for combini at tumblr! happy two months belated birthday, akafuri queen!

disclaimer: fujimaki tadatoshi owns kuroko no basuke.

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EDIT: this fic has been translated into thai by clowread; thank you so much, i'm more than honoured! as fanfiction does not allow links (and has been thwarting all my methods of trying to include it, with spaces and with brackets, yet it still doesn't work), please find the link on my AO3 (under the same username). so sorry for the trouble!

and he embraced them all (because kouki is worth it)

For the first time in four years, Akashi woke up enveloped in another person's warmth. The peculiarity of the matter had not registered at the time, his mind still hazy from sleep, and he let out a soft sigh of content as he snuggled closer to the warmth. Almost immediately after, ruby red eyes snapped open in alert—there shouldn't have been another presence in his bed. The last time he shared a bed with someone was with her, but that person was no longer here.

Upon opening his eyes, he came face to face with a lean chest littered with bite marks. He tried to back away, but was held securely by tanned arms wrapped around his torso, tight enough to keep him safe—Akashi found himself perplexed at this thought—but loose enough for him to escape its hold should he had wished to. Trailing up the length of those arms, he stared at the face of the man holding him captive. Akashi wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he certainly didn't expect the serene expression gracing the brunet's face.

He was mesmerised by how relaxed the man was in his sleep and, forgetting that the other was a stranger and therefore a potential danger to him, unconsciously a hand reached out to stroke the brunet's cheek. His touch seemed to stir the man, however, as honey brown eyes slowly cracked open and Akashi retracted his hand with a speed he didn't know his reflexes were capable of, as if he had been burned. Quickly pulling himself out of the embrace, Akashi retreated to the corner furthest away in the room, cautiously watching the stranger blink blearily through his sleep-induced haze.

"...Seijuurou?"

Akashi narrowed his eyes at the use of his first name, alarmed at the familiarity despite not showing it externally. When the man received no reply, he moved to sit up on the bed to have a better look at Akashi, the duvet slipping down to his waist and exposing his bare chest. Akashi resisted the urge to avert his eyes and continued staring down the stranger, only releasing a breath when the brunet pulled up the duvet to shield himself from the cold, if the light tremors of his body were anything to go by. (He didn't even know when he held his breath, but he shook off the thought.)

Another few seconds rolled by and it took the brunet another few blinks before the confusion finally settled in. His eyebrows knitted together and the corners of his lips pulled into a small frown as he seemed to realise something off about the situation. He opened his mouth, closing it a second later, unsure how to phrase his words, before releasing a big sigh and reaching up a hand to messily ruffle his brown locks of bed hair.

Akashi watched the scene without saying a word, patiently waiting for the other to explain the situation. He was in an unfamiliar place with a stranger, but for some reason or another Akashi oddly did not feel endangered. If anything, he felt unusually relaxed in this room—it felt like home. (Home, a word he had not associated with, not since her passing.)

"Um..."

An uncertain voice broke off his thoughts—he hadn't even realised he had strayed off from reality—and Akashi snapped his head up, coming into contact with hazel brown orbs watching him with concern. A small part in him felt uncomfortable about the obvious worry the stranger held for him, but Akashi waved it off in favour of asking for his identity.

"Ah, I'm Furihata Kouki."

He nodded in reply. "Akashi Seijuurou, but I'm sure you already knew that." He gave a meaningful glance towards the photo-frame standing on top of the nightstand, where a picture of the brunet and a familiar but older redhead was displayed.

This was all speculation—and Akashi couldn't believe that something like time travel was possible, though he couldn't deny that it didn't exist either, but there was a chance he had swapped places with his future self, albeit he didn't know how and why. He proposed as such to the brunet and although he seemed a bit incredulous about the matter (and if he'd admit it, Akashi himself did too), he shakily nodded his head. There really wasn't any other explanation he could think of.

"How will you get back?" Furihata asked. Akashi had wanted to ask him, but at the brunet's enquiry he knew he wouldn't be getting any answers.

With a sigh, he merely said, "I don't know."

The moment the words left his mouth, he felt as if his tongue had been stung. It was strange, not knowing something. He'd think about it during his stay.

"I see..." A few awkward seconds passed by before Furihata flashed him a small smile. "Well, it's a bit too late for breakfast, but how would you like lunch?"

The first meal Akashi consumed after his arrival to the future was fried rice. It was only after he had devoured half his plate when he belatedly noticed the lack of red pickled ginger in his dish, as opposed to Furihata's. He shrugged it off. That night, Furihata made tofu soup for dinner. Akashi had no idea what expression he made, but the change must have been obvious as Furihata released a soft chuckle. This time, Akashi did not miss the overabundance of tofu in his soup; he glanced towards Furihata's, he had a moderate amount. Akashi chose not to comment on it.

On the fourth day of his stay in the future, Akashi realised all the meals he had had thus far comprised of nothing but food he liked. The revelation startled him for a moment, but then Furihata had wordlessly handed over the soy sauce and Akashi was stunned into speechlessness. He had indeed found the dish to be a little bland, but Akashi was certain he showed no indication of his dissatisfaction. Moreover, Furihata had not added any soy sauce to his own, seemingly fine with the flavouring of the dish already.

It was absolutely unnerving how Furihata could read him so easily. Not that Furihata was all that difficult to read either; the older boy never bothered to hide his feelings around him, showing Akashi nothing but his genuine and sincere feelings. Still, it irked Akashi how someone who was practically a stranger, even if the aforementioned was far from such to his future self, knew almost everything about him. It made him wonder: to what extent did his relationship with Furihata go to?

Furihata had claimed they were friends. Images of their first meeting flashed back into his mind. Akashi was quite certain friends, best friends or not, did not sleep together in the same bed naked; friends would not have left hickeys on each other—Akashi was positive the bite marks on the brunet's chest and neck were from his future self, they were too recent to have been from anyone else; and exactly how close were they that they'd have spent their third year of summer break living together in one of his future self's many apartments? Surely they both had training camps being held for the upcoming Inter High championships?

There were too many questions, and Furihata refused to answer.

"The past should not know about the future," he had said mysteriously when Akashi enquired about his future self's golden eye, as observed from a photograph of the two together. Dissatisfied and having nothing else to do, Akashi had walked back into his—their—room and laid on the bed, thoughts and questions plaguing his mind until he eventually drifted off.

When he woke up, Furihata was curled against his side with an arm draped lazily over his stomach, a weight he found comfortable before he knew it. The first night Akashi spent here, the brunet had made a commotion about sleeping accommodations. Furihata had offered the bed to Akashi as there was only one—he was left pondering once again about their relationship; Akashi liked his personal space and he was certain that would not change in the future, so Furihata had to be someone of utmost importance to him if his future self had not minded his presence—and the brunet himself would sleep on the couch in the living room. Akashi declined, suggesting that he'd take the couch instead, but Furihata was obstinate about the matter.

"I can't let my guest sleep on the couch."

Akashi wanted to comment that he was an unwelcome guest who appeared without a single notice, but one last glance at the other told him that he would not win this battle; so he pursed his lips into a taut line and remained silent, not accepting but not rejecting either. With a sigh, Furihata threw out a last option: "Either we both sleep on the floor, or we both sleep on the bed."

Naturally, Akashi chose the latter.

Except he hadn't expected Furihata to have been a cuddler, though he shouldn't have been surprised considering he woke up in the brunet's arms once before. They had started with backs towards each other at the edges of each side of the bed, but when Akashi woke up the next morning he was wrapped snugly in the brunet's arms. When he tried to push away, Furihata's grasp on him merely tightened. Left with no other options, Akashi stayed still and waited for the other to awake. When he did, Furihata noticed how tense Akashi was in his arms and he immediately apologised.

"It won't happen again," he promised.

Yet the following nights had the same events repeating over and over. By the fifth night Furihata had given up on withholding himself; instead, he immediately enveloped Akashi in his embrace the moment the both of them hit the bed. As much as the redhead wanted to refuse the other's affections, Akashi found himself quickly, easily, drifting off seconds after the warmth encompassed his being.

He hadn't had such a good sleep since he last slept in his mother's arms.

Akashi often flipped through their photo albums. Perhaps there was a connection between his future self and himself that had caused the two of them to switch places in time. To discover what that possibly was, it was necessary to know his future self better and thus led him to the albums. However, without realising it, he spent more time admiring the smiles on both Furihata and his future self's faces than cracking the mystery behind his time travel.

One photo had them at the beach. They were both wearing swimming trunks, but his future self had partaken to donning an orange parka while a pair of sunglasses rested on Furihata's brown tresses. Furihata had taken the photo, it seemed, as one arm stretched passed the borders of the photo while his other hand formed a peace sign. A broad grin was plastered on his face. His future self stood a little behind him, to his side. The corner of his lips were marginally downturned, but Akashi knew the other was anything but unhappy. His heterochromatic eyes—red and amber, Akashi whispered in his mind. Would his eye change colour in the future too?—sparkled with something he couldn't quite identify.

He moved onto the next photo: a picture of Furihata and his future self going cherry blossom viewing. Someone else had taken the photo for them, Akashi noted. The two were standing side to side. Too closely, Akashi thought. They were joined shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, foot to foot. The gnawing thought of "more than friends" once again sprung to his mind, but he pushed it away. It had nothing to do with him. They stood in front of a beautifully blooming cherry blossom tree, its petals fluttering down in the background and giving the photo an ethereal effect.

Akashi was about to move onto the next photo when he realised they both had one of their arms, the arms closest to each other, hidden behind them. Were they... holding hands?

He didn't have much time to ponder as a hand came into view and gently plucked the photo from his grasp. Turning to his right, he watched as Furihata lovingly gazed at the photo, a tender smile making its way to his lips. His chest clenched up at the sight, but Akashi had no idea why—so he pushed it aside, like he did to everything else he didn't understand in this world.

"This brings back memories," Furihata said, and immediately all of Akashi's attention focused on the sound of his voice without him intentionally doing so. Strange, he thought, how the brunet's mere presence and voice could calm him down and make him forget about whatever it was he was worrying about.

"This was taken last year, we both had so much fun!" The brunet didn't seem to have noticed his slip, but Akashi mentally noted that they had known each other for at least a year. "We didn't manage to go this year, but we promised each other that we'll definitely see it again, together, next year."

But as much as Furihata's voice could calm him down, his words could effortlessly agitate his being. Whenever the brunet mentioned his future self, Akashi didn't understand why his mood would turn sour and he'd become easily irritable. Furihata would immediately notice his bad mood and leave him to himself, not pushing Akashi to talk when he obviously didn't want to. Akashi appreciated that. (Because even if he wanted to tell Furihata his problems, he didn't even know what they were.)

It was the seventh night, marking a week, of his stay in the future when it happened. Tangled in each other's limbs like every other night, Furihata had mumbled in his sleep.

"...Seijuu...rou..."

Akashi knew he wasn't calling out for him. He was calling out for him, his future self. Furihata had only ever called him "Akashi" during his stay here, except for that one time at their first meeting.

His chest tightened uncomfortably and for a moment Akashi found himself unable to breathe, nor hear, as the sound of static rang loudly in his ears. A hand reached up to grip firmly at his chest. It hurt so much, but whywhywhy.

He just didn't understand.

When had he gotten so attached to Furihata? At first, Akashi had thought nothing much of the man. He was average in both appearance and athletics, but was slightly above average in intellect, though it was nothing much compared to himself. Akashi had decided he'd treat him with respect, but would remain distant. He had only intended to remain on Furihata's good side so he had a means of shelter and food while in this unfamiliar world, but at one point or another he had began craving for more.

What was it about Furihata that drew Akashi to him?

He didn't understand.

Didn't. Understand.

And that was when Akashi wished he'd just return back to his world already, where he was free of these conflicting thoughts, of these painful feelings—and of Furihata Kouki.

When Akashi next woke up, coldness enveloped him.

Snapping his eyes open, Akashi instantly sat up and looked around. Noticing the lack of presence in his bed except his own, he observed his surroundings. Red curtains that began from a quarter of the wall from the ceiling draped down to the floor, blocking the large window that led to his balcony. A little ways ahead, stood his study desk at the corner of the room. At the other side of the room, along the same wall, was his wardrobe.

Akashi pursed his lips. He was back in his world. He had returned without explanation, just as he had left without explanation.

Grasping tightly onto the material of his shirt, where his heart was positioned, Akashi couldn't shake off the disappointment that hung over him. His wish was granted, yet a part of him felt missing. What was it, he wondered.

At first Akashi thought maybe it was all a dream, but after confirming the date with one of the maids it appeared he indeed had disappeared for a week. He enquired if an older man who looked similarly to him had came by, to which the maid had attested to, but she knew little to nothing about him. His father, however, did often converse with the man, she said. Akashi nodded, thanking her. He considered asking his father for answers, for a moment, before deciding against it. His future self probably hadn't revealed anything, if Furihata's firm belief of "the past shouldn't know about the future" was anything to go by.

And so, Akashi continued his everyday life, thoughts of Furihata Kouki lingering on his mind more often than he would've liked (everyday, in fact).

But then Aomine bloomed, and the others slowly followed after him. Everyone was so lost in their own conflicts, unaware of the pain each of them were carrying and merely inflicting more pain on one another, and Akashi began losing his grasp on things. Everything was spiralling out of control and he had no means of correcting it—and then Murasakibara challenged him, and he didn't know what it was but something in him snapped.

He changed—no, that wasn't really the case. He had always been someone like this, somewhere deep inside him, but he had hid this side of himself away. For what reason, he couldn't even remember, but he supposed it wasn't necessary to. He focused solely on victory in all areas, not caring about the feelings of those around him. His heart had turned stone cold, but he couldn't have cared less. Winning was like breathing, so he continued to winwinwin and he was victorious in everything he did.

And gradually, just like that, all thoughts of Furihata Kouki ceased.

Until the first year of high school.

He called for a meeting with his ex-teammates right before the Winter Cup began. Akashi needed to ensure none of them had forgotten about their oath to see which of their schools (and, in turn, which of them) would be strongest of them all.

That was when he saw him, hiding meekly behind Kuroko.

Memories of a familiar, older brunet with a similar face flashed across his mind. Akashi waved them away (like he did whenever it came to this one person), but he couldn't deny the hammering of his heart against his ribcage at the mere sight of the boy.

This Furihata trembled in his presence, he noted, as he requested for him to leave. (In all honesty, Akashi had just wanted to talk to the boy again, to hear his voice again, but this Furihata was obviously different to the Furihata he knew.) The Furihata Akashi knew never once shrunk away in fear in his presence. The Furihata he knew never once looked at him with those eyes. The Furihata he knew only ever gave Akashi warm smiles and loving gazes.

Disappointment hit him then, and Akashi was puzzled as to the effect Furihata had on him despite not seeing him for more than two years; though it was his first time meeting this Furihata, he had the same effect on Akashi as his future self did. It was a complex matter, so to say, and while Akashi could accept the future Furihata who didn't cower in his presence, he was far from accepting towards this one before him.

He wasn't worth his time.

However, he was proven wrong in the final match of the Winter Cup against Seirin. Unexpectedly, Furihata was sent out to mark him. As expected, nonetheless, he was no match for Akashi. Regardless, he left an impact. The redhead had expected the brunet to despair before him, but Furihata was courageous and fought him head-on without cowering, unlike off the court. It was obvious the other was frustrated in his lack of power and the fear was apparent in each of his steps, each of his actions, yet he persisted.

Before he knew it, thoughts of Furihata Kouki plagued his mind once again.

It was after the final match ended, with Rakuzan's loss. Akashi immediately intervened in Furihata's path towards his exit. Puzzled, the Seirin team paused in their tracks to watch Akashi cautiously, afraid he might not have taken his loss well and decided to take drastic measures in revenge. Ridiculous. Akashi internally scoffed. He was bitter about his loss, no doubt, and he still couldn't accept it, but he'd never resort to underhanded methods to exact his revenge.

"Furihata Kouki," the aforementioned flinched at his name. "May I talk to you? In private, if you'd please," he added the last few words while directing a knowing look towards the rest of the Seirin team. The victims of his stare gulped but remained firm in their stance, ready to protect Furihata from harm if needed.

However, Furihata nervously waved them off, letting out an unsure, "I'll be fine..." And so, the Seirin team left them alone, standing about twenty metres away, giving the pair enough privacy but keeping a watchful eye on a certain redhead.

Left alone with the Akashi Seijuurou, Furihata's tremors increased twofold, but the redhead paid it no mind.

"Furihata Kouki." Catching the brunet's gaze Akashi continued, "Please go out with me."

Stunned, Furihata stood stiffly. Akashi was prepared for rejection, in all honesty, it was the obvious result judging from the brunet's behaviour around him, but he figured if the brunet declined he could always start by being friends first before attempting a second time.

As the seconds ticked by, Akashi's confidence slowly wavered. He hadn't expected he'd get nervous, let alone in such a situation as this, but Akashi's palms were sweaty from anticipation and his throat dry. When he thought he wasn't going to get a reply Furihata finally moved, shifting from one foot to the other and playing with the lapels of his jacket, his eyes suddenly locked onto the ground as his face flushed red.

"Umm... I..." Furihata chanced a brief glance into his heterochromatic eyes, then, and whatever it was he saw in them, Akashi didn't know, concluded his decision. "I'm... u-uncertain, but... I'd like to give it a g-go..."

He winced after finishing his sentence, probably beating himself up for all his stutters, but for Akashi his answer was more than enough.

Flashing a small smile, Akashi asked for his number. Via text message, they decided to hold a date a few days after the end of the Winter Cup.

Akashi briefly wondered if his future self's first meeting with Furihata was like his too. Did he also have to go through the process of getting to know Furihata better, for the boy to warm up to him?

There were so many questions he'd like to ask his future self if he could, but images of the older brunet and the love he felt being held in those arms washed them away.

He turned his gaze back to the brunet before him, and Akashi embraced them all: the way Furihata turned beet red at his teasing; the way he'd nervously stutter around him; the way he'd freeze up and blush when Akashi held his hand; the way he'd cause Akashi's heartbeat to leap faster than it ever did before; the way Akashi's world centred around Furihata whenever he was in the former's sight, seeing and hearing only the brunet and nothing else; the way Furihata dominated the majority of his thoughts; the way Furihata ignited feelings in him he had never known before, not since his mother disappeared from his life, but even then the feelings both gave were evidently different; and the way Akashi loved Furihata Kouki more than anything else in the world.

Furihata didn't exactly return his sentiments, but he'd strive for it, the boy's love. The future Akashi saw was something he wanted, but they'd create their own history. This Furihata was his, and he wasn't going to share him with anyone else, whether it was his past or future selves.

The sound of clattering snapped Akashi out of his thoughts, and he raised his head up to meet the sight of Furihata knocking down his tea and spilling it onto the surface of the table. Akashi resisted the urge to chuckle at the brunet's horror-stricken face, obviously having been defeated by his nerves in Akashi's presence.

He was aware Furihata wasn't comfortable around him, but that was okay, he thought as he calmed the latter down with gentle words, ordering a new cup of tea for him. Akashi decided he'd just have to make him become used to his presence and, ultimately, make him fall in love. No matter how long it took.

Because Kouki is worth it, he knew, directing Furihata a gentle smile, just a miniscule upturn of his lips and the softening of heterochromatic eyes—but it stole Furihata's breath away anyway.