Chapter Text
Akaashi’s waiting for him at the station again next morning, leaning against the ticket barrier and looking so attractive it’s almost deadly. He smiles when he spots Bokuto, and Bokuto’s heart does somersaults in his chest.
“Hey, hey, hey!” he grins, sauntering over to Akaashi’s spot, barely giving a thought to Kuroo and Kenma behind him. He has a feeling he might have abandoned Kuroo halfway through a conversation but right now he can’t remember what they were even talking about (so it mustn’t have been that important) and as much as he loves Kuroo, nothing Kuroo says or does will ever be as important as Akaashi leaning against a ticket barrier and looking so attractive it’s almost deadly. Bokuto doesn’t even know how he does it.
“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi greets him as politely as ever, but Bokuto thinks there’s a little more warmth in his voice than usual, and when he turns to say hello to Kuroo and Kenma something about his manner is ever so slightly different – not cold, not really – but he never seems to relax around them the way he does around Bokuto. The thought makes Bokuto grin and puff out his chest with pride.
“I didn’t know this was gonna be a regular thing,” he says, nudging Akaashi playfully. “I thought you were just being – uh, what was the word?”
“Ridiculous?” Kuroo supplies.
“Spontaneous,” Akaashi deadpans. “I believe that was the word I used.”
“Yeah!” Bokuto cries. “Spontaneous!”
Akaashi shrugs. “I woke earlier than usual, so I thought I might as well meet you here. I thought perhaps we could walk to school together this week.” And then he looks away, weirdly shy all of a sudden. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”
“Of course I want to!” Bokuto yelps – in what universe would he not want to spend extra time with Akaashi every day? He’s starting to think that even if they spent all their days and nights together for the rest of their lives it probably wouldn’t be enough. “Yeah, I – I’ll walk with you.” He turns and flashes Kuroo a grin. “See ya later, alligator.”
“What’s this?” Kuroo cries, pretending to be outraged. “I’m being abandoned?”
“That’s rude,” Kenma mutters, eyes fixed firmly on his phone.
“No,” Bokuto sighs, “you’re supposed to say, ‘In a while, cr–’”
Kuroo rolls his eyes. “In a while, crocodile,” he huffs. Bokuto laughs and Kuroo punches him on the shoulder before turning and ruffling Kenma’s hair, an apparent indication to follow him to the escalators. Bokuto watches them go, shaking his head and grinning.
“Kuroo-san is very caring,” Akaashi says quietly as they exit the station.
Bokuto laughs again. “Nah, that’s just Kenma. He has that effect on everybody.”
Akaashi smiles slightly, but his pensive expression remains. “I think Kuroo-san cares about his friends a great deal, not just Kenma-kun.”
Bokuto raises his eyebrows.
“Especially you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi tells him, dead serious. “He’s very protective of you.”
Bokuto frowns. What the hell does that mean? “Did he do the whole ‘break his heart and I’ll break your face’ thing?” he jokes, trying to laugh it off, but Akaashi just hums thoughtfully, as though he’s trying to solve a difficult equation but isn’t sure how to go about it.
“Something like that.”
“Listen,” he says, “Kuroo’s kind of a dick sometimes. He says stuff to – scare people or whatever, but he doesn’t mean it. Honestly, he doesn’t even like killing mosquitoes, not unless Kenma’s around and then you can’t see him for bug spray cos Kenma doesn’t like them and he’ll do anything –”
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interrupts, and to Bokuto’s surprise he sounds kind of amused, “I’m not afraid of Kuroo-san.”
“Well, you still call him ‘Kuroo-san’, so I beg to differ,” Bokuto counters, and Akaashi laughs – actually laughs and the sound is so pure and unexpected and wonderful Bokuto almost has a heart attack right there, in the middle of the street.
“I respect him,” Akaashi says. “That doesn’t mean I’m afraid of him.”
“Does that mean you respect me?” Bokuto grins, nudging him in the side.
He’s expecting a sigh, a roll of the eyes, maybe an insincere, Yes, Bokuto-san. But Akaashi just gives him a funny look.
“Of course I respect you,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Bokuto fidgets, suddenly uncomfortable. “Well... lots of people don’t, I guess?” he offers.
Akaashi’s eyes narrow. “You’re far more respected than you think, Bokuto-san. You shouldn’t put yourself down.”
“I don’t,” Bokuto protests, squirming slightly. “I know I’m good, it’s just – a lot of people see me as this – this kid whose team has to watch him all the time and I’m not –”
He feels cool hands on his shoulders, but it takes him a second or two to actually register that they’re Akaashi’s hands, Akaashi is touching him, and it’s such a shock that he almost flinches away immediately. By some miracle, he manages not to, although his heart starts beating rapidly and his chest feels suddenly tight.
“You’re the captain, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi reminds him, almost unbearably gentle, “for a reason. You’re the team’s ace for a reason. We all know what you can do and we trust you to do it. I trust you.”
Bokuto’s heart hammers against his ribcage, so hard he thinks it might burst out of his chest. He suddenly feels very emotional, and he turns away before he can do anything embarrassing, like cry or try to kiss Akaashi.
“C’mon,” he mumbles, “we’re gonna be late.”
Akaashi smiles. “Yes, captain,” he says.
***
Practice goes reasonably well, despite the fact that Bokuto appears a little flustered for some reason, and it puts Akaashi in a good enough mood that he decides ask him to eat lunch together.
Bokuto huffs a surprised laugh. “Are you for real?”
Akaashi frowns. “What?”
“You walked me to school, we went to practice together, and now you wanna eat lunch with me too?” Bokuto shakes his head, grinning widely – but it’s the type of smile Akaashi can’t make out, and for all he’s perceptive and attuned to Bokuto’s behaviour, in that instant he has absolutely no idea what he’s thinking. “You really are the perfect boyfriend, aren’t you?”
Akaashi’s frown crumples into a scowl. All he wanted was to spend some time together outside of practice and away from anybody else, away from any prying eyes, interruptions, questions. Is that so bad?
“I can go away if you’d like me to,” he replies, barely trying to hide his annoyance.
“No!” Bokuto says, too quickly, and Akaashi tries and fails to suppress the hopeful little leap in his stomach. Bokuto’s gazing up at him, his grin a little nervous now, and he looks – god, Akaashi can hardly even bring himself to think the word – cute. “We could, uh, go eat on the roof?” he adds, standing up and hastily grabbing his lunch box.
“I’d like that,” Akaashi tells him mildly, trying a smile. Bokuto follows him out and up to the roof like an eager little puppy, and by the time they get there Akaashi’s forgotten his former irritation. They sit on a bench looking out over the school, Bokuto babbling away about some new game Kenma’s got and how he’d let him have a go and he’d almost beaten the boss level, and Akaashi nods silently and lets the chatter wash over him, suddenly aware that he hasn’t felt quite so peaceful in a long time. Despite the fact that “loud and boisterous” seems to be his default setting, when he’s relaxed (or at least, less loud and boisterous) there’s something about Bokuto’s voice that is wonderfully soothing.
“You know, you didn’t have to invite me up here.”
Akaashi turns to see Bokuto fidgeting, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to make himself physically smaller. “I mean, I get that you probably do this with other people but we see each other all the time anyway so really, you don’t have to make the effort –”
“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi regards him, contemplating. It’s true, he often does eat lunch with his dates, because that’s usually the only time they get to spend together during the school day – and Bokuto’s right, they do see each other an awful lot, so in theory he should have very little reason for doing this, except – “I wanted to.”
The words are out before he’s fully aware of them. Bokuto looks at him, and his expression shifts almost imperceptibly; Akaashi can’t work it out, but it makes him feel slightly wobbly – though not uneasy. It’s like stepping on to a boat and feeling the wood dip under the weight of his foot – insecure, like he might tumble at any moment, yet all the while knowing there’s something solid underneath him, something between him and the lake.
“Oh.” Bokuto turns his face away all of a sudden, shadow falling across it, and his shoulders slump oddly. Every instinct Akaashi has is telling him to reach out and touch, to comfort, but he doesn’t allow himself to. That would be too far, he thinks, and he’s already gone too far with this whole endeavour.
He sighs. “Bokuto-san, is something wrong?”
Bokuto’s head whips round so fast it almost makes Akaashi wince, and in a moment the quiet, troubled Bokuto has vanished, replaced by the brash, bouncy, bossy one whose only worry is that he still doesn’t know the proper kanji for “worry”. Akaashi’s beginning to wonder which one is real.
“I’m fine, Akaashi!” he beams, as though the weird moment never happened, as though it was a dream Akaashi had, dozing off as he listened to Bokuto chatter about video games. “It’s just weird, you paying so much attention. I figured you’d have told me it was just, like, your duty to hang round with me or something, but you’re so smooth!” he adds, with a loud laugh.
Smooth? Akaashi grimaces. Smooth isn’t exactly how he’d describe himself; yes, maybe he goes on of dates and yes, maybe he tries to be attentive and kind and engaging, because everybody deserves a fair chance, even if he knows on sight that he won’t fall for them – but his aim has never been to reel people in like he’s collecting them. That isn’t what he wants at all.
“Of course I don’t see it as my duty,” he tells Bokuto seriously, “but – well, we are dating.”
Bokuto snorts. “Yeah, right,” he says. “It’s not like anyone believes us.”
Akaashi winces, but says nothing. He thinks back to the girls in the train station the other day – and realises Bokuto’s right. None of them seemed to believe Bokuto was his date for the week – even Kuroo seems to think he’s playing some sort of game – and he can’t help but wonder if the fact they’re both boys has little to do with it. He’s dated boys before, after all. Then... does his reputation precede him that much? Is this why he doesn’t ever find someone he can engage with fully – because nobody takes him seriously, nobody believes he actually wants to date them? What if Bokuto thinks he’s not taking it seriously? Dating or not, he hates the thought of Bokuto thinking he doesn’t put his all into what he does. He hates the idea of him thinking he’s lazy.
“Is it just me,” Bokuto asks abruptly, interrupting his thoughts, “or are there more screaming girls than usual today?”
Akaashi looks up from his own lap to see Bokuto leaning casually against the railing, watching the scenes in the school yard below. He makes no move to verify Bokuto’s theory, however, simply raising an eyebrow.
“You don’t like girls?” This is puzzling; he knows for a fact Bokuto had a girlfriend up until four days ago, although admittedly that doesn’t rule out the possibility of him discovering he’s not into them. Indeed, it could well be a reason for the relationship ending.
Bokuto shrugs. “It’s not that I don’t like girls. It’s just… Like, if there was one person in the whole world who could love me just for me – wouldn’t that be enough?”
He turns and regards Akaashi with steady eyes. Akaashi is truly unnerved by the sudden appearance of this sharp, focused, serious Bokuto he rarely ever sees off the court, and he’s temporarily lost for words.
“That’s... admirable,” he says eventually, uncomfortably aware of his own heartbeat. “I think lots of people should follow that principle.”
Bokuto laughs at that, loud and unrestrained. “Says you!” he retorts. “Mr. Week-Long Boyfriend.”
Akaashi shrugs, allows himself to joke a little too. “Who says I’m not looking for the One? Don’t be so quick to judge.”
“It’s an efficient method,” Bokuto muses, still chuckling. “Maybe a bit too efficient, though. I mean, what’s wrong with just waiting around? Unless –” He stops abruptly. Akaashi doesn’t prompt him to continue, because he has a horrible feeling he knows what Bokuto was about to say.
“Unless what?” he asks, maintaining his calm demeanour despite the spike in his heart rate. There’s no reason for Bokuto to know, no reason he would know. All Akaashi has to do is remain calm and neutral and nobody has to find out.
Bokuto huffs and turns away. “Nah,” he mutters, half to himself.
Akaashi furrows his brow. “What?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Bokuto says cryptically, and Akaashi has to suppress a sigh of frustration. He knows when Bokuto gets like this, contemplative and miserable for apparently no reason, the best thing is to be patient and let him work through it by himself – but it’s difficult when it so obviously isn’t related to volleyball, when he knows it has to be something personal, between them.
“Bokuto-san, if you tell me, I might be able to help you,” he says gently, unable to keep himself from remaining completely detached.
Bokuto says nothing for a while, and Akaashi begins to think he’s going to have to let the matter drop – but then he raises his head and looks Akaashi in the eye and mumbles, “Can I ask you something? About what you said yesterday. About – when you dated Kuroo, about having someone else on your mind.”
“Bokuto-san –”
“Please.” And he really is pleading, eyes huge and begging and full of some expression Akaashi can’t name – but if he had to, he thinks the closest thing he could come up with would be sorrow. And then he thinks, that’s ridiculous, because when has Bokuto ever been sorrowful about anything? He probably doesn’t have the capacity. And yet – “I need to know.”
“You don’t,” Akaashi tells him firmly. “You don’t need to know anything about that.”
But Bokuto doesn’t relent. “Why not? Can’t you just tell me? Nobody could keep everything to themselves all the time, otherwise they’d explode! Besides,” he pushes, “aren’t we supposed to be dating, like you said? You should tell me stuff like this.”
“That is exactly the kind of thing one shouldn’t talk about with one’s date,” Akaashi snaps.
“Please, Akaashi?” Bokuto wheedles. “I’ve been thinking about it all day and I –”
“Don’t,” Akaashi interrupts, closing his eyes against Bokuto’s burning gaze. He takes a deep breath before he opens them again. “Please, Bokuto-san. Can’t this be enough?”
Even as he looks at Bokuto, as Bokuto looks back at him, he has the fleeting, tiny thought that no, this cannot be enough – but he doesn’t know if that means it’s not enough for him, or Bokuto, or maybe both of them. Bokuto nods once, slowly, and Akaashi notices briefly the way his eyes glint in the sunlight, the subtle tan line where his shirt collar brushes against his neck, the way he’s slowly but very definitely leaning forward with an unreadable expression on his face, the way he looks, Akaashi thinks again, beautiful –
The bell for the end of lunch sounds very loudly, and Bokuto jumps, clearly startled; his eyes go suddenly wide.
“Crap!” he cries, hands flying up to his cheeks. “I have to change classrooms for sixth period. I forgot!”
Akaashi doesn’t know what to say – he’s still reeling slightly from the shock of what he thinks was an almost-kiss – so he settles for, “Oh.”
“All my stuff – I need –”
There’s a sudden bout of noisy throat-clearing from behind them; they both whip round to see Shirofuku standing in the doorway, chin tilted slightly, red hair swinging and a wide grin on her face. She holds Bokuto’s bag in one hand, his blazer and a textbook in the other.
“Oi, Bird Boy, you forgot something.”
Akaashi is relieved – though he’d rather none of the team, including the managers, knew about him and Bokuto, he’s glad that it’s her and not someone else, unused to Bokuto’s antics. At least she’ll ask fewer questions about why he looks so flushed and excitable.
Bokuto charges towards her, arms outstretched, and she barely has time to react before he’s swept her off her feet, quite literally, in a giant hug, spinning and twirling around with gay abandon. It’s all she can do to yelp in surprise.
“Get off me, you big oaf!”
“Yukie-san, thank you so much!” Bokuto cries. “I love you!”
Akaashi coughs. They both pause, heads turning to look at him.
“Bokuto-san,” he says seriously, though he can’t help a small smile – Bokuto, for all he is ridiculous, is incredibly endearing. “That’s cheating, you know.”
Bokuto drops Shirofuku like she’s made of lava, and she lands straight on her butt. Akaashi winces.
“Ow! Watch it, bird brain!” she whines indignantly, glaring at Bokuto, who is making an odd gesture – something between bowing and shaking his head frantically – and babbling, “Yes, no, not good, no cheating!” as though possessed.
Shirofuku looks between them, confused and clearly suspicious, but luckily she doesn’t seem to put two and two together. In the end she simply sighs and stands up, hauling Bokuto (who has calmed down somewhat, but only by Bokuto standards) off to their next class with a casual, “See you later, Akaashi,” thrown over her shoulder as she leaves.
Akaashi doesn’t move for a minute or two. He knows he can’t afford to stay unless he wants to explain in front of everyone why he’s late to class, but his legs feel like lead all of a sudden and his thoughts are a tangled mess. He’s certain Bokuto was about to kiss him, and that’s worrying for all the wrong reasons. It’s not as though people haven’t tried to kiss him before, of course, but he’s always, always rejected them, always made an effort not to even touch the person he’s dating unless he absolutely has to, lest lines become blurred and misunderstandings caused. He tries not to hurt anyone’s feelings unnecessarily.
The trouble is, if Bokuto had kissed him, he’s not sure he would have pulled away.
It concerns him, the certain lack of self-control he’s developed around Bokuto. It’s like Bokuto’s complete disregard for things like cause and effect rubs off on him, and he finds himself doing things just because he wants to, without thinking about the consequences – or rather, thinking about the consequences and shrugging them off anyway, as though not caring meant they might not come true. Why did he agree to make Bokuto his date in the first place? He knew things would become messy and difficult, he knew this could potentially harm their friendship, could even hurt the entire team – and yet he found himself saying yes anyway. Because somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he knows, he wanted this to happen – maybe not in this way, maybe this is the worst way it could possibly have happened – but he wanted it, all the same. Perhaps in an alternate timeline, if alternate timelines do exist, there is an Akaashi Keiji who was sensible by nature, who became cautious within reason before experience made him so; who never kissed his sister’s girlfriend, who never dated her afterwards; who harboured a secret crush and then let it go because that is what one is supposed to do in the face of unrequited love. Perhaps that Akaashi Keiji discovered his feelings for his teammate in a natural way, when he wasn’t so messed up, so caught in his own head, when he wasn’t torn up over two people and too afraid of everything to confess. And perhaps that Akaashi Keiji is now dating his teammate in an ordinary way – perhaps they are even an ordinary couple, and perhaps, once or twice a day, he allows himself to be happy.
Perhaps. He sighs, though not wistfully, and drags himself back to class.
***
“Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto stops walking and turns to him, eyes wide and alert and he’d look almost comical if the leaden weight in Akaashi’s chest wasn’t stopping him from thinking of anything as funny right now. They’re on the edge of a little park near the metro, one he passes sometimes on the way back from practice, if Bokuto’s invited him home. It was undoubtedly filled with people enjoying the sunshine a few hours ago but now, as the sky turns to red and pink and dusk, it is all but abandoned.
He gestures at a bench and starts towards it. He doesn’t turn to make sure Bokuto follows, but the sound of his footsteps seconds later confirm that he’s right behind.
“Akaashi?” Bokuto waits until they’re sitting before prompting him, though by then Akaashi’s almost lost his nerve and decided that he doesn’t really need to talk about this after all.
“Bokuto-san,” he says again, and Bokuto nods like he understands, even though he can’t possibly, and somehow it’s reassuring. “What you asked me about earlier… I think it’s only fair that I tell you.”
“Oh.” Bokuto sounds mildly surprised. “Okay.”
Every rational bone in his body is telling him to keep his mouth shut, to say, Actually, forget it; his instinct should be to run away. But despite his fears of what Bokuto will think, he wants to open up; he knows it might alter his impression of him forever and not for the better, but he also knows it’s the only way to lighten this weight pressing down on him. Sometimes it feels as though Misaki tied a heavy stone around his heart, and he’s beginning to realise he can’t shift it on his own.
He takes a deep breath.
“Bokuto-san, the way I... meet people isn’t a game and I don’t want you think it is.”
“I don’t –”
“I take this as seriously as I would take anything. That’s why it – this–” he gestures between them – “is so... complicated. Because –”
“I get it,” Bokuto interrupts cheerfully. “Because we’re teammates, right? I know.”
“No, Bokuto-san,” he sighs. “You don’t.”
Bokuto turns to him and puts a warm hand over his own, cold, shaking, balled – he didn’t even realise – into a fist. The touch is gentle, surprising. “So tell me.”
On a creaky wooden bench in a nondescript park in the middle of Tokyo, Akaashi finds himself, finally, telling Bokuto everything.
“There was a girl,” he begins, and then stops because no, that’s not right. “I mean, there still is.”
“Oho,” Bokuto grins. “I thought there might be.”
“You figured it out.”
Bokuto shrugs. “Why else would you do something completely weird like dating literally anyone who asked you for only seven days at a time?” he says genially. “I’ve been thinking and I figured there’s only one probable explanation.”
Akaashi shakes his head. “Bokuto-san, you’re too smart for your own good.”
“No such thing,” Bokuto declares, and Akaashi somehow manages to laugh; for half a second they sit in companionable silence, and it could be any other day, any ordinary moment between them – but then Bokuto nudges him and says, “So. About this girl...” and Akaashi’s back to feeling sick with anticipation.
“This girl,” he begins again, hesitantly, because he’s painfully aware of how awful this is going to sound, and yet it’s still not enough that he stops himself – rather, the opposite; he feels as though something inside him is pushing, straining against his ribs and his stomach and his lungs, desperate to be outside his body, in the open air, no longer festering within. “This girl was my sister’s first girlfriend. When I was thirteen, my sister brought her home for the first time, and when I was fourteen she – when I was fourteen she kissed me.”
“Woah,” Bokuto murmurs. Akaashi feels as though he’s been winded, but he keeps going because he’s only just beginning to realise what a huge relief it is to tell somebody, no matter who, after all this time.
“Misaki said Juri wouldn’t find out, but... of course, she did. They broke up and Juri refused to speak to me for a long time because of what I’d done. I don’t blame her, because after that I did something even worse.”
Bokuto leans forward on the bench beside him. “What?” he breathes, like they’re kids telling ghost stories, and Akaashi would give anything for that to be the truth – at least then he wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that his story is real.
He tenses. “I dated her. My sister’s ex-girlfriend.” He swallows. “For four months.”
“Woah,” Bokuto says again. “Four months – that’s pretty solid.” He pauses – Akaashi knows without looking that his forehead is crinkled in a pensive frown. “So what happened? Why did you…?”
“Nothing interesting,” Akaashi shrugs, because as much as he can recall, the disintegration of their relationship was far from soap opera material. “We just... fell apart. We were too young – I was fifteen when we broke up – and I suppose we didn’t know how to deal with each other. If we hurt one another, we wouldn’t say anything. We didn’t know how to communicate properly, and eventually we stopped talking altogether.
“And I don’t think we ever saw each other as we really were. I thought she was some kind of goddess, or something, and she wanted me to be older than I was. I was too young for her.” He looks away. “I’ve always been too young for her.”
“You talk like it wasn’t only a year ago,” Bokuto says softly, and Akaashi smiles.
“It feels like a lifetime, Bokuto-san,” he says. “Perhaps it was – perhaps that’s why I’m being punished now.”
“Punished?”
“For being so selfish.”
“You’re not selfish,” Bokuto objects. “You’re the least selfish person I know.”
Akaashi huffs a laugh. “That’s hardly true.” He looks up, for the first time since he began speaking. Bokuto has a strange expression on his face – ponderous, nothing like the shock and contempt he feared. “I’m sorry, Bokuto-san. You must be very disappointed to hear something like this about me.”
“No,” Bokuto says hurriedly. “No, not – not disappointed.” He bites his lip and stares at his knees, suddenly seeming troubled. “I’m glad you told me. And I don’t think you should blame yourself anymore.”
Akaashi frowns. “Bokuto-san –”
“No.” Bokuto fixes him with a piercing stare and it’s almost, almost too much. Akaashi finds it difficult to breathe all of a sudden; he can feel his heart thumping in his chest, and he wonders stupidly, fleetingly, whether Bokuto can hear it too. “I’m not saying you weren’t to blame – I don’t think what you did was right. But it wasn’t only you, was it, and she’s older, she should have known better. I mean, you should have known better too, but –” He shakes his head, quick. “No – what I mean is – you’re not that person anymore, Akaashi. Maybe you did some pretty shitty things in the past, but you’ve tried to make up for them, right? And I know you, you’re not selfish.”
“Bokuto-san –”
“I talked to Kuroo,” Bokuto continues, as though he’s on a mission to match the length of Akaashi’s speech twofold. “Last night, when I went home. He told me about when you went out. He said even though he felt guilty because he was never really serious about it, you didn’t hold it against him and you helped him figure out how to ask out Kenma. I think – you take it so seriously, and yet you wasted a whole week on him... I don’t think that’s selfish.” He looks away, suddenly back to the strange, shy Bokuto Akaashi can’t make out. “I think you’re amazing. Really amazing. I mean that, okay? You’re brilliant and I –”
He stops.
“Bokuto-san?”
“I want you to know that,” Bokuto says, with another odd little shake of the head.
Akaashi stares, lost for words. Silence falls, soft, all around them, and they look at each other for what seems like eternity. Bokuto looks up, his gaze full of an intensity that sends adrenaline coursing through Akaashi’s veins – and then he closes his eyes.
It takes Akaashi a moment to process, but by the time he realises what it is Bokuto wants he’s leaning forward anyway, hands reaching out of their own accord to grip strong shoulders before common sense can stop him. He closes his eyes at the last minute, and then his lips brush against Bokuto’s, and the rest of the world melts into nothing.
***
It’s almost dark by the time he gets home, and he’s surprised to find Juri leaning against the kitchen counter when he sneaks in through the back door. For a moment they stare at one another, Akaashi stuck for words.
“I thought you weren’t coming home this week,” he says eventually.
Juri ignores him. “You were out late,” she comments, eyebrows raised.
He shrugs. “Practice ran over.”
Juri snorts. “Bullshit.”
Akaashi balks a little because it’s not entirely bullshit – he did have practice, and Bokuto did insist on staying behind for a while (even if they did linger slightly longer than necessary on the way home). But he knows he’s not fooling Juri one bit, and in the end he decides it’s better to roll his eyes in a silent admission and let her draw her own conclusions.
“Are you still dating people?”
Akaashi sighs. “Do you care?” he asks flatly.
Juri fixes him with a look that is almost sympathetic – almost, could be in any other context, any situation but theirs.
“I know what you’re doing,” she tells him, with that unnerving perceptiveness he forgets she possesses. “It won’t work.”
“What won’t?”
“This stupid dating-people-for-seven-days thing,” Juri says, fidgeting. She drops her gaze, refusing to meet his eye, but her tone is firm. “It won’t work, believe me.”
Akaashi frowns. “How would you know?” he asks lightly.
“Because I’ve done it, okay? I’ve had god knows how many flings and one night stands and cliché coffee shop dates and believe me, it doesn’t work because you can’t forget her.”
The room is silent for a moment or two, and then Juri looks up and regards him with a quiet scrutiny. Akaashi can feel himself blushing under her gaze.
“You can’t move on from her, no matter how hard you try. And it’s not fair to drag other people into this. It’s enough of a mess as it is.”
He looks at her, long and wondering, and thinks about how much of Juri he must have missed in two years, how much of his sister he’s been shut away from or forgotten or never bothered to learn. How much of her he doesn’t know – how much of her he might never get the chance to.
“I’m not playing games,” he says quietly, careful not to sound guilty.
“I never said you were,” Juri retorts. “I only said it doesn’t matter.”
She turns away and makes to leave, and as Akaashi watches her go he suddenly remembers the promise he made two days ago.
“Juri –”
She cuts him off. “I’m tired, Keiji, okay? I’m going to bed.”
“Why did you break up with her, this time?” he presses, and her hand freezes on the door handle. He decides to push his luck. “If it’s impossible to move on from her, why put yourself through that? You must know she loves you,” he adds, more tentative.
There’s a pause. Juri slumps, shoulders hunching. She looks so small and defeated, and for a moment he wishes he could take the question back.
“Because sometimes it’s harder to stay.” She doesn’t turn around. “It’s fucking soul-destroying loving someone you know is eventually going to slip away from you.”
He frowns. “I don’t understand.”
She does look at him then, gives a shaky, humourless laugh.
“No, Keiji,” she tells him. “You don’t.”
She shuts the door behind her, leaving him alone in the bright whiteness of the kitchen, with only the quiet hum of the refrigerator to break the silence.