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It all started during the last two months of Akaashi’s first year at Fukurodani Academy.
He had some big quizzes coming up in three of his classes, and being in class five, those quizzes required a lot of studying on Keiji’s part; as strange as it was, he actually enjoyed studying when he didn’t have other things to stress about, but the problem with having three quizzes was the nature of those classes. First, there was Japanese Literature—that would be easy, as long as Akaashi read the stories through at least three times; that particular book was over five-hundred pages and a hardcover edition. Mathematics was a bit more time-consuming, and the book was wider, a good eight-hundred pages and hardcover. The third and final quiz was in history—Akaashi had already memorized the names, dates and events, but he wanted to know the answers to the essay questions, so that six-hundred-page book had to be brought home as well.
Akaashi’s problem didn’t lie with the studying; it lied with the weight of the books in his backpack.
Still in his first year, Keiji was considered to be pretty lanky, and even though he had successfully helped the men’s volleyball club get to nationals, his masculinity was tested on a daily basis by his ability to protect things, fix things, and lift things; and so, Akaashi was dreading the long walk to the subway station, trying to adjust the strap of his bag to a comfortable position before he got going. On instinct, he always found himself waiting outside of the volleyball gym, even though club activities had ended after nationals—maybe deep down, it was a source of comfort for Akaashi, knowing he had a nice place he could go in case of those rare times where he found himself too deep involved in his studies.
Volleyball was both a brain stimulator and a method of relaxation for Keiji.
“Great,” Akaashi mumbled lightly to himself, seeing that the seams of his messenger bag were starting to become noticeably stretched. “Now I’m going to have to—”
“AKAASHEEEE!”
Akaasheeee really didn’t have to look up to know who was coming, but he did so anyway, greeting Bokuto with a glance before tugging at his backpack again.
“What’re you standing here for?” The second-year asked. “Don’t you remember, Akaashi? We went to NATIONALS!!! Our season is over!!! Well, not really, it never really is, you know, but how could you forget that we went to NATIONALS?!!!”
Keiji leaned away from the shouting, but couldn’t help but smile under his downturned head. Nationals had been the highlight of Akaashi’s life so far, and with it only having been a few months ago, the memories were still fresh in his mind. Although he never dared to tell anyone, not even his teammates, sometimes…sometimes Akaashi thought of it during class. He would think of each point scored, each point Bokuto pouted for, each point they lost, each point that took them that much closer to winning…
It never failed to bring a smile to his usually indifferent expression.
“I remember, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi said, straightening his posture when he got his bag into a secure place. Not a second later, however, the strap was lifted off by none other than his senpai.
“Bokuto-san,” Keiji pressed in irritation. “W—”
“Hey hey!” Bokuto cut-off, missing Akaashi’s surprised expression when the second-year threw the bag over one of his broad shoulders like it weighed nothing at all. “Remember that one time at nationals when Komi’s shoe came untied, but he still saved the ball with his shoulder and we got the point to win the match?! Wasn’t that awesome?!”
“Of course I remember,” Keiji said. “But…why did you take my bag, Bokuto-san?”
Kotaro blinked a few times, then looked down to where he had the messenger bag hoisted up onto his shoulder.
“Um…because it looked really heavy and I thought it would be nice to carry it for you?” He reasoned innocently.
For a quick second, Akaashi went through his usual checklist; whenever Bokuto was messing with him, he would have this devilish glimmer in his yellow eyes, and he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth from grinning. His tone would be more playful, which only made the first year more suspicious. None of those were the case right now, so Akaashi was pleasantly surprised to find that Bokuto wasn’t just doing a good deed so Akaashi would owe him something later on, like an extra excruciatingly long hour of spiking practice. His simpleminded blinking was enough to confirm that.
“You really don’t have to,” Keiji replied, trying to pry his fingers underneath the strap. “That’s nice of you to—”
“Oh my gosh! I have a math quiz tomorrow!” Bokuto howled, hands going up to his spikey hair. “Quick, Akaashee! Ask me a super hard math question!”
“…I don’t think that will help you study, Bokuto-san. You should—”
“You’re damn right it won’t!” Kotaro grinned, crossing his arms in pride. “Because we went to NATIONALS!”
Akaashi sighed, though he was quite used to being interrupted by the second-year, and growing quite used to the mention of nationals every five-minutes, whenever there was a break in conversation, or whenever someone was in the middle of a sen—
“Speaking of quizzes, I have three next week, so we should hurry home.”
“Right right…super smart setter Akaashi…hey, did you get a chance to look over our predicted line-up for next year?” Bokuto asked excitedly. “It’s just like at nationals—” He gave a loud, happy laugh. “Remember when we went to nationals, Akaashee?! That was so great!!!”
“You’ve been to nationals before, Bokuto-san.” Keiji teased lightly, almost smiling.
“But we never got as far as we did this year!” The wing spiker howled in agony, pulling on his setter’s school jacket. “We’ll get even further next year, right?!”
“I think it’s too soon to tell, Bokuto-san.”
“Akaaashee! How can you say that?!”
Keiji didn’t mind that Bokuto now started each sentence with “Remember that one time at nationals?” He joined in with Bokuto’s conversations, adding his own memories or opinions to each recollection; he reminded his elder about the time he threw his jacket into Akaashi’s face, and the time when he accidently wore Keiji’s shoes for the entire first set of their second game and had blisters for the remainder of the tournament, and the time when they were running out to their side of the net and Akaashi tripped, causing Bokuto and, eventually, the entire team, to trip over top of him. The entire walk to the subway was spent in conversation about volleyball, how they were going to prepare for next year, and how much further they were going to go. Only when they stepped off and had to go their separate ways did Akaashi realize that Bokuto had been carrying his bag for the entire trip.
“Sorry, Bokuto-san,” Keiji said hurriedly, going to reach for his backpack. “I should have taken this back earlier. Thank you for carrying it for me, though.”
“Well we’re not there yet,” Bokuto retaliated, leaning away from the setter. “It’s only a few more blocks.”
“Don’t be so stubborn, Bokuto-san.”
“Stubborn!” The spiker exclaimed wildly. “I’m not stubborn, you are!”
Akaashi rolled his eyes, trying to pry the strap off his senpai’s shoulder, to no avail. He really did appreciate Bokuto’s gesture; not having to carry the heavy bag really took Keiji’s only concern off his shoulder. As a focused and determined person, he wasn’t used to getting quick reliefs and pleasant surprises—usually he just did what he had to do, easy or difficult, possible or impossible.
Things like this made Akaashi relaxed, but they also made him embarrassed, once the bliss of surprise was over.
As the two struggled between the bag, Bokuto began spinning, taking the setter with him as he threw himself around and around.
“Bokuto—”
“Getting dizzy, Akaashi?!”
“Yes,” Keiji admitted, releasing his hold on his own bag. “Please stop spinning, Bokuto-san. You’ll hurt yourself, or me, and I really don’t want my books to be thrown all over the subway floor.”
Bokuto grinned again, but finally slowed his spinning.
“Let’s get to walking. You’ve slowed us down enough, Akaashi.”
Keiji grumbled to himself, feeling awkward about walking through the subway with nothing to hold on to. He followed the second year out of the station and onto the streets, attempting to take his bag back every now and then; by the time Bokuto convinced his setter that it was okay, they were already at the corner where they would go their separate ways. With a triumphant grin, Bokuto held the messenger bag out, balancing it on one finger—that made Akaashi even more irritated.
“Thank you.” Keiji sighed, heaving the bag over his shoulder. “You should ice your shoulder when you get home.”
“Pfff!” Bokuto spat in humor, slapping Akaashi on the arm. “Maybe you should ice your shoulder!”
“Goodbye, Bokuto-san.”
“See you tomorrow at lunch, right? Komi’s bringing us some onigiri! It’ll be really gooood, but I wish he’d bring us meat instead…”
“Be thankful you have friends nice enough to bring you food, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi commented. Kotaro smiled a little, and Keiji found his mood returning to pleasant. “Be productive tonight; make sure you study for your math quiz.”
“Nooooo!” Bokuto whined like a child, giving a groan of laziness.
“I only want you to do well, Bokuto-san.” Keiji retaliated. “I have three quizzes of my own to study for, and they’re a lot harder than yours; I think you can manage to use some of your precious time to at least try to get a high score on your quiz.”
“Mean, Akaashi!”
At that, Keiji almost smiled, and reminded himself that he shouldn’t be so teasing to someone who just carried his heavy bag home for him.
“See you tomorrow, Bokuto-san. Get home safely.”
“I will!” Kotaro said brightly. “You too! Don’t let the bag weigh you down if someone starts to chase you!”
“Noted.”
Bokuto waved as he ran until he turned around the street corner across from Akaashi; the setter turned the opposite direction and began to drag himself towards his home. The backpack seemed a hell of a lot heavier this time around, probably because Keiji wasn’t used to the weight in the first place; Bokuto made it look so easy…his strength was both infuriating and useful.
I wonder what put him in such a generous mood, Akaashi wondered, not really liking the loss of constant conversation. Usually he ends up breaking whatever he’s trying to help with; maybe he’s had a mental breakthrough and we won’t have to suffer through his mood swings anymore. A setter can dream…
Akaashi hiked the bag up for the seventh time, wondering how Bokuto had managed to support the crushing weight.
I suppose even I can get a break once in a while…it’ll be nice when things return to normal, though. I can carry my own bag, not look so bare and awkward on the subway, and I won’t have to worry about Bokuto-san accidently smashing the left pocket full of hard mint candies against a corner, Keiji nodded to himself, nearing his block. This was a one time incident, and as amazing as pleasant surprises are, I like my routine.
Despite his claim, Akaashi’s thoughts drifted back to Bokuto when he found a dog hair belonging to the second-year’s Jack Russell Terrier on his messenger bag.
It’s nice to have someone hold my bag once in a while.
~~~-~~~
The night before Akaashi’s week full of quizzes, he went to bed earlier than usual, as to save his strength for carrying his backpack all the way to school again, the textbooks not granting him any mercy. Bright and early Monday morning, he went out to the station, trying to make his struggle a little less noticeable—for a while, he had a good system going; each corner he went past, he would hike the bag further up onto his shoulder, so that the people around the corner wouldn’t see him, and he could do the same thing on the next corner without anyone asking if he needed help, concerned by the number of times he had been struggling with his backpack.
Unfortunately, Bokuto caught onto the act right away.
“Akaaashee, why are you torturing yourself?!” He cried, jerking the backpack off the setter’s shoulder, nearly taking his arm with it. “You shouldn’t put yourself through so much hell—it is Monday morning, after all.”
“Yes, so why are you so wide awake?” Keiji retaliated, giving the wing spiker an annoyed look. “You carried it yesterday, Bokuto-san, there’s no need for you to spoil me. I already told you I’m going to stay after today and set to you.”
“Exactly!” Kotaro exclaimed, running away from Akaashi as he reached out to take the bag back. “So you shouldn’t strain your shoulder muscles, because that’s the ones you use to set, Akaashi.”
“You need to use your right shoulder for hitting.”
Bokuto stared, then switched the bag over to his left shoulder.
Akaashi gave a deep exhale, wondering why he was giving in so easily. Maybe because it was Monday. Maybe because he had never been a morning person unless he was around old people who were painfully cheery in the morning. Maybe because the idea of carrying his textbooks was just too unpleasant. Whatever the reason, he stopped arguing with Bokuto and listened to him talk about how he studied for an entire fifteen-minutes last night, no pencil sharpening breaks, no snack breaks, no meat breaks, no pee breaks, no TV breaks.
“I feel like a new person, Akaashi; those fifteen-minutes weren’t even that bad, and I actually got the first part of this one problem down! I think my math scores are really going to start shooting up to the positive scale, don’t you?”
“We’ll see.”
In actuality, Bokuto would only add three more points than his usual mathematic score, but for Bokuto, that was a very impressive increase.
That night, the duo spent a good two-hours in the volleyball gymnasium practicing spiking. Akaashi was fresher than usual, which his senpai contributed to the lack of weight on his right shoulder; Keiji himself secretly thought this as well, but would never give Bokuto the satisfaction—he had already thanked him by giving him the pickles from his bento box during lunch, and dedicated his perfect literature score to the second-year, soon to be third-year…what more did he want?
“WHOO!” Kotaro cheered after hitting a volleyball straight down the line. “I’m still the best!!! Say I’m the best, Akaashi!”
“I refuse.”
“AKAHSHEE!”
“You’re the best, Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto grinned like an idiot, puffing out his chest in pride. The decided to call it a day after that, and loosened the nets so they could come back tomorrow, the day after that, and of course, the day after that. As Akaashi was waiting outside for Bokuto to lock-up, he sat down and began to look over his mathematics textbook again; one book was out of the picture now, but there was still growing concern about the algebra problems on the upcoming quiz. To make matters worse, as soon as Keiji began to go over the problems in his head, his stomach gave a loud growl.
“You hungry too, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked to distract the setter from seeing him swiftly throw the messenger bag over his shoulder, just like the other day. “There’s a convenince store for our convenince just down the block.”
“You mean convenience?” Keiji corrected, standing up beside him.
“That’s what I said!”
“I don’t think so, Bokuto-san.”
The wing spiker frowned.
“What did I say?”
“Convenince. It’s conveenience.”
Kotaro mumbled to himself as they walked down the street to the store; Akaashi was glad he brought some money along. His appetite had been huge lately, and now he was in the mood for something sweet, maybe a little tangy, the opposite of what Bokuto always got—that boy’s stomach was relentless.
Walking inside, the peace of the small store was broken as the second-year sprinted down the first aisle, whooshing past Akaashi to find what he was searching for. The lady running the till looked a little surprised, and Keiji mumbled an apology for his teammate (making sure not to say his “friend”), then went in search of his own after-school snack. There were a lot of choices, and he wasn’t in the mood for nanohana today; there were new kinds of bento, but he wasn’t that hungry, and there were lots of mixed smoothie things and fruit packets…Keiji’s eyes stopped on an interesting mixture of everything he wanted: a box of lemon tea cookies. Little in size, big in taste, as Bokuto always said.
The second Akaashi went to grab the box, he was startled by a loud shout.
“WOW!!! They actually have them, Akaashi!!!”
Why did he have to add my name onto the end?!
Keiji turned and saw Bokuto hurrying towards him with a packet of something or other in his waving hand.
“Look what I f—”
“Lower your voice!” Akaashi pleaded, shooting a glance at the poor clerk behind the counter who looked like she was about to have a heart attack. “We’re the only ones in here, so there’s absolutely no reason to shout.”
“Oh—sorry,” Bokuto whispered, his hair practically wilting with his mood. “I was just surprised that they had these.”
“What is it?”
“Fettucine!”
“Fettucine?”
Kotaro held the box up to Akaashi, who couldn’t read the label because the hand holding it was moving around so much.
“It’s this candy that chews like a noodle and looks like a noodle, but it’s not a noodle, it’s actually a gummy!”
Keiji forced himself to give a calming exhale, then nodded once.
“That’s pretty unique…”
“Yeah! I’ll let you have one, if you want to try.”
“I think I’ll stick with my lemon tea cookies, but thanks.”
As Akaashi went to turn towards the register, Bokuto snatched the cookies out of his grip and ran up to the recovering woman behind the counter.
“Just these, please! Sorry for yelling earlier; I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The woman smiled and accepted his apology as Keiji stood behind them, unsure of what was going on.
“That’ll be 296 yen, please.”
“You got it.”
As Bokuto began to pull his crumpled cash out, Akaashi finally put himself into motion and whispered forward to his senpai.
“You don’t have to pay for me, Bokuto-san…I have my own money.”
“Don’t worry about it,” He shrugged, handing the woman his cash. “Teammates pay for each other’s food all the time, right?”
Akaashi couldn’t come up with a response; Bokuto handed him his cookies, tore into his non-noodle noodles, and together, they walked out the door and began the walk to the subway station.
Keiji really liked the lemon tea cookies he picked-out; they smelled and tasted delicious, much better than Bokuto’s sour noodle pieces, which he somehow convinced Akaashi to try. They weren’t as bad as he expected, and as they walked along the sidewalk, the setter figured he had better offer one of his cookies to Bokuto, since he did pay for the box, and since his hunger probably wouldn’t be satisfied until midnight, after his six meals and ten-plus snacks…
Before Akaashi could ask, however, he looked over and found Bokuto’s eyes trained on the box of cookies, his entire bag of the fettucine noodles already gone.
“Can I try one of those, Akaashi?” He asked.
“I don’t know, can you?”
Bokuto looked at Keiji like he had told some sort of riddle; the setter stared back expectantly, but Bokuto had no idea why he had basically just repeated the same words that had come out of his mouth. He blinked a few times, looking between his underclassman and the box—as much as Akaashi wanted to sigh, he was too caught-up in the creamy goodness of the lemon tea cookies that he couldn’t find it in him to be surprised at Bokuto’s airheadedness.
For at least three-minutes, they walked in complete silence as the wing spiker tried to figure out the riddle.
Eventually, he understood.
“MAY I PLEASE—”
Akaashi was already handing him a cookie; Bokuto took it carefully, eyeing the object curiously.
“Is it healthy?”
“Moderately. It’s okay to eat healthy once in a while, Bokuto-san.”
“What’s the flavor?”
“Lemon tea.”
“I don’t like tea, but don’t knock it ‘till you try it!”
Bokuto took a bite out of the cookie and chewed while Akaashi finished the last one, wiping the crumbs off his shirt and onto the pavement; the wing spiker thought for a long minute after swallowing, then shrugged his broad shoulders.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be; I like how sweet it is, though.”
Despite his comment, Bokuto was holding the half-eaten cookie back out to Keiji, who narrowed his eyes at it.
“I don’t want it back, Bokuto-san.”
“Well you can’t waste it, Akaashi! We could give it to the ducks, I suppose…oh, hey, there’s a kid over there, he’ll probably eat it! HEY! HEY KI—”
“I’ll take it,” Keiji interrupted quickly, grabbing the cookie back. Bokuto laughed as the first year inspected the cookie, making sure there were no obvious salvia drips from the wing spiker’s mouth; he could probably eat it if he didn’t know it was there, but…well—in actuality, Akaashi wasn’t too bothered by the fact that he could possibly be eating—well…when you word it that way, it was pretty disgusting. Not to mention, really weird. Very unsanitary. Just because they were friends doesn’t mean they can’t have a problem with…eating off each other’s bites.
It should be okay…even though Bokuto-san is a messy eater, he took his bite carefully because of all the crumbs, Akaashi thought to himself, staring at the food as they walked on. I’m full, but it’s just one little bite, and I hate wasting food, and I don’t want the ducks to get sick from something so sweet…
The second Keiji popped the cookie into his mouth, Bokuto gave another loud shout.
“INDIRECT KISS!”
Akaashi’s mouth tried to fall open in shock, causing the food to get caught in his throat; he started coughing in a desperate attempt to stop himself from choking to death, and Bokuto, as he was still laughing, was whacking him on the back to “help.” By the time the food had been loosened in his throat, Keiji had no desire to swallow it, and turned away to spit the mushed cookie onto the ground. He stayed leaned over on his knees, trying to catch his breath and stop his eyes from watering—Bokuto’s loud cackle was in the background, and Akaashi glanced over with pained eyes to see his senpai doubling-over in laughter.
“Oh my gosh!! Agaashee!” He cried, unable to breathe through his giggles. “A-Are y-you o-okay?! HAhahahaa!!!”
The next ten-minutes were spent relatively quietly, as Keiji was still trying to prevent his lungs from burning, and Bokuto was trying to hide his laughs as to not embarrass his kohai further. Once the setter finally regained his breath, he slowly stood-up, narrowed midnight blue eyes never leaving Bokuto’s.
“Sorry!” Kotaro shouted before Akaashi could speak. “I didn’t mean to make you choke! Komi just yelled that at me the other day, so I thought of it when I saw you eating the cookie! Are you okay?! Do you need water?! I can run and get you some water from the pond!”
“That won’t be necessary, Bokuto-san.” Keiji sighed. “You just…startled me. But I’m counting this as payback for when you carried my bag and bought me snacks today.”
Bokuto’s golden eyes widened in stress, and he dramatically fell to his knees, clinging to the setter’s sweatpants.
“I’m sorry, Akaashi! I won’t do it again, I swear! And I’ll carry your backpack and keep buying you snacks to make it up to you, I swear!”
Keiji was beginning to have a headache.
“…And I won’t pout during practice, and I’ll hit all my straights in, every single time, and I—”
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi cut him off. “We all know those are promises you can’t keep. I already said it’s okay.”
Kotaro paused his ramblings to wilt and pout to himself.
“Don’t be so sure I can’t keep those promises!” The second-year howled, pointing accusingly at Akaashi. “I could do it if I had a little support!”
“As much as I’d love to prove you wrong, Bokuto-san, we have a train to catch.”
“Fine. But I’m not sharing my fettucine noodles with you next time!”
“That won’t be a loss on my part.”
As Bokuto began rambling again, Akaashi found his head stuck in the clouds; he only gets joy out of teasing Komi, Keiji thought in confusion. Why would he borrow a joke from him? Shouldn’t he have been embarrassed too, if it was an “indirect kiss”? A kiss involves two people. I’m not the only guilty one here…
Then again, maybe I’m the guilty one for still thinking about how I indirectly kissed Bokuto-san…
Slyly, Akaashi glanced over at Kotaro on the train; he was whistling to himself, annoying the business people next to them, but soothing the setter’s fried nerves. His lips are just right. Not too rough, though not very soft, a little on the chapped side…I’ve seen him putting on chapstick hundreds of times throughout the day. They’re not very wide or defined, kinda thin, probably from all the yelling and talking he does…they’re getting dryer and dryer from the whistling…and they brushed part of the cookie he gave back to me—the cookie which I ate enough to have come in contact with that part of the cookie.
…It really WAS an indirect kiss…
“See you tomorrow, Akaashi!”
“Yeah…see you.”
Well, Keiji thought, watching Bokuto disappear around the corner. This is definitely not how I imagined my first kiss happening.
~~~-~~~
For a good four weeks, Bokuto and Akaashi went through the same routine—even after the “indirect kiss” incident. They would go to open gyms, walk to the store, pick out some snacks, share them with each other, and walk back home. Each day, Bokuto would carry Akaashi’s backpack, no matter how heavy or how light, and each day, he would pay for his snack, never thinking twice about it. Keiji wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to any of this, and he never really thought about it, because they were always stuck in interesting, and, for Bokuto, relatively normal conversations. He let himself fall into this strange routine, making sure to pick cheap snacks as to not break Bokuto’s budget, if he even had one…it seemed that no matter how much Akaashi insisted, Bokuto wanted to buy snacks for him. He wanted to carry Akaashi’s bag for him.
But why?
That was the question Keiji asked himself every day. He was already part of the team, so there was no reason for his senpai to be sucking up to him…he already said he would help Bokuto with his straights, so there was no reason for him to be trying to bribe the setter…and since the “indirect kiss” incident, he had been avoiding conversations that had to do with relationships and crushes for most of that time. When Konoha started talking about Karasuno’s managers, Kotaro bolted, and said he had homework to do.
What a pathetic lie.
When Komi mentioned how good-looking Tanaka’s older sister was, and told Bokuto he should get her number, the wing spiker had laughed awkwardly—Bokuto laughing awkwardly. His behavior was getting more and more confusing, and even Akaashi didn’t want to bring it up, and usually, he had no problem talking about Kotaro’s shortcomings and mood swings; however…the more time he spent with Bokuto walking home and eating snacks, the less he wanted to hurt his feelings. If bringing up this strange topic was going to send the second year and new vice-captain into an early menopause stage, he didn’t want to be responsible.
And so, Akaashi continued to let Bokuto buy him snacks, carry his bag, and talk up a storm.
Secretly, Keiji had been keeping track of how much money Kotaro spent on him; the bill was adding up, and eventually, Akaashi decided that the only way to discreetly pay the wing spiker back was by not paying what he owed, but repaying him for the tax on the snacks. He devised a plan that involved sneaking a few coins into his bag every now and then (Bokuto would never question it; “Look what I found in my bag, Akaashee! Looks like I forgot to empty the money out of my bag from the time we went to NATIONALS!”), and eventually, when the school year ended, Keiji would be free of this cage.
Not that he wasn’t enjoying spending so much time with Bokuto…
Walking home was becoming the highlight of his day. He didn’t have to carry his bag, because Bokuto always did it for him, without complaining once, which was a big feat for the big baby. Keiji didn’t have to pay for his snacks, which varied between days, and sometimes, he was even greeted after school with a snack already in hand—sometimes Kotaro would buy him the healthy things he knew the setter liked, but once in a while, he would buy sugary sweets, like karinto donut pieces. Akaashi liked the brown sugar kind, and Bokuto now kept a bag on-hand, in case his kohai was in the dangerous mood for something unhealthy.
Keiji loved the conversations they had; volleyball only came up once in a blue moon, and Akaashi was surprised to find out that Bokuto liked talking about other sports—usually his pride got in the way whenever the setter mentioned a different talented sportstar, and the topic would be brought back around to how much Bokuto had improved on his straight shots, but other than that, they could usually get through the subway ride without losing the conversation or interrupted with awkward silences.
Sometimes, when the sun was setting later than usual, Akaashi would forget that he had his own snack and reach over to share Bokuto’s; the wing spiker never minded, and Keiji eventually noticed how eager and happy Kotaro seemed to get when the first year slipped-up like this. He was still counting the tax, and had scrounged up enough coins to start repaying Bokuto, but for weeks straight, this plot fell away, because every time the pair met up to walk home together, Akaashi forgot.
He forgot what life had been like before he had someone to carry his bag. He forgot what it was like to pay for his own snacks. He was now used to having someone carry his bag for him, buy sugary and healthy snacks for him, pick rocks out of his sneakers for him, talk about nanohana mustard dressing for him…
“Akaashi!” Bokuto whisper-yelled, freezing in his tracks to grab the setter’s jacket and tug on it excitedly. “Look! Baby ducklings!”
Sure enough, a mother and her baby ducks were waddling around in the middle of a park to their right; they were searching for food, and immediately, Keiji thought of those bread crumbs they bought the other day, mistaking them for not a cooking ingredient, but a casual snack.
“The bread crumbs,” Akaashi whispered back, leaning over Bokuto to dig through his messy backpack. “Remember, the ones we bought the other day?”
“Oh yeah! Gimme some, I wanna go first!”
Keiji rolled his eyes, but opened the package and dumped a generous amount into Bokuto’s awaiting hands. Suddenly, Kotaro’s age rewinded a good eight years—his playful golden eyes turned wonder-filled, and he sank down onto his knees and began slowly waddling towards the ducks, his hands outstretched. His expression was tense, like he was afraid they would reject his offering; the only other time Akaashi saw the wing spiker so stressed was during the height of his dejected-emo mode, but this was different, somehow…
This kind of hesitance, the ones that made Bokuto’s lips straight, eyes wide and full of energy…this was the same kind as when Keiji caught the second year staring at him while they ate their snacks.
What did that mean?
“Here duckies…here little duckies!”
“Try throwing them some first.” Akaashi suggested quietly, creeping-up behind Bokuto as the ducklings turned their attention towards them. He didn’t feel the slightest bit ridiculous that he was crawling around a park trying to feed ducks, because who wouldn’t want to feed the cutest little fuzzy animals in the world? “Sprinkle some right in front of them.”
Bokuto obeyed, and tossed some of the bread crumbs out towards the ducks; Keiji feared that the mother duck would freak out on them, but she didn’t—instead, she came forward first, and got within five-feet of the teenage boys, inspecting the bread crumbs carefully. The ducklings swarmed the pieces, eating them all within three-seconds; Bokuto giggled and slunk forward a few more inches.
“Come here duckies…come on little ducks!” He cooed gently. “There’s more food over here! Come on! You can do it!”
Remarkably, the tiny brown-feathered ducklings came forward immediately, and as Bokuto lowered his huge palms, began eating directly from them.
“Oooooooo!” Kotaro squealed, almost losing his composure. He jerked his head over to grin at Keiji, but this was a different kind of smile—it matched the one he sent towards Akaashi when he asked if he could try the unhealthy snack he bought. “Look Akaashi! They’re eating from my hand!!!”
Keiji didn’t reply, but didn’t hide the way his lips slowly curved upwards into a relaxed, serenity smile.
The first year joined in on the feeding, supplying the frightening mother duck with nutrients; Bokuto whined when Akaashi was able to fit more bread crumbs in his hands, but he could hardly fall into his emo mode when baby ducklings were surrounding him, pecking at his clothes and ruffling their velvet-like feathers against his fingers. Keiji didn’t think he had ever been happier, and upon seeing Bokuto’s shining grin, almost full of more pride than he had on the volleyball court, he figured Kotaro felt the same way.
“Look, Akaashi! This one’s letting me pet it!!!”
Bokuto let out another squeal of happiness, and the boys spent an entire hour feeding and talking to the duckling family.
This is so nice, Akaashi thought later that night, as he and Bokuto finished their bag of karinto donut pieces, having missed the earliest train due to their duckling-stop. I don’t feel so guilty anymore because Bokuto-san and I aren’t just friends anymore; this is what boyfriends do. I don’t have to repay him with anything but conversation and politeness, which I do anyway. I’m really glad he started doing this for me—I deserve a little break every now and then, even from something as simple as carrying my bag. I wonder if—
When Keiji realized what he just thought, he knew he had to get the Japanese tax into Bokuto’s bag—immediately.
~~~-~~~
A week before his first year at Fukurodani Academy came to an end, Akaashi Keiji was walking through the hallways with a bag full to the brim with coins inside his backpack, the amount he owed Bokuto for all the tax on the snacks he bought so far.
Where’s Bokuto-san’s? Keiji thought, hurriedly searching for the soon-to-be-third-year’s locker. I need to get at least a few coins into his bag by lunch time; I only have a week to do it, so I’d better put in a little more than I originally planned. He’ll probably buy me something today, too, but I’ll just have to grant myself mercy on that tax.
Struggling to find his senpai’s locker, Akaashi turned the corner, and, wouldn’t you know it, came face to face with Bokuto himself.
“Hey hey, Akaashi! I was just looking for you!” Kotaro cheered, throwing an arm around Keiji’s shoulder. The first year was powerless to stop the wing spiker as he began dragging Akaashi forward. “We, the almost-third-years, are having lunch outside today, but I convinced them to let you join us, because we’ve got a keep an eye on you, ya know.”
“I don’t see why.”
“Because you’re so studious, Akaashee! We have to make sure you eat your lunch!”
“I eat enough, I assure you.”
Bokuto laughed and let Keiji squirm out of his grip; they walked together in silence, Akaashi’s bag growing heavier and heavier on his right side. Damn coins, he thought grudgingly, taking out his bento for lunch. Why does Bokuto have to be so nice to me? Why do I have to repay him? Stupid Japanese snack tax…stupid falling-apart messenger bags…
“Akaashi?”
“Hm?”
The second years were staring at him curiously.
“Did you hear us? There’s no open gym today, because coach is out of town for something.” Bokuto pouted, stabbing his food with unnecessary force. “I’ve been in the zone lately, too! This is so badly timed!”
“Mm,” Akaashi hummed. “But we can catch the train that’s less busy today, then.”
The other second years jumped at how quickly Kotaro’s mood changed.
“Great!” He grinned excitedly. “And I’m gunna buy that cool peach snack today! You know, Komi? The one I was telling you about? The one your little sister really likes?”
“You’ve mentioned it once or twice, yeah.”
“They’re just like straws! We can’t wait to try them, right, Akaashee?!”
Keiji didn’t answer; he was too busy worrying about the heap of coins in his backpack—he didn’t think the amount of money he had was enough to repay Bokuto for making his evenings the best hours of his life.
~~~-~~~
After school, everything moved too quickly for Keiji to comprehend—when he got to his locker, Bokuto was already waiting, Akaashi’s bag in hand, saying they had to hurry because the store was closing earlier than usual today. He dragged the first year out of the school and practically ran them to the convenience store, snatching up a box of the new snack he wanted to try so desperately; they were called picola, and apparently, they were these sticks that had flavored yogurt inside. Akaashi really liked them, and was amused at how Bokuto found entertainment in blowing through the tiny hole between the layers of yogurt.
“These are sooo gooood!” Kotaro exclaimed through his bite. “Why did we not buy these sooner, Akaashi?!”
“I didn’t buy anything,” He commented blankly, keeping an eye on the noticeable bag of coins protruding from his backpack, hung across Bokuto’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you pick them out sooner?”
“There’s too many choices; I can’t be expected to make the best decisions every second of every day.”
Akaashi raised his eyebrows, wondering when the last time Bokuto had made a “best decision.” His expression made Kotaro whine, so Keiji gave him a break and walked in silence, munching on the peach-flavored straws.
This is too difficult, Akaashi thought in annoyance, staring at the ground in contemplation. Maybe I should just give him the bag; he’ll complain and refuse to accept it, but I can force him to accept it. I can’t keep carrying it around with me…sooner or later he’ll feel it in my bag…he won’t be clever enough to figure out what’s inside, but still—I’ll break my backpack carrying this for another week, and I need to repay him so we can get this mess cleared-up. Then maybe I won’t—
“Y—”
Keiji glanced over, expecting Bokuto to continue; he didn’t, however, and Akaashi watched as the spikey-haired boy closed his mouth tightly, glancing over to see if the setter had heard him.
“Yes, Bokuto-san?”
“Nothing,” He said immediately, shaking his head. “It was an accident.”
“…Okay.”
Within a few seconds, it became perfectly clear that the lost syllable hadn’t been an accident; Bokuto kept opening and closing his mouth, looking over at Akaashi and looking away from Akaashi, like he forgot how to communicate. Keiji wondered what topic could possibly be so strong as to prevent Bokuto from being able to shout and ramble about it. The more he thought about it, the more he had some questions of his own that needed asking; maybe then Kotaro would remember what exactly he wanted to say.
“Bokuto-san.”
Akaashi slowly stopped his stride, causing Bokuto to stop as well, and look over at him hesitantly.
“Why do you find the need to carry my bag every day?” He asked. “I understand just once, but is there any specific reason you continue to do it for me?”
Kotaro looked down and began playing with his fingers, remaining silent.
“…Do you think I’m weak?”
“No, no, no!” Bokuto hurried to say, the exact response Akaashi wanted. “It’s not that! I just like doing stuff for you, that’s all!”
“I understand that, but…don’t you think this is a little excessive?” Keiji questioned. “Just because we’re friends and teammates doesn’t mean you’re responsible for buying me snacks and carrying my books for me.”
Bokuto almost hesitated again, but this time, his mouth couldn’t hold back the dead-serious words that drifted from his lips.
“But we’re not just friends and teammates.”
Kotaro said the sentence so sternly and so simply that Akaashi believed him instantly—streets of Tokyo were amazingly quiet for this moment. The boys stood there in silence, trying to decipher what this statement meant; Akaashi kept his lips closed, not knowing how to respond, while Bokuto wasn’t sure if he should elaborate, or if he could even manage to elaborate.
“I—”
It was Keiji who cut himself off this time, but his short syllable had triggered a confident response in Bokuto.
“I like doing unexpected things for you,” He blurted out firmly, hands forming fists at his sides. “I like holding your bag for you because I like the look on your face when you’re pleasantly surprised. It’s really cute to see you so relaxed—I mean, carrying a bag isn’t really stressful, for most people, at least, and you’re good at carrying your bag, you never complain, but I just like doing nice things like that because it makes me feel good about myself when I see you pleasantly surprised.”
Akaashi couldn’t respond.
“And the snacks!” Bokuto continued, stepping closer to Keiji to show him the peach straws. “The snacks are just another little thing like that! You’re a cute little eater, and you always say how you wanna get stronger for volleyball, and since I got stronger by eating a lot more, I figured this was a good way to start, you know? And also…sharing them with you…is just really nice.” The spiker blushed, grinning sheepishly as he played with the yogurt sticks. “I like sharing with you…and I don’t let you pay because they’re just snacks, and I don’t have anything better to spend my money on, but I know you’re probably saving up for some cool school gear or something, maybe a new backpack, since this one’s getting a little old…and I wish you wouldn’t worry about that so much, because it’s not like snacks are expensive; plus…I don’t think I could ever get mad at you for spending my money, Akaashi!”
That’s true, Keiji thought blankly. If I were to spend money Bokuto had been saving for some video game, he would probably just ask me what I used it for and be completely okay with it. If I were to buy more expensive snacks, he wouldn’t say anything, because as long as I liked the snack and looked happy, he would be okay with it. He’s such a gullible mess, a silly little second year, a childish, pouting volleyball player with a hell of a lot of confidence, stupid long kneepads, toned biceps, owl hair, one of the loudest voices I have ever heard, and a big heart—
He’s Bokuto.
And apparently…Bokuto…LIKES me.
“I guess I do all this stuff…because it’s unexpected.” Kotaro continued lightly. His golden eyes never left Akaashi’s. “And…whenever I do something unexpected on the court, you always look really proud and happy! And as much as I love surprising people, I like doing it to you the best—like this!”
Bokuto ignored Akaashi’s flinch, sliding his fingers through the setter’s, firmly holding their palms together.
“See? …Surprised!” Kotaro laughed awkwardly, looking at Keiji’s widened blue eyes.
For a moment, they just stood there silently, neither sure what to do now. Bokuto was proving his point well, but now that he was pleasantly surprised, Akaashi had no words. He just stared down at their hands, wondering how he had never noticed how soft Bokuto’s hands were when they high-fived. He wondered how he had never realized that his hands were longer than Bokuto’s, even after all the volleyball-palming contests they had during practice. He wondered how he hadn’t thought of this sooner—how could Bokuto, of all people, initiate the first move? It was as mortifying as it was relieving. He supposed it was because of how simpleminded he could be sometimes…
At least he has some game, Keiji thought anxiously, hurriedly trying to come up with a suitable response. But how did this happen? I’ve liked him WAY longer than he’s liked me; how was he the one to make the first move? It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. What do I say? How can I even function like this, with him holding my hand because it’s a surprise?!
When Keiji looked back up, trailing over Bokuto’s form until he met his eyes, he found Kotaro already looking at him, the same way he had been looking at him for the past six weeks. His throat was dry, and his lips were cracked, but he forced himself to say those three little words.
“…O-Okay then, Bokuto-san.”
Kotaro grinned cheerfully, straightening his posture; he glanced from their enjoined hands and back up to Keiji at least fifteen times before tightening his grip sweetly and nudging his arm against the setter’s, almost throwing him onto the pavement, due to his sudden lightheartedness.
“OKAY!” Bokuto shouted, unable to control his urge to yell his favorite catchphrase; he did it whenever he accomplished something, so of course he had to say it now. “HEY HEY HEY!!!”
“Are you going to yell that every time we do something like this, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked with a light, embarrassed smile. “Please warn me beforehand, if you are.”
Bokuto only smiled a happy smile and inched closer to Keiji; when he ran his thumb across the smooth, ticklish top side of Akaashi’s hand, the first year about fainted, and squeezed his senpai’s hand tighter as a response. The dark-haired boy thought of all the snacks they shared, all the conversations they had about ducklings, owl courting rituals, their new volleyball uniforms, why they chose their numbers, all the meaningless talks about who invented all the famous Japanese snacks they were eating…for some reason, they fit. Such simple things apparently had a meaning in the life of Bokuto Kotaro and Akaashi Keiji—they were the stepping stones that lead them to this quiet, but very loud, very adorable moment.
As they strolled down the street, Bokuto began lightly swinging their hands back and forth, offering the last of the peach straws to Akaashi, who decided that eating would help keep his lips from trembling, or his mouth from blurting out all the things he liked to do for Bokuto, too; how he liked to hide Bokuto’s three favorite volleyballs for hitting practice for their cart, how he liked to wipe dirt off Bokuto’s uniform in the mornings, how he liked to stay after for hitting practice just to see Bokuto work really hard, how he liked to relieve Bokuto of his dehydration by offering him his water…come to think of it, they had a lot of indirect kisses before that one night. The thought only made Akaashi smile wider.
After a few minutes of grins and innocent nudges, Kotaro brought up a different topic.
“Hey, hey,” Bokuto prompted curiously. “Why is one side of your bag so heavy?”
“Oh,” Keiji blushed, trying to keep his expression casual. “I have a bag of coins in the right pocket.”
“How many coins?! It’s gunna break the seams on your bag, Akaashi!”
“Well,” Akaashi sighed lightly, glancing down fondly at their intertwined hands. “Japanese tax can be costly.”
But it’s definitely worth it.