I just melt for soft Akashi, he’s so…intense but I love the idea of him sweet and romantic. – Admin Jade
You’d been practically vibrating with excitement all day. It was Valentine’s Day, normally an unwelcome and overly commercialized holiday you tended to either mock or avoid. Of course, that was all a ruse, a defense mechanism to protect you from years of being alone or disappointed from past lovers who either failed to remember or failed in their efforts.
But this year would be different. This year you were with Akashi Seijuro.
You just knew he’d come up with something amazing and romantic. He’d been dropping miniscule hints throughout the day via text message but you were still completely in the dark of his master plan. He’d assured you all would be handled by him – or his staff where necessary – and you’d enjoy yourself.
You had no doubts.
Stepping out on the stoop of your apartment, you smiled at his driver waiting beside the car. “The master awaits you at your final destination. He,” here he took out from his pocket a blindfold, “requested your acquiesce to my putting this on you and guiding you. Are you comfortable with that?”
A thrill of anticipation rolled through your chest, fingers clutching the cloth of your jacket a bit tighter but you nodded, turning around so he could fix it about your eyes. “If you would take my hand, I’ll help you into the car.”
You nodded again, doing as requested and when the door was shut you let out a long breath, unaware you’d even been holding it.
It was odd being a vehicle with no ability to see, the sway of the suspencion more noticeable giving you pause to consider you never realized how much one relied on visual cues while driving. Finally you felt the car come to a stop and the engine shift off. The door opening made you start slightly but you took a calming breath and waited for further instruction.
You were unprepared for Akashi’s voice near your ear. “Thank you for indulging my whims,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I did want this to be a surprise.” You nodded, allowing him to take your hand and lead you where he would.
“There are steps,” he advised looping your arm through his own. “Ready?”
At your nod, the two of you made way up the stairs. You felt the air pressure change alerting you to being indoors, but there was no real noise, no murmur of voices so you didn’t think you were in a public area. Maybe the back door to a hotel? But that didn’t make sense. Akashi had no reason to hide, never would in fact, and it was unlikely he’d take you to hotel anyway. You hadn’t even discussed being together in that capacity yet, still feeling out the relationship and each other.
“Ok, stand here and wait,” he ordered, voice soft. “Close your eyes and do not open them until I say.” You did so and he removed the barrier of your vision. You felt him shift, take both your hands in his and then he gave permission to open your eyes.
When you did so a soft gasp pulled from your lips. You were in a room at his mansion seemingly filled with hundreds and hundreds of candles. It was only when you looked a little closer that you realized the illusion was caused by mirrors. Turning your head you caught sight of roses – of which you were sure there were at least one hundred – settled upon every surface of the room save the small round table upon which lay a prepared meal of sushi and sake next to a small red box of chocolates from your favorite confectioner on a crisp, white tablecloth.
Soft music played from his record player, an indulgence he’d procured for himself earlier in the year. Gently, he guided you into his arms, pressing his cheek against your own and swayed in time to the music, guiding you in a small circle. You closed your eyes, breathing in his spicy scent and let it out in a long, low puff of air.
Akashi leaned back, looking into your eyes, a small but deep and warm ember of affection reflected by the flicker of flames that seemingly danced right along with you. He smiled softly, drawing his face closer to yours and pressed a firm but sweet kiss to your lips. Drawing back, his breath ghosting over you, he murmured, “Happy Valentine’s Day, ______.”
Characters are adults here, think late twenties. I also think this is longer than the other stories in Cantabile, because *inspiration*!
Maybe everything happened because of fate.
The recital hall is packed, and you’re not exaggerating when you say it literally looks like a sea of people. The traffic was hectic, which lead to your almost late arrival. You regret not being able to meet your student to give her encouragement, but thankfully her mobile was reachable just a couple of minutes ago, so you were able to cheer her on through a simple phone call.
You’re struggling to find an empty seat—the lights are dim, making it harder for you to look for one. Eventually you see one empty seat right beside the aisle, a man sitting on the seat next to it. You walk over in a slightly faster pace than you’re used to, not wanting the seat to be taken by someone else.
“Excuse me,” you say, grabbing his attention, “is this seat taken?”
Shocking scarlet eyes look back at you in mild surprise. He looks your age, somewhere between mid- and late-twenties, though his face might pass for early-twenties instead. He’s dressed formally, like most of the people attending the recital, including you. When he speaks, his tone is professional and dignified:
“No, please.”
You smile, relieved and thankful, as you shuffle into your seat, fixing your clothes as you’re seated. You murmur your gratitude, while he replies with a simple “you’re welcome”. Realizing that there’s still at least five more minutes until the show starts, you glance at him, pondering if you should make small talk.
Before you can decide, he beats you to it.
“What brings you here today?”
“Oh,” you blink, surprised at the initiative, “it’s my student, actually. She’s performing.”
His eyes shines with interest, that much is plain to see. A small smile graces his lips.
“Really. Instrument?”
“Piano. She’s playing Schumann today.”
He hums and nods, seemingly pleased with your answer.
“And what about you?” You ask.
“My friend’s daughter is playing,” he replies, “though I came here rather late, and I couldn’t seem to find him.”
“Wow, that’s unfortunate,” you say sympathetically, “did you get caught in the traffic or something?”
“Yes,” the redhead answers, shaking his head slightly at the memory of the traffic jam he experienced earlier. Owning a luxury sedan doesn’t make life easier in Tokyo. “I didn’t expect it to be that bad.”
“Same,” you sigh, “but at least we’re here now.”
The lights are dimmed down, and the two of you gather that the recital is about to start. Amongst the minimally lit room, however, you can see that the man has extended a hand.
“Akashi,” he says, “Akashi Seijuurou.”
It takes you two seconds into the handshake to offer you your own full name upon realizing that the person next to you is the CEO to an extremely successful company.
“How did you enjoy the performance?” Akashi asks you in the middle of the applause at the closing performance. You need to lean in a little bit to hear him, and your shoulder unintentionally touches his. He doesn’t seem to notice—if he does, he doesn’t look like he minds. You, on the other hand, have to mutter a simple apology, moving away before answering his question.
“It was intriguing,” you reply, slowly stopping your own applause, “some of the pieces were interpreted differently by their respective performers. I feel refreshed.” You smile, standing up the same time as he does. It seems like Akashi is going to at least walk out of the hall with you before parting ways, and with that in mind, you tread up the stairs with him by your side, exchanging banter mostly about the recital that just ended.
The light outside is almost blinding, since it is only 4 p.m. and the sun is still shining in the desaturated blue of the winter sky. You have to squint slightly a few moments upon exiting the dim hall to adjust your eyes. Akashi, on the other hand, doesn’t seem too bothered, and you notice just how he looks three times more captivating under the late afternoon sunlight.
“Your student performed brilliantly,” he compliments, “her teacher must be excellent, as well.” When he says that, he looks at you with mirth in his eyes. Is he teasing you? You can only chuckle and bashfully look down to the ground.
“Ah, speaking of which, I need to congratulate her,” you say, looking around outside the auditorium entrance to spot your student. She must be with her parents here somewhere.
“I suppose I should also say hello to my friend,” he replies. “But before you go, ___________-san…”
You turn to look at him writing something on what looks like a business card, before he hands it to you.
“I hope you don’t mind me giving you my personal number,” Akashi says with a smile. It is somehow different compared to the other smiles he’s sent you during the short period of time you’ve got to know each other—ever enigmatic, but somehow this time it’s more… gallant.
“I’d like to get to know you more, perhaps over coffee or lunch. Call me if you’re free,” he says, before spotting someone from afar—green hair and tall stature makes someone much easier to find in a crowd.
“And that would be my friend. Until next time,
___________-san.”
You’re in a standstill, his card still in your hand as you watch him walk away to greet his friend. Until next time, huh… he’s that confident that you’re going to call him.
You can’t say he’s wrong.
‘Getting to know each other’ ends up happening over lunch dates instead—he picks you up at 12.30 sharp every time, drives you to a restaurant that he recommends, and you’d talk and eat for an hour. From the four lunch dates that he’s taken you to, you now know several things about him: that he knows how to play the violin, and his favorites are Bach and Brahms, and that he also knows how to play the piano (unsurprising, in your opinion). He used to play basketball in high school—you know the whole story—and you know of his family. You know that he likes tofu soup, and a bunch of other things that would take a whole day to describe.
When you see him through the window of the classroom you’re teaching in, you can’t be any more surprised.
“Can you complete number 5 and 7, too? I will check your answers when you’re done with everything,” you tell your student, who replies with a simple “okay” before you walk to get the door, closing it once you’re out of the room. The look on Akashi’s face tells you that he’s entertained by your shocked expression.
“Akashi-san, what are you doing here?”
“Hello to you too,” Akashi says, holding out a small, simple bouquet of red tulips. Knowing him, who likes things of extravagance and class, he probably doesn’t want you to look unprofessional in your work place.
“I thought I could pay you a surprise visit,” he continues.
“Well, you succeeded on that,” you reply, holding the flowers in your hands, “and you shouldn’t have, really.”
“I wanted to,” he smiles. You have to hold in the urge to blush.
“Thank you, they’re lovely.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence sets in the two of you for a few seconds, and you certainly aren’t able to gauge the look on Akashi’s face while your eyes keep looking anywhere but him.
“I was wondering if you’re free for dinner tomorrow night?” Akashi asks, a casual hand in his pocket.
“Yes, I am,” you say, “are you picking me up?”
“Of course,” he replies smoothly as he flashes one of those dangerously charming smiles to you. You thought that seeing it more often for the past three weeks would make you somewhat immune to it, but his charm, if anything, gets even stronger. Or is it you who is getting weaker? “Is seven alright?”
“Yes, that works just fine,” you say, smiling back at him. He takes your hand and kisses the back of it, like he always does before and after a date with you—you told him you thought only people in the olden days did that, and he laughed. This time, however, you don’t comment. The pink on your cheeks tell him everything he needs to know.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
You wave him goodbye as he walks away from the classroom towards the exit—the front desk must’ve told him you’re almost done with this class and let him in. You hope the other teachers weren’t around to see that… Opening the door to your classroom with the bouquet in your hands, you see your student still twirling the pencil in his hand, and when he looks up at you, he’s mildly surprised at the bunch of flowers you’ve got.
“How are we going along?”
“Sensei, was that your boyfriend?” The boy teases, grinning mischievously with curiosity in his eyes. You burst out laughing.
“He’s… someone I’ve known for a while. Now, if the question asks you to identify the tempo in
Mälzel’s Metronome—”
The dinner was splendid, even Akashi has to admit at least that. He told you beforehand that the restaurant isn’t really one you can enter without complying to a certain dresscode, which took you by surprise, but he must say that you look gorgeous with that outfit on. He just has to examine you from head to toe another time, you sitting quietly in the passenger seat of his Aston Martin, looking out the night lights of the city.
Akashi is never one to quickly jump into things that is uncertain. He does make swift decisions, but all of them are accurate, precise, calculated, and always right.
So when he thinks meeting you is love in first sight, that might as well be the truth.
It wasn’t all flowers and pink auras in your first meeting, that’s for sure, but he remembers exactly how it felt when his eyes met yours. There’s something different, and a voice inside him (his conscience, or his demons?) telling him that you’re different. Of course he included the possibility of being physically attracted to you, which is a very natural thing considering how appealing you are, but he’s never one to be simply allured by looks.
After various processes in his mind, he concluded that the butterflies in his stomach can only be the product of the so-called love at first sight.
“Akashi-san, are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?” You ask, a small smile on your face. Trying to guess where he’s taking you makes it all the more exhilarating—you haven’t felt this way in a very long while.
“My home,” he answers, and before you can retaliate or question him, or think of other more suggestive possibilities, he continues.
“I want to show you something.”
When he brings back a violin case to the living room where you’re sat, you gasp. He can only smile back, taking extreme delight in your shock.
He’s going to play for you.
And it’s not like you’ve never heard someone play the violin. You’ve been to many violin performances, the recital where the two of you met counts as one, but to have someone that is a romantic interest to perform in front of you, just the two of you—
It has to be a serenade.
He elegantly holds the instrument up, his fingers delicately hovering over the strings, and as his right hand starts to move the bow across the instrument, you find yourself surprised yet again.
Liebestraum.
“Love’s Dream”, so it is called, by Liszt. It is a classic piano piece, you’ve never heard it on the violin before, but the melody sounds so enchanting when Akashi plays it. The room is quiet, and the sound of the instrument resonates so beautifully in the midst of the silence, letting you hear each and every note clearly.
It’s his confession of love.
Akashi is deep in concentration as he plays, so when his scarlet eyes look up at you from the violin, you can’t find it in you to look away. He’ll only gaze at you for so long before returning back to playing, eyelids fluttering once in a while as his fingers dance to the theme of the song. He said that he hasn’t played for a while… did he practice for this? Visions of him playing the violin somewhere in his mansion, alone, spending an hour or two for this piece—it grips your heart so strongly.
When the main melody is repeated in a higher octave, you know that the song is about to end, but it sounds so sad and beautiful that it makes your eyes water, hand cupping your mouth to prevent whatever unelegant sound you’re about to make. The piece reaches a romantic conclusion, like the last word written in a book, or a couple exchanging sacred three words.
Akashi exhales, puts down the instrument and looks to you to gauge reaction.
Instead of the applause he’s expecting, he sees you walking towards him and cupping his face with both hands before kissing him.
It’s something that he returns whole-heartedly, of course, for he’s sure his heart has never felt that close to bursting at the seams. The touch of your lips are initially soft and tender, but something in him decides to take more of you, and his hand moves to your waist to press you against his body. His mouth moves against yours in a passionate dance, encasing your bottom lip in his to suck on it, while he has a hand behind your head to pull you impossibly closer to him.
He wouldn’t have stopped if it weren’t for the wetness he feels against your cheek.
“You’re crying,” Akashi says after slowly pulling away, his finger wiping away the tears, only to find more of them streaming down your cheeks. You sigh helplessly before resting your face against his chest, inadvertently inhaling his scent.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “that was just… beautiful, I don’t know what else I can say—”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he says, chuckling a little bit, and you can feel the vibrations deep in his chest.
“I—did you—Akashi-san, how long—”
“Please, call me Seijuurou,” he cuts you off, patting your head lovingly in attempts to calm you down. “I shall also call you
___________, if you wish.”
“Seijuurou,” you begin again, and he prays to heavens that you don’t catch the way his heart beats like a hammer against his ribcage when he hears you say his name, “how long did you spend practicing for this?”
“That’s a secret I can’t tell,” Akashi answers, mischief apparent in his gaze. You pout, disappointed at the answer, but you lean up to kiss him again nonetheless, this time with your arms wrapped around his shoulder. Akashi’s lips curl into a subtle smirk against the kiss, and when your mouth opens slightly as a form of invitation, he wants nothing more than to accept.
When you part, your eyes are half-lidded, and Akashi can’t decide if it’s from lust or love before he concludes that it’s both.
“Aka—Seijuurou, are we…”
“A couple?” He finishes your sentence for you when he senses you trailing off, and then dips down to your jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “Yes, we are. I’d like you to be mine.”
“Mmm,” you hum in both agreement and pleasure from his treatment, “I’d like that too.”
Scarlet eyes look deep into yours, and he sees love in them just like you see love in his—it’s just a matter of time until the two of you feel right to say it out loud. For now, his violin has initiated the conversation, and you’re speaking with your eyes, with how you admire his face and how he watches your lips move as you speak. For now, the two of you will just bask in romance’s dream.
A time will come in the future when he’ll say he fell in love with you first and you had no idea, but that’s for later, Akashi decides.
Gahhhhhhh!!!!! Beautiful, beautiful!!! He’s so romantic!!!
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