The soft clacking of computer keys filled the air, broken only by the occasional sigh from Ayaka or the clicking of Akihiko's pen as he sat across from her, reading what she'd written and marking it up like a professor grading a delinquent student's paper.
"I said his gaze should be cold and unreadable, not like a teenager in love." Akihiko said, voice low and sharp, tapping the screen.
Ayaka groaned. "Not everyone is a human block of ice like you."
Akihiko gave her a look—one that was both amused and exasperated. "If you want the character to feel real, write him that way. Or should I take over the keyboard and do it for you?"
"I dare you." she muttered.
Her phone buzzed.
Saved by the bell.
Ayaka glanced at the screen—and froze.
*ncoming call: Kaito Fujiwara*
She blinked, unsure whether to answer, especially under Akihiko's hawk-like gaze.
"Well?" Akihiko said. "Who is it?"
Ayaka stood up quickly. "I need to take this. Excuse me."
She practically bolted to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
"Hello?" she said cautiously.
"Yamamoto." Kaito's voice was low, a little tense. "I'm sorry to call so late. Did Yuki… tell you anything?"
Ayaka sat on the edge of her bed. "She did. She's scared, Fujiwara. She thinks you're pulling away. She saw a message from another girl—on your tablet."
There was a beat of silence before Kaito sighed. "I figured. I left that tablet open on purpose."
"What?" Ayaka asked, confused.
"It's not another girl, Yamamoto. It's my cousin—Ami. She works at a jewelry store in Shinjuku."
His voice turned a little hoarse. "I've been talking to her about the ring. I wanted help picking the right one for Yuki."
Ayaka's eyes widened, breath catching. "Wait—you're… proposing?"
Kaito laughed nervously. "Yes. Or at least, I'm trying to. I know how suspicious it must have looked, but I didn't want Yuki to find out, and she's too smart. If I acted weird, she'd know. So I played it cool. Maybe too cool."
Ayaka was stunned. "You're the reason she's crying at cafés and doubting herself."
"I know. I hate that I've made her feel that way. That's why I'm calling you. I need help. You and Keiko—you're her closest friends."
Ayaka blinked. "What kind of help?"
"I'm planning the proposal during our next camping trip. A bonfire. Fireflies. Stars. I've already spoken to her parents. But I need it to be perfect. And that means making her believe nothing's coming. Can you… help me distract her?"
Ayaka slowly smiled, a warmth blooming in her chest. "You really love her, don't you?"
"More than anything!" Kaito said, voice steady now. "But if I don't fix this distance between us soon, she's going to think I don't care."
Ayaka stood. "Leave it to me. I'll talk to Keiko. We'll make sure she stays in the dark—just long enough."
"Thank you, Ayaka. I owe you one."
She hung up, heart fluttering with relief—for Yuki.
But as she opened the door and stepped back into the living room, she found Akihiko sprawled on the couch, one arm over the backrest, watching her with unreadable eyes.
"You were gone for a while." he said flatly. "Who was it?"
"Fujiwara." she replied simply. "Yuki's boyfriend."
Akihiko's jaw tightened. "Personal drama in the middle of a writing session. How professional of you."
Ayaka rolled her eyes and plopped back down on her chair. "Not all of us are married to our jobs."
"Some of us are just committed to finishing what we start."
Her eyes flicked to him—sharp, annoyed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Akihiko smirked lazily. "Nothing. Just wondering if you'll run off again the next time your phone buzzes."
Ayaka scowled. "If I do, it'll be to escape your endless torment."
His smirk deepened, but there was something else behind his eyes now—a shift.
"You can never escape me." he said, voice low.
Ayaka didn't answer, because he wasn't wrong.
Ayaka returned to her desk, the phone call with Kaito still echoing in her head, but nothing compared to the pressure sitting across from her—Akihiko Nakamura, sleeves rolled up, pen lazily spinning between his fingers like a weapon of psychological warfare.
She exhaled and resumed typing, eyes on the glowing screen.
He was quiet.
Too quiet. Then—
"Wrong."
Her fingers paused mid-keystroke. "…What?"
"That line." he said casually, not even glancing up. "The phrasing's off. Start again."
"I just rewrote that scene."
"And it still doesn't work."
Ayaka gritted her teeth and started revising, mumbling under her breath.
Five minutes passed.
She turned the monitor screen towards him.
He leaned forward, eyes scanning with surgical precision. "Nope."
"What now?!"
"That expression. 'His gaze darkened like the sea at dusk'? That's amateur hour."
She looked ready to throw her mug at his head. "Are you serious?"
"I'm doing what you agreed to." he said smoothly. "Supervision."
"You're really impossible to please!"
He smiled slowly. "And you're as predictable as ever. You always bite when I poke."
She stood abruptly, walking to the window just to cool her head.
Behind her, Akihiko stretched, voice lazy. "You're cute when you're frustrated."
She turned around and glared. "You're enjoying this."
"I am."
"You're not even trying to help anymore."
"I am." he countered, rising from his seat.
"This is character development. You're writing about a man who's cold, demanding, arrogant—and devastatingly irresistible. Sound familiar?"
"Don't flatter yourself." she said, arms crossed.
He stepped closer, leisurely. "I don't have to. You're the one who wrote me into your novel."
Ayaka backed into the edge of the desk as he approached, her breath catching when he placed one palm beside her, leaning in just enough to rattle her composure.
He lowered his voice, velvet-smooth. "Are you flustered again, Ayaka?"
She looked away, cheeks flushed. "We're supposed to be writing."
"And we are." His eyes gleamed. "I'm helping you feel what your heroine would feel."
She shoved past him with a huff, sitting back down in front of the computer. "Fine. But stop hovering. And stop marking everything wrong unless you actually have a solution."
Akihiko sat back, grinning.
"No promises." he said.
She mimicked him under her breath as she began writing again.
Behind her, he watched in amused silence, fingers drumming slowly on the table.
Writing with Ayaka was going to be more fun than he thought.
------
The hours slipped by in a haze of tapping keys, red ink, and tension so thick it made the air feel heavy.
Ayaka yawned and slouched in her chair, rubbing her eyes.
The cursor blinked mockingly at her unfinished sentence. "I think my brain's fried."
Akihiko leaned back on the couch with one arm draped along the backrest, legs stretched out like he owned the space. "That's because you keep fighting me instead of just writing what works."
She shot him a glare. "What works according to you."
"Exactly." His lips quirked in a smug grin. "You're finally learning."
Ayaka groaned and threw a cushion at him.
He caught it midair effortlessly.
"That's it." she muttered, getting up. "I need coffee or I'll fall asleep."
As she shuffled toward the kitchen, Akihiko's voice followed her. "Or you could sleep."
Ayaka paused, hand on the counter. "…And leave you alone with my draft?"
"I won't touch it." he said. "I'll just sit here. Watch you sleep."
She rolled her eyes, pouring hot water into her mug. "Creep."
"I've been called worse."
She returned with her coffee, taking small sips while Akihiko watched her from his place on the couch.
Her hair was slightly messy, her oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin.
She didn't even seem to notice.
Or maybe she did.
Ayaka sat cross-legged on the floor, setting her coffee down on the table and opening her laptop again.
She froze when Akihiko suddenly got up and stood behind her.
His voice dropped low.
"You should go to bed."
"Stop telling me what to do." she murmured, fingers hovering above the keys. "You're not my—"
His hand brushed her shoulder as he leaned down. "Not your what?"
Ayaka's breath hitched.
The scent of his cologne was faint but intoxicating—clean, sharp, and entirely him.
He didn't touch her again, but the heat of his presence ghosted down her spine.
"I'm not tired." she whispered.
"You're shaking."
"I'm not."
He crouched beside her, turning her face gently toward him with a single finger under her chin. "You always do that when you're holding something in."
Her pulse raced in her throat.
"Ayaka." he said, voice like velvet and smoke. "Why are you still fighting this?"
Her eyes darted away. "Because it's not real."
His brows lifted slightly. "Then why does it feel like it is?"
She pulled back before he could get closer and stood abruptly. "I'm going to bed."
Akihiko didn't stop her.
He just watched her go, eyes unreadable but intense.
When she disappeared into her room, the only sound left was the low hum of the computer.
He exhaled, slow and measured, before muttering to himself—
"…Liar."