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Chapter Text

The bus pulls over to a stop, and Bokuto throws off his eye mask excitedly. “We’re here, Akaashi! We’re at the hotel!” He shows no signs of sleepiness, despite only just waking up from his sleep. Akaashi wishes he could wake up like that. 

“It’s certainly a beautiful place.” Akaashi rubs his eyes, suppressing a groan. Leaning back into his seat is tempting, but he suppresses the urge and stretches himself. “We should head to our rooms first. And take a bath.” His joints feel achy from sleeping in a sitting position. He also likes his routine to stay the same, as much as possible. 

They take the elevator up, with the team split into two groups. The third years and half of the second years share a room, with the other half and the first years taking the room next door. The tatami mats are enough to fit ten futon mattresses, more than enough for them. 

“Woo-hoo!” Bokuto leaps at the tatami mats, and Akaashi hurriedly throws a mattress down. “Thanks, Akaashi! Good call!” 

Akaashi pinches Bokuto’s cheeks lightly. “This is nationals, Bokuto-san. We can’t have you getting hurt.” It’s Bokuto’s last nationals tournament, but he doesn’t mention that. Mostly to protect his own self from the ever-growing lump in his throat. But also, because Bokuto is buzzing with excitement under his touch. He doesn’t want to burst that bubble. 

“Man, remember when Bokuto almost broke his back doing a backflip?” Konoha says, laughing as Bokuto deflates at the memory. “And it was before a huge match, too! What were you even thinking?” 

Bokuto’s eyes glide nervously. The memory swims in Akaashi’s head, as Bokuto’s dejected face and sore back forms a vivid image. He remembers a panicked Komi calling him, and the subsequent yelling he had done. About the match the next day, about the short-sightedness Bokuto had displayed. 

But even then, he had known. He was scared of Bokuto being hurt. He was scared of looking in Bokuto’s direction, and seeing his perennial smile disappear. The fear doesn’t hit him as often, now. But one distressed look from Bokuto would bring it all back, he knows. 

Bokuto groans into his pillow. “Stop bursting my bubble, Konoha!” 

“I wanted to play in the main arena!” 

Akaashi hadn’t expected such a complaint to pop out of Bokuto’s mouth. With the look he’d had on his face, Akaashi almost assumed that he was feeling unwell. He had seen a similar face on him after he had drank expired milk. 

Akaashi has Bokuto’s weaknesses and sensitive spots filed away in his mind, in a colour-coded binder. And yet, Bokuto still manages to take him out with something unexpected at the strangest of times. The adaptability of the team had carried them this far, truly. 

He’ll reflect on the past later. For now, he needs to focus on becoming the cogwheel for his team. If the setter doesn’t keep moving smoothly, the flow of the game won’t be on their side. 

Konoha and Sarukui work together, fooling the opposing team with their coordinated attack. Bokuto wants to be a part of it, anyone could tell. The crowd doesn’t know how Bokuto is, when he’s riled up. Akaashi is going to show them. 

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi grabs Bokuto’s attention, bringing his focus to the audience watching him in the sub-arena. “We are the only ones playing in the sub-arena. Everyone is watching you, now.” 

Akaashi spots Hinata out of the corner of his eye, and sees a perfect opportunity. “And your disciple is watching you too.” 

Hinata jumps up and down, as soon as Bokuto glances at him. “Bokuto-san! This way!” He waves his newly-bought ace t-shirt, and Bokuto’s mood picks up. Akaashi doesn’t need to touch him to know that. 

From there on, it’s smooth sailing. Bokuto spikes past three blockers, landing the ball right on the line. Once he achieves something, there’s no stopping him. Akaashi doesn’t understand what makes him stop and start fully, but there are things important to Bokuto that get him going. Akaashi utilizes them. 

After all, it feels good to see Bokuto in his top form. 

They’re back at the hotel, laying futon mattresses down after coming out of a scalding, pleasant bath. While Akaashi isn’t particularly surprised by their victory, he’s already worrying about their next match. He squints at his phone screen, watching their next opponents’ past matches. 

“Akaashi, you’re gonna need glasses soon if you keep doing that.” 

Bokuto bends slightly, resting his head on Akaashi’s shoulder. His soft, flat hair brushes against Akaashi’s skin. He’s so close to him, Akaashi can feel his emotions radiate towards him. And it comforts him. Bokuto’s happiness reaches the inside of his heart. 

“I need to prepare myself for the next match. If the setter isn’t ready to adapt, the whole team formation will fall apart.” 

“Akaashi, believe in us! Even if you have a bad day, we won’t let anything fall apart. I have plenty of bad days, and we’ve made it all the way up to here.” 

Bokuto’s confidence makes Akaashi want to believe in himself, too. The team has covered for Bokuto numerous times. It would take a lot to break their foundation. 

“If Akaashi had emo modes like you, I’d be terrified.” Konoha pipes up. “I don’t know what I’d do if he stopped setting to us.” 

Akaashi nods. Konoha is right. The setter is responsible for delivering tosses to every attacker. He can’t make any mistakes that will cost the team their victory. His anxieties aren’t irrational, if he’s right. 

“You’re right.” Bokuto admits. “But I won’t be the team baby forever! I’ll get rid of that title soon, just you watch!” 

Akaashi doesn’t mention that they don’t have much time. No, he’s wrong. Bokuto has all the time ahead of him. But soon, he won’t be standing on the same court as him. He’ll be watching, from the sidelines. Someone will be standing in his place. 

He turns off his phone, shoving his charger into it. It’s at precisely twenty-three percent. Bokuto is snuggled up in his futon beside him, laying on his side with his back facing him. Akaashi blinks, laying down to face him. 

“Akaashi.” 

Konoha taps his shoulder, and Akaashi looks up at him slowly. “Yes?” 

“I’m gonna turn off the lights, okay?” Konoha doesn’t say more, before pulling the cord on the lights three times. Bright, dim, none. Akaashi had felt the nervousness and concern in Konoha’s mind. It’s for him, definitely. Akaashi squeezes his eyes shut, and doesn’t open them for the rest of the night. 

Day two of nationals. They come out victorious, and Bokuto grabs an extra helping of meat during their post-game victory dinner. He’s gotten louder, in contrast to Akaashi. Akaashi is immersed in his own head, watching replays and recreating his motions. He needs to do better, he tells himself. He goes over his weaknesses, the exact same since last year. 

“Akaashi, I’m going to live until I’m a hundred and thirty years old!” 

Bokuto’s unwavering belief in himself is admirable. He’s watched his best spikes that afternoon captured on television, at least twenty times. As if something will change, somewhere between replay eighteen and nineteen. He keeps going, cutting through the night sky like a shooting star. At a speed Akaashi can’t possibly keep up with. 

“Come on inside, Bokuto-san. It’s cold, and there’s the flu and the stomach bug going around. Don’t underestimate January.” 

Akaashi lets everything out in one breath. He’s only able to keep Bokuto in his best condition, so that he can continue on his path to a bigger world. A world that Akaashi can get lost in, so easily. 

When their skins touch in the futon, Akaashi can feel Bokuto’s impeccable condition. For someone who’s just played a match, he’s not feeling the ill-effects of using his shoulder muscles. 

In contrast, Akaashi can feel his joints wearing out faster. It’s nothing atypical during nationals, when everything rides on how he performs on that day. He’s still frustrated with his own limits, that he’s always known and familiarised himself with. 

“Don’t rush, Akaashi.” 

Bokuto holds his hands in his, stroking his hair. Akaashi can feel his concern for him. It’s like everyone knows he’s on edge. He feels transparent. Bokuto stares at his see-through body, and smiles. 

“I’ll do the best I can.” 

Akaashi stays true to his word. He doesn’t allow himself to be careless. Every toss he sends is calculated and precise. Bokuto is at his best, and he’s pulling the team with his reliable back. Akaashi isn’t sure if he’s matching his energy. 

He fails a dump attack. And unlike his spikers, he doesn’t have a chance to clear his name with a spike or a super receive. He’s there to give his attackers the best chance of scoring they can get. If he can’t even do his own job right, he’s going to bring the team down. 

It’s not often Akaashi is forced to sit out. He’s the foundation of the team, flat and concrete and never unsteady. Even so, he’s learned to accept there’ll be mistakes occasionally. But he’s not going to accept it happening during nationals, of all places. 

They win the match, and that’s when he’s forced to confront his fears. He could have been the start of a downward spiral for the entire team. His throat begins to tighten. Everything he’d been unsure of comes back to him, as the adrenaline fades. 

“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san. I let my thoughts get the better of me.” 

As soon as he speaks, he can’t stop the tears from falling. Voicing it out makes it all too real. Their path to championships could have been cut short so easily. 

In contrast to his worrying self, Bokuto speaks to him with a smile. “You can prevent it next time, if you know what caused it!” He pats his back, while feeling around in his jacket pockets. “...Sorry, Akaashi. I forgot to bring tissues.”

Akaashi takes out his own tissues, blowing his nose and wiping his tears. Bokuto is so warm. He touches him, and he can feel something kindling in his heart. He’s back to telling Bokuto his optimism is admirable, but getting every spike in is impossible. 

And Akaashi is told, with a smile. It’s not impossible, it’s just hard. Staring at Bokuto’s back growing smaller in front of him, he does a jog to keep up. While it’s possible for him, he’ll continue to chase Bokuto in his footsteps. His feet don’t exactly fit the imprints left in the ground, but he’s still running. 

The ball falls to the ground. 

It’s over. The match is finished, and Akaashi can only watch the ball slowly roll on the orange court. He’s suddenly aware of his heartbeat, and the sweat in between his uniform and his skin. 

Akaashi knew. Whether they won or not, this would be the last match he would play with Bokuto. But in the end, several regrets cross his mind. He should have adapted better during the earlier sets. He shouldn’t have been so readable. 

But he knows Bokuto is feeling far more responsibility right now. And Akaashi can’t do anything about it. He’s the ace, through and through. 

“You know… I’ll always support you, Bokuto.” Konoha digs his fist into Bokuto’s back supportively, and Bokuto lifts his head. “Go out there, and do your best.” 

Bokuto answers him with a grin. Fukurodani had molded him into an ace, supported by his teammates who would rebuild his foundation if he slipped. But now, he’s become just an ace, parting ways with those that helped build him. 

The world is much bigger than a volleyball club in a Tokyo school. He’ll certainly meet new and old faces in the world of professional sport. Nationals marks the end of his career in Fukurodani, but his life of volleyball has only just begun. 

“The bus will come soon, Bokuto-san. Let’s go and pack our stuff.” Akaashi holds out his hand, and Bokuto takes it. Akaashi feels Bokuto’s hope, and lets out a sigh of relief. He’ll be all right. It’s Bokuto, after all. 

“Thanks for supporting me all this time, Akaashi.” 

While everyone is too busy packing their bags and ruminating over their final match, Bokuto sneaks a quick kiss on Akaashi’s cheek. It’s covered by the towel draped over Akaashi’s head, soaking up the sweat and guilt dripping off him. 

“You both did so well. I’m proud of you both.” 

Akaashi’s mother grabs both of her star players into her arms, not minding how exhausted and sweaty they are. There’s a cake sitting on the table, custom-made for the occasion. It’s in the shape of a volleyball, coloured with various fruits and dyed chocolate. 

“You were so cool, nii-chan! I want to play volleyball now!” Sora giggles excitedly. “I didn’t know Kou-chan was a superhero! He flies!” 

“Let’s have some cake. You deserve it.” Akaashi’s mother sinks the knife into the cake, while Sora jumps up and down excitedly. The inside is filled with different coloured layers, and Akaashi’s mouth begins to water. 

Bokuto’s expression turns blank for a moment, before he smiles. “Thank you so much. I’ve never had any family come to my matches before.” 

“Did you see our posters?” Mari asks him excitedly. “I put a lot of effort into mine!” 

“I don’t know about that. They had a match to play, you know.” Kakeru huffs. But Akaashi had seen them in their seats, waving their posters and joining the Fukurodani chant to support them. 

“Don’t worry, I saw them.” Bokuto pats Mari’s head. “Thanks for taking the time to do that.” 

Akaashi’s mother slides a plate towards Bokuto. “Eat as much as you want. You deserve it.” She starts to prepare slices for everyone else at the table, starting with Akaashi and then giving Sora his slice. She knows he won’t be able to finish it, but gives him a full slice anyway. 

Akaashi digs his little fork into his slice, and takes a bite out of the dense cake. It’s flavourful, but not too rich. He hopes there’s seconds. He glances at Bokuto and sees his cheeks wet with tears. 

“...Bokuto-san?” He extends a hand, unsure what more to say. He doesn’t know if words need to be said. Bokuto shoves another bite of cake into his mouth, as if to stop himself from crying. 

“Thank you so much for supporting me.” Bokuto says, swallowing his mouthful. 

Akaashi smiles. His nature keeps reminding him of all the times he could have done better, both on and off the court. But seeing Bokuto smile, under his roof, is more than enough for him. 

“You’re not going to be alone after today.” Akaashi says. “All of us are here for you, and will be, even after…” 

Akaashi can’t bring himself to say the word. Bokuto is graduating, much sooner than he had been prepared for. With his head full of nationals, Akaashi had no time to think about what lay ahead. Up until now, he had the luxury to live in the moment. 

“...But I have to be independent, Akaashi. If I need to work to pay for stuff my team won’t cover, I’ll do it.” Bokuto says, determined. He must have planned it for some time. “I’ve already gotten so much help.” 

Akaashi’s mother shakes her head. “But you deserve more than that. You didn’t get to be a teenager for a long time. You deserve to not worry about bills and income. You’re still a child to me.” 

Bokuto, forced to grow faster than his peers, is still a child. Despite trying his hardest to get his future together, he’s not ready. Akaashi can feel his uncertainty. It’s not fair to expect him to be independent, when he’s just began to learn how to lean on people. 

“Hey, you don’t have to worry about it.” Kakeru smiles, patting Bokuto’s shoulder. “Leave all the hard stuff to the adults. Even if an asteroid hits our neighbourhood tomorrow, we'll find a way!” 

Bokuto nods, reluctantly. “Thank you. But I’m going to try my best to repay you.” 

“Take your time.” Akaashi’s mother smiles at him. She knows he’ll insist on it no matter what she says, but hopefully he won’t worry about it for another couple of years. 

On Bokuto’s graduation day, the cherry blossoms are in full bloom. The petals fall on Akaashi’s hair, layering pink on top of black. The sun almost reminds him of Bokuto. It’s almost uncomfortable to be wearing his blazer, despite it being March. 

The ceremony doesn’t seem to last long, surprisingly. They sing graduation songs everyone in the school has memorized, and listen to the graduation speech prepared by one of the third years. There’s several second years crying beside Akaashi, reminiscing of their times with the third years.

Akaashi doesn’t cry. It hasn’t hit him yet, but it soon will. He wants to sit beside Bokuto, but he’s sitting in alphabetical order beside his classmates, as usual. It’s hard to see the third years from where he is. 

When the third years walk up to the podium to receive their graduation certificates, Akaashi sees Bokuto properly for the first time. He’s wearing a flower-shaped badge on his blazer, and Akaashi follows him with his eyes. His hair is easy to spot, even in the crowded gymnasium. 

Akaashi watches Bokuto accept his certificate. His heart swells with pride, and something else he can’t pinpoint. He just knows that extra practice without Bokuto won’t feel the same way. 

“Congratulations, Bokuto-san.” 

Akaashi greets him outside the gymnasium, relieved that he can finally have his attention. For just a moment, he wants to be the only thing reflecting in Bokuto’s eyes. 

“Thanks, Akaashi!” Bokuto gives him a wide grin, his blazer flapping as a gust of wind passes through. 

Akaashi pulls out his small polaroid camera, and pulls Bokuto closer. “We should take a photo together. You don’t graduate every day, after all.” He turns the lens towards himself, clicking the shutter. Bokuto strikes a pose beside him, throwing a peace sign up. 

The camera starts to print out a photo of them both, standing beside each other in uniform. It’s a chapter of youth that feels like everything to Akaashi. Everything between him and Bokuto has happened during high school. 

“Hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto reaches for his second button, and pulls it off without hesitation. “I want to give you this. It’s yours now.” 

He grabs Akaashi’s hand, placing the button on his palm. Akaashi slowly places it in his pocket. It’s almost like a parting gift, from Bokuto stepping into the future before him. The romantic gesture feels bittersweet, reminding Akaashi why his throat feels tight. 

“Wait.” Akaashi’s eyes widen. “We haven’t taken family photos yet.” 

“What?” Bokuto stares at him blankly.

Akaashi sighs, realizing Bokuto doesn’t understand what’s being implied. “You’re going to have a missing second button in all of them. Nobody is going to let you live this down.” 

Bokuto’s expression switches from clueless to flustered, and he grabs the button in Akaashi’s hand hurriedly. “Akaashi, you’re good with your hands! Sew it back on for me!” He pleads, and Akaashi gives a half-hearted attempt. It slides off. 

“...I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Akaashi says, and Bokuto resorts to crossing his arms over his chest, hiding the spot conveniently. “Oh, they’re coming. You should probably act more natural. You’re stiff.” 

“It’s hard to act natural when someone’s telling you to!” 

Bokuto scrambles to hide the loose thread on his blazer, but Akaashi’s siblings glance at his collar straight away. He drops his arms in defeat, as Kakeru relentlessly questions him on where the button went. 

Akaashi slips the button into his pocket with a small smile, grateful that Bokuto had turned out to be a great distraction.  He keeps the polaroid photo in his other pocket, claiming a memory for just the two of them. 

“Koutarou-kun? This is for you.” Akaashi’s mother hands him an envelope, filing away the bills that had been stacked on top of it. 

Bokuto hadn’t expected anything in the post for him, at all. He wasn’t even sure if many people knew his correct address. “Maybe it’s from the school. You know, like a graduation card.” He wonders out loud, while Sora trots over curiously. 

“What’s that, Koutarou-niichan? A letter?” Sora asks, while Akaashi follows him to keep an eye on him. “Open it!” 

“It might be private.” 

Akaashi warns his brother gently, but Bokuto shrugs. He watches Bokuto peel away the seal, and unfold the letter inside it. A familiar logo catches his eye. 

Bokuto’s eyes light up, his gaze gliding over each line written in the letter. His smile widens with each passing second, and Akaashi can feel his heart rate picking up. Bokuto’s fingers unconsciously dig into the paper, making small creases. 

“I got scouted!” 

Bokuto and Sora both start to jump up and down excitedly, and Akaashi almost feels the house shake. Akaashi’s mother envelops Bokuto into a tight hug, screaming something celebratory that Akaashi can’t quite make out. 

“What does scouted mean?” Sora asks excitedly, mimicking Bokuto’s excitement. “Did he win something?”

The commotion brings everyone else into the sitting room. “What happened?” Kakeru asks loudly, and he’s not the only one yelling for some explanation so he can join the fun.    

Bokuto grabs his letter and waves it, immense pride swelling in his chest. “I got scouted by Black Jackals!” 

Akaashi wants to kiss him right there and then. He knew Bokuto’s shine would be discovered from a world outside their own small one. It’s a fitting way for Bokuto to end his time at Fukurodani, to be led into a world full of people following his passion. 

“Holy shit!” Kakeru exclaims, but nobody corrects him on his language. They’re all too preoccupied with grabbing any part of Bokuto and hugging him, as he laughs and squirms from being ticklish. 

“Congratulations, Koutarou!” Mari smacks his back lightly, but enough for him to make a squeak. 

“What does it mean?!” Sora asks louder this time while stomping around, still as confused as ever. 

“It means that a professional team wants me there!” Bokuto yells, and Sora yells even louder. “I’m going to be playing with amazing people!” 

Akaashi’s mother insists on taking many photos with the letter, having Bokuto strike different poses every few seconds. Bokuto plays along with it, until he jumps up suddenly. 

“I have to call everyone from the team! And Kuroo!” Bokuto grabs his phone, dialling the first person that catches his eye. “Konoha, listen! You won’t believe this—”

As the commotion in his household slowly settles, Akaashi begins to feel the weight of it all settle in. It’s comforting, knowing that Bokuto has something to hold onto and a clear path ahead of him. But there’s something undeniably lonely about it, beneath all the easy-to-feel emotions. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to process it. 

“Thank you so much for supporting me up till now, Akaashi.” 

Bokuto had wiggled into Akaashi’s bed, seeking connection after a long day of excitement and phone calls. His voice is slightly hoarse, and he lays his head onto Akaashi’s chest so he can feel his voice vibrating. 

Akaashi slowly runs his hand through Bokuto’s hair. He won’t be able to lay beside him anymore, their scents mixing together as they feel each other’s breaths and heartbeats. He’s going to miss feeling just how alive Bokuto is, right next to him. 

“Thank you too, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi doesn’t mention how Bokuto is giving him too much credit. He’s nowhere near the perfect supportive boyfriend he’s aspired to be. He should be rejoicing and wholeheartedly embracing Bokuto’s step forward. And yet, being selfish has never felt so appealing. 

He’s not as amazing as Bokuto thinks he is. There’s a deep-seated longing that he can’t cover up, and there’s a small but tangible amount of jealousy. He knows he’s not the setter Bokuto needs to carry him further. But the thought of having his role fulfilled by someone else hurts in a way that he can’t shake off. 

Akaashi feels his throat tighten. He clamps his mouth shut, desperately stopping what he thinks is happening. There’s a burn of something at the back of his mouth, almost spilling. A tear he’s unable to hold in slides down his cheek. 

“Hey, Akaashi? What’s wrong?” 

Bokuto stares at him with worry-filled eyes, and Akaashi knows it’s useless to lie in front of him. “I’m going to miss you.” He admits, despite his head telling him it’s the selfish thing to do. “I thought I would be ready for this, but I’m not.” 

Bokuto only reaches up to thread his fingers into his hands, like Akaashi had often done for him on nights he couldn’t close his eyes safely. “Akaashi… You have no idea how much I want you there with me.” He gives him a closed-mouth smile. “To be honest, it’s daunting for me too. And it’s because I’m so comfortable here.” 

“You’re going to be all right, Bokuto-san. And I mean it.” Akaashi has faith in Bokuto, perhaps more than himself. He’s made sure that Bokuto will be all right, when he needs to take the next step. He’s done everything he could. But he still wants to make excuses to keep giving and contributing. 

“I’m the strongest, after all!” Bokuto says, and Akaashi feels relief. He sheds another tear, silently questioning if he had always been this emotional. It was always him silently crying after matches, regardless of the outcome. 

Everyone gives him too much credit for being collected and calm, when he’s nothing but. If opportunity presents itself, he crumbles so easily. “Of course you are.” If wanting to keep Bokuto beside him forever is selfish, Akaashi wouldn’t mind being called that. 

“Hey, Akaashi! Listen to this!” 

Akaashi nods as he takes a bite out of his onigiri, sitting on the bench just outside his campus. His phone pressed to his ear, he listens to Bokuto update him about his day. And Akaashi is reliving everything with him. Bokuto elaborates to such a degree that it’s as if he’s been with him the whole time. 

“Tsum-tsum’s in a sulk because of that missed serve from last match. So I tried to cheer him up!” Bokuto says, and Akaashi recalls the exact moment. 

Miya Atsumu, the setter from Bokuto’s team and a rival from high school. Akaashi having never missed a Black Jackals match, he knows what Bokuto is talking about. 

“And did it work?” 

Bokuto laughs. “Uh, not really. He just started making these groaning noises. I never knew Tsum-tsum was such a funny guy until I started playing with him!” 

“Oh, how is Hinata doing? Did he teach you anything he learned in Brazil?” Akaashi remembers Bokuto’s excitement when Hinata had suddenly re-appeared in front of everyone, showing up at the Black Jackals tryouts and managing to secure himself a place. 

Bokuto lets out a giggle. “He tried to teach me meditation. He really tried, but I couldn’t stay still for that long. I snuck away and he didn’t even notice!” 

Akaashi can imagine. Bokuto had never been good at staying still and focusing on one thing. Hinata must have been very convincing for him to even try meditation. 

“Also,  I’m gonna come over in a few minutes, so look forward to it!” 

Bokuto hangs up before Akaashi can say anything, and he has to scramble to call his family. “Bokuto-san is coming!” He yells, and it’s enough for everyone to drop what they’re doing and grab a bunch of snacks. 

“Koutarou’s coming home!” Sora leaps into the kitchen, almost hitting his head on the door frame. He’s gotten taller again, Akaashi notes. He hopes he won’t surpass him one day like Kakeru did. 

Akaashi’s mother begins to pull out some ripened peaches from the fruit bowl, hacking them up with some of the peel still there. She had told Bokuto repeatedly that he didn’t need to inform her every time he was coming, he was family after all. But every time Bokuto comes to visit, she insists on preparing something special for him. 

The door clicks open and Akaashi runs up to Bokuto, hugging him so hard he almost breaks his glasses. Bokuto lets out a yelp, and Akaashi pulls him forward for a kiss. 

“I’m home!” Bokuto announces himself, lifting Akaashi off his feet. He’s gained even more muscle mass since they last met, and handles Akaashi with ease. Akaashi admittedly likes the difference in stature. He’s lost some of his muscle on the contrary, having landed a job at the editorial department of a manga publishing company.  

“Welcome home.” Akaashi kisses him again, earning a groan from Sora. He’s definitely lost some of the baby face, and part of Akaashi misses it. 

“Kissing has germs. It’s gross.” Sora glowers at them both, and Bokuto lets out a hearty laugh. He’s going through a phase of being repulsed by romantic gestures, like most nine-year-olds. Akaashi figures he’ll grow out of it once he gets his first puppy crush. 

Bokuto pats Sora on the head, marvelling at his height. “You’ve grown, huh? You want a kiss from me, too?” He sticks out his lips in an exaggerated motion, and watches him scramble to run away while laughing. 

“Koutarou, have some.” Akaashi’s mother sits Bokuto down, offering him the bowl of peaches she had cut up. “I saw a rewind of your match yesterday. You’ve gotten really good at spiking!” 

“Hey, Koutarou.” Kakeru throws down his enamelled bag, letting out a sigh as he plops down on the sofa. “I just got home from practice. Will you help me with my serves later?” 

“Of course! You’re lucky you have such an amazing volleyball player to help you!” Bokuto smacks his pecs with pride. He’s happy to see Kakeru following in Akaashi’s footsteps, squeezing his way into becoming a starting member in Fukurodani high’s volleyball team. 

Mari clambers onto Bokuto, feeling his bicep with a smirk. “You’ve gotten even more beefy!” Her hands curl around his arm, squeezing curiously at the firm muscle. “How’s practice going? Is that Tsum-tsum guy getting along with Sakusa-kun?” 

Bokuto pops a slice of peach in his mouth, and Sora sneaks one too. “They were close to strangling each other yesterday, but Sakusa let Tsum-tsum sleep on his shoulder in the bus. Don’t tell them I told you this, okay?” 

“Okay.” Mari gives him a thumbs-up. “I learned how to play the Dragon Ball music you were telling me about. I’ll show you later.” 

“It’s a good thing Mari continued to play the piano. I wouldn’t want that big thing to go to waste.” Akaashi’s mother breathes a sigh. “Keiji and Kakeru quit as soon as they found their passion for volleyball.” 

Bokuto offers Akaashi’s mother a peach slice, and sneaks her a clumsily gift-wrapped box. “Enjoy this with everyone in the family.” He’s been buying gifts periodically ever since leaving Tokyo, bringing them back local gourmet foods and daily utilities. 

Akaashi has all of Bokuto’s secret presents arranged in his room, although it ceased to be much of a secret when Sora one day barged in and questioned him relentlessly about the snow globe that wasn’t there before. He plans to move out when both of their lives have calmed down, and are ready to settle together. Akaashi will graduate soon, and hopefully land a stable job for the both of them.

“Thank you so much, Koutarou.” Akaashi’s mother stares at him, in the same way she looks at all her other children. For most of the time she’s known him, he hasn’t lived under her roof. But he’s one of hers all the same, someone she’ll always pull the covers up and bring fruit for. 

“Bokuto-san, have some patience.” 

As soon as Akaashi steps into the apartment, Bokuto kisses him hard. He knows telling Bokuto what to do is futile. It’s always like this with him, when they meet after a long period of only phone calls and video chats. He wouldn’t put it past Bokuto to glue their hands together if he could. 

“I’ve waited so long! It was hard to even hug you, you know! Your siblings keep telling me to get a room!” Bokuto pouts, as Akaashi ushers him into the bedroom instead of the cold hallway. “But I have you all to myself now, so prepare yourself for kisses!” 

Akaashi decides not to mention all the kisses he’s sneaked before coming back to the apartment. “I love you too, Bokuto-san.” He says, and Bokuto envelops him into a bone-crushing hug. He’s manhandled onto the bed, but Bokuto takes care not to bump him against anything hard. It’s been a while since they’ve acted like high schoolers, playful and fumbling. 

Years have passed since they started dating. They’re used to seeing each other’s bodies, picking up on subtle differences in muscle and skin with the passage of time. Akaashi has gotten leaner. Bokuto has gotten sturdier. Bokuto can toss him around with ease, and despite his feelings about his changing stature, he finds himself liking it. 

Bokuto Koutarou, professional volleyball player and Akaashi Keiji’s boyfriend. Having someone so bright all to himself sends a shiver through Akaashi. He knows Bokuto gets antsy after a week or two of not having him within reach. When Bokuto lets a flash of possessiveness show, Akaashi feels it in his throat. 

“You’re so beautiful, Akaashi.” Bokuto showers him with affection, but Akaashi can feel how much he’s holding back. He doesn’t mind if Bokuto were to take him apart and be rough with him, but he’ll play along until he loses his little act. “You’re mine, and mine only.” 

Akaashi doesn’t know how he can display a sense of possessiveness with his gentle atmosphere. He lets Bokuto kiss his neck and blow raspberries into his stomach, giggling at the ticklishness it brings. “Wait, Bokuto-san. I need to take off my glasses.” He scrambles to place his glasses on the bedside table, pushing them out of harm’s way. 

“But Akaashi, are you gonna be able to see me?” Bokuto asks, his vision still perfect. Thankfully, Akaashi had gotten him to understand why holding up fingers was a poor indicator of sight. “Should I come closer?” 

Before Akaashi can answer, Bokuto loses his balance and knocks his forehead against Akaashi’s. “Not that close,” Akaashi laughs, as Bokuto whimpers and rubs his forehead. “It’s all right. I can see you just fine.” 

Akaashi reaches for Bokuto’s shoulders, laying him on the bed beside him. It’s been a while since they had first started exploring the intimate side of their relationship, and Akaashi is proud of how far they have managed to come. Now, Bokuto feels comfortable enough to let Akaashi see all of him. And Akaashi has to admit he likes that very much. 

“I wish we could do this more often, Akaashi.” Bokuto says, his hands resting on Akaashi’s flank. “I still haven’t given up on that dream, you know. Us getting an apartment together.” 

Akaashi nods. Although he’s often the voice of realism between them, he’s never stopped thinking about it. Bokuto’s volleyball career makes it hard for him to stay in one place. He had once gone abroad for a training camp, which had proved to be a test of endurance for Akaashi. He’s certain he didn’t win that. 

“Don’t worry, Bokuto-san. I haven’t either.” 

If there’s one thing Bokuto has taught him, it’s how to believe in what they can do together. 

“Akaashi, stop eating so much. The match hasn’t even started.” 

Kuroo glances at Akaashi, who is shoving onigiri after onigiri into his mouth. His hasty, anxious eating is somewhat justified. It’s his first time watching Bokuto play in the Olympics, after all. He had managed to secure a seat for one of the matches, with Kuroo there beside him. 

“Kuroo-san, my nerves are in tatters.” Akaashi says, the only thing preventing him from biting his nails being the large clumps of rice in his mouth. “I just hope he doesn’t get hurt, and that he enjoys himself as usual.” 

Kuroo taps his shoulder. “Bokuto’s gonna be fine. You know that better than anyone.” 

Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re right.” He can feel the nervousness in his stomach, threatening to jump out. He’s just a speck in the crowd, impossible to discern from where Bokuto is. But Bokuto stands out on the court, his spiky pale hair sticking out. Seeing him in the red uniform makes Akaashi’s chest swell. 

A cheer erupts from the crowd as soon as the court is mopped, and the players step into the court. Akaashi recognizes quite a few players from his high school years. It’s almost like a nostalgic reunion, the stories of everyone around him intertwining. 

“Watch him closely, Akaashi. He wants you to see him the most.” 

Akaashi nods, his eyes fixated on the orange court. He’s long stopped playing, but his habits remain, as he stares at the starting lineup and members on the court. There’s Hinata, Kageyama, Sakusa and a few others Akaashi recognizes the faces of. The monster generation has come to centre stage. 

“It’s Bokuto’s serve!” 

Akaashi leans forward, watching Bokuto run forward for a jump serve. So much of him has changed ever since high school. He’s become the “normal ace” as he dubbed himself, having graduated from his turbulent play style. He’s grown even taller than before, his legs thick from the copious amounts of training. 

But the way Akaashi looks at him hasn’t changed. He still feels the same burning glow in his chest, whether he’s on or off the court. It’s like he’s seventeen again, tossing to Bokuto with the conviction that he will score for the team. He remembers that for a while, he had wanted to return to that age. At some point, he had stopped longing for the past and instead began to visualize a future with Bokuto.

The Olympics end, with the sweat and tears of many. Akaashi waits for Bokuto to come out of his hotel, but he doesn’t leave, even after the others have long gone. He’s called him a few times, growing impatient at the unusual delay. Bokuto is usually the first one out when he’s getting ready. 

“Are you sure you don’t need any help? I can come and help you pack, if you’ve bought too many souvenirs.” 

“I think I can manage!” Bokuto says, his tone jovial as he rustles away at something in the background. “Uhh… actually, can you help? There’s this one thing I need to pack, and I feel like I’m gonna break it if I force it in.” 

“All right. I’ll be coming.” Akaashi hangs up with a sigh, wondering why it took so long for Bokuto to cave in and ask for his help. He’s no stranger to rearranging Bokuto’s suitcases after he had almost broken the zipper by brute force. He unfortunately doesn’t trust Bokuto to keep suitcases safe. 

He steps into the hotel, informing the receptionist that he’s coming to pick up someone. She gives him a smile and tells him Bokuto’s room number, much to his relief. Akaashi uses the elevator to make his way over to the room, and knocks to find Bokuto grinning widely. 

“How’s the amazing Olympian? Can’t pack a suitcase again?” Akaashi teases him, but Bokuto’s expression doesn’t waver. He enters the room to find a suitcase sitting on the floor, and various items scattered around. Akaashi lets out a small sigh, chuckling at Bokuto’s efforts. “Open it up for me, and we'll see what can be done.” 

Bokuto is quick to undo the zipper, and Akaashi finds that the suitcase isn’t packed to the brim. Perhaps he had given up and thrown everything on the floor. He turns to one of the t-shirts, rolling it up to fit it in more easily. 

“Bokuto-san, what do you—”

“Akaashi.” Bokuto taps his shoulder, and kneels down with a little blue box in his hand. “Will you marry me?” 

Akaashi drops the t-shirt, staring at Bokuto, and then at the ring sitting inside the box. He opens his mouth, with only one answer in mind. But he can’t form words, his chest swelling up as he sees Bokuto’s smile and himself reflecting in his golden eyes. 

“Yes.” 

Akaashi notices himself crying, and Bokuto only pats him on the head with his kind hands. “I want to spend all of my life with you, Akaashi. Having you beside me is what matters most.” 

He slides the ring onto Akaashi’s finger. It’s a deep purple, the colour slightly different with every angle. “You’re so unfair.” Akaashi sobs, resting his head onto Bokuto’s shoulder. “Are you trying to make me cry?” 

 “I’m going to make you cry even more happy tears at our wedding, so be prepared!” 

Akaashi manages a laugh. “I’m surprised you were able to buy a ring that fits me. Did you measure me while I was sleeping?” 

“Oh, crap. I just guessed.” Bokuto’s eyes widen. “I’m so glad it fit you. Otherwise I would be crying right now too.” 

A snort comes out of Akaashi. Leave it to Bokuto to forget something important, even when proposing to him. He’s still goofy through and through, and Akaashi wants that part of him in his life. He wants all of Bokuto, especially the silly mistakes and bumps that make him who he is. 

It feels like an end to a chapter of their lives, but this time, it’s not bittersweet. Akaashi is looking forward to change, something he used to fear. Growing with Bokuto, he seems to absorb pieces of him. The way he names inanimate objects and hums all the latest songs that play on TV— it all comes to him without him meaning to. He can’t wait to settle down into a routine with Bokuto, in a place of their own. 

But first, they have to plan a wedding.

Their apartment is situated just near the sea. When they step out onto the balcony, they can pick up the scent of the sea as their silky curtains flow softly. It’s a clean, quiet area with no noise pollution, and thick walls. It’s everything they could have asked for. 

“Keiji, I got you some coffee.” 

The pleasant aroma reaches Akaashi, as he taps away at the white keys of his laptop rhythmically. He’s had to replace his glasses not long ago, and Bokuto has to constantly remind him to stop slouching. It’s harder to escape the consequences of poor health habits as he grows older. 

Akaashi allows himself to look away from the screen, and takes a sip of the coffee sitting in his little cat-shaped mug. “Thanks, Koutarou. I’ll be done in a few more minutes, and then we can go to sleep.” 

“Good! It’s lonely sleeping in the double bed myself, you know…” Bokuto sighs, lifting up the cat in his arms and letting her dangle. “I only have Fukumaro and Kabosu to keep me company when you’re up late doing work.” 

Fukumaro lets out a short meow, rubbing her snow-coloured fur against Akaashi. Bokuto had found her in the rain one night during his run, drenched and muddy. He had commented that she looks just like a large daifuku, and named her accordingly. 

Kabosu is already asleep in his dog bed, although he’s getting a little too big for it. He’s a young samoyed they had gotten shortly after securing a place to live. Luckily, they don’t live on the higher floors, which makes it easier to go on daily walks. 

Akaashi closes over his laptop, and reaches down to let Kabosu’s wagging tail slap his hand gently. “I’m finished now. Let’s go to bed.” He gives Kabosu a good pat before turning to Bokuto, who places Fukumaro onto her own designated cat bed. 

That seems to get Bokuto in high spirits, and he ushers Akaashi from behind to their bedroom. “You’re such a hard worker, Keiji!” He says, as Akaashi grabs his toothbrush and squeezes out some toothpaste. “But don’t be an overworker. I have to make sure you’re resting, it’s my job as your husband!” 

Akaashi sits down on the bed, once he’s finished brushing his teeth. “Koutarou, I want to talk to you. It’s about my job.” 

“Hm?” 

Bokuto props himself up on the pillow, while Akaashi frowns and takes off his glasses. He hesitates, before opening his mouth. “I’m thinking of quitting.” 

For a moment, Bokuto lets his surprise show, his eyes blinking wider. But he composes himself, and holds Akaashi’s trembling hands. “Did something happen?” He asks, getting ready to support him through whatever he’s dealing with. But Akaashi shakes his head. 

“I’m being treated fairly, and I’m not getting underpaid. But… this isn’t really what I want for the rest of my life.” Akaashi admits. 

He knows that the whole “if you do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life” thing is untrue. Work is work, including being an editor for an author growing rapidly in popularity. But for something he’s supposedly wanted since graduating, it’s starting to lose its flavour. 

“I want to spend more time with you, Koutarou. And I feel like my current job isn’t good for me in the long run.” 

The most valuable thing to Akaashi is time. He had always been a stickler with stability, worrying over financial safety and keeping a job. But he’s found something more important, which is sharing his time with Bokuto. After all, he had married him to have him close. He doesn’t want anything coming between that, even if it’s something that once helped him. 

“...And there’s something I’ve always wanted to do.” 

Akaashi takes out his old notebook, full of ideas and stories scribbled into it. Every year, he’d written in it less, making it last for more years than he wanted it to. He had thought about throwing it out, focusing on his work instead. He could never bring himself to. 

“You’ve thought about this a lot, Keiji.” Bokuto nods, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what’ll happen in the future, but I’ll support you! I want you to be happy, okay?” 

Akaashi feels his tear ducts becoming looser with every year he spends with Bokuto. “You shouldn’t be so supportive of me right away. What if we don’t earn enough because I quit? What if I—” 

Bokuto envelops him into a hug, knowing Akaashi is grateful for him despite his words. “I’ll make a path for you, whatever happens. We’ve gotten through a lot together, Keiji. We'll get through this too.”

Akaashi swallows his doubts, knowing Bokuto will keep showering him with affirmations until he grows red in the face. “Can we go on a drive to the beach sometime next week?” He asks instead, nuzzling his head against the crook of Bokuto’s neck. “Like we did back when we were young.” 

“Hey!” Bokuto lightly chops Akaashi on the head. “Twenty-eight is young, Keiji! Don’t let those shitty commercials tell you otherwise!”  

Akaashi lets out a laugh, and feels himself fall in love with Bokuto again. “You’re right, Koutarou.” 

It’s been a while since Akaashi has hopped into Bokuto’s car late at night, holding a bag full of spare clothes and towels. Living close to a beach is convenient, especially when both of them love to take photos of the sea. Bokuto has a high-quality camera that he won at one raffle years back, but Akaashi still brings his polaroid from more than a decade ago. 

“You think there’s anything good on the radio?” Bokuto asks, tapping at the screen installed into the car. 

“It might be too late for that. But how about we listen to the CD Kenma gave us?” Akaashi suggests, inserting the disc while Bokuto steps on the accelerator pedal. A low hum of instruments fills the space between them, as the car engine comes to life. 

Akaashi watches the scenery out the window, staring at the dark shadows cast by the trees and the occasional light coming from a household. It’s nice to live away from the city, where they can see the night sky and the stars shining freely. The suburbs of Tokyo are just right for them. 

“We’ve grown, huh?” Bokuto says, as Akaashi rolls down the window to catch the breeze. 

“We have. But we’re still young, you said it yourself.” Akaashi laughs. “What prompted this? Did some kid ask you what a Nintendo DS was?” 

Bokuto lets out a groan. “Come on, Keiji. Don’t be mean to me.” 

“I’m just joking.” Akaashi pats him lightly, as he pulls into the nearby parking space for the beach. As soon as Akaashi opens the door, he can feel the scent of the sea floating towards him. The low tide laps at the sand gently, foam melting in between the grains. 

“Race you!” Bokuto shoots out of the car, grabbing his enamelled bag and dashing straight at the sea. He scampers off without a second thought, and Akaashi realizes he’s going to have to bolt after him. 

Akaashi, despite exercising in his free time, is no match for a volleyball player when it comes to stamina. He lags behind all the way, despite driving his feet into the ground so hard that he tastes something salty in his mouth. He can hear Bokuto laughing as he stands in the sand, barefoot. 

“It’s nice to be young, isn’t it?” Bokuto lets out a guffaw, as Akaashi leans forward with his hands on his knees. He had overestimated his sprint a little. His head spins, and he plops down on the sand with a rather sad thump. 

“Don’t assume I have the same… stamina as you.” Akaashi wheezes, feeling every weekend he had spent hunched over his laptop rather than going for a run. Damn sports players, he silently curses. 

Bokuto laughs, and makes a run for the sea. “Watch this!” He leaps into the water, letting out a howl and running back out immediately. “It- It’s colder than I thought! I’m gonna freeze!” 

Akaashi lets out a laugh, as Bokuto hops around and sinks his feet into the sand. “Did you really think that swimming in September would be a good idea?” 

“...Yeah.” Bokuto nods. “I wanted to bring my floatie and everything.” 

Bokuto doesn’t lose his fun as the years go by. Really, he’s still like a teenager with more responsibilities, money and a driving license. And with those comes even more adventurous ideas for the two of them, now that he can actually afford it. 

Akaashi reaches for his polaroid camera, and aims at Bokuto. “Ah! Keiji, no fair!” Bokuto yells, as the camera begins to print the photo out. He’s sitting in the sand, arms wrapped around himself. It’s not the most flattering picture of him. 

“We’ll take another one.” Akaashi sits down beside him, focusing the camera’s lens on both of them. He turns to Bokuto for a kiss, pressing the shutter at just the right timing. Bokuto reciprocates, placing his arms around Akaashi. 

“It’s just like when we were teenagers.” 

Bokuto takes the photo into his hands lovingly. He remembers splashing around with Akaashi in the summer, and coming back at night to see the stars floating in the sea. They haven’t lost anything over the years. Everything is still there within reach. 

Bokuto kisses him again, and this time, Akaashi sets down his camera to turn his full attention to him. 

One more hour. Akaashi glances at his phone, and hurriedly places the cinnamon buns and anpan into the oven. He’s not the best at baking, but Bokuto had done most of the work. He’s able to set the oven timer and keep it from burning, at the very least. 

“I’m back, Keiji! I got some stuff!” 

The front door clicks open, and Bokuto comes in with his hands full of flowers. Kabosu lets out a bark, trotting over and rubbing his fur against him. He had run to the nearby store to buy some fresh, to make the house look nice for Akaashi’s family. It’s been a while since they’ve gathered together, with Sora going to college and Kakeru welcoming a new baby. 

“You can put them in the vases I put out. The cinnamon rolls are in the oven.” Akaashi smiles, and Bokuto takes out a packet of rice crackers and potato chips from his bag. “They’ll love these.” He gives Bokuto a thumbs-up. 

“And some baby rice crackers for Yuu-kun.” Bokuto takes out the small bag of crackers, and sets them aside. “Now, we just wait for them to arrive.” 

He takes Akaashi’s hands, humming gently and swaying his hips. Akaashi lets out a burst of laughter. “You’re really going to do this in the kitchen?” 

“Come on and dance with me, Keiji!” Bokuto spins Akaashi around, catching him before he loses his balance. He begins to show off, improvising some moves he had seen his teammates do after a post-match drinking session. 

“How beautiful your footwork is, Koutarou.” Akaashi claps his hands slowly, and Bokuto nudges him with a groan. 

“It’s a special day for you! I’m showing my love!” 

Bokuto continues to glide around the kitchen, until Fukumaro starts mewling for food. She had resorted to nibbling from Kabosu’s bowl, darting away after Kabosu barked once at her. 

“All right, you glutton. Time for nibbles.” 

Akaashi gives Kabosu some leftover broccoli stalk and dry food, and Bokuto refills Fukumaro’s bowl until she stops pawing at his leg. As they finally start eating and quieten down, Akaashi heaves a sigh. 

They collapse onto the couch, and Bokuto begins to flick through their recorded shows. There’s a few cartoons, some prank shows and mostly videos of volleyball. They still watch matches on weekends, whether pre-recorded or not. 

It’s not too long before Bokuto hears the doorbell ring. He leaps up to answer it, and he’s greeted with a bunch of warm smiles and a hug from Sora. 

“It’s been a while, Koutarou!” Sora grins, with Mari and Kakeru following close behind him. Akaashi’s mother is holding Yuuki, who babbles excitedly once he sees Bokuto. Even Akaashi’s father and Kakeru’s wife are there with them, all holding drinks and snacks for the gathering. 

“Hey, guys! I have some drinks in the kitchen, so come on in!” 

Bokuto excitedly runs into the kitchen, only to see Akaashi already taking out cans of alcoholic drinks and juice packets. “Keiji, let me help! Don’t do all the work yourself!” He already knows it’s useless to make Akaashi sit down with his guests until everything is taken care of, and settles to help him take the glasses to the table. 

“Congratulations on publishing your novel, Keiji.” Akaashi’s mother smiles at him, sitting Yuuki down in his baby chair. “We’re all so proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

Akaashi blushes, the tips of his ears turning red. He had worked on his novel for a year and a half, perfecting it and sending it off to various publishers before finally getting an offer. It’s not something he would have pursued, without Bokuto encouraging him and insisting he chase what makes him happy. 

And it’s the happiest he’s ever been. Working as an editor gave him experience and stability, but it wasn’t the most sustainable career for him. Despite his worries telling him to make the sacrifice for the sake of family, living with Bokuto had shaped him in ways he didn’t know it could. 

“We’ve really gotten through a lot, haven’t we?” Akaashi smiles. It’s almost hard to remember the times when they were both full of uncertainties and anxiety, leaning against each other and sometimes crying into the other’s shoulder. Bokuto had been scared to live his life fully, but the guilt he carried lessened with each day. 

“Time’s passed so quickly. I can’t believe Sora is taller than me.” Mari lets out a huff. “Just a few years ago, you were crying because you kept losing at Mario Kart.”

Sora towers over all his siblings now, almost as tall as Bokuto. But nobody lets him forget about being the baby, even as he’s preparing for his life after college. “Well, I can’t believe I’m an uncle. I feel old.” He pokes Yuuki’s cheeks, making him coo. 

“Let’s have a toast to Keiji’s first novel being published!” Bokuto lifts up his glass, filled with his favourite melon soda. Glasses clink together, and Kakeru smacks Akaashi’s back lightly. The family is back together again, gathering at one table. As adults, everyone is busier, with more responsibilities. It’s all the more reason to cherish the times they can all share a meal. 

The front door opens, and small footsteps make their way to the dining room. 

“Hey, no fair! You guys started without me!” 

Hotaru throws her satchel aside, and hops onto her seat beside Bokuto. There’s already a glass of apple juice poured out for her, that she sips with an indignant pout. 

“Sorry, Hotaru.” Bokuto pats his daughter’s head, attempting to cheer her up. “Will you forgive me if I say I ordered sushi?” 

Hotaru lights up. “Maybe,” she says, looking around for the plates of sushi. “Did you get me salmon roe?” 

Akaashi slides her a salmon roe bowl, topped with tamagoyaki and flakes of seaweed. “It’s your favourite. Of course we got you some.” 

“Cool!” She hops off her chair, eyes darting around to take a look at all her relatives. “Yuuki-kun, it’s me! Hotaru! Say Hotaru!” She attempts to get Yuuki to say something, but only receives a tiny “oo”. Defeated, she shrugs and pats his head anyway. 

“He’s learned how to say mama. The rest will come eventually.” Kakeru laughs. “I’d be a bit sad if he said anything else before papa.” 

“You’ve grown, Hotaru.” Akaashi’s mother says, as Hotaru digs into her salmon roe bowl. Elementary school had been treating her well, and she took a liking to being one of the tallest girls in her year. 

Hotaru nods. “We measured our height last week, Aya-chan. I grew again!” Akaashi’s mother had insisted on being called anything other than grandma, and they had all settled with a nickname before Hotaru could even babble. 

Akaashi, midway through his glass of beer, stands up in a hurry. “Oh my god, the cinnamon buns!” He scrambles to his feet, almost tripping over his own legs. As he hurries into the kitchen, he doesn’t smell the burning smell of charred bread. He opens the oven, and finds it empty. 

“I saved the bread, Keiji!” Bokuto points to the sweet goods on a platter, arranged in a fun zig-zag pattern. Akaashi breathes a sigh of relief. “Come on. Let’s show everyone how amazing our cinnamon buns are!” 

The baked goods are a hit, a large amount disappearing soon after they had been brought to the table. “And this is for you, Yuu-chan.” Bokuto hands Yuuki a baby rice cracker. He begins to devour it, grasping it tightly with his tiny hands. 

“Sora-kun! I wanna play Mario Kart with you!” Hotaru tugs on Sora’s arm, begging him to play with her. “I’m going to defeat you today, so watch me!” 

She marches off with Sora, leading the way to the sitting room. Akaashi lets out a huff, knowing she’ll get beaten thoroughly until Sora takes mercy and lets her win. Everyone in the Akaashi household had hammered Sora in video games, until one day he’d had enough. 

“Maybe we should have gone easy on him back then.” Mari lets out a huff. Nobody had held back against him, ever since Sora was four. Before that, they had handed him the controller without connecting him as a player.

Kakeru shrugs. “He’s turned out fine. I think.” 

Hotaru’s frustrated yells seem to say otherwise, and Bokuto giggles. “It’s all right. She always beats me and Keiji at almost everything. Oh, but Keiji’s really good at tetris!” 

Akaashi remembers playing on his handheld at a young age, sitting in his room and leveling up his Pokemon. He doesn’t have much time to get invested in games like that anymore, but watching Hotaru play with her family and friends is enough. 

It’s strange to think that Hotaru is already in elementary school, walking to and from school without them. Akaashi doesn’t fear change as much as he used to, but as a parent, he wishes he could slow down time to catch everything. With each passing year, he understands how his mother must have felt. 

“It’s hot, so be careful.” 

Akaashi hands Hotaru and Bokuto a mug of sweet milk, and joins them as they snuggle on the sofa. Bokuto immediately tries to take a sip, and winces at the burn it brings. Hotaru chuckles, blowing on it carefully and letting it warm up her hands. 

Bokuto gazes at his daughter gently, staring at the ponytail that he had managed to master for her. He isn’t able to plait anything just yet, but it’s a start. Some of Hotaru’s friends have volunteered to teach him. 

“We made some salad in home economics today.” Hotaru tells them about her day excitedly. “Ours was fine, but another group added way too much salt. Everyone kept daring each other to try it.” 

Akaashi is glad Hotaru still talks to them about her day. Although they had done everything to make her feel like she could talk to them, the anxiety of her becoming sick of family nights had remained. “And did you try it, Hotaru?” 

“Just once. I think eating it too much would be bad for me.” Hotaru sticks out her tongue, and sips on her drink. “It reminded me of when I was little and dumped a bunch of salt on my food. I’m surprised you didn’t smack me.”

“You know we’d never do that.” Bokuto smiles, stroking her hair. Parenting had gotten him anxious for the first few years. He was scared to accidentally hurt his baby, and at the same time, worried that he wasn’t being firm when he needed to. 

Having built a relationship based on trust, he knows he’s done the right thing for his daughter. He’s giving her the childhood she deserves, and the love he should have gotten when he was still young. He still remembers his trembling hands trying to feed and bathe her, conscious of the small life he’d promised to take care of. 

“I’ve told you how my parents weren’t the nicest people, right?” Bokuto lifts her into his lap, his eyes gentler. “I didn’t want you to go through anything like that. I want you to feel loved.” 

Hotaru blinks, and nods. Bokuto hasn’t told her many details. It’s not something he wants her to know, at such a young age. But the questions about the lack of relatives on his side come eventually, and to tell the truth is the best thing he can do for his younger self. 

“It’s okay. Nobody will be mean to papa here.” Hotaru pats Bokuto’s hair with her small hands. “And you’re strong! You could throw any mean people out of our house.” 

Bokuto flexes his bicep with a grin, boasting the strength of a recently-retired volleyball player. “If you play volleyball, you can also be like me!” 

Now working at a local club for children, Bokuto continues to follow his passion for the sport. Hotaru isn’t part of any club, but sometimes practices with Bokuto in the back garden. One day , Bokuto often jokes with Akaashi. 

Hotaru hangs from Bokuto’s muscular arm, laughing as Bokuto slowly moves it up and down. “But watching you play is more fun! Your spikes are really cool!”

“You sound just like someone else I know.” The image of Kenma pops into Akaashi’s head, now a successful company owner and YouTuber. Thankfully, Hotaru isn’t the type of kid to tell everyone that she’s met Kodzuken. 

“It’s Kenma, right? Or Kei-kun.” Hotaru says. “I like Kei-kun. He sends me dinosaur stuff on my birthday.” 

Akaashi will never forget their first encounter. The look of disappointment on Hotaru’s face after she was told Tsukishima wasn’t called “Hotaru” was immeasurable. 

“It’s all thanks to volleyball that we’re still connected!” Bokuto sits back down, stretching his arm and leaning into Akaashi. 

Akaashi brushes against Bokuto’s shoulder. He doesn’t feel others’ emotions as strongly now, but he’s all right with that. He doesn’t need it anymore. “When we decided we wanted you to be in our family, it was a dark summer’s night.” 

He’s told the story before, but Hotaru snuggles closer to them to listen again. “There were fireflies lighting up the garden, like stars illuminating the night sky. We named you Hotaru, because you would be someone who lights people’s lives up.”

“Thank you for being my dads.” Hotaru murmurs, turning away quickly. She leans her head into Bokuto’s chest. It’s the closest thing to “I love you”. 

Bokuto wraps his arms around her, and she doesn’t move away bashfully. For how much longer he can do that, he doesn’t know. But he wants to be able to pick her up, even when she’s older and less likely to ask for it. 

“I love you too, Hotaru.” 

Bokuto feels a heaviness against him, and realizes Hotaru has fallen asleep. He points to her and chuckles quietly with Akaashi, who adjusts his glasses and takes both of their empty mugs. Moments of domesticity are what Bokuto treasures the most. Spending ordinary days together is all he’s ever wanted, in a household that brings security and comfort. 

“I’ll go and take sleeping beauty to bed.” Bokuto giggles, and Akaashi catches a smirk on Hotaru’s face. He says nothing, turning around so that Bokuto won’t catch him smiling. He instead takes out his polaroid camera from the drawer, and quietly snaps a photo of them. 

As the image prints itself, Akaashi gives Bokuto a  kiss on the forehead. He feels happiness radiating off his presence, touching him like warm light. 

He smiles, and he sees the entire galaxy in his eyes.