For the amazingly talented @haikyuusmiles as “payment”
(really this feels like I’m jiping you) for the amazing Bokuto avatar she’s
allowed me the privilege to use during my Bad Boy AU September event.
I’ve aged him up to college, so I hope you don’t mind!
I hope
this is to your liking!
“How are you even in advanced art? Your stuff is so…childish!”
The harsh words spoken with such vitriol stop Yahaba in his tracks. Incredulous
eyes land on the scene before him of you trembling with hands wrapped so tight
around your sketch book it bends, reaction to the two males and female who
are taunting you. Initially he’d been irritated to find himself in the art
building (this school is just so damn big and every building looks the same),
but that quickly morphs into ire for someone in trouble.
He frowns…this ends now.
Yahaba stalks up, your tormenters ignorant of his approach
but very aware of his presence when he side slams into one of the males sending
him cannoning into the other two leaving room for him to assume a protective position
in front of you, hands clenched into fists. “Just what the hell is your
problem!” he snaps. It’s a rhetorical question he’s not interested in hearing
the answer to because when the female of the trio opens her mouth he fills the
void of sound with his own voice once more. “Do you really have nothing better
to do that torment other people? And what are you, twelve? Didn’t you get this
crap out of your system in junior high and high school? Or are you really so
shallow, insecure and pathetic that
you have to prey on others?”
Behind him you stand, eyes wide and pulse racing. Though you’re
thankful for someone stepping in, this gallant male’s loud voice and
threatening posture are only adding to your anxiety. You don’t want anyone to
get in a fight, least of all over you! But you remain quiet, knees knocking as a
tense silence falls. There’s a mix of reaction around you, people either
blatantly staring in curiosity or pleasure (there are those who just love drama) or others who pass right on
by intent on their own thoughts.
Finally, the second male, less aggressive but no less
involved in the occurrence, grunts out, “Let’s go,” and the other two follow.
As they retreat, Yahaba calls, “And don’t let me catch you bothering her again!”
Turning around, he almost gasps in surprise at how cute you
are. He’d not time to notice before now, only having seen the top of your head
and reacting to the situation. He’s so lost in the warmth of your brown eyes
that he almost misses the tears standing in them. “Hey,” he says, voice falling
to a gentle octave, “it’s ok, you’re safe now.” He reaches out, intent on
placing a comforting hand upon your shoulder.
You work hard to meet his eyes, he deserves that much, but
the intensity of the entire situation and all the painful memories it brings up
is overwhelming you quickly. With a hurried, “Thank you,” you skirt around him,
rushing down the hall and out the double doors into sunlight and fresh air and
safety. Behind you, Yahaba’s hand remains outstretched, his eyes full of confusion.
You seem just as scared of him as the people he saved you from and this thought
does not sit well with him. It doesn’t sit well at all.
“Just go back and talk to her, you know she’s in advanced
art so it’s not like it would be hard to find her again,” Watari comments after
Yahaba tells him the story that evening over pizza and soda.
“Yeah, I guess,” shrugs the setter, “I just…I don’t want her
to think I’m a creeper or something.”
“But you are a creeper,” Kindaichi comments around a bite of
pepperoni. “And you haven’t lost your touch of being a show-off.”
“You know, sometimes I wonder why I let you come around,”
snaps Yahaba to his former kohai, now a third year.
Kindaichi shrugs. “’Cause you miss me.”
“Tch.” But Yahaba smiles ever so slightly. Sighing he rubs
his head. He can’t get you out of his mind. He should just move on, count it a
blessing he was there to help someone in need and get on with his life but he
can’t. Not when your fear-filled eyes keep flashing before him.
“Just go talk to her,” Watari sighs, “otherwise you’ll keep
driving yourself, and me, crazy with your indecision.”
It takes him two days to track you down because he didn’t
know what day you actually take
advanced art (turns out there are three sessions of it throughout the week).
But he finally strikes lucky (or persistent) on Wednesday, because here you
come, eyes cast down, a hustle in your step.
“Hey,” he says stopping you in your tracks. When you look at
him, he’s beginning to think you have two expressions: neutral and nervous. But
you surprise him by blinking once then smiling, albeit shyly, a delicate blush
on your cheeks as you advance to his seated position on the bench just outside
the art department.
“Hello,” you offer then bow low. “I’m so sorry for my
rudeness the other day. Th…thank you for helping me.”
“It’s no big deal, anyone would have done it,” he remarks,
his own cheeks heating up a bit.
When you rise, he swallows thickly; you’re just too cute for
words. “But no one else did.” Then you shrug, gaze falling to the ground once
more. “It…it’s ok really, I’m…I’m used to it.”
A smoldering anger rises quickly in Yahaba’s chest. He doesn’t
understand it, doesn’t question it, he just knows he wants to protect you.
But that’s not all.
With renewed confidence he extends his hand, smiling when
this time you take it instead of running way. “I’m Yahaba Shigeru, by the way,
it’s nice to officially meet you…”
“_______,” you supply.
“Well, ______, since we’ve got the awkward first greetings
out of the way, would you like to…get some lunch or something?” Yahaba asks,
nerves flaring a bit but he gets the words out almost as smoothly as they
sounded in his head.
You look surprised but nod nonetheless, falling into stride
next to him as the two of you head to a local bistro off campus, both deciding
that cafeteria food is not what you want. The impromptu date leads to more
official ones, each time drawing Yahaba closer and closer to cloud nine.
Finally, tonight, after what he doesn’t know is which date
number, you lean up and kiss him gently. Eager for more, his hands slide around
your waist, loving the feel of your soft curves and warmth against his body. “I’ve
been waiting for this,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you this time.
He doesn’t even care that he has to hold you up as your
knees go weak because he knows that, for as long as you’ll have him, he’ll
never stop holding you.
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