Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The air in the music studio was still quiet save for the gentle hum of an amplifier and the occasional flick of a pen on paper. Akaza sat slouched in the corner booth. His legs sprawled beneath him and an oversized black jacket draped lazily over his shoulders. His chest was exposed just enough to show the tips of tattoo crawling across his collarbone. One headphone dangled off his ear...the other loosely clinging on.
He was alone, just the way he wanted. His fingers tapped against the notepad in his lap, scribbling lyrics Then the door clicked. He didn’t look up.
“Akazaaa~” a voice chimed. “There you are, my favorite grump!”
Akaza’s jaw twitched. He looked up slowly to see Douma standing there, glimmering as if dipped in mischief. Blonde hair pulled half up, the rest spilling down like threads of silk. He wore something absurd.. pastel red jacket over a mesh shirt, silver chains dangling and clinking as he stepped in.
“Why the hell are you here?” Akaza snapped.
Douma pouted dramatically. “Aww, don’t be like that. I was bored~ I thought.. hey! I bet Akaza is being all lonely and broody somewhere. So here I am!"
“I want to be alone.” Akaza glared.
Douma ignored that and pranced in further.. his hands already reaching out to touch the soundboard like he had any idea how it worked. “Wow, this stuff’s complicated... Ooh, are you writing another rage anthem?"
Akaza yanked the headphone off his head and tossed it to the side. “Get out.”
Instead of responding, Douma suddenly made his way toward the couch where Akaza sat. Before Akaza could stop him, Douma flopped down right onto Akaza’s lap.
“Wha!?-” Akaza froze, eyes widening in horror. Douma snuggled in like he’d done it a thousand times, head tilted to look up at him from below. “Ahh... so warm~ Just what I needed after a long... stressful morning..”
Akaza’s entire body tensed. “Get. Off.”
“Hmm? But I’m comfortable. Don’t be so cold.” Douma looked up with the most fake sad expression. “You always push me away. What if my heart just broke right now, huh? Could you live with that guilt, Aka?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Oh? Then what should I call you?” His fingers reached up to toy with the string on Akaza’s jacket, tugging it playfully. “Darling? Baby? Cutie pie?”
“I’m going to throw you across this room.”
Douma laughed with delighted. “Violence! There it is! That's my man!”
“I’m not your-” Akaza’s sentence was cut short when Douma suddenly leaned up, fast. His lips were dangerously close now. Close enough to feel the heat. “I should kiss you” Douma whispered.
