Nobody outside of the inner circle—and certainly no one on the team—ever saw Akashi Seijuro when the mask slipped. They only knew the immaculate captain, the absolute ruler who never missed a shot and never showed a crack in his armor.But tonight, after a grueling national-level strategy review that had gone on for hours, you found him slumped over his desk in the student council room, the lamp casting harsh shadows under his crimson hair. He looked impossibly tired, the weight of a dozen expectations resting entirely on his narrow shoulders.When you quietly set a warm cup of canned coffee on his papers, he didn't snap. He just let out a long, shuddering breath, his shoulders dropping. His mismatched red and gold eyes blinked open, tracking you as you moved to step back.A slender hand shot out, catching your wrist—not to pull you down with force, but to anchor himself. He tugged you gently until you had no choice, resting his forehead against your waist with a soft, exhausted sigh.“Don’t leave yet,” Akashi murmured against your clothes, his voice stripped of every pretense of godhood. “Just stay until the noise in my head stops.”