Akashi Seijuro was a very, very complex human.
It was never a predictable day with the scarlet-haired boy; was he going to be impassive? Rude? Intolerable? She will never know. But that's exactly what makes him so exceptional.
How he silently looks out for her despite saying he doesn't care, how he scolds her ruthlessly for walking home after nightfall, Akashi was a caring friend and she was certain of it.
And that's precisely why she almost choked from the realization of falling in love with her best friend. Oh, how she wished she never fulfilled the stereotype, but she did.
Vehemently falling in love with him was never part of her plan, after all, how could she possibly look at her childhood best friend as anything more than that? How did the random afternoon walks, and the 3 a.m. summer nights spent under the stars turn into indescribable affection?
She was meant to keep him in check; to make sure his superiority complex didn't go out of hand, not to ignite the fire of a possible romance.
How could platonic feelings escalate so quickly?
She took a deep breath, eyes trailing his swift movements on the basketball court. It felt like he was moving in slow motion, the foreground of the cheering audience gradually blurring to focus on him. It was only when he stole a glance in her direction did something clicked in her bustling mind.
Ah, those heterochromatic eyes.
Oh how she admired them; their dull vibrancy, the perfect imperfection of them, and how even in his flaws, he was flawless.
She chuckled lightly, a soft smile ghosting her lips as she's brought back to that rather eventful day when he wore himself bare. She'd never seen him wear such a distinct expression before; it was as if every emotion he so stubbornly suppressed came crashing down like a tidal wave.
Somehow at that moment, she knew—beyond his wavering mismatched eyes and his furrowed brows, that he meant it when he said;
"I love you."