Oh my gosh I’m making him a bit older but just imagine like three year old Akashi having a sixteen year old babysitter that drives him home from school most of the time but then they take an afterschool activity so they can’t on certain days. So he starts throwing tantrums around the house, getting to the point that the servants are terrified to even enter the same room as him because he’ll toss things at them or bite them, and eventually it causes his father to force them to quite just so they can go back to bringing him home everyday just so he’ll calm down.
Akashi: “I am happy you’re here, _______.” The eight year old boy beside you had a habit of holding your hand, no matter what the two of you happened to be doing at the time. Now was no different. As you held the laptop open, the screen displaying a t.v. show that you thought he would enjoy, two small hands were wrapped one of yours.
“Ah, I’m happy to be here too Akashi-kun.” His eyes seemed to sparkle as the words left your lips and you couldn’t help but smile a bit in return. Sure the young by was a bit intense at times…or all the time…but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a sweet boy.
The show continued playing as the young boy slid closer, eventually draping your arm around his shoulders as the two of watched the screen. Over time you’d grown used to the boy’s highly affectionate behavior around you, even if all the servants told you with was incredibly strange for their young master, so you didn’t startle too much at his actions. No, not even when the youngest Akashi was lifting your laptop to settle himself on your lap were you overly bothered.
When the screen began to roll the credits you navigated away, browsing for something else the young boy would enjoy watching. As you listened to him point out different things he would be interested in, smiling when pointed out a few shows you enjoyed, a soft ding sounded through the air. Wiggling a bit managed to keep one hand on the laptop as you unlocked your phone.
“Don’t answer.” If it were your younger brother saying this you would’ve laughed, maybe pinched his cheek or tugged on a strand of his hair. But this wasn’t your brother. This was Akashi Seijuro, young heir to one of the largest corporations in Japan, and a boy very used to getting his way.
“Akashi-kun,” In an attempt to calm the fire in his eyes you reached up to softly stroke his hair. “It’s only a classmate asking about home-”
He was faster than you’d expect a child to be but you should’ve known better; Akashi was already staunchly defensive of things he thought belonged to him. “No,” The fierce grip of the boy’s hand on your chin almost frightened you. “They’ll call someone else.”
“Don’t push me ________-chan.” He had twisted around in your lap, nearly tossing your laptop to the ground. Two soft hands cupped your face, thumbs tracing the contours of your cheeks, as heterochromatic gazed into your (e/c) eyes like razors. “I’m not going to share your time and attention.”