Chapter Text
Down the dark street, Akaashi and Bokuto go, hand in hand. The orange streetlights outside the squat are flickering. Music is blaring, the thumping bass radiates down the street. Like always there’s a group of people clustered outside. Bokuto greets some of them as they push through.
Inside the lights are dim and the air is warm, smoke-filled. Some people are dancing, others are sprawled out. Some in pairs, disappearing upstairs.
A couple people greet Bokuto, quick to supply weed and red plastic cups of cheap vodka.
“We’re getting out of here!” Bokuto tells them, “We’re gonna make a new life.”
“Congratulations,” they all say, “Hope it works out for you.”
Akaashi watches the ones who hang back, who are silent when the others congratulate. He knows what they’re thinking. They don’t have to say a thing.
They’re the doubtful ones. The realistic ones. The ones that know that trouble clings to people. That bad things can follow you and drag you right back to where you started. It’s all right, Akaashi understands. He knows many have tried to leave. Tried and failed.
He doesn’t have time to think anymore because Bokuto pulls him into a big hug.
“Do you wanna dance, ‘Kaashi?”
“Soon,” He relaxes in Bokuto’s arms, “When I’m a little more drunk.”
“Okay,” Bokuto says, “I have another idea, follow me.”
And they go, latched together, up the fire escape. Up to the roof.
Bokuto tilts his head up, frowns. “Sky’s cloudy. Sorry ‘Kaashi.”
“Sorry?”
“No stars.”
Akaashi smiles to himself, “I don’t care, Bokuto-san. I really don’t care.”
“Good,” Bokuto says, “I love you.”
“I love you too, Bokuto-san.” And then they just hold each other. Arms wrapped tight, hands clutching each other’s shirts.
Bokuto whispers, “And we’re leaving and it’s gonna be better.”
“Yeah, we’re leaving” Akaashi echos.
“ We’re gonna get better. You’re gonna stop hurting yourself?”
It’s a question. Akaashi knows he has to answer.
“Yeah.”
But it’s a lie. And Akaashi’s thoughts start to spiral. Is that all he really is? A liar? Will he never be able to keep a promise. It’s not fair, a little voice says. What isn’t fair? But Akaashi can’t let himself hear the little voice again.
“Bokuto-san, we should go back down. There’s still people we need to say goodbye to.”
“Right! And we don’t want to miss out on any dancing.”
“No,” Akaashi mutters, following Bokuto down the fire escape, “We don’t.”
Back downstairs and the air is so heavy. Akaashi feels tired instantly. He lets Bokuto drag him through the room, but stops in front of the people dancing.
“You go on ahead, Bokuto-san. I’m gonna get another drink.”
Bokuto practically bounds forward, bounces on the balls of his feet. The music is loud and the soundwaves pulse through his body up to his brain.
He starts to dance, jumping around, acting stupid. He’s smiling, everyone is smiling. Bodies packed tight together moving with the beat. He spins until he’s dizzy, peoples faces becoming blurs. The lights flash.
The song is slowing. The crowd is parting. “Koutaro!” Someone’s calling his name, getting closer. Dark spiky hair, red varsity jacket. Oh, that jacket.
“Tetsurou!” Bokuto jumps forward excitedly. He trips over himself, almost falls. Kuroo catches him. Bokuto pulls Kuroo into a hug.
“Tetsu, dance with me.”
“It’s a slow song.”
“Okay. Dance with me.”
The dance floor is clearing, only couples remain. The neon lights flash green and purple.
Bokuto rests his head on Kuroo’s chest. They sway slowly, careful not to trip each other up.
Akaashi turns his back and disappears through the crowd.
“Hey,” some kid yells, pulls at Akaashi’s shirt. “Come drink with us. We’re smoking too.”
“Okay,” Akaashi says, downing the offered drink. He follows the boy up the stairs into the room with the tv.
There’s a couple other teens slouched on the floor in a semi-circle. A small blond girl, a boy with black hair, one with ridiculous spiked up hair. Akaashi recognizes only one. He’s lounging in the corner, sort of detached from the others. Orange hair, smallish frame. Uncle’s apartment. He wouldn’t help me. Logically, Akaashi knows the boy couldn’t have done anything. Selfishly, he thinks, I’ll be bitter forever.
He doesn’t say anything. Just pours himself another drink. Takes the joint when it’s offered. Sucks the smoke down his throat. Blows it out slow.
Downstairs, the song is ending. It gets quieter. But Bokuto almost doesn’t catch Kuroo’s voice.
Softer and gentler, muffled in Bokuto’s hair, “Were you going to tell me you’re leaving?”
Bokuto doesn’t answer. Not right away. To be truthful, he’s not really sure what to say. He follows Kuroo into the dimly lit hallway. Orange light flickers.
“I was going to tell you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Kuroo’s biting his lip, fists clamped tight, “I had to hear it from Yamamoto!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to say it.”
Kuroo steps back. His bottom lip is trembling. Eyes are watering.
“I loved you. I loved you, Koutaro.”
“I love you too,” Bokuto says, “I love you too. But I have to go.”
Kuroo’s crying now. Really crying.
“I know,” he sobs, “I know.”
“Come with us,” Bokuto whispers, wiping the tears from Kuroo’s face. But, even as he says it he knows it’s no use. Kuroo’s soul is here. Tied to the city. He’s never leaving.
“No,” Kuroo smiles sadly, “It’ll be good for you. Akaashi too. I’ll only hold you back. Besides you know I can’t.”
“Yeah,” Bokuto says, “I’ll miss you more than anything.”
“You’ll always be my best friend, Kou. Don’t forget that.”
“And you’ll always be my best friend, Tetsu. Don’t forget that.”
Kuroo laughs. Wipes his eyes. “Let’s dance!”
Akaashi doesn’t know how long he’s been up here. He’s gone through a lot of drinks. Five minutes ago everything was funny. It’s not like that anymore.
On the old tv, a warped tape of a volleyball game is playing.
“That could’ve been me,” says the black haired boy, “I was gonna be really good.”
“Me too.” says the other one, “I was too. What about you?”
Akaashi barely registers the boy is talking to him. He doesn’t have time to answer.
“Well,” the orange haired boy is suddenly in the middle of everything, “He used to be a movie star.”
“Yeah,” Akaashi says, “I was really good.” He gets up, stumbling. He’s getting out of this stupid city. Tripping down the stairs. He’s finally getting out of here.
Music blares in the living room. Akaashi stops in the doorway. Scans the room. Bokuto’s holding hands with Kuroo. He’s dancing and he looks really happy. Akaashi should feel happy.
Bokuto’s dancing stupidly and laughing. Akaashi should be laughing. For a minute he thinks he is. But tears are streaming down his face. He’s gulping down sobs. The room is blurry.
It’s not fair, his brain rationalizes, Bokuto shouldn’t have to leave everything behind for me. There’s something wrong with me. I’m never gonna get better.
The front door is wide open. The street lights flicker, they’re calling to him. So Akaashi follows them. Wobbling on his feet, chin tilted up.
He feels numb. He’s outside of his body. He’s watching a movie. He’s just walking home.
He has the key to Bokuto’s apartment. Holds it in his hand, tight. Akaashi leaves his conscious at the bottom of the stairs. Body floats up.
The key turns in the lock. He walks to the bathroom, leaves his clothes in a trail. He coughs, hinges at the waist. Vomits into the toilet.
Fuck. He sits back on his heels. Hand closes around the razor on the floor.
It’s sharper than he thought it would be. He cuts deep. Deeper than he ever has. Deeper than he means too.
By the time his consciousness makes it up the stairs, there’s blood everywhere.
Okay . He stumbles forward. Stop the bleeding. Get cleaned up. He trips, legs colliding with porcelain. Hand closes around the faucet. Water runs cold, heats up.
Back at the squat, things are starting to quiet down. People are disappearing upstairs, passing out on the couches. It almost seems like Bokuto and Kuroo are the last left standing.
They hug each other tightly. Pull away with tears in their eyes.
“Okay,” Kuroo whispers, “You should go find Akaashi.”
“Yeah.” Bokuto scans the room, “Do you think anyone’s seen him?”
“I don’t know,” Kuroo says, turns to the couches, “Yamamoto! Have you seen that Akaashi kid?”
Yamamoto picks his head up lazily, slurs his words, “Ehh, he left a while back. Think he was going home.”
Bokuto feels a pang in his chest. He left without me? But he shakes it off, smiles brightly. “I’ll go catch up with him! I’ll call you later! We can meet in the morning before the bus.”
“Okay,” Kuroo says. He gives a half-hearted wave. Bokuto’s already gone. Kuroo starts crying again. Really crying.
“Hey,” Yamamoto says, “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.” Kuroo climbs onto the couch and curls up next to him. It’s only been twenty minutes by the time the hall phone rings.
Kuroo sits up, wipes his nose on his sleeve. Picks the phone up on the fourth ring.
“Hello? Bo?”
“Hey Tetsu.” Bokuto sounds different. Raspy, too quiet. “Could you come over for a little bit?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” Kuroo tilts his head, shifts his weight, “Why?”
“Well,” Bokuto says, slowly, “I’m afraid we’ll miss each other in the morning. Lets say bye to each other tonight.”
“Oh. What about Akaashi?”
“He’s cool with it. You should come soon though, I’m tired.”
“Okay.” Kuroo bites his lower lip, “Yeah, uh I’ll be there in ten.”
Kuroo grabs his jacket from the couch, careful not to bother Yamamoto, who’s completely passed out.
He slips out the front door, skips down the stairs. Pulls his red jacket tighter, shoves his hands into the pockets.
The closer he gets to Bokuto’s apartment, the more he feels like crying. He stops outside, blinks furiously. Only a single rogue tear slips out. He punches in the code to the door, gets inside.
Up the stairs, everything’s so empty. So quiet. Bokuto’s apartment is unlocked, the door is slightly open.
It’s dark inside, only the dim stove light and the fluorescent clock. Bokuto is standing by the counter, only wearing boxers.
“Hi!” Bokuto says brightly, too brightly, “You came!”
“Yeah,” Kuroo only offers up a small smile. “Where’s Akaashi?”
“In the bathroom, getting cleaned up. Do you want anything?”
“Oh,” Kuroo shakes his head, “That’s okay. I probably shouldn’t stay long.” I don’t know if I can take it.
“Sure,” Bokuto says, grabs his glass, goes over to the couch. Kuroo sits on the other end.
“It’s gonna be weird,” Kuroo finds himself saying, “With the two of you gone.” He mostly just means Bokuto.
“I know,” Bokuto tilts his head, moves closer to Kuroo, until their legs are touching, “We had a lot of fun together. I’m gonna miss you.”
“Yeah,” Kuroo turns away, studies the wall, “I don’t-I’m gonna miss you too.”
When Kuroo turns back, Bokuto’s closer. His eyes look strange, wide and lost. His face is puffy, tear streaked.
“Bo,” Kuroo says, leaning away, “Are you okay?”
Bokuto ignores the question, his eyes are darting. Back and forth from Kuroo and the hallway.
“Tetsurou.” His voice sounds different, not right, “You loved me?”
“I did. I still do.”
“Would you leave me?”
“No.”
“Are you still gonna love me after I leave?”
“Yeah.” Kuroo chews on his lip, “Is something wrong? Are you still drinking?”
“Uh-huh,” Bokuto kisses Kuroo’s cheek. Kuroo can smell the alcohol on his breath.
“If you love someone you aren’t supposed to go, right?”
“What?” Somethings wrong. Kuroo sits up straighter, “I don’t know what that means.”
“If you love someone you aren’t supposed to be gone.” Bokuto’s eyes are wet. “Like really leave. Gone.”
Kuroo is suddenly aware of how quiet the apartment is. No sounds besides him and Bokuto.
“Bokuto,” Kuroo stares intently, “Where did you say Akaashi was?”
“He’s in the bathroom. Getting cleaned up.”
Kuroo stands then. Clothes are scattered, making a trail. He follows it. Leaves Bokuto on the couch.
The bathroom door is shut, pale yellow light creeps under. Kuroo knocks lightly. Turns the handle.
“No,” Kuroo gasps.
There’s water on the blue tiles. A body in the bathtub. Akaashi’s skin is a sickly white, tinged with blue. The water is red, gashes on his thighs. His eyes are half open, green and empty.
Kuroo backs up, stumbles into the hallway.
“Bokuto? H-how long has he been like this?”
Bokuto doesn’t answer. Kuroo sort of knows anyway. Longer than a half hour. Bokuto must have found him like that.
Kuroo spins on his heel, runs into the kitchen. There’s an empty bottle of vodka on the counter. Two pill bottles are on the table knocked over. Oh god. Kuroo looks over to the couch. Bokuto is slumped over on the floor.
“Bo!” Kuroo flies over, grabs onto Bokuto, “How much did you take? How long ago did you-Bo answer me?”
Bokuto’s eyes are blank and rolling, Kuroo can barely make out the words.
“Kaashi. H-he was so beautiful. His life was ugly. G-gone.”
Kuroo feels Bokuto’s breathing slowing. I’m losing him.
“Stay with me, Koutaro. Please.”
Bokuto twitches, speaks almost clearly.
“It’s getting really dark in here, Tetsurou.”