Chapter Text
Akaashi's eyes shot wide open as Bokuto's lips parted from his. There was a euphoric smile on Bokuto's face, with his lids lazily drawn closed as he hummed appreciatively. Akaashi had never seen Bokuto look quite so angelic, and he had to fight the urge to cover his eyes against the obscene serenity of it.
"Wh-what was that for?" Akaashi stuttered.
Bokuto slowly opened his eyes before endowing Akaashi with a thousand watt smile. "Just felt like it."
The words were familiar from earlier that day, but the tingling sensation in his belly certainly was not. He wasn't dumb; it was obvious at this point what he was feeling. What he didn't understand was what thoughts were brewing in Bokuto's often mysterious head.
Years of practice in dealing with Bokuto's various mannerisms had not prepared Akaashi for this. Not sure where to even begin, he grabbed Bokuto by the arm and dragged him out of the hall. Somewhere in the background, Rei shouted after them, "Get a room!"
The first available room that wasn't locked was a family restroom, and Akaashi dragged them both inside before locking the door behind them. Torn between smacking Bokuto upside the head and kissing him again, Akaashi settled for pushing his faux boyfriend against the tiled wall and hissed, "What is wrong with you?"
The iron in Akaashi's voice wiped the smile off of Bokuto's face. He sighed and ground his palms into his eyes. "I really thought I had you figured out, Akaashi. I really did. I'm sorry if I screwed up."
Blinking in surprise, Akaashi tilted his head to the side. "I'm not even going to pretend I know what that means, Bokuto-san."
Bokuto let out a strangled laugh, which dissolved into a loud sniffle. "Of course you don't." He leaned his head back and bit his lip, and Akaashi's stomach tied itself into knots when he saw a tear slip down Bokuto's cheek.
"Bokuto-san, please don't," Akaashi murmured as he rested his forehead on Bokuto's shoulder.
"You still can't do it," Bokuto said softly. "Even when you're just pretending to be my boyfriend, you can't even say my name. That should've told me, but I just wanted it to be true."
Akaashi's brows drew together. "I — what?"
"Never mind," Bokuto said as he raked his fingers through his hair. Dashing the stray moisture off his face, he plastered an overly-wide smile on his face and squeezed Akaashi's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I won't do it again."
With that, Bokuto unlocked the bathroom and left Akaashi very alone and very confused.
They hardly spoke on the ride home, and Akaashi opted to go straight to bed over staying up and finding himself staring at Bokuto's foldaway bed as its occupant aggressively plowed through a giant bag of popcorn while watching some air-headed television show. If Daisuke, who was too drunk to find his pajamas, noticed the tension between them, he made no mention of it before passing out face-first on top of the covers.
Though they were, for all intents and purposes, alone in the room, Akaashi couldn't help but find comfort in his brother's jagged snores. He wouldn't have known what to say if Bokuto lapsed into his old habit of filling silences. Sleep came quickly but was anything but peaceful. Akaashi woke up almost every hour until he gave up on staying asleep when found himself staring at the bedside clock with burning eyes. Looking around, the only activity he could discern was Daisuke's slightly softer wheezing.
Tired of his losing battle with getting rest, Akaashi shucked off his pajamas and pulled on what he had been wearing the day before and slipped out of the room. He wasn't sure where he was going, but after wandering around, he found himself climbing up the stairs to the roof once again. There was a young man, not much older than Akaashi, smoking at the circle of chairs.
"Can I help you with something?" the young man asked. "Guests aren't really supposed to be up here."
His mind bleary and unfocused, Akaashi only understood about half of that. With more effort that it usually took to conjure English from his tongue, he said, "I just want to be alone for a while."
The guy shrugged. "Suit yourself." He held out his cigarette pack. "You smoke?"
Akaashi shook his head before wandering over to the ledge. He leaned and watched the warm lights of the city, with the promise of dawn trickling onto the horizon. The air was just cold enough that Akaashi appreciated his hoodie and the subtle bite of a breeze on his cheeks.
Bokuto kissed him. Akaashi didn't know what to do with that information, and the longer he took to process that information, the more awkward they were around each other. Not once during this whole farce had he considered anything like this happening. But there was something troubling about the way Bokuto had acted in the bathroom at the party, and it ate at Akaashi. He had asked Bokuto directly what was going on and why; the reply was cagey and almost condescending. Neither were things he would ever attribute to Bokuto Koutarou.
And that was blindly ignoring how the entire thing had made Akaashi feel.
Surprise was an understatement, and confusion a given. Perhaps a little morsel of resentment for having the first two foisted on him. There was some guilt mixed in there for that little almost-kiss in the backyard of his grandparents' house, which would have understandably sent Bokuto's sense of boundary into a tailspin. But then there was the song and the dance and how angry Akaashi had been when Takeshi had insulted Bokuto. A perfect storm, and now Akaashi was caught in the rain with a broken umbrella.
Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, he had acknowledged the sound of the hotel employee going back inside, which was why Akaashi turned to look when the door opened again. The plea to let him stay there unbothered died on his lips when he saw a mess-haired and ragged-looking Bokuto.
"Hey," Akaashi acknowledged.
"I figured you'd be up here." Bokuto padded over to the ledge and leaned over in a similar pose to Akaashi's earlier stance. "You didn't sleep much."
Akaashi didn't bother asking how Bokuto knew that. "Not really."
"I think I slept maybe an hour," Bokuto admitted before letting loose a loud, animated yawn. "It's hard to sleep when I know I upset you. I'm really sorry, Keiji."
The sound of his given name made Akaashi's belly flutter, coupled with the warmth in his cheeks at the sincerity of the apology. He ventured to guess that this was a subconscious factor in why he had struggled to call Bokuto by his given name; it was intimate and reserved for clandestine rooftop meetings at the crack of dawn. However, this resigned Bokuto was almost as disturbing to the atmosphere between them as the ill-fated kiss at the party.
It was almost a reflex for Akaashi to curb it. "I just want to understand. I'm more upset about that than what happened." He turned towards Bokuto. "Why did you do it?"
For the second time in eight hours, Bokuto's laugh held no humor and it felt dirty to Akaashi. "You really don't know, do you?" He shook his head. "You are the smartest guy I know, but you are dumber than a box of rocks right now."
Akaashi frowned. "That's not very —"
"I did it because I've wanted to kiss you, like, forever." Bokuto didn't even try to smile. Instead, he winced. "There was this amazing first year setter who could out-toss a third year with ease, and he would always stay after and do extra practice with me. After spending that much time with someone, you get to know them. It didn't take me long to figure out that I liked you more than I was supposed to, but I kept it to myself because that's what you're supposed to do when you're the only one feeling the vibe."
Eyes wide, Akaashi began to shake as Bokuto wrenched out this confession like it was a splinter: quickly and without emotion. One's first confession was supposed to be full of jitters and joy, but Bokuto looked like he was testifying in a trial, spewing out facts instead of feelings. It made Akaashi want to throw up.
"So, is this the part where you tell me you don't see me that way so we can move on?" Bokuto asked, his voice laced with weariness. "Or did I screw that up, too?"
Akaashi was very aware that Bokuto needed him to say something — anything — just to put him out of his misery, but every time he opened his mouth, his jaw just hung stupidly slack. "I don't know," Akaashi replied. It was the only thing he could manage. "I need to think."
Bokuto's head hung low between his outstretched arms. "I should leave you alone."
"No."
They were both surprised by this answer, but Akaashi had a feeling that if Bokuto left right then, the rooftop wasn't the only thing he'd be exiting. He still had no idea what he wanted or felt out of all of this, but one thing he was very sure of was that the idea of Bokuto shutting him out made his chest hurt. It was a mess, and he said as much aloud.
"Yeah," Bokuto sighed, sounding much too small for his large frame. "I thought this thing would be my chance to show you how I felt. Away from school, away from the team."
Akaashi couldn't find fault in that logic. He was more surprised that Bokuto, so solidly in the deepest mode of dejection he had ever seen, was able to articulate himself when Akaashi could only thread together wishy-washy pleas of I Don't Know. He owed Bokuto much more than that.
"You know," Akaashi started, "you were the last person I wanted to ask to do this." When he saw Bokuto shrink into himself even further, Akaashi hurriedly added, "Not because I don't trust you or like you. It was because the relationship we had was the one I didn't want to disrupt. I started out ruling the entire team off limits, but there were few people outside of the guys I knew well enough for this to even work. But when it came down to it, I couldn't bring myself to ask anyone else but you."
Bokuto was very still beside him. "Coming out is scary. Of course you'd want someone you know and trust. That's why I was so —" His voice cracked. "— so glad you asked me that I just didn't . . ."
A loud sniffle shredded Akaashi's armor-like composure. He wrapped his arms around Bokuto's shaking shoulders, and they sagged against each other as they sank to their knees. Akaashi buried his face in Bokuto's neck, biting his lip to keep himself steady. The huddled, shuddering form beneath his fingers was foreign to him, as is someone were wearing Bokuto's body like a suit and playing the role badly.
"I wish I knew what to say," Akaashi murmured into the slope of Bokuto's collarbone. "I don't know how to fix this, Bokuto-san."
Snot dripped onto Akaashi's hoodie, but he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was what Bokuto said next: "It's okay if you don't love me. Just don't make me stay away."
"Never," Akaashi said with the most certainly he had had all night and morning.
Though neither of them were particularly hungry, they managed to scrape themselves off the flat of the roof and make their way downstairs. Leaning heavily on one another, no one remarked on their disheveled state as the entire family partook in the continental breakfast. Akaashi forced himself to choke down a cinnamon roll and some coffee, but Bokuto just strangled his glass of cranberry juice and didn't look away from its ruby depths.
It wasn't until they were leaving the cafeteria that Gina pulled Akaashi aside and said, "What on earth is going on with you two?"
Akaashi momentarily considered concocting some sort of lie, but after everything that had happened because of their little scheme, he opted for honesty. "I didn't know it when I asked him, but Bokuto-san loves me. In that way."
Gina grinned at him. “That’s great, Keiji! You were worried about being accepted, but someone was already there waiting for you.” She let out a throaty chuckle. “I was wondering when you’d figure out how he felt about you. It’s kind of obvious.”
“You knew?” Akaashi blinked in surprise at his mother. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Shaking her head, Gina sighed. “Keiji, amore mio, you are such a smart boy, but you are so dense right now.”
“Not helping, Mom,” Akaashi grumbled. “What am I supposed to tell him?”
Gina squeezed Akaashi’s shoulder. “How do you feel about Bokuto-kun?”
“I . . . don’t know?” Akaashi looked pointedly at his shoes. “How do you know if you love someone if you have no basis of comparison?”
She shrugged. “I guess you just do.” Wringing her hands, she added, “It’s an instinct.”
Akaashi absorbed this information and found it to be entirely unsatisfactory. It didn’t explain anything at all. “Then how did you know you loved Dad?”
Blushing, Gina said, “You don’t want to know the details, I assume.” When Akaashi vehemently shook his head, she huffed. “Well, it was when I realized that everything I wanted to do, I wanted to do it with him. Watching bad TV, talking a walk through the park, waking up in the morning; the thought of him being there made it all seem less, well . . . mundane.”
When Akaashi’s face screwed up in a tight frown, Gina chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Just imagine the things you do every day. Then imagine what it would be like with Koutarou-kun there. Imagine kissing him when you walk into a room instead of saying ‘hello.’ Then imagine your day without him.”
“Okay,” Akaashi replied numbly as he walked away. “Thanks, Mom.”
Akaashi nearly ran into three walls as he made his way to the room as he considered his mother’s words. Her explanation had been so simple, so easy, but as he mulled over their implication, Akaashi found them to be anything but.
Bokuto was a constant presence in his life. As they walked to school, their paths intersected halfway and they usually finished the journey together. The two of them spent several lunch periods leading up to important matches in the gym, doing extra spiking practice. During regular practices, Bokuto was the ace and Akaashi was the setter; they spent more time together than anyone on the team.
After school and sometimes on the weekends, Akaashi would help steer Bokuto through his English and Calculus assignments, both to keep Bokuto from drowning in subjects he neither liked nor was good at, as well as to gain some insight into the next year’s course material. They would often be at the other’s house three or four times per week until almost ten at night. The rest of those evenings were spent doing late practices.
His face reddened when he considered the idea of sprinkling physical affection throughout his daily routine. The kiss from the party would not be an all-the-time thing, he was sure, but the casual one in the grass had felt so right at the time, even if it had sent everything into a frenzy. He had liked it then, and his heart sped up as he thought about it now.
This time, Akaashi tried to picture each of these everyday scenarios without his boisterous captain’s presence. Mornings would be silent, lunches peaceful, practices reserved, and evenings alone. Very alone. There was no one to his knowledge that he spent time with more than Bokuto. He saw his ace more than his own family, and it did not feel strange at all.
It would definitely be strange for Bokuto not to be there, and Akaashi didn’t like the idea of it at all.
He stopped mid-stride in the hallway outside the hotel room, mouth slack, and gasped to himself, “Oh.”
The final few steps to their hotel room were finished in an almost-dash. Akaashi practically jammed in his key card before flinging the door open, but the words about to bubble past his lips died in his throat when he only found Daisuke, whose head was buried beneath his pillow.
“Where is he?” Akaashi asked with an edge to his voice.
Daisuke grumbled, “Not so loud, Keiji. My brain feels like it’s on fire.”
“Then don’t get so shit-faced drunk,” Akaashi growled before repeating his original question.
“I think he went out after breakfast.” Daisuke flipped over and hissed at the sunlight trickling in through the blinds. “Ugh. Why am I alive?”
Akaashi rolled his eyes in disgust. “To drink your weight in scotch. Idiot.” He huffed before grabbing a hoodie and his phone. “I’ll be out.”
The failure in his plan became evident when Akaashi stepped outside the building. Swarms of pedestrians blocked his view from either side of the walkway, and cars bustled by, full of people in suits who were a breath away from being late to work. Nowhere in the bustle could he see a sign of absurd black and white hair or its owner.
Looking back and forth, trying to discern which direction he thought Bokuto might take, Akaashi knocked himself on the forehead before pulling out his phone and calling Bokuto’s mobile. It rang for a tense fifteen seconds, one ring short of hitting voicemail, before the line crackled to life with a sullen, “Hey, Akaashi.”
“Where are you?” Akaashi asked without preamble. “You could get lost. Don’t leave me like that.”
Bokuto was silent on the other end for a long while before he said quietly, “I think I’m lost.”
Akaashi’s breath burned in his chest. “Look around. Are you near any shops or bus stops?” Bokuto mentioned some random restaurant, and Akaashi furiously thumbed in the name of the place into Google and said, “Stay where you are. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
He ended the call and followed the route Google Maps laid out. His shoulders bashed into a few other passers-by, but he neither apologized nor avoided doing so again as he rushed through the maze of people until he spotted the hole-in-the-wall Mediterranean restaurant.
Hugging his bare arms to his torso, Bokuto shook underneath the awning against the chilly morning. Without a second thought, Akaashi tugged off his own hoodie and offered it to Bokuto. “Here.”
Shaking hands took the offering, but Bokuto made no move to put it on. “Sorry you had to come find me.”
“I wanted to talk to you when we left breakfast, but you were already gone.” Akaashi scowled before he began jamming Bokuto’s arms into the hoodie. “I told you not to go anywhere without a hoodie. Especially anywhere this close to the water.”
Every word out of Akaashi’s mouth felt stupid and out of place. He had not expected to lecture Bokuto about proper attire, yet there he was scolding someone older than himself like a child. But Bokuto complied and was engulfed in warm cotton before Akaashi sighed and rested his forehead on Bokuto’s shoulder. “Don’t scare me like that.”
Akaashi could feel the cold seeping into his own limbs from the lack of protection, but he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was what he had thought about before seeking out Bokuto and what he was about to say.
If he could get anything to come out of his stupid, tongue-tied mouth.
One after another, he considered and rejected various ways of explaining to Bokuto the conclusions he had reached that morning and how they had changed everything. Akaashi could speak three languages in varying degrees of fluency, yet not a single one of them could provide words fruitful enough.
“To hell with it,” Akaashi muttered before yanking Bokuto’s face to his for a messy, blistering kiss.
He could almost taste the surprised sound it elicited from Bokuto, but an even headier flavor was the growl of appreciation as fingers lanced into his hair. They stumbled backwards against the brick edifice of the restaurant, with Bokuto’s taut torso pressing against Akaashi.
New and unfiltered sensations careened into Akaashi’s every nerve. Every square inch of his body touching Bokuto throbbed with it, and he could not even think, let alone remember a time in his life he felt close to bursting under pressure.
Akaashi shivered, both at the chill of the bricks on his back and when Bokuto’s lips trailed down his jaw and his neck. He let out a long, low moan as his eyelids bobbed between open and closed.
His clouded mind vaguely registered several bystanders ogling their borderline lewd display, and Akaashi reluctantly murmured, “People are staring at us.”
“Let ‘em,” Bokuto rumbled, the vibration sending a shock of giddiness through Akaashi’s blood. It made him desperately want to agree with Bokuto.
It wasn’t until Akaashi saw a small child pointing at them, asking his parent in English, “Mommy, what are they doing?”
The mother chirped her irritation before dragging her daughter along after her. Akaashi forced himself to breathe steadily and whispered, “Koutarou, not here.”
The use of Bokuto’s given name was enough to make him freeze. His lips parted from Akaashi’s skin, and the absence was sorely noted. However, they walked hand-in-hand back to the hotel, and for the moment, the curl of a warm hand around his was enough for Akaashi.
This time, Akaashi’s hand was steady when inserting the key card. It was a relief that the room was empty. Almost on cue, Akaashi’s text alert chirped, signaling a message from Daisuke.
Went out in search of ibuprofen. Will be gone for a few hours.
Akaashi glared at the message and the insinuation that his brother was making, but the chuckle it drew from Bokuto almost made him forget why he was objecting at all. With a shrug, he tossed his phone on the nightstand and put his hands around Bokuto’s waist.
Slowly, inch by inch, he peeled Bokuto’s shirt and hoodie up his torso until they both were eager to shuck both layers. Akaashi’s shirt was practically ripped off of him as Bokuto pushed them both backwards onto the bed.
Their state of undress was no shock for either of them; Akaashi had certainly seen much more of Bokuto’s bare flesh than this. What was new and exhilarating was the surge of Bokuto’s pounding heart under his palms, the ragged breaths against his jaw, the purr of appreciation in his own throat.
Akaashi’s hand stilled Bokuto’s exploration of his collarbone for just a moment as he framed the other boy’s cheeks with his hands.
“Hey, fake-boyfriend,” Bokuto said, his voice rusty with need.
“Hey yourself,” Akaashi answered before meeting Bokuto’s lips with his own for a long, languorous kiss.
After their lips parted, Akaashi tugged Bokuto down beside him on the bed and burrowed beneath his arm. The scent of Bokuto’s musky body wash tickled his nose, and Akaashi was sure he could stand to smell it all day.
They lay there for what seemed like hours before Bokuto broke the silence. “What made you change your mind?”
“My mom,” Akaashi admitted with a chortle. “People always tell you not to ask your mom for love advice, but I figured a lot of stuff out and stopped making it all so complicated.”
Bokuto craned his neck to look at Akaashi, whose face was pressed into his naked chest. “And what did you figure out?”
Akaashi shrugged. “I tried to think about what things would be like without you around all the time. I knew you’d do something stupid and noble like that if I rejected you. The rest was kind of easy from there.”
Humming in appreciation, Bokuto tightened his arms around Akaashi before flinging the comforter over them both. As neither of them had slept particularly well, Akaashi allowed the warmth of the blanket and bare skin to collaborate against his will to stay awake.
When Akaashi woke up, Bokuto was still asleep, and the mid-afternoon sun blared into the room. One glance at the alarm clock said it was half past three, and he shot out of bed. He grabbed his phone to verify that his family didn’t think he had fallen off the face of the earth.
The only message, however, was from Daisuke:
Saw you guys being all cuddly. Gross. I turned off your ringer and told Mom and Dad you guys needed more sleep. Enjoy your spooning while I throw up everything I’ve ever eaten.
Akaashi couldn’t help but smile, even if he wanted to punch his brother in the face. They had planned on a tour of the Golden Gate Bridge, which they wouldn’t get to do this trip because they were slated to leave the next morning, but both of them had been exhausted. The only problem was that they were going out to dinner with Nori and Alessandra that evening, and it would be cutting it close for them to get ready in time.
Lightly shaking Bokuto’s shoulder, Akaashi said quietly, “Bokuto-san, you need to get up now.”
Bokuto sleepily swatted at his hand and murmured Akaashi’s name as he rolled over to embrace the still-warm spot under the covers where Akaashi had been. With a whimper, Bokuto’s eyes opened and he frowned. “Was I dreaming all of that?”
Blood rushed to Akaashi’s cheeks as he crossed his arms over his bare chest. “We have to leave for dinner in an hour and a half. Do you want the first shower?”
Wagging his brows, Bokuto smirked and said, “You could always just shower with me.”
Akaashi swatted Bokuto’s blanketed thigh. “We’ve only been fake boyfriends for a month and real boyfriends for a day. I think that’s a little much.”
With a laugh, Bokuto threw Akaashi an appreciative glance from head to toe. “You’ve clearly never looked at yourself in a mirror.”
Still red-faced, Akaashi nearly dove into his suitcase to fish out a change of clothing fit for family dinner and escaped to the bathroom. As he stood under the warm stream of water, he wasn’t thinking about how much of that exposed skin Bokuto had actually seen, and he certainly wasn’t contemplating the idea of Bokuto touching any of it.
Just to wake up, he told himself as he turned the water to cold.
When he emerged buttoning his shirt, Bokuto tugged him close for a quick kiss and a slap on the behind before taking over the bathroom. Akaashi wanted to scold Bokuto for being childish, but he could barely keep his fingers from missing the buttonholes as his thoughts drifted to later that night.
Akaashi had barely spoken to anyone after the awkward kiss at the party, so he had no idea what impression it had left on his grandparents. He was not particularly concerned with the rest of the family; they could think what they like. However, Nori and Alessandra were good people who supported him, and he didn’t want them to worry.
He sat heavily on the edge of the bed and sighed as he decided what he needed to do. Socks balled up in his hands was how Bokuto found him fifteen minutes later. “Akaashi?”
“I should tell them,” Akaashi replied woodenly. “My grandparents. I should tell them we weren’t really dating.”
Bokuto shrugged. “If you want. I’m okay with it, as long as I can keep on not-fake-dating you.”
Lips twitching into a smile, Akaashi teased, “That doesn’t even make sense. Now get dressed.” He threw his towel at Bokuto, whose hair was still dripping from the shower and formulating little rivulets of moisture down his bare skin before hiding in the towel wrapped around his waist.
When Bokuto caught him staring, Akaashi gulped.
Bokuto laughed as he finished getting ready. Meanwhile, Akaashi texted Daisuke to let him know it was safe to come in again and threw in a thank you. He would owe his brother a favor, he knew that, but it was worth it.
They were soon in a taxi, headed to dinner. Gina complimented the boys on looking sharp while frowning at Daisuke’s rumpled state. Akaashi had offered to iron his shirt while he was in the shower, but he had declined to dissuade the notion that it would constitute cashing in the aforementioned favor so Akaashi had merely shrugged and allowed his brother to suffer.
The restaurant was a lively Italian place in the heart of the city. Nori and Alessandra were waiting for them outside, and while Nori politely accepted their bows of greeting, Alessandra endowed them all with fierce hugs. Akaashi smiled when Bokuto picked up Alessandra and whirled her around, causing chuckles all around.
“Koutarou, dear, I hope Keiji keeps you forever,” Alessandra said airily as she patted Bokuto’s cheek.
Bokuto leaned in and whispered just loud enough for Akaashi to hear: “So do I, Nona.”
Akaashi reddened while Daisuke snorted beside him. Bokuto never did have too much control of his vocal volume.
They were seated and ordered an array of family-style dishes. The conversation meandered deeply into mundaneness, with Nori asking each of them in turn what courses they were taking in school while grilling Daisuke about how he intended to utilize his upcoming communications degree. Akaashi didn’t have the heart to mention that Daisuke’s chosen field of study was more of a souvenir from his college baseball career. Much to his amusement, Gina had no such compunctions.
All in all, it was a good cap on the trip, and Akaashi was feeling good about his upcoming confession. He decided to address his grandmother alone and leave it up to her whether to share this information with Nori. As they were all filtering outside, Akaashi touched her arm and said, “Nona, can I talk to you?”
Alessandra cocked her head and gave him a disconcerting look. “Of course, Keiji. You can always talk to me.”
For most of his life, Akaashi had never found it difficult to say what he needed or wanted to say, but as he looked at his grandmother’s earnest face, he almost faltered. However, he knew he would not feel right getting on the plane the next day until this was set right.
“I lied to you and ojii-san, Nona,” Akaashi admitted, his head hanging. “When we came here, Bokuto-san and I were not together. I asked him to pretend to be my boyfriend so I could feel better about coming out and . . . and so nobody would badger me about not having a girlfriend anymore.”
His confession was met with silence, and it made his legs shiver with the desire to flee. Akaashi wanted something — anything — to break this stalemate.
And a slap to the side of the head was what he got.
“Bambino stupido!” she cried before smacking him again. “You don’t ever have to lie to me. Do you really think I left my home country when I was twenty years old because I wanted to lie about my feelings?”
Akaashi shook his head. “I’m sorry, Nona. I just did not know how you would feel about it, so I thought if I —” He laughed bitterly. “The more I hear myself talk, the more stupid it sounds.”
“Stupider,” she corrected. “You need to practice your English more outside of school. And your italiano has been pitiful.”
“Yes, Nona.” Akaashi sighed and glanced up at her. “So you’re not angry?”
Alessandra shook her head. “Only that you thought you couldn’t be honest with me, baby. And I’ll forgive you once you tell me what changed.”
More calmly than he thought possible, Akaashi related a filtered version of events (leaving out their cozy little nap from earlier) from the concoction of the plan to the kiss that morning. Alessandra listened, nodded, and helped him when he couldn’t find the right words, until he was finished and more mentally drained than he could remember being in his whole life.
It was a solid, quiet minute after Akaashi finished speaking before Alessandra said anything else. “If you decided you had feelings for Koutarou this morning, then what made you snap at your great-grandfather?”
Chuckling, Akaashi thought about it and shook his head. “Habit, I guess. I have managed Bokuto-san’s moods for so long that I try to keep him from being hurt. He does it enough to himself because that is what he’s like.”
“I am happy for you, Keiji.” Alessandra bowed his head and kissed his brow. “You deserve it, and you are a good boy, but remember this: when you find someone who looks at you the way he does, like you sang the sun to sleep and hung the moon, don’t mess it up. And then maybe, in fifty years, your grandchildren will dance and fall in love at your fiftieth anniversary party, too.”
Akaashi hugged Alessandra tightly. “Ti amo, nona,” he said as tears prickled his eyes.
“Your accent is terrible,” she jabbed as she patted his back.
Alessandra stepped back and squeezed his hands. “Take care of that boy. And teach that brother of yours how to dress himself.”
“I will, Nona,” Akaashi replied with a smile. He kissed both her cheeks and bowed. “We’ll see you next year, I hope.”
“As do I.”
They rejoined the rest of the family. Akaashi bowed to Nori, but his grandfather just pulled him into a brisk embrace and said, “It does this old heart good to see you so happy, Keiji. You always seemed lonely before, but Bokuto-kun has done you a lot of good.”
Akaashi diverted his gaze over to Bokuto, who was cracking jokes with Daisuke, and felt warmth filter into his every limb. “He has, Ojii-san. It took me a while to realize it, but he has.”
With many more well-wishes and a tearful goodbye between Alessandra and Gina, the Akaashis headed back to their hotel with the youngest member of their party feeling lighter and more at ease than he had the entire weekend.
The plane trip back to Japan was not as miserable and beastly as the journey to San Francisco had been, but Akaashi wouldn’t rule out the idea that curling up in Bokuto’s lap had something to do with that. However, they were all a little wobbly as they stumbled through customs and into baggage claim.
A taxi transported the weary group to Akaashi’s house, but as soon as the familiar streets came into view, he wanted to turn back. Real life would start back up, and with Bokuto immersing himself into volleyball and winning a national championship once again, Akaashi wondered if there would be room for this new, budding thing between them anymore.
They already spent time with each other every single day; would this change, or would what they do with that time change? Akaashi didn’t know, and it irked him that he didn’t.
When they dumped off their luggage in the genkan, Bokuto pulled out his phone to text his mother. Akaashi put a hand over the screen. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Bokuto frowned. “But . . . you’re already talking to me.”
Akaashi’s reflex was to fling a verbal barb, but instead, he gave Bokuto a tight smile and explained, “Before you go, I want to talk to you alone.”
Eyes lighting up, Bokuto nodded vigorously. “Yeah!” He kicked off his shoes and bounded up the stairs towards Akaashi’s room. “Last one up is a moldy yakisoba bun!”
Akaashi followed him upstairs and into his room, which looked minuscule in comparison to their spacious hotel room, but Bokuto’s usual larger-than-life presence might have had something to do with that.
“I’m honestly not sure how to say this lightly, but I need to know how this whole not-fake boyfriend thing is going to change our regular friend thing.” Akaashi’s face pinched into a scowl at how strange that sounded to his own ears, and that sensation only deepened when Bokuto scratched his head. “That didn’t come out right.”
Rubbing his chin, Bokuto asked, “Do you want to know if we’re gonna stop being friends? I hope not. I like just hanging out with you. But I also like kissing you. I was just sort of hoping we would keep up the way we were, except more kissing and less scolding me about my shitty English.”
With a snort, Akaashi slapped Bokuto on the upper arm. “I’ll stop scolding you about your shitty English when you can make it through more than one sentence without picking the wrong pronoun.” His hand smoothed over the spot he had playfully struck. “But the rest sounds nice.”
“As long as we can speak Japanese again,” Bokuto said, his face solemn. “I have never had a headache for that long in my life. And everyone talked too fast except your grandmother.”
Shaking his head, Akaashi sighed. “They’re like that no matter what language it is. Nona says it’s an Italian thing.”
Bokuto’s eyes darkened as he snaked hands around Akaashi’s hips and yanked them together. “I like it when it’s you, though.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Akaashi murmured before pulling on Bokuto’s bottom lip with his teeth. Bokuto purred into his mouth, and Akaashi thought to himself: I could get used to this.
The walk to school the next day felt like a trek up Mount Fuji for Akaashi, but when he met up with Bokuto halfway there, he didn’t feel half as tired as his boyfriend looked.
“Why do I feel like I got rolled under a bus?” Bokuto grumbled. “I slept fine, but I feel like my legs are made of lead.”
Akaashi shrugged. “Jetlag is bad when you’re not used to it. It probably didn’t help having me sprawled all over you.”
Bokuto coughed until he was red in the face, and Akaashi smirked. Teasing Bokuto had just become a thousand times more rewarding, and he was mildly ashamed of himself that this was the first instance he had thought of it. “Yeah, it must have been so hard having me breathing on your thighs for hours. Nestled between your legs. I don’t know how you could stand it, to be honest.”
Blanching, Bokuto growled, “Not before practice! I have to wear shorts.”
With a downward glance, Akaashi noticed a distinct bulge in the front of Bokuto’s school trousers. “Oh ho ho?”
“Shut up!” Bokuto covered his lap with his hands. “You didn’t wake up from a dream at three in the morning that would make Buddha need Jesus.”
“And you are not allowed to hang out with Daisuke and his meme fetish anymore,” Akaashi teased. “But seriously? You had that kind of dream about me?”
Bokuto harrumphed. “Why not? I love you, we’re dating, and you’re ultra hot; why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you’re about five minutes away from walking into a locker room full of your teammates who will not miss a Little Bokuto sighting.” When blood rushed to Bokuto’s cheeks, Akaashi squelched the rush of victory and coaxed, “Now, think of the least sexy thing on the planet. Picture . . . Konoha in your mother’s robe. And your sister’s underwear.”
“Argh!” Bokuto cried as he jammed his hands over his ears. “I’m good, I’m good, now stop talking before I lose my breakfast!”
“You’re welcome.”
Soon, Bokuto’s little problem disappeared and they stood in front of the club room door, but neither moved to open it.
“Should we tell them?” Akaashi wondered out loud, half to himself and half to Bokuto. “They’re not stupid; they will find out. Well, maybe not Konoha, but the rest . . .”
“I think we should,” Bokuto said. “You weren’t too fond of lying to your family, and these guys are like my family. We should just be honest.”
Akaashi nodded. “I think you’re right.” He took Bokuto’s hand in his and squeezed it tight. “But let’s try baby steps. Let’s see if they notice.”
“They will,” Bokuto said dubiously.
“Maybe not.” Akaashi chortled. “Remember how long it took for Washio to notice he had a hole in the ass of his practice shorts?”
Bokuto guffawed loudly. “Man, his boxers were showing for, like, two weeks!”
They both laughed as Akaashi said, “And this is who we choose to spend time with, Koutarou.”
His hand stilling on the doorknob, Bokuto blinked at Akaashi. “You’re finally going to do it, then?”
“Only if it doesn’t summon Little Bokuto.”
“Damn it, Keiji! That’s the only time that’s happened.”
Roughly pushing Bokuto against the doorway, Akaashi murmured, “I never said I didn’t like it.”
Bokuto raked his fingers down Akaashi’s back as he brought their mouths together for a searing kiss. “I never knew —” Akaashi bit his jaw. “— you could be —” Bokuto groaned loudly. — so bad!”
Akaashi’s victorious grin was cut off as the door opened and they landed in a pile in the club room, and several pairs of eyes were glued to their disheveled state and compromising pose.
“Um, hi!” Bokuto said, his voice unnaturally. “What did I miss?”
Sarukui raised a brow. “What did you miss? I wanna know what global cataclysm had to happen for you two dumbasses to figure out you were in love with each other.”
Onaga, who was still holding onto the doorknob, stood with his jaw slack. “Bokuto-san and Akaashi-san were dating and we didn’t know?”
Komi shook his head. “Nah. This is new. At least to them.” Over his shoulder, he called, “Hey, Sarukui, you owe me a thousand yen.”
All Akaashi could do was chuckle as he helped Bokuto up. “Well, I suppose that’s out of the way.”
Washio’s voice boomed across the club room. “One rule: keep the funny business out of the gym and this room. I swear I will sweep this room with a blacklight once a week if I have to.”
“Um, could you not do that?” Konoha said, not meeting the gaze of anyone in the room but the floor. “It might be a, um, pre-existing condition.”
A collective groan rose from everyone else there as they rushed to touch as little of every surface as humanly possible. As they all finished changing at lightning speed and headed for the gym, Sarukui smacked Konoha in the back of the head.
Lingering at the back of the group, Akaashi took Bokuto’s hand and said, “See? That wasn’t too hard at all. I guess practice does help.”
Bokuto laughed loudly. “That was a good one! You’re a hoot, Akaashi!”
Feigning a glare, Akaashi said, “That was terrible, Bokuto-san. You take that back right now.”
“Make me!” Bokuto cried before slapping Akaashi’s bottom and sprinting in the gym.
Knowing he would never catch Bokuto running at full speed, Akaashi bellowed, “Get back here!” before settling for watching Bokuto trip over the halfway-erected net.
Yeah, he was definitely in love with this moron, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.