Chapter Text
SECOND THRESHOLD ACHIEVED!
TO HELP YOU IN SUCCESSFULLY PASSING THE PRACTICUM, PLEASE FULFILL THE THIRD THRESHOLD: FALL IN LOVE!
The days after he had invited you to the library, in the mornings before school, Akaashi found his eyes lingering around the desk in his bedroom.
It wasn’t a terribly new habit, he would admit. Usually, he would do a quick sweep of his bedside table to ensure that he hadn’t omitted any necessary school books from his bag, and then he would continue his way to the kitchen. However, nowadays, he found that instead of his mind checking whether the books on the desk weren’t the ones he needed, his eyes and mind were fixated on a particular notebook that had resided on his desk.
Specifically, the one that he bought when he was out shopping for your first in-person meeting.
Even though Bokuto had constantly used the word ‘date’ to describe the activity that he invited you on, Akaashi still felt he was not bold enough to call it that. The both of you had just managed to get truly comfortable with each other and to move away from just considering the demands of the Practicum.
During the initial stages of the Practicum, Akaashi had made a point not to open the daily update emails sent to him by Cupid - the ones containing a mark that evaluated his relationship. The reason for that was that he didn’t want his interactions with you to become less genuine. And the second reason was that from the brief sentence he could see from the email inbox, you two were performing well enough not to get any warning email.
However, that choice was becoming more purposeful. The two of you were now friends. You weren’t just connected due to a test that was created by the government. And between friends, there was no such rating system that existed.
Friends.
The word echoed in his mind, almost as if they were taunting him with how insincere it was.
Akaashi knew that the intimacy that he felt with you was not just something that he would hold towards a friend. He also knew that a friend would not be enough to help him overcome a creative block that he had been silently experiencing.
His works in the Japanese Youth Writing Competition had been connected. The first piece had explored the concept of being too shy to speak to someone that you admire or love. The second piece illustrated how people, as they mature, sometimes have to come to terms with actions they hadn’t taken, such as not making that bold step towards the one they liked, and instead make peace with the feeling of love that they can get from memories.
Whether people like it or not, memories of the past never truly fade. We are surrounded by the buildings and the places where we made those memories. And even if the buildings were to change, we will still remember the familiarity of the location.
Secretly, Akaashi wanted his third piece to be about his main character reuniting with the girl that he loved from his youth, and having the main character realise she wasn’t just some form of regret, and that he still loved the girl as she is now. Akaashi wanted to depict a love that didn’t fade, and instead evolved in definition from young to old. After all, people can’t have the same personality as they did when they were young and naive.
Interacting with his close friends in the volleyball club did help with the first two. The feelings of admiration that he had towards Bokuto did allow him to imagine even a fraction of what it's like to like someone in a romantic sense. And, the memories that he had with the members of the volleyball team - which he knows many will graduate by the end of this year - easily allowed him to channel the bittersweet tone of the text that he wrote.
But he could not emulate writing about someone who realised they were still in love with the person from their past, and not just the memory you made of them. His volleyball friends couldn’t help him do that, no matter how close they were.
But he definitely knew that he could do it with you.
He had admired you for what you were on paper. The impression that he had got from your words alone is that you were certain and unapologetic, and were not afraid of stating your opinion in real life too. He admired those qualities…no, he admired you for having traits that he believed that he did not possess.
When he truly had the chance to meet you in his second year of participating in the Japanese Youth Writing Competition, he realised that you weren’t that simple. You only spoke of your opinions to audiences that you believed would value them, and you would almost mute your presence when you thought that it wasn’t going to be respected otherwise.
You had thought that your actions arose from cowardice. Why try to connect with people when you know that you don’t have similar interests? But he thought that it was courage. Not everyone could accept that you aren’t able to become friends with every single person you come across. Sometimes, it is better to be true to yourself and only have a small pocket of friends.
As he got to know you more, he realised you were far beyond what picture he had made of you in his head. But still, he still finds himself admiring you, wanting to become even closer than what you are now.
He decided that it was best not to delay this any longer. To crystallise himself in the state that his main character was in, just by looking at objects that encapsulate a memory and being unable to move forward from that.
He wanted both of you to add more to that book together, and to hopefully advance your relationship even more. He didn’t want it to be a project for a system. He wanted it to be a symbol of the relationship that the two of you would blossom together.
Before he went down the stairs to have his breakfast, Akaashi typed you a message.
[Inkling]: “I need your help to finish something I couldn’t do before. It was the continuation of the two pieces that I wrote for the writing competition. I realised that the only way I can overcome this block is if I can experience more with you…
Would you want that?”
Akaashi pressed send before he could second-guess himself.
His phone had buzzed with your response not much long later.
[Your username]: “What kind of experiences were you thinking of?”
[Inkling]: “The kid that you can press between pages. Memories that are just solely for us, not built to satisfy Cupid.”
[Your username]: “Then let’s do it.”
The place that Akaashi had chosen to help him with his piece was a pottery studio. The pottery studio was warm - not just in terms of temperature due to the light filtering in through the glass windows, but also in atmosphere. There was the earthy scent of clay, and also the soft laughter of couples and friends as they attempted to help shape each other’s creations into something they desired. Then, there were also the bowls, mugs and vases that were left on the shelves, a quiet testament of the participants that came before them, and would come back later to pick them up when they were fully dry.
He had chosen this place carefully. It was intimate in atmosphere. Plus, he felt like it would be perfect for you, someone who loved researching the history of things, the significance behind techniques, and to shape something yourself that bore so much wisdom that had accumulated through time. Your critical works were another product that represented that, and he wanted to help you expand that to other mediums.
He had met you at the bus stop just outside the pottery facility. You had arrived with wind-tossed hair and flushed cheeks, your eyes wide as you glanced through the window.
“I’m so excited to experience what you chose.”
He could feel how your excitement was threatening to bubble over. The only cork that was managing to stop it was possibly the fact that you were going to enter a public space. A space where not everyone may welcome your habits as much as he did.
“I thought you would enjoy the art form, both when you were researching it and when you are creating.”
Your smile was torn between bashfulness and appreciation, causing one side of your lips to rise higher than the other. Akaashi found it to be endearing.
“You’re right. I already want to interrogate the instructor.”
Both of you had received the instructions. If anything, from what Akaashi had garnered, it was more a trial and error of how much force you place into the clay to shape it out, and also how exactly you positioned your fingers. It was something that required patience and also a willingness to accept failure at times.
Sitting next to you, the sound of the wheels turning between you, he pressed his palm steadily into the clay, guiding it as it swelled upward. His motions were controlled, quiet, as natural to him as the set of his hands on a volleyball. Beside him, you leaned closely to your clay, almost as if by picking apart its constituents, you would be able to see the history that you researched within it.
He could hear you muttering under your breath as if you were reciting field notes. centrifugal force pulling outward, glaze minerals bonding, fire solidifying structure. He could also hear you recalling the different phases that were considered beautiful in pottery, and you deliberating which one you could shape yours to.
Most people would have laughed awkwardly at your running commentary. But to him, it was endearing. You weren't performing; you were being yourself, throwing all your mind into something new. He had always admired Bokuto's exuberance, but with you, it was softer, less obvious, and somehow far more magnetic.
He caught himself staring, his hands and foot stilling, causing him to take a pause on the clay that he was shaping. The way that your eyebrows knitted together as you shaped the clay to fit the vision in your mind, the way your lips pressed together as if sheer will could transfer your mental image in real life…
When a bit of water, tinted with the clay, splashed onto your nose and you reeled back in shock for a moment, he didn’t laugh or draw attention to it. Instead, he had drawn your attention softly, telling you to face towards him, cleaning his own hands against his apron to get rid of the splotch on your nose.
“Don’t worry about making it perfect. After all, people treasure art that is unique. And sometimes, imperfections make something stand out.”
Your eyes lifted, searching his, and for a breath, he felt something bloom hot and unshakable in his chest. He wanted you to see what he did - that you didn’t need perfection to be worth keeping.
When your session had ended and the instructor told you to come back in a few days to pick up the finished product, both of you had walked out with clay still hidden underneath your fingertips.
That night, almost as if by mutual understanding, you had both filled in another entry in your notebooks.
That night, your notebook was a collage of information. You had printed and taped in the once digital receipt, and you cut out the notes you had written on pottery into the page and scribbled your experiences next to the theory you collected.
Clay is stubborn at times, just like how people can be towards themselves. The wheel, too, can spin, but it can sometimes resist. But when he touched it with patience, it shifted. Maybe people are like that too, requiring a gentle hand to guide them in order to unconsciously accept a new perspective of themselves. And I think I am learning that concept too.
In his notebook, he had pasted the receipt, with the rest being sketches of a tilted bowl and a few, sly pictures he had managed to take when you weren’t paying attention.
She shaped clay with her whole self, not just her hands. And I think she’s shaping me too.
The next creative-inspired outing that the two of you went to was a high tea.
It may have been surprising, considering how the two of you seemed the least likely people to participate in high-brow activities. However, after Tendou had joked about you making your next commentary piece centring around the concept of ‘finger sandwiches’, the idea had grasped onto your mind with more demand than you would probably like to admit.
In your mind, you can only write the best commentary article if you have experienced the details yourself. You could write on the concept of how some knowledge can turn to ‘dust’ and be forgotten, as you knew how much history was omitted in schools of whole countries and populations affected by war or discrimination, all because it didn’t fit with the purpose of the overall curriculum. And as you expanded your research into other subjects, you found that the concept of ‘selective teaching’ was the same.
So, in the same line of thinking, how could you write a commentary about how the significance of ‘high tea’ and finger sandwiches evolved with time if you didn’t experience what it is like in the modern day compared to what is written in the past?
You had specifically made sure to choose a high tea area that was set in a historical site. And, you also made sure that it was within the budget that two high schoolers could afford.
When you entered, the only way that you could describe the establishment was whimsical. It was lit by natural light shining through large windows, the view outside framed by the lace curtains hung on its side. There was also the scent of tea leaves, and you could see the glint of light against tiered trays that carried pastries, some of their surfaces powdered with a light dusting of sugar.
Before the event, you had made sure to inform Akaashi to put on his best clothes. You had done so as well. You did blend in with everyone attending here; however, you still felt a little silly. Dressing up for the concept of merely eating was not something you usually participated in.
“You chose a lovely location for inspiration, [Last Name]-san.”
Akaashi’s lips had curved into a soft smile, and with that, you felt the sharp sense of awkwardness that was pervading you dull and slowly disappear. In the end, he had reminded you what you were here for - to allow your respective passions to allow the both of you to open doors to new experiences together.
Both of you were ushered to a seat, and you started on the recommended course.
“Could you tell me what the historical significance of ‘tea time’ is?”
You hadn’t realised it at the time, but Akaashi had purposefully asked the question to allow you to be comfortable in the space. When the pot of tea and cups came out, you started a ramble about how the design of certain cups could carry messages about one's status, especially their ability to afford buying off certain trade routes, and how the differing widths of cups represented changes in social etiquette.
It was only when the waiter had to gently interrupt you to present the tier of finger sandwiches, alongside many other miscellaneous finger foods, that you realised how much you were participating in a word vomit.
You didn’t feel like you had to apologise for the action in front of Akaashi, definitely not. He had clearly told you in the chats on Cupid that no one has to apologise for being passionate about something. However, you still felt bad that he probably didn’t have a moment to digest what you were saying.
“Sorry, that must have been overwhelming-”
“No, it was not.” Akaashi had said this firmly, his gaze meeting yours, unwavering and unflinching. “You make everything sound alive, and make people want to drink in your words. You talked about the tea cups…is there anything special about the tea that comes inside them?”
Something had loosened in your chest, something that you had held tightly onto for years. You weren’t too much. You weren’t tedious and boring to all. Some people can truly want you, just as you are, and you could find them in people that you didn’t believe were possible.
That night after the date, you had written in your notebook, “I thought I’d make a fool of myself. I thought he’d humour me and that would be it. But he watched like every tangent mattered. Like I was worth listening to. I think this is what it feels like to be seen.”
After you left the vicinity, you had made sure to take a pamphlet of their course to paste into your notebook. You circled the word ‘Earl Grey’ on the menu and wrote in neat letters beside it. “First blended in the 1820s with bergamot. Tasted like calm. Smelled like citrus. I felt the most at peace I’ve ever been with him today too. Come to think of it, I always felt calmer when I’m with him.”
In Akaashi’s notebook, his page was quiet. A sketch of a teacup, steam curling upward. Beneath it, a single line.
“Sugar dissolves quickly, but her laughter lingers like warmth that tea leaves behind in porcelain, even after it's been drained.”
The ritual of scrapbooking had become a sacred part of your relationship with Akaashi. As the Practicum progressed, the emails that Cupid left had remained closed and forgotten by both of you. However, the notebooks that Akaashi bought for you hadn’t.
It became filled with ticket stubs, pressed flowers, receipts taped in, and both your penned words, telling of the history that you two made together.
You both also developed a habit of trading notebooks at the end of every outing, just to see how your perspectives may have differed towards each experience. Not only did it make both of you learn about each other more, but it also allowed you to understand how much the memory meant to both of you.
However, at one point, unknown to the two of you, there was a little hidden secret in both of your notebooks. But as the notebooks thickened with scraps and pressed petals, so did both of your hearts, blooming quietly, making it harder to wait for the day that your secret can finally be revealed; when your hidden confession could finally be read, pressed between pages like flowers that refused to fade.
In yours, it was written, “I think I’ve started to love you. I’m too afraid to say it yet, but I want you to find this message when we exchange our notebooks the last time before the Practicum ends.”
In Akaashi’s, it was written, “And I choose you. When this is over, if you’ll have me, I’ll say it out loud.”
THIRD THRESHOLD ACHIEVED!
YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY UNLOCKED THE AFTER STORIES. WE HOPE YOU UNLOCK A BLOOMING ROMANCE AS WELL!