
She wasn’t kidding when she said I wouldn’t miss them. They’re everywhere.
“Excuse me.”
I nearly flinch out of my skin when I hear a feminine voice speak behind me. I turn to be face to face with a goddess. My gaze trail down to her name tag.
Kiyoko.
“You must be Akaashi Keiji.” She smiles, motioning me to follow her. “This way.”
She leads me down the hallway and sits me in a chair outside of his office, which was behind the door in front of me. “Would you like a beverage?” She asks me.
“No thanks.” I shake my head.
“He’ll be here shortly.” She says before vanishing down the hallway.
I sit there patiently for about ten minutes until I hear a loud―
“NO, I DID NOT!”
It echos down the hallway, making me jolt in surprise.
Who yells that loud?
“Yes, you did. Stop denying your loss.” Another voice says, not quite as loudly as the other, but I can hear it from here.
“I DIDN’T LOSE! I TRIPPED!”
“Keep telling yourself that, Koutarou.”
Wait, don’t tell me...
The sources of the voices emerge from the hallway, revealing one blonde male with glasses and another with salt and pepper hair that was down, partially covering his eyes that were yellow ― beautifully yellow.
The blonde guy looks at me. “Good morning, sir.” His eyes look down at my name tag, something the other female didn’t do. She must’ve didn’t have to since she was expecting me. “Ah, you’re Mr. Akaashi,” he turns to the male beside him. “Here’s your interviewer, Bokuto.”
The salt and pepper male looks at me, almost memorized before he unlocks his office door with his key. “Good morning, Mr. Akaashi. Please, come in.”
I stand up, bow to the blonde male, and enter the office. Mr. Bokuto nods to the blonde male once more before he shuts his door, his eyes finding mine again.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” He motions me to sit down on the chair that was on one side of the coffee table. I sit down and he sits down on the other chair on the other side of the coffee table, his leg over the other as he interlaces his fingers together.
“Do you mind if I record your answers?” I ask apathetically. Taking out my tape recorder and notepad.
“Sure.” He says, watching me place the recorder on the table. “Though, I didn’t expect you to equip such an antique object to an interview.”
“Is that a problem?” I ask, meeting his gaze again.
“Not at all.” He smiles. “Please, continue.”
“So, Mr. Bokuto―”
“Call me Koutarou.” He chuckles, resting his elbow on the arm of his chair, placing his chin in the palm of his hand. His perfect yellow eyes stare at me with interest.
“I rather not,” I say in a monotone. My gaze flickers down to my notepad, which I pick up and start writing on with my yellow number two pencil.
The interview went well ― at first, it did. Until he swerved the conversation from marketing to―
“In domination, I play a role of control and execute those who are beneath me.” He admits, licking his bottom lip while his eyes bore into mine. “If you know what I mean… haha, work isn’t easy.”
Why is he looking at me like that?
“Yeah, being the CEO isn’t easy. I understand.” I uncomfortably squirm in my chair as I grow self-conscious of his gaze on me.
“Have you ever had experience being a CEO?” He asks.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Really? I can show you if you want?” He offers.
“No, I’m alright.” I press stop on the recorder and collect my things. “Well, the time is up. I better go before they question my loitering in your building.”
I raise to my feet and extend my hand to shake his. He stands too and shakes my hand with a firm grip. He smiles at me and for a moment, I feel him try to pull me closer to him.
Maybe, I imagined it.
“Good day, sir.” I bow, trying to escape his gorgeous yellow eyes that are constantly bewitching me in their beauty.
Crap, he’s a handsome man. I can’t stay here any longer than I am or else, I might indulge in his obvious intentions.
“Good day, Keiji.” He says, giving me a bow too before flashing me a smirk. I turn on my heels to leave his office, but I'm not fast enough because he says something else before the door to his office closes.
“I can’t wait to see you again, Keiji .”