Akaashi

Akaashi had a slow day at home. He had to finish his manga, and then bring it to Onodera at the publishing agency. He didn't quite even want to go that day, seeing how deadlines were soon. But this month he managed to help Onodera's stress levels by finishing about a week and a half earlier than usual. Sort of.

There was still the question of what that last fluff chapter would contain before the big bad scene. Or maybe foreshadowing. He didn't even really know what would happen. Realistically, he could just have one catch a disease and die tragically, or get hit by a semi-truck. He tapped his sketch pencil distastefully as he bit at his nails, not sure what exactly to draw.

Perhaps, just perhaps, at the beginning of the chapter he could add some sort of monologue, featuring a piece of art framed on a wall. That would be aesthetic, and also a bit dark if he played his carts correctly. He would leave that panel for later, seeing how it would require the most detail and precision. He focused on what would come after the painting. He played it out in his head, seeing her waiting anxiously in front of the museum, worry very apparent. Her significant other constantly was outrageously late, or ditch with some vague reason like the bad boy he was. He would then show their excitement and their meeting. They would walk and simply talk as they walked about, some lame pointless chitchat about the forecasts for the week. Maybe add some enlightening humor; the characters were quirky after all.

He would end it with them kissing sweetly in front of that same painting. Yes, that's good. Some foreshadowing with a brief narrative ending the monologue from the beginning of the chapter. Perfect, it's a good way to lead into something fucked up and sad. He sat detailing how he would play out the next part, doodling out on his paper. Oh, how evil of him. He felt maniacal, manipulative.

"If this sells well, I can write boys love freely." He swooned, smiling softly.

He leaned back in his seat, placing his pencil down by his sketch book, and blew his hair from his face. The frustration of being an author, specifically a manga author, was weighing a bit at the moment. He pushed back his seat, the scuffing of the legs against the ground sounding out. He pulled open the fridge door, searching for something sweet, or somethings caffeinated. He already drained his coffee, but exhaustion still picked at his alertness.

He thought about Kuroo as he searched, and how sugar or caffeine messed with him. Although he and Bokuto together were thoroughly dense and hyperactive, when he drank coffee or coke, or ate some sweet, he morphs into some sort of Bokuto, but not quite as outrageously ridiculous. Once, he brought Kuroo a coffee, and after drinking about half, he became fidgety, and soon, he was bouncing off the damned walls. And Bokuto? He took a sip of coffee before a game once and he literally jumped out of his damned shoes. The other team's coach requested a drug test thinking he was on some kind of spliced Adderall and testosterone medication for enhancement. He shook his head, scoffing slightly at the memory.

He searched, spotting a small plate of mochi covered in plastic wrap. He wondered whether or not they had any kinako to sweeten them, but if not he could make himself some sort of concoction with confectioners' sugar and butter. He rustled through the glasses and left overs to reach them, but as he leaned forward, in the corner of his eye he thought something moved. His outstretched fingers froze, not because of the physical cold, but because of the shiver that caressed his spine, the foreboding feeling and that of being watched. His fingers curled back into his hand.

He turned his head slowly, retracting his hand as if backing away from some poisonous snake. His mind totally fucked him up just then. He fully turned his body, concluding it was just the trees. He grabbed his daifuku, grumbling furiously under his breath about being a pussy. He shook his head at himself slowly.

"Am I getting paranoid in my old age?" He asked the air as he turned away from the fridge and shut it. "Wait, what the fuck? I'm not even 30 yet." He muttered to himself.

He opened his toaster oven, placing the mochi in neat little lines. Daifuku, in his opinion, was the best type of mochi. He only prayed they had white bean paste, though. Perhaps buttering them, then sprinkling sugar over them would be yummy. He waited solemnly then, once again his mind wandering back to his story. He dropped his chin into the hand and placed his elbow on the counter, sighing and training his eyes on the mochi. He slowly began to turn everything out, his ears training on the ticking of the timer.

Moments later, there was a loud thump, the scuffling noise, and slowly he turned his head. Coincidence? He hoped so, and he tip toed his way through the kitchen in his huff socks, looking down the hall, left then right. He crept down the hall, taking light steps and breathing shallow so he was quiet. Once he approached the doorway, he leapt out, striking a karate pose. After a moment, he realized how foolish he was being. Not a soul stood before him in the living room, and he breathed out. He felt lame for being paranoid and overthinking as he walked towards Yama's room. He peeked his head in, cringing at the mess, wondering how deep the clothes were and how in the hell Yama ever got to his bed. He would clean it later.

He shuddered at the thought, shutting the door softly. The first time he cleaned Yamaguchi's room, he found a pizza box under a pile of clothes with some moldy substance, and he assumed, or at least hoped, it was pizza. He also found a suitcase with a pad lock, with a bong resting on top of it behind a mountain of papers. When he went to put the bong in the closet, because god forbid someone saw it in plain sight, and an open box of sex toys laid before him. After such, he promptly placed the bong on the ground leaving the room half-spotless and half-dirty-avalanche, and never said a word to Yama.

He turned to head to his room, passing the kitchen, and the living room, and the study slash guest room. Everything around him stood still, and eerily quiet. Except for him of course. He lazily scuffed his feet as he strolled down the hall, with loud stomping noises accompanying each step. He lifted his feet carefully now, as if scared to spook the house. When he was alone, he became anxious at the quiet. It was like if he made a noise he'd disrupt everything, or arouse something to get him.

"What a creepy thought..." He muttered, glancing up. His steps slowed.

It looked as if the hall had lengthened, drawn out like some sort of lame thriller movie. He did not like it one bit. He didn't like the ominous atmosphere, as if the air had thickened. He nervously glanced about, eyes darting this way and that in the dim hallway. The lamps attached to the walls flickered a bit, casting a shadow before him, and he turned his head to look over his shoulder, his hair whisking about his head.

Nothing.

He hated how shitty the lights were.

He finally reached the corned and turned, slowly approaching his door. It was shut, natural light shining out from beneath the door. He reached from the knob, his fingers cold and shivering. He grasped it, stairing at the white paint, not even noticing the shadow that flashed beneath. He turned the knob, pushing the door open and released, listening to the creaking as it swung.

    Completely empty. Everything was in place, perfect.

    He laughed, smacking himself in the head. "I need to not do that to myself." He walked in, checking around the corner, and in his closet. Nobody, nothing, nada. Paranoia got the best of him like a loser. He glanced at his bed, the comforter a bit off. He narrowed his eyes, stepping forward. He forgot to check under the bed. He dropped down to his hands and knees, grabbing the corner of the sheet tentatively.

    Before he could lift it, a screeching alarm went off.

    "MY FUCKING MOCHI!" He sprinted out of his room.

    He didn't even notice that the window was open.

AN: Sorry for taking 400 years, next update coming soon

pray for Akaashi's booty

xxluca