Letting out a quiet sigh and leveling him with an uncharacteristically deadpan look, Akemi tilts her head at exactly the right angle so that sunlight reflects off of her glasses and hides her eyes from sight. Katsuki finds the action to be as eerie as ever, and he can't help but instinctively lower his head to stare at his hands. It doesn't really help boost his confidence, as the fingers tightly clasped together underneath the table only remind him of how uncomfortable and out of his element he is. As if on cue, his fingers spasm, out of his control.

It's intimidatingly quiet around them. Katsuki has the sneaking suspicion that Akemi had planned out this confrontation thoroughly, with a sense of tact that she usually lacked. He can grudgingly appreciate the thought put into this meeting of theirs— the secluded environment that wasn't so isolated that he felt cornered, the way that she took care to perch next to him instead of directly across from him— but at the same time it all unnerves him, to be read so easily.

Eventually Akemi sighs again, looking conflicted as if she has any right to do so when she's the one who's been initiating these conversations, before she finally opens her mouth to speak. Immediately he tenses up, watching her carefully from his peripheral vision. Anything that slips from her lips is a possible weapon, and Akemi is very skilled at winning wars with words.

"Hajime Katsuki," she says, before she pauses delicately and lets the muted background noise of the student center filter into their ears for a while. The silence between them stretches. She makes no move to shift even slightly, so the sun's glare still weighs onto her lenses. Akemi looms over him, seemingly carved out of polished marble, the kind that ancient sculptors must have used to carve out leaping pillars and the stoic faces of mythical gods.

It's all a power play, and Katsuki can barely stifle his frustration at the current situation. Akemi knows him— he can't handle pressure very well, he can't sit still for very long. It's usually why he doesn't do well on written examinations and other formal affairs, the things that Akemi excels at. Akemi knows him too well, he thinks bitterly in defeat, considering that they didn't have too much in common.

"...What's with the full name?" Deflating, he pins her with an accusing glare, but there's no heat behind it, figurative or literal.

Katsuki isn't always like this. The only reason he's so high strung is because she's been finding ways to maneuver him into relative privacy in order to needle him thoroughly, and Akemi has been getting closer and closer, piece by piece, to the truth. Given her track record, he doubts that this encounter will be any different, and that terrifies him on a visceral level.

Finally, Akemi leans forward towards him and the light slides off her lenses, revealing her terribly visible blue eyes. She ignores him with a disregard that's characteristic of her and an ease that she's built up over the last few years of knowing exactly what makes Katsuki react.

"I think I've got it," she says, and while Katsuki doesn't like her tone, it's still the same one that she's been using since the last few face-offs they've had, so he's not all that concerned. That is, until she continues, slyly, "It's about Honoka, yes?"

Katsuki stills, his expression going slack in surprise for a brief moment. His guard comes up again in the next second— but by then it's a second too late and all the confirmation that Akemi needs.

Slowly, the corners of her lips turn upwards, and all Katsuki can think is, Shit, shit, on repeat, all sense of eloquence discarded. His eyes dart towards the exit and then away from Akemi's prying gaze, ending up fixating onto Akemi's high cheekbones.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

But then, Akemi has never needed eye contact in order to read him.

"You're just going to piss her off this way, you know?" She pats him on the shoulder twice, as if to reassure him. It only succeeds in feeling patronizing to Katsuki, considering that Akemi isn't one for physical contact just for the sake of touches and sensations. Her fingers seem to linger at the nape of neck, and a shiver pulls his spine straight and upright, like he's a puppet imitating Akemi's pristine posture with every movement she makes.

Katsuki eyes her. "You're just pissing me off this way, you know?"

"Oooh? You didn't deny it," Akemi sing songs, glee and satisfaction surfacing in her eyes.

Bristling, he opens his mouth, ready to deflect her with a carefully worded statement, and Katsuki makes his first mistake in this encounter.

He hesitates.

He stops. He looks at her, really looks, pursing his lips in thought, nailing Akemi with a scrutinizing expression. Her eyes are slightly lidded with sleep, brimming with the blue shade of a forget me not flower, glassy and crystal clear and not quite here. She's paler than she should be, and not all of that is due to the shine of the white fairy lights hung up on the walls and draped over the ceiling, he notes guiltily.

...Katsuki supposes that she's allowed to gain something out of him, when she has been pestering him daily and consistently, despite the fact that finals are soon to come. It's still mostly her fault for prioritizing setting him on edge over studying thoroughly, but she probably thought that he needed to confront something she noticed.

Akemi has a manipulative streak that she feels compelled to quell, and it's...concern, coming from her. So in the end, Katsuki shrugs, looking away from her. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her still, probably with surprise.

There's a long beat of silence, before she ventures, "Something to do with her?"

"I don't know, you tell me. I'm not the one with a whimsy for detecting lies."

"Wow," Akemi breathes, and Katsuki finally turns his head a little to peer at her, only to be met with her stunned visage, "That was just a guess, you know."

"What?"

She stifles a laugh behind her hand, evidently pleased and greatly entertained by, as Akemi puts it in between snickers, "Your face!"

"Is and will always be prettier than yours," Katsuki cuts in viciously, all wounded pride and sheer exasperation, after a few seconds of muted anger and flailing, loathe he is to admit to it.

Akemi gives him a once over and then raises both of her eyebrows at him. "Really? Then, would you be prettier than H—haha," She can't even say the name with a straight face, and Akemi turns her face into the sofa they're both sitting on in order to continue laughing at him.

Unwillingly, a flush rises on Katsuki's face, and he glares daggers at Akemi. This would be great time to gain the spontaneous ability to set people on fire, he thinks. She doesn't stop snickering. Of course Katsuki doesn't get anything as useful as that kind of power.

"Hey, don't look so down," Akemi manages to get out, "you're worrying over nothing, really. It's been a month, hasn't it? And I really don't think that you've come to terms as to what you're actually concerned about, no? " The laughs start up again, but they're a little different. A little off. A little too true. She regards him with a strange sense of pity.

As Akemi continues to laugh, Katsuki turns to look helplessly at their surroundings, letting his gaze climb up the shelves spaced evenly across the place. He's incredibly aware of the anticipation directed at him, but he's suddenly reluctant to meet it as light dances on the edges of her glasses. Akemi laughs, and with each one her expectations claw their way up Katsuki's throat.

As if he can meet them.

Before Katsuki knows it, he's already rising to his feet, unaware of anything other than the heartbeat beating like war drums in his ears and the indescribable feeling lodged in his throat, slowly but surely suffocating him.

There's something missing. Some revelation bright in Akemi's knowing stare that Katsuki missed as light gleamed on her lenses, but he can't quite acknowledge it. He can't bring himself to make it real. To make sense of the hollow in between the gaps of his ribs, or the thoughts that dance at the fringes of his awareness, or even the truth that Akemi had pried out of his lips with her nails scraping against his jaw.

"I..." His mouth won't work properly. "I have to go. It's almost time for me to f-feed my cat," he stutters out, before he turns on his heel and almost runs to the exit, suffocating.

Akemi is kind enough to let him leave, but not to return what she took.