Chapter Text
Sunday night, Akaashi goes back home.
His mother is still staying with her sister, so Akaashi’s father invited him back home and promised he would keep in touch with Akaashi’s mother to figure out if and when she was planning to return.
It’s a surprisingly difficult goodbye, considering Akaashi’s going to see Bokuto the very next morning, and his sisters on Tuesday night for dinner.
Nonetheless, Bokuto gives Akaashi a long hug before he goes. When Akaashi pulls away, Bokuto takes his arms in his hands, a surprisingly serious expression on his face.
“If anything happens,” Bokuto says, “call me, okay? I’ll come get you.”
Akaashi nods. “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto smiles. He gives Akaashi one last, quick hug before bidding him goodbye.
And Akaashi goes home.
It’s surprisingly anticlimactic, walking through the front door as his hands shake. His father is in the kitchen when he enters, busy at the stove. He looks up.
“Ah, Keiji.” His father smiles at him. “How are you?”
Akaashi’s heart aches . “Fine,” he says.
It’s strange, being in his home without his mother. Just like it’s strange knowing he may never see her again. His stomach twists. He already wants to leave. He already wants to call Bokuto and go back to his place.
“Ah, shit,” his father says. “I forgot an ingredient. I’m going to run to the store. Keiji, will you be alright?”
Akaashi nods, watching his father leave. He can’t bring himself to move. He just wants to go back.
Part of Akaashi really wants to cry. He doesn’t want things to be like this. He doesn’t—
The front door’s lock clicks from behind him. Akaashi freezes, his blood running cold. There’s no way his father is home that soon. He only just left. He needs to go. He needs to go now but he can’t bring himself to move.
The door swings open, and someone scoffs.
“Well, well, will you look at who decided to come home,” his mother says. “You didn’t answer my calls, Keiji.”
Akaashi powered off his phone days ago purely for that reason.
“I’m talking to you,” she snaps. “Keiji, look at me while I talk to you!”
Akaashi doesn’t turn, instead screwing his eyes shut. He hates this. He hates this fear, this tension, this stiffness keeping him stuck where he stands. He hates it so much. He hates being so scared.
His mother scoffs. “Pointless.” And storms off.
Akaashi shakily hurries to his room, tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. He hates this. He hates this. He hates this so much.
Once in his room, he closes and locks the door. He sets down his things, pulls his phone from his pocket, and calls Bokuto. He crawls under his desk, curling up underneath the hard wood.
Bokuto picks up on the first ring. “Akaashi? Are you okay?”
He’s not. He’s not, he’s so far from okay. He just wants to go back to Bokuto’s and get the biggest hug and—
“Akaashi?” he sounds the slightest bit panicked.
“She’s back,” he whispers.
“Do I need to come get you?” Bokuto asks, ever serious when Akaashi’s in need.
Akaashi thinks for a moment. He would love to say yes. He so badly wants to say yes, but he knows if a boy showed up at their home, Akaashi’s mother would only get angrier.
“I don’t know,” Akaashi says.
“You’re welcome here as long as you need. You could stay here forever if you wanted and I wouldn’t complain.” Bokuto’s voice is so much softer than usual. It makes Akaashi’s heart ache. How did he get so lucky? So lucky to have met someone so caring, to have met someone who loves him so much.
“I know but … Shouldn’t I stay at my home?”
“Not if it’s unsafe,” Bokuto says. “It’ll be fun! We can go to morning practice together tomorrow, and you can help me make my lunch! I still suck at cooking.”
Akaashi bites his lip. “I don’t know, Bokuto-san.”
“Please? For me?”
And who would Akaashi be to deny him that. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll send you my address, but wait outside.”
“I can do that. Pack whatever you’ll need. Do you want me to stay on?”
“It’s alright.” He knows his mother is going to be angry with him. He doesn’t want Bokuto to have to hear that.
“I’ll text you once I’m there.”
Akaashi nods. “See you.”
“See you!”
Akaashi hangs up. He gets out from under his desk, grabbing a duffle bag and his school bag. He packs away all his school things and then packs his uniform and pajamas into his duffle. He slings both bags over his shoulders and musters the courage to leave his room.
“And where do you think you’re going?” His mother is in the main room, staring at him with a hatred that makes Akaashi flinch. Beside her is a half-empty bottle of wine. He has to stand tall. This’ll be over and done soon, he just has to get through this conversation and he can be back with Bokuto, back in his arms.
“I’m going to my friend’s,” Akaashi says.
His mother scoffs. She stands from the table she’s sitting at. “Going to your friend’s?” she says in a mocking tone. “And what makes you think that’s okay, hm? That you can abandon your poor mother all over again. That you can barge into your friend’s home, into your friend’s family.”
Akaashi is shaking already, and he hates this. He hates her. He wishes his father would come home.
“You can’t,” she sneers. “This is your family, your only family. There is no one else who will love you like I did, and you had to ruin it, didn’t you, Keiji?”
Akaashi musters his strength. “I said I’m going,” he says, louder. He has to ignore her words.
“You can’t run from me,” she says. “Not forever. I’m your mother, and you’ll do well to remember it!”
Akaashi turns just as his phone buzzes. He needs to leave and get out. All he can think about is the overwhelming need to get out. He shakily puts his shoes on. He stands, reaching for the doorknob when she grabs his wrist. His instinct is to pull away, yank away, but her grip is viselike and he can’t.
Panic spikes in his chest. “Let go,” he says. It comes out weak. He feels weak. He feels weak all because of her, and he hates her for it. He hates himself for it.
“I’m all you’ve got!” she exclaims. “You really think your friends will stay with you?”
Akaashi needs to compose himself. He shuts his eyes for a moment, imagining Bokuto’s bright smile. He’s calm. He’s fine. He’s gonna see Bokuto any minute.
“Let go,” he says, schooling his expression. Don’t show fear. Don’t show weakness.
“I’m all you’ve had your whole damn life!” she yells at him. “And now you want to leave me? To ruin everything by being gay? When you had no friends, who was there? When you struggled in school, who was there? Who cooks your meals, who makes your bed, who puts a damn roof over your head?” Her grip on his wrist tightens, and it hurts. Where’s his father?
“Let go,” Akaashi says, as monotone as possible. He’s sure he’s trembling, but he doesn’t care.
She scoffs, but drops his wrist. “Ungrateful brat.”
Akaashi leaves, tired and afraid but refusing to let it show.
Bokuto is waiting right outside, just as he said he would. He brightens upon seeing Akaashi.
“Akaashi!” he exclaims. “There you are. I was getting worried.”
Akaashi only nods. He’s tired. He’s tired, and he’s trying not to let what his mother said bother him, but he can’t help it as he feels her words sinking into his bones.
Unlovable.
She thinks he’s unlovable.
Is he?
Bokuto offers his hand. “I can take one of your bags,” he says. Akaashi hands him his duffle. “Come on,” Bokuto says. “Let’s go home.”
To his home, Akaashi amends in his mind, because there’s no way Bokuto would consider him to be a part of his family. There’s no way that Bokuto would welcome him into said family. Even if he welcomes him open-armed into his home.
He briefly thinks back to what Bokuto said about friends becoming your family, but even quicker brushes it off. They wouldn’t. There’s no way.
The more Akaashi thinks about it, the more he realizes he has no idea why they are all friends with him. It’s not like he adds anything to their group. He’s quiet, to start. Far too shy. He doesn’t participate often in conversation. He can be far too blunt, and he certainly isn’t funny. He doesn’t understand at all why they keep him around.
Akaashi swallows the lump in his throat. It’s pointless to go down these trains of thought. He ought to just ask Bokuto for reassurance.
He doesn’t. Once he’s in Bokuto’s home, his sisters both welcome him back kindly, and Akaashi sits on Bokuto’s bed, his head on Bokuto’s shoulder.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Bokuto asks.
Akaashi shakes his head. He just wants to sleep. Sleep for a very long time, a really really long time, and maybe not wake up.
“That’s okay,” Bokuto says. “Do you want me to take the floor tonight?”
Akaashi pauses for a moment. He always feels guilty when Bokuto sleeps on the floor, but he knows if he tries to say no, then Bokuto will fight it. He’d offer to sleep on the couch, but he wants to be near Bokuto. Close to him. He feels safe with him, and Akaashi doesn’t feel safe all that often anymore.
“We could …” Akaashi says quietly, “if you’re comfortable with it, share?”
Bokuto blinks, staring at him like a deer in headlights. “You’re serious?”
Akaashi nods. He’s not gonna explain why. That’s too embarrassing.
Bokuto’s ears turn bright red. “I would love that but, um, well.” The blush spreads to his cheeks.
“What is it, Bokuto-san?”
“I always end up hugging my pillow by the time I wake up,” he grumbles. “And I wouldn’t wanna make you uncomfy.”
Akaashi’s heart skips a beat. Does that mean Bokuto would hug him? He thinks so. Then that’d be a full seven hours of safety.
“That’s fine,” Akaashi says. “It …” Much to his dismay, heat rises to his own cheeks, and he has to look away. “It’d be nice,” he says quietly.
Bokuto’s silent for a moment, so Akaashi keeps talking.
“I feel safe with you, Bokuto-san,” he says. “And I haven’t felt all that safe recently.” He braves a glance at Bokuto.
Bokuto is staring at him with sparkling eyes and bright red cheeks, as though he’s looking at something very precious, that he loves oh so much. Akaashi’s confused. He’s just looking at him.
“Okay,” Bokuto says, surprisingly soft. “Okay, um.” He clears his throat. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“I wouldn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything so if you’re uncomfortable at any time just say something.”
“I won’t be uncomfortable, Bokuto-san.”
“Okay, but if you are uncomfortable.”
Akaashi smiles. “I will say something.”
Bokuto beams. He hops off the bed. “Come on! Let’s get ready to sleep.”
They change into their pajamas, turned around from one another. Akaash is slightly confused as to why, considering they change in front of each other in the locker rooms all the time, but maybe Bokuto is just a little reserved about these things. He respects that. Afterwards, they brush their teeth, and Akaashi washes his face.
Bokuto has Akaashi climb in bed first before he turns out the lights and follows him, lying across from him. They face each other, just a few inches apart and squished together in the small bed. Akaashi swears it wasn’t always this small.
“Did you set an alarm, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asks.
“Oh, Kiki-nee-chan usually just wakes me up, since she’s got to go to work so early.”
Akaashi hums.
“Akaashi,” Bokuto says. “Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”
“Yes,” Akaashi says. He can’t. He doesn’t want to make Bokuto upset, and he knows he would be. He also … He doesn’t know if he could say it. If he could be so vulnerable.
Bokuto’s quiet for a moment. “Do you want to … hug?”
Akaashi raises an eyebrow. “Like cuddling?”
Bokuto squeaks. “Don’t say it!”
Akaashi laughs. “Bokuto-san, are you shy?”
“Shut up!”
Akaashi only laughs harder. This is cute. This is so cute. Bokuto is so cute. His laughter dies down once he realizes Bokuto is quiet, but instead of seeing a frown through the dimly lit room, he sees a small smile. A type of smile Akaashi has never seen on Bokuto before. It’s fond.
“Sure, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. “We can hug .”
Bokuto’s smile grows, but he doesn’t move. It takes Akaashi a moment to realize that Bokuto really is shy. How cute.
So Akaashi musters his courage, scooting forward and wrapping his arms around Bokuto’s waist, burying his face in his chest. Bokuto hugs him back, holding him tightly.
Akaashi is safe. And safe and sound as ever, he slowly drifts off to sleep.
When Akaashi wakes up the next morning, he’s still safe and sound in Bokuto’s arms. He takes a deep breath. Bokuto smells nice, he always does. It’s soothing.
Akaashi takes another deep breath. Bokuto is warm, so warm. It’s nice. Akaashi feels the tiniest bit okay.
He tries his hardest not to dwell on the events of the previous night, tries his hardest not to let his mother’s words ring in his ears. Tries not to focus on the ghost of the pressure of her hand around his wrist, tries to focus on Bokuto instead. Bokuto’s got him, he’s safe. Bokuto’s got him, she can’t touch him.
Akaashi manages to doze off once more, only to be woken up some ten minutes later by Kiki-nee-san knocking on the door.
“Wake up, boys!” she calls.
Bokuto doesn’t even stir. Akaashi feels even more fatigued than he did before he fell back asleep. He reluctantly pulls away from Bokuto, rubbing his eyes.
“Bokuto-san,” he mumbles. “Wake up.”
Bokuto rolls all the way over, away from Akaashi. “No.”
Akaashi bites back a smile. “Bokuto-san, really.”
“Don’t wanna.”
“We’re going to be late.”
Bokuto rolls over onto his back, rubbing his eyes and looking at Akaashi. “Hi,” he says. “You sleep okay?”
Akaashi nods. “Wonderfully. Thank you.”
Bokuto yawns. “’Course.” He pushes himself up to sit, rubbing his eyes some more. Akaashi nearly coos. He’s seriously so cute in the mornings. His hair sticks up all over the place, his face is kinda puffy, giving him a bit of a baby face.
Unable to help himself, Akaashi sits and reaches out, brushing some of Bokuto’s hair from his eyes. Bokuto smiles lazily at him, until he glances at Akaashi’s wrist, and his eyes widen. He takes Akaashi’s hand, lowering it from his head and holding it gently, pushing Akaashi’s sleeve up the slightest bit. That’s when Akaashi realizes he has a ring of bruises around his wrist. His blood runs cold.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts.
“Did she do this?” Bokuto asks quietly. Akaashi’s heart pounds in his chest. He can’t tell how Bokuto’s feeling. What he’s thinking. Is he angry? Is he just upset? Oh, God, he’s probably mad at him. Akaashi feels dizzy.
“Akaashi,” Bokuto says. “Did she?”
Akaashi nods, feeling woozy. “She tried to stop me from leaving.” He swallows. “I’m sorry, Bokuto-san, I just—”
“It’s okay,” Bokuto says. “I’m not upset, not with you, never with you.” He looks up at Akaashi. “I’m sorry, I let my emotions take control for a second there.”
Akaashi nods jerkily, unsure of what to say.
“Let’s get you some bruise ointment, yeah?” Bokuto says. “It’s okay, Akaashi. You haven’t done anything wrong.” He holds Akaashi’s hand instead.
Tears prick at the backs of Akaashi’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says again.
Bokuto shushes him gently. “It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for. She hurt you.”
Akaashi wants to cry. “Yeah.”
“Come on,” Bokuto says. “Let’s go get some ointment.”
Akaashi just wants to be held . “Okay.” He wipes his eyes with his sleeve.
“Oh, ’Kaashi,” Bokuto murmurs. He opens his arms. Akaashi doesn’t hesitate, accepting Bokuto’s hug and clinging to him.
“It was so scary,” he whimpers.
Bokuto doesn’t reply, instead holding Akaashi even tighter. Akaashi wants to sob but he also knows they’re going to miss morning practice if they don’t get moving.
“I’m sorry, Akaashi. You don’t deserve this.”
“She wasn’t letting me leave and she was really mad and I just—” Akaashi’s voice breaks.
“It’s okay,” Bokuto says, shushing him gently. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”
“I don’t know what to do.” Akaashi’s talking without thinking now, spilling his guts to Bokuto and he’s just so afraid . He hates this, he hates her. He hates all of this and he hates himself . The ugly, ugly feeling is threatening to swallow him up and he doesn’t know what to do.
“’Kaashi,” Bokuto says quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Akaashi doesn’t reply, instead focusing on not crying. He clings to Bokuto, relishing in how loved he makes him feel. Unlovable. Is he?
There’s a soft knock on Bokuto’s door. “Boys? You awake in there?”
“We’re up, we’ll be down soon,” Bokuto calls.
“That’s good. I’ve made breakfast, so whenever you’re ready,” Kiki-nee-san says.
Akaashi slowly pulls away, wiping his eyes again.
“Come on,” Bokuto says. “Let’s take care of your bruises then we’ll head downstairs, okay?”
Akaashi nods, feeling small. Oh, to be taken care of. “Okay.”
Bokuto smiles at him, and they head out.
Akaashi isn’t dreading morning practice, per say, but he certainly isn’t looking forward to it.
When he walks into the locker rooms with Bokuto by his side, after they fortunately catch their train on time, they’re mostly empty, save for Komi and Sarukui sitting on the bench as they pull on their knee pads.
“Hey, guys,” Bokuto greets.
They both look up. “Akaashi!” Sarukui and Komi scramble to their feet. Komi trips over an untied shoelace, nearly plummeting to the ground if not for Sarukui catching him.
“Komi-san, please be careful,” Akaashi says.
Komi laughs. “I’m good, I’m good. How are you?”
Akaashi shrugs. “I’m fine.”
“And you’re suspicious,” Komi says with a chuckle. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to say anything you aren’t comfortable with. We’re just glad you’re alright.”
Akaashi nods, smiling. “Thank you all for standing up for me in the group chat.” He got the chance to read back on Sunday. “But Komi-san, you didn’t have to come out, too.”
“Nope! I did it in solidarity.” Komi grins. “Besides.” He shrugs. “I already told my parents and they’re coming around, so I had nothing to lose!”
Sarukui chuckles. He stands beside Komi, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Komi seems to soften a little bit, tucking into his side. They’re cute, quite cute.
Something pangs in Akaashi’s chest. Some foreign feeling he can’t quite place.
“Hey, hey!” Konoha loudly makes his entrance. Akaashi turns, smiling. Washio is with him.
“Konoha-san, Washio-san,” Akaashi says. “Good to see you both. Are you feeling better, Washio-san?”
“Thankfully, yes,” Washio nods.
Akaashi nods in return.
“And how are you feeling?” Konoha asks.
“Hopefully terrible.” Nishimura walks in behind them. Akaashi freezes. This guy is the reason his mother knows. This guy is the reason she hates him. It all makes his blood boil.
But deep down he knows it’s his own fault.
Konoha turns around and crosses his arms, standing directly in front of Akaashi. “Hey, man,” Konoha says. “You aren’t supposed to be here anymore. Last I checked you were kicked off the team.”
“Maybe I was just saying hello,” Nishimura says. “Maybe I missed the queers. Maybe I wanted to apologize.”
“Apologize my ass!” Komi shouts. “You piece of shit!” Komi stands on a bench.
“Maybe I wanted to give one last goodbye, one last reminder to Bokuto that he—” Before Nishimura can say another word, Konoha flexes his hand and punches him in the face.
“There’s my final goodbye,” he says. “Don’t fuck with any of us again.”
Nishimura stumbles. “You bastard!” He clutches his nose, but before he can make a move toward Konoha, Washio steps between them.
“Get out,” Washio says, towering over Nishimura. He’s always been rather short.
Nishimura scoffs. “Fuck all of you!” He turns and scrambles out of the locker rooms.
“What a douche,” Washio says.
“That was brilliant!” Komi exclaims. “I’m so jealous! I wanted to punch him!”
“I’m sure you still could, I doubt he runs fast,” Konoha says.
“Don’t,” Bokuto says. “As badly as I wanted to do that myself, you probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know,” Konoha says. “It’s fine. I’ll take the week outta practice. Don’t really care. He’s been bullying you for two years, Bo. He’s had it coming a long time. Outing Akaashi was just the last straw.”
It was a good punch, Akaashi has to admit, even if it makes his stomach swirl uncomfortably and anxiety sit prickling in his hands.
He doesn’t want someone to get hurt because of him, no matter how much of a douche he is.
“Let’s go to practice,” Akaashi says.
“You’re bothered by it,” Konoha says.
Akaashi blinks. “I didn’t want anyone hurt because of me.”
“Don’t stress about that,” Konoha says. “I did it for all of us. Because he bullied Bokuto, because so long as he’s not threatened, who knows who else he’ll tell. There are other queer people on the team. If he had outed Komi or Saru, I would’ve punched him for that, too. So I punched him for your sake and for theirs.”
Akaashi nods, some of the anxiety easing. “Thank you, then.”
Konoha smiles. “You’re a good kid, Akaashi.”
Akaashi nods curtly. Konoha ruffles his hair.
“Come on,” Konoha says. “Now let’s go to practice.”
Konoha is removed from practice for a few days, after getting a serious scolding from Coach Yamiji, who also pulls Akaashi aside and tells him that while he may not understand, he’s not going to be discriminated against on the team. Akaashi thanks him.
That evening, when Akaashi gets home, his mother is gone, and his father in the kitchen.
“Where’s Mom?” Akaashi asks, slipping off his shoes.
“Oh? She’s staying with her sister for a while,” Akaashi’s father says. “For real this time, I think. I hope.”
“Me too,” Akaashi says. He sets his bag down next to the table and takes a seat at the kitchen’s island, facing his father.
“Keiji,” his father says, setting down the knife he’s using. He sighs. “I’m sorry.”
Akaashi blinks, surprised. “For what?”
His father takes off his glasses, rubbing his eyes, and there’s an age to him; he seems beyond his years. “Your mother and I argued after you left the other night, after I returned,” he says, “and I learned things I never knew.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been the best father to you,” he says. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you well enough. I had no idea she …” His father swallows. “She abused you physically when you were a kid. I had no idea she was so homophobic. I didn’t even realize her attempts to shelter you were so … malicious.” He sighs, straightening his glasses. “I’m sorry, Keiji. I’m so sorry. You’re my son, my only son, and I care for you.”
Akaashi bites the inside of his cheek. Abused. He was abused? He hates that word. “Thank you.”
“Your mother is angry with me right now,” Akaashi’s father says. “But I think it’d be fair to say I’m even more furious with her.” He pauses. “She’s always been bad to me,” he says quietly. “Well, not always, not when we first met, but soon after.” He takes a deep breath. “I just never expected she’d be so bad to you, too. Maybe it’s the naivety of growing up with a loving mother myself, but I never imagined a mother could hurt their child so badly.”
Akaashi nods, a lump in his throat. He didn’t know this. He didn’t know any of this. His mother hurt his father too? She hurt him? He knows she hurt him, Akaashi. He doesn’t want to believe she hurt him.
“I want what’s best for you,” his father says, “but I don’t know what that is, so I suppose what I’m asking is what do you want?”
Akaashi stares at him, not even bothering to hide the surprise on his face. His parents have never cared what he’s wanted. Or, at least, his mother sure hasn’t.
He bites his lip. He wants his mother back, to put it simply, but he doesn’t think that’s possible.
But then again, what mother would he want back? The mother that hit him when he was young? The mother that shielded him from the world and got angry with him all the time? Or is it just some caricature of a caring mother he wants instead?
“I don’t know,” Akaashi says honestly.
“Think about it,” his father says. “You have time; I don’t think she’s coming back for a while.”
Akaashi nods.
“How was your day?” His father smoothly changes the subject, returning to his cooking.
“It was alright,” Akaashi says. He hesitates. Part of him wants to tell his father about Bokuto, but he doesn’t know if they’re there yet. They’ll get there. Instead, they talk about Akaashi’s classes, and volleyball. Akaashi learns for the very first time that his father played volleyball in high school.
They eat dinner in a peaceful silence, talking here or there. Akaashi feels lighter than he has the past few days, but he still can’t help the gaping hole in his heart.
He misses her. Or well, he misses …
He doesn’t even know at this point.
Akaashi spends his next week or so thinking about what his father says. What does he want? What does Akaashi truly want?
He doesn’t know.
His mother calls him nearly daily, leaving nasty texts and even nastier voicemails. For all her hatred toward him, she sure seems to want to still be in his life.
Akaashi does his best to ignore her, putting his effort instead into volleyball and school. With Tokyo qualifiers right around the corner and no backup setter, he can’t afford to slack off.
Soon enough, they’re on the bus on the way to the tournament. Akaashi’s excited. He’s excited to play and to hopefully win. They’re playing some team he doesn’t know well in the first round, which is the only round they have to win to get to Nationals, since Tokyo has two representatives.
He wants to take Bokuto to nationals.
And he does.
They win their first round. Bokuto plays brilliantly, somehow staying motivated all match. The whole team dog piles Bokuto at the end of the match, laughing and crying and hugging. Bokuto pulls Akaashi into the tightest hug once they’ve stepped off to the side.
The second match doesn’t go as well. They lose against Itachiyama for the second time, securing a rivalry between Bokuto and Sakusa. Bokuto is disappointed, of course, but he brightens at a reminder that they’re going to Nationals.
Afterwards, the team briefly disperses, most of them going to pack their things and watch the match for third and fourth place, others stretching and having snacks. Akaashi grabs his water bottle and goes to fill it up around the corner.
He’s halfway through filling his water bottle when footsteps approach. The click-clack of someone’s heels. He ignores them, figuring some parent went the wrong way. Until the footsteps stop.
“Keiji,” his mother says.
Akaashi’s whole body freezes up. What is she doing here? Why is she here? Is she going to hurt him? Is she going to try to get him to leave?
Akaashi is halfway down the hall. Sarukui and Komi are right around the corner. Maybe he should just turn and leave. Maybe he should just make a break for it. He’s faster than her, especially if she’s wearing heels.
“Keiji, dear, I’ve missed you.”
And yet he can’t bring himself to run.
“If you would just hear me out,” his mother says.
Akaashi’s water bottle is overflowing at this point, and it feels like he can barely breathe. His chest is tight, too tight. It almost feels like he’s going to die.
With trembling hands, he pulls the water bottle out from under the water fountain, pouring out the excess and screwing on the cap.
“I miss you, dear, the old you.”
It’s like a shot to the heart.
“I wish you hadn’t ruined things as you did. I wish you didn’t hurt me like that.”
Akaashi screws his eyes shut, dropping the water bottle and gripping the water fountain tightly in both hands. His blood rushes in his ears and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest.
He swallows. “Go away,” he says. It comes out weak.
“I did it all for you,” she says. Akaashi refuses to look at her. “Everything I did, I did for you.”
“Go away,” he says, stronger. He’s afraid. He’s so afraid and he’s angry . He’s angry at what she’s done to him, he’s angry at how she’s treated him, and he just wants her to get out of his life and never come back.
“Keiji, I loved you so much.”
“I said go away!” Akaashi yells, louder than he meant to. Akaashi doesn’t yell. Akaashi never yells, never raises his voice, but his heart is beating so fast and he can barely breathe and it almost feels like he’s about to pass out.
“Keiji, I—”
“Akaashi?” Sarukui says from down the hall. He sounds afraid.
“Hello, please leave us be,” Akaashi’s mother says. “I’m trying to talk to Keiji.”
Akaashi bites his tongue. Anger thrums under his skin, and he wants nothing more than to shout at her.
“Who are you?” Komi asks.
“I’m his mother,” she says.
“No,” Akaashi speaks before he can stop himself. “I know what I want.” He straightens, opening his eyes and digging his nails into his palms. “I said go away.” His voice shakes as he speaks. He wants her out of his life but he doesn’t. He wants her back so badly but at the same time he can’t handle her anymore.
He stares at her, stares her down.
“We’ll finish this conversation later, dear. You wouldn’t want to upset your friends, now would you?”
“Go away,” Akaashi says.
She clicks her tongue and walks off. The hallway is empty, save for Sarukui and Komi behind him. Akaashi wants to cry. He wants to break down and cry and he hates her but he refuses. He refuses to while she can still hear him. He refuses to in front of his friends. He just wants Bokuto .
“Saru, go grab Bo,” Akaashi hears Komi say.
And Komi’s footsteps grow nearer. “Come on,” Komi says. His voice is soft, the softest Akaashi’s ever heard. “Let’s take a seat.” He rests a hand on Akaashi’s back, guiding him over to the wall. They sit next to the fountain. Akaashi’s shaking like a leaf, staring at the floor in front of him. He can barely breathe, barely think. His chest burns, and he can’t do anything but dig his nails into his arms and pray his mother never speaks to him again.
“Akaashi, you gotta breathe slower,” Komi says, resting a hand on his shoulder.
It’s then that Akaashi realizes he’s practically hyperventilating. He buries his face in his knees, embarrassed, and gasps for breath. He hates her. He hates her, he hates her, he hates her and he’s cold. He’s cold and weak and he hates himself and he hates her .
“Akaashi,” Bokuto says from in front of him, voice firm but soft. Bokuto gently lifts his head. “I want you to breathe with me,” he says, kneeling in front of Akaashi, still wearing his jersey and knee pads.
Akaashi blinks. He’s half sobbing, now. Bokuto wipes a tear off his cheek. Was he crying?
Bokuto breathes in slowly, and then breathes out. “Just like that. Breathe with me.” Bokuto breathes in again. Akaashi does his best to match him, staring into his golden eyes. They’re captivating. They breathe together for a while, until Akaashi’s fully calmed down.
“It’s okay,” Bokuto says. “She isn’t here anymore,” he says. “She isn’t gonna hurt you anymore.”
Akaashi nods, lower lip trembling. He wants to sob .
“The others,” he croaks.
“It’s okay,” Bokuto says. “They took the bus back, but Kiki-nee-chan is here. She’s gonna drive us home, okay?”
Akaashi nods.
“Come on.” Bokuto stands and offers a hand. Akaashi takes it, letting Bokuto pull him up to stand on wobbly feet. He feels woozy, uneasy.
Bokuto pulls him into a big, warm hug.
Akaashi finally eases, finally safe. They stay like that for a while, until Bokuto pulls away and takes his hand.
“Come on, ’Kaashi,” Bokuto says.
“Let’s go home.”
A few nights later has Akaashi sitting on the swings in the park, the moon high in the sky.
He knows what he wants.
But he doesn’t . He’s never been faced with such a difficult choice, and he doesn’t know what to do. He does, but he doesn’t. He knows there are no other choices. Not if he wants to be okay. Not if he wants to heal.
He knows what he wants. What he needs.
Deep down, of course, he wants nothing more than for his mother to love him, to really love him, but that isn’t an option. She doesn’t love him anymore. She doesn’t love him and it’s his fault.
“Dad,” Akaashi says once he goes back inside. He stands tall, his shoulders back and his head held high. “I don’t want to see her ever again.”
His father nods, a great sadness in his eyes.
Akaashi’s father files for a divorce one week before Akaashi’s sixteenth birthday, and so begins a long, tedious process that will, hopefully, end in Akaashi staying full-time with his father.
His birthday lands on a Wednesday that year, smack dab in the middle of the week. He has an exam, which he takes and probably does fine on. His grades have been slipping rapidly, but he can’t bring himself to care enough about it, not when he’s got so much else going on.
His father asks him the week before how he’d like to celebrate his birthday, Akaashi responds that he doesn’t. He’s not in the mood for festivities. He isn’t in the mood to celebrate himself. Not when he’s busy wallowing in regret and self-hatred. Not when he’s angry, angry with himself. Not when he’s just so goddamn—
On the evening of his birthday, his phone rings.
“Hello?” Akaashi answers the phone tiredly.
“Akaashi!” Bokuto says brightly. “Hey, so I know we had to cancel yesterday’s dinner. Do you wanna come over to mine now instead?”
Akaashi checks his watch. It’s late. “Bokuto-san, it’s past seven.”
“I know, but still! This is important, I promise, and besides, I miss you!”
Akaashi bites back a sigh. “I’ll make my way over.” There’s a tired ache in his bones, a sick sort of pain in his chest, and a queasiness in his stomach that Akaashi’s been dealing with for weeks now.
Nevertheless, he grabs his phone, jacket, and wallet and heads on out after letting his father know where he’s going. The train is quiet. The walk is quiet. Everything is all just far too quiet.
Akaashi stands on Bokuto’s doorstep and knocks. Quietly.
The door swings open, revealing Katsue-nee-san, who smiles. “Akaashi-kun, come on in.”
Akaashi thanks her. “Pardon the intrusion,” he says, switching out his shoes for slippers.
“Kou-chan’s just finishing something up upstairs,” Katsue-nee-san says. “He’ll be down any minute now.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like anything to eat?”
“I’m alright, but thank you.” Akaashi takes a seat at the dinner table. Katsue-nee-san serves him a small bowl of food anyway, and Akaashi slowly eats. He hasn’t been eating very much at all lately.
Halfway through his bowl, Bokuto comes bounding downstairs.
“Akaashi!” He brightens upon seeing Akaashi. Bokuto takes a seat beside him, fiddling with his hands in his lap. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Bokuto-san. How are you?”
“Great!”
Akaashi can’t help a smile. There’s something about Bokuto’s joy that’s so impossibly contagious, even when there’s still a dull ache in Akaashi’s heart, a gaping hole.
“When you’re done, let’s go upstairs?” Bokuto timidly suggests. Akaashi stares at him. Of all the words he would usually use to describe Bokuto, timid is not one of them.
“Sure,” Akaashi says. He finishes his food and thanks Katsue-nee-san, offering to do the dishes. She insists he go upstairs with Bokuto instead. Akaashi does exactly that.
Bokuto beats him up there, and when Akaashi enters his room, Bokuto is sitting on the floor, holding something behind his back.
“Bokuto-san? What do you have?” Akaashi asks.
“You’ll see!” Bokuto says. “Sit.”
Akaashi closes the door and sits across from him, crossing his legs and trying to peer around Bokuto’s back.
“Okay,” Bokuto says. He sucks in a breath before speaking very fast. “So I don’t know when your birthday is, and I tried asking coach but he didn’t know either, so Konoha and Yukippe and I all tried hacking into the school system but we couldn’t find it no matter what but that’s unimportant the point is I got you something and I was gonna give it to you for your birthday but then I figured I should just give it to you now cause it’s kinda a time sensitive gift but either way! I guess the point is I have something for you and I’m gonna give it to you whether it’s your birthday or not!”
Akaashi stares at him. Bokuto really can read minds, can’t he?
Bokuto stares back with those wide, golden eyes, blinking once.
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. He can’t help a laugh of disbelief. “You’re sure you weren’t able to figure out my birthday?”
“Yeah, no, couldn’t solve it. Coach didn’t know either, so we kinda just, I dunno, wallowed.”
Something warm blooms in Akaashi’s chest. Bokuto’s so sweet, and caring, and it all makes Akaashi’s head spin. Bokuto breaks down every conception he has of himself, every certainty he’s known. Crumples them into a ball and throws them to the wind.
Akaashi may not know how to love himself, but he may not have to. Not if Bokuto can do it for him.
“Today is my birthday, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says.
Bokuto blinks, his expression morphing from surprise to horror to excitement and back to horror again. “Akaashi!” Bokuto exclaims, all too loud. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”
“Please quiet down, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. He can already feel a dull headache forming behind his eyes. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to celebrate this year.”
Bokuto’s expression falls, and his shoulders sink. “I understand,” he says quietly. “Which is why I bought you this.”
Out from behind his back, Bokuto pulls a book—no, a journal. A dark green journal with the outlines of golden stars all across the cover, wrapping around the spine and on the back.
“They didn’t have the pen I wanted, um, so I don’t have one, but yeah, uh, well …” Bokuto takes a deep breath. “When my father passed, and my mother left, Katsue-nee-chan gave me a journal to write about what I—what we, really—were going through.” Bokuto breathes again. “And now you’re going through something similar, something really really hard, and while I’ll be here for you no matter what, I know there are things you don’t want to say, thoughts you don’t want to burden anyone with. I’d be happy to listen to anything you had to say, but, well, I guess what I’m saying is I don’t know how to help, but I want to help, so I hope writing in this journal can help you how writing in mine helped me, because losing a parent is one of the hardest things anyone could go through, and you shouldn’t have to at all.”
With a trembling hand, Akaashi takes the journal from him. It’s got a nice, soft leather cover. He opens it slowly, met with pristine, lined off-white pages, crisp and ready to be written on. He closes the journal, suddenly aware of the tears fogging his vision, and sets it down so he doesn’t cry onto it.
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, fighting back tears. He presses his sleeve to his eyes, drying them. “Thank you.”
Bokuto moves, sitting beside Akaashi instead. He takes his hand. Akaashi grips Bokuto’s hand tightly.
“You’re too kind to me, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi manages to say. He shakes his head, knowing if he speaks his next thoughts, he’ll end up in shambles.
But Bokuto must read his mind, because he wraps Akaashi up in a hug and says: “And you deserve every minute of it.”
They stay like that for a while.
That night, it snows. Bokuto laughs when he sees it, a joyous, beautiful sound. He runs into the street in his bare feet and spins, trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue.
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. “You’ll catch a cold.”
Bokuto runs back to him and pulls him into a warm embrace.
“Get home safely, okay?” Bokuto says, pulling away to hold his arms instead. Akaashi meets his gaze, golden eyes full of warmth and something Akaashi can’t place. He’s smiling his small smile, one Akaashi thinks is reserved for him.
And Akaashi realizes that if he doesn’t confess soon, then his heart may very well explode.