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Akaashi Keiji is never the one to sleep in until noon. Though he’s definitely not an early riser, he can always count on the yapping of his annoying roommate to wake him up. Though this time, it’s the heavy weight on his back, accompanied with the sound of groaning right in his ear. When he opens his eyes, he takes in the large figure draped over him like a blanket.
“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi sighs, pushing uselessly at his shoulders, failing to pry him off.
“I’m never drinking again.”
“You’ve said that every time after a hangover, yet you—”
“Akaashi.”
“—still drink more than you can handle, despite—”
“Akaashi.” Bokuto rolls off and lands on the ground with a crash, successfully shutting Akaashi up. “I feel like I’m dying.”
After pursing his lips for a while, Akaashi decides that for once, Bokuto isn’t being overdramatic. Well, just a little. “Coffee?”
Bokuto shakes his head. “I’m going to throw up.”
“Get up from the floor. I’ll make you tea.”
“I can’t.” Bokuto whines and yanks at his disheveled bed hair.
Akaashi sighs, grabbing Bokuto’s wrist to pull him up into a sitting position.
When Akaashi comes back from the kitchen with a hot mug of ginger tea, Bokuto’s entire body
lifeless. He finds it a little unsettling, without Bokuto’s booming permanent-outdoor-voice. He nudges at his side, managing to get a response out of Bokuto, though it was a barely audible groan. Akaashi pries the hot mug into Bokuto’s cold hands and moves to sit beside him on the ground.
“It’ll help with the headache.”
Bokuto frowns at his mug before taking a tiny sip. He doesn’t even wince at the how hot the liquid should be. Instead, he pouts at the ground. “I can’t. I’ll throw up.”
Akaashi’s lips turn down into a frown. “I warned you last night. Though you gave me a monologue about being a grown up who could handle his alcohol and ended up completely hammered—”
“I feel like dying.” Bokuto lets his head fall onto Akaashi’s shoulder and clinches his eyes shut. “How many shots?”
“Do you really want to know?” Bokuto’s lack of response accompanied by the furrowing of eyebrows makes Akaashi roll his eyes. “Somewhere around sixteen.”
Once again, Bokuto groans. He shoves his head onto Akaashi’s lap. “How about you? Were you not drinking?”
“I was prepared for what was coming the next day. It wouldn’t be convenient to have the both of us drunk.” Akaashi reasons calmly, trying and failing to shove Bokuto’s head off his lap. He gives up with a sigh. “You’re a handful, Bokuto-san.”
“Why d’you still put up with me?”
Akaashi opened his mouth, then shuts it. Partly because he knows Bokuto’s too hungover to comprehend anything, and partly because he doesn’t really know the answer himself. Why does he put up with Bokuto?
“Hey, Akaashi. Thanks for putting up with me. You’re a great person, and I really, really like you.”
Akaashi’s head snaps down to meet a wide-eyed Bokuto.
“Uh, I mean—” Bokuto pushes his hands onto his blushing red face. He doesn’t add anything else. The rest of the day, he’s very purposely looking away and pretending to sleep. Akaashi decides not to comment on any of his motives. He’s too confused to comprehend anything. Instead, he decides to watch over his childish upperclassman until he stirs.
Bokuto rises to a sitting position, closely imitating Akaashi’s slouch against the head of the bead. “Akaashi.” He mumbles, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.
Akaashi puts down his book and gives Bokuto a heavy-lidded look.
“I wonder how you’d react if I kissed you?”
Akaashi’s eyes widen by the slightest.
“You’re always giving me that same bored face.” Bokuto says. “Though you do have a nice face.”
“Bokuto-san.”
“Akaashi. Keiji.” A slight smirk lingers on his lips. A split second later, Bokuto leans forward and kisses Akaashi.
It’s not awful. It really isn’t.
Bokuto’s lips are slightly chapped in a way that isn’t suppose to feel nice, but it feels raw and rough and kinda of endearing. Akaashi’s hands leave his sides to gentle sit atop of Bokuto’s shoulders. They don’t do that much touching at all—it’s just a kiss. And when they pull apart for air, Akaashi’s face is flushed, and his mouth is slightly hanging open.
“So you can make other faces too.” Bokuto’s voice is taunting and his smirk is growing wider.
Akaashi clicks his tongue. Then he notices the slightest blush emerging on Bokuto’s face and grabs the front of Bokuto’s shirt, pulling their faces close. He gives Bokuto one heavy-lidded look before kissing him.
“H-hey, what was that—”
Before Bokuto has a chance to trip over his words, Akaashi stands from the bed and walks to the door. Only after he’s exited the room does he allow himself the smallest of smiles.