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During training camp, Bokuto was rarely seen without Akaashi, if ever. Kuroo knows how taken Bokuto is by his setter, and how obsessed Akaashi is when it comes to anything about Bokuto. They fit together perfectly, annoyingly so.
So when Kuroo finds Akaashi there before Bokuto in the gymnasium, he can’t stop himself from asking what’s gotten into him.
“Despite what you may think, Bokuto-san and I aren’t joined at the hip. He’s still writing his captain’s report,” is Akaashi’s answer.
“Fair enough. Or you know, he could be grabbing a bite to eat. He’s always complaining about how hungry he is.”
Akaashi shrugs. “Perhaps,” he leaves it at that, and starts to warm up. Kuroo doesn’t expect Akaashi to go out of his way to find Bokuto. They always end up bumping into each other, sooner or later. Besides, Bokuto screaming Akaashi’s name is hard to miss.
Kuroo lets it go, and heads over to Lev. “Oi, don’t tell me you ran away from your receiving practice again! I’ll tell Yaku you’re slacking!”
Lev yelps, attempting to scuttle away from him. He’s grabbed by his t-shirt, and faceplants directly into the ground. “Geh, Kuroo-san! Don’t! I’ll die!”
“Tough shit.”
***
Something is shifting in Bokuto’s head.
Or more accurately, his brain is sliding to and fro, like a cruise ship on a rough sea. He can’t focus on his writing. He’s dizzy and exhausted, even before evening practice. Something is wrong with him, but he can’t pinpoint it.
“Hey, Bokuto? How long are you planning to take with that?”
Kuroo enters the room, but Bokuto only presses his head into the desk. “I still need a few more lines…” he groans, rubbing his forehead. The back of his eyes start to throb.
“Well, come on. Akaashi’s waiting for you. His tosses aren’t going to spike themselves.” Kuroo laughs, but Bokuto isn’t sure if he’s up for spiking today. If he’s asked why, he won’t know how to answer, but something feels off.
Bokuto lets out a groan. “I’ll be there in a second…”
Without warning, Kuroo presses his palm against Bokuto’s neck. “Hey, you’re warmer than usual. You feeling okay?” The coldness feels amazing on Bokuto’s skin, and he lets out a groan of pleasure.
“I’m just sleepy. Be there in a moment…” Bokuto curls up, and Kuroo pries him away from the desk. He squeezes his eyes shut as his head pounds from behind his eyes. His stomach starts to churn.
Kuroo shakes his head, touching Bokuto’s cheek and neck with a comfortably cold hand. “You’re pretty feverish. Don’t practice for the rest of today, and get some sleep.”
Instead of protesting, Bokuto nods in agreement. “Yeah. I think I’ll just sleep… I’m really tired.” He rubs at his stomach, hoping to calm it down.
“I’ll get you some water. Just stay there.”
Bokuto doesn’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. Truthfully, even water doesn’t feel appealing to him. His stomach lets out an ungodly gurgle, and he wraps his arms around the unhappy organ gently.
His clothes feel wet against his skin, and he realises it’s his sweat. His mouth feels too full, and some spit drips down his chin. He quickly wipes it off before Kuroo comes back.
Bokuto wishes he’d gone easy on the fried chicken pieces during dinner. His endless appetite caused him to eat as much as his stomach would possibly allow. Now, all of the food sits heavily in his stomach, and just the thought of a grain of rice makes him want to gag.
“Hey, Bokuto? I got some water for you.” Kuroo comes back with a plastic cup in his hand, and Bokuto lifts his head slightly. “You okay? Does it hurt anywhere?”
“My head, a little. And my stomach.” Bokuto admits truthfully, taking the cup from Kuroo. He doesn’t want anything near his mouth, but some water in his system could perhaps stop his body from feeling so overheated.
Kuroo wraps an arm around him, as he takes a sip of water. “Wow, your fever seems high. Sleep properly, okay?”
Bokuto swallows the water little by little, and shivers as a chill hits his spine. He trembles uncontrollably, as his stomach growls under his hand. Kuroo rubs his back, small circles comforting him as best as he can.
“Really don’t feel good,” Bokuto groans, unable to sit upright by himself. A small hiccup escapes his lips, and he feels the water he just drank move up to the back of his throat.
“Does your stomach feel any better?” Kuroo asks worriedly. “Maybe I should get Akaashi. It’ll be better with two of us instead of just me.”
Bokuto nods. Akaashi is a good caretaker, and relaxing to be around. He always trusts him to make him feel better, in any situation.
But his stomach clenches, reminding him that he’s still very sick. “Kuroo…” he calls out in a whine, covering his mouth with his palm. “Think I’m going to puke.”
Kuroo’s eyes widen. “Shit, shit, shit. Just wait a moment, I’ll get something!” He darts off out of the room, and Bokuto can only manage a nod. He presses his hands to his mouth desperately. He needs to hold it in until Kuroo comes back.
But his stomach aches, and nothing’s there to calm it. Panic settles in his eyes as he feels a thick warmth rise in his throat. His breathing quickens, and chokes him as he attempts to hold it down. The dizziness is so bad that he can’t see what’s going on.
Kuroo isn’t back yet, but Bokuto’s reached his limit. The room flashes between boiling hot and agonizingly cold, and he shudders from the sudden change in temperature.
He needs to get somewhere where he can control the amount of damage he’ll do. But how he’ll do that is a question he doesn’t know how to answer. And in less than thirty seconds, he’s positive that he’ll lose it.
Bokuto shifts his position so that he’s sitting on the floor, hands pressed firmly against his mouth. A wet belch squeezes out of his chest, and he tastes bitter air in his mouth. He can feel a gag forming behind his throat, his stomach squeezing until his cheeks swell.
No, he doesn’t have any idea what to do yet. But his body won’t listen to him. He vomits forcefully, and he isn’t able to contain all of it. His throat fights to swallow it back down, but his mouth is forced open, and warm sick splatters into his palm.
Bokuto’s mouth is filled with more vomit, as soon as the first wave is over. He fights to keep it in his mouth as he retches, chest squeezing painfully with the force. The illusion of control he thought he had disappears as quickly as it appears. A wet burp forces the puke out of his mouth, through his fingers and onto the floor.
“Oh my god. Bokuto, are you okay?!” Kuroo comes back with a bucket, only to find Bokuto breathing heavily, sitting in his own vomit. Bokuto’s still swallowing desperately, gulping painfully as he fights the inevitable.
As soon as Kuroo sets down the bucket, Bokuto fumbles for it and vomits harshly. His throat hurts from the retch he’s held down for so long, and he’s barely able to suck in a breath before he’s heaving up a slurry of undigested food into the bucket.
“Here, easy… It’s all right. I’ve got ya.” Kuroo holds the bucket in place as Bokuto’s fingers are soaked and slippery, and pats his back with his other hand. A thick, slimy stream pours from his mouth, dripping onto his chin.
Bokuto’s eyes are bloodshot from the heaving, and a dry gag pushes out of him. He’s stopped spewing all over the place for now, but there’s a mess around him from when he didn’t have the bucket.
Kuroo holds him as he trembles, stroking his hair. “You feeling any better?” He takes the bucket, half-filled with vomit. Bokuto still feels nauseous, but the throwing up has stopped for now.
“Not really…” Bokuto whispers, and Kuroo grabs a box of tissues, wiping the refuse off Bokuto’s face and hands. He also needs a change of clothes, too. Sweat and vomit sticks his t-shirt to his skin.
“How did it get on your forehead? ...Here, change into your spare clothes. I’ll go and get Akaashi.” Kuroo locates Bokuto’s enamelled bag and pulls out a plain blue t-shirt and shorts. “Poor thing, you really are sick.”
Bokuto nods, pulling his soiled clothes off himself and replacing them with fresh ones. Extra practice is out of the question. He can barely lift his arm for a spike, and his stomach is cramping horribly from the contractions.
To add insult to injury, he’s shivering even worse, without anything to keep him warm. He knows his fever’s gotten higher. His eyes water, and heat radiates off his skin.
***
“Hey, Akaashi!”
Kuroo’s voice is panicked, and Akaashi immediately tenses. He knows it has to be about Bokuto. Alarm fills him.
“Did something happen? Is he all right?”
Kuroo doesn’t even question how Akaashi knows it’s about Bokuto, already. “He has a high fever and he just threw up everywhere.” Akaashi’s eyes widen. “We should probably get a teacher after we clean him up, in case he gets worse.”
Akaashi nods, and follows Kuroo to the room where Bokuto is. A sharp, sour smell hits him as he enters, and a puddle of vomit sits beside Bokuto. As soon as Bokuto catches sight of him, his eyes water immediately.
“Akaashi, I… I didn’t feel good, and…” Bokuto cuts himself off with a sob, the fever throwing his emotions out of control. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t… Akaashi, I’m sorry!”
Akaashi lets his gaze meet Bokuto’s, nodding. “I understand. I’m here now, Bokuto-san. I know you’re feeling unwell, and I want to make you comfortable.” He wraps his arm around Bokuto’s too-warm body, patting his shoulder in a comforting rhythm. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling? Where does it hurt the most?”
It breaks Akaashi’s heart to have to question Bokuto so mercilessly, just minutes after he’s thrown up. Bokuto whines, exhaling a hot breath into Akaashi. “My stomach hurts, and I feel really cold and dizzy…”
“Mmhm. We’ll get you some blankets, how does that sound?” Akaashi coaxes answers out of Bokuto successfully, while Kuroo watches in awe. “Kuroo-san, could you call one of the teachers?”
Kuroo scampers off, relieved to be of help. Akaashi hands Bokuto some water, urging him to drink in small sips. “Don’t push yourself if you’re nauseous.” He tells Bokuto firmly, stroking his hair with all the wax sweated out.
“Okay,” Bokuto mumbles, taking only a few mouthfuls of water enough to wash the bitterness out of his mouth. “My stomach still hurts…”
Akaashi places his palm onto Bokuto’s stomach, as it makes unhappy gurgles under his touch. He doesn’t put much pressure on Bokuto’s stomach, and rubs circles gently. Bokuto moans weakly, but doesn’t protest or try to move away. It’s proof that it’s working.
“Bokuto, we’re going to move you to a bedroom. Akaashi will stay with you, if you need him.”
Their coach comes in, and assists Akaashi in lifting Bokuto up. Bokuto lets out a cry of pain as he’s hauled up, but relaxes when Akaashi pats his back reassuringly. “You can go to sleep. I know you’re tired from being sick.”
Bokuto flops in his arms, fever wearing him out faster than any penalty activities. “But ‘m cold,” he whines, and Akaashi can feel him shiver violently. He feels a twinge of sympathy in his chest.
Akaashi sets Bokuto down on a futon, pulling the covers up and wrapping a blanket around him. His coach pops a thermometer under his tongue, and Akaashi holds him upright so he won’t collapse into the pillow.
“He’s running a fever of thirty-nine degrees. If it gets any higher, we’ll have to get him to a hospital.”
Akaashi nods, although it seems highly unlikely. “It’s a case of stomach flu, I’m pretty sure. And I’ve read that the best cure for that is to get plenty of rest and get rid of whatever bad thing there is.”
In other words, there isn’t much Akaashi can do to alleviate Bokuto’s pain. He can only watch Bokuto as he shivers and writhes, delirious from the fever. And only for a limited time, too. He still has his duties as the vice captain.
“Akaashi, it hurts.” Bokuto sobs, panting in harsh breaths. “My stomach hurts.”
Akaashi places his arms around Bokuto’s middle, so that Bokuto’s head presses to his chest. “I’m here for you.” he rubs at Bokuto’s stomach, ignoring how helpless he feels in front of him. “Tell me if the pain gets worse, okay? It’s not your appendix, is it?”
Bokuto shakes his head. “No, it’s not that bad. Just… hurts.”
Akaashi lets him back down onto the pillow, placing a wet towel on his forehead. “I’m going to wipe your face. It’ll make you feel more comfortable.” He wipes the tear streaks and sweat off Bokuto’s skin, and Bokuto relaxes when the coldness comes into contact with him.
“Go to sleep. You’ll feel a lot better after you wake up.” Akaashi can only hope for it to be true. He’s drawn the curtains and turned off the lights, so that Bokuto’s pained features are barely visible.
Bokuto lets out a hiccup, and Akaashi peers into him. “Everything all right?” He knows how Bokuto will try to minimize his distress all the time, and he’s grateful for Kuroo, who called him over for help.
***
When Akaashi notices Bokuto emitting high-pitched, wet burps, it’s already too late.
Bokuto doesn’t seem to realise that he’s seconds away from throwing up again- he’d taken Akaashi’s advice to heart and gone to sleep, the poor thing. Akaashi grabs the bucket from beside the futon, but a splash of liquid pushes past Bokuto’s lips, and Bokuto can only turn his head sideways to prevent staining his clothes.
“Bokuto-san?”
Akaashi turns on the light swiftly, a decision he regrets immediately. It triggers another round of vomiting, and Akaashi barely manages to get it contained in the bucket. Bokuto is still out of it too, not realising what’s going on with himself.
Bokuto’s eyes abruptly snap open in a panic. He opens his mouth as if to ask what’s going on, but a wave of nausea washes over him, and a thick stream of vomit spurts out of him. The bucket under his chin catches it all, as Akaashi rubs circles on his tremoring back.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t cry.” Akaashi whispers, sympathy twisting in his gut at the sight of Bokuto so vulnerable. “Just get it all up. I know it sucks, but you’ll feel a lot better, alright?”
Bokuto doesn’t answer him. He only whimpers pitifully, tears dripping out of his eyes without stopping. “I- Akaashi-” he hiccups, as Akaashi dabs at his face with a wet cloth. He coughs, and it scrapes his throat. Akaashi shushes him, urging him not to talk too much.
“It’s going to get better. It’s all right.” Akaashi wishes that were true. Bokuto is sweating buckets, but is in no condition to take a bath.
***
Bokuto doesn’t see Akaashi, when he wakes up. He’s most likely gone to practice. Like he would have been, if he weren’t so sick. His whole middle hurts from the amount of throwing up he’s done, and his clothes are sweaty from the fever.
“Bokuto? You awake?”
Kuroo pops into his room, holding a cup of water. Bokuto’s eyes start tearing up, as if Kuroo is some kind of deity. “Whoa, what’s wrong? Here, I got you some water. Don’t cry.”
“Thank you, Kuroo.” Bokuto grabs the cup through tears, gulping down the water at an alarming speed.
Kuroo blinks. “Hey, don’t drink it all in one go! Your stomach’ll get a shock!”
Bokuto chuckles, and Kuroo’s ears go red. “Ha, you sound like my mom or something.” He notices how Kuroo’s smile softens.
"Well, are you feeling better? How high's your temperature?" Kuroo pats Bokuto's head, laying his palm onto his sweaty brow.
Bokuto sticks his lip out. "Still thirty-eight degrees. Coach said I can't go to practice until it's lower."
Kuroo rolls his eyes. “Obviously. You need good bedrest. And eat something, if you feel like it.” He hands Bokuto some jelly in a packet, with a mouthpiece for sucking it out.
“Thanks!” Bokuto places the jelly beside him, within reach. “I’ll have it when I’m hungry.”
“Be sure to hydrate yourself. I’m glad you seem less sick.”
***
Bokuto sips on the jelly drink that Kuroo gave to him. It tastes faintly of grapes, and requires little effort with chewing and swallowing. It feels cool and good against his throat.
He finishes the whole packet within a few minutes. Aside from the occasional sip of water, it’s the only thing that’s been put into his system. His stomach feels full, but it’s nothing compared to the nausea he’s been through all night.
His coach comes in with a heating pad, which Bokuto accepts gratefully. The violent shivers have stopped now, but his stomach is still sore from the heaving.
Bokuto presses the heating pad to his midsection, his clothes absorbing all the warmth he can get. Which reminds him, he needs to change his clothes. He’s soaking with sweat, and the cooled-down water droplets are cold against his skin. He sneezes, and takes off his t-shirt.
“Bokuto, I’ll leave your bag here. Get changed into whatever’s comfortable.” The coach says, and leaves to give Bokuto some privacy.
Fishing out a new t-shirt and shorts, Bokuto gets changed and folds his damp clothes as best as he can. He feels much more refreshed, after feeding and clothing himself properly.
Now that he’s feeling slightly better, he’s bored. He can’t even hear his teammates practicing from his room. He wants to hit a spike, instead of laying there with nothing to do.
There isn’t much for him to do, and he can’t be bothered to get his phone from the common room. He lays back down and attempts to sleep, squeezing his eyes shut and groaning.
***
Bokuto stirs in his sleep, and wakes up. It’s still bright out, so he couldn’t have slept for long. He wonders why he’s woken up so suddenly, until a blinding headache hits him with the force of an uncontrollable truck.
His stomach shifts, and the room spins and tips around him. He feels motion sick from just laying there. His forehead is too hot, but his body is too cold. He reaches for the thermometer, but realises that he has no idea where it is.
Why does he feel worse? Sleeping is meant to make him feel better. His mouth is heavy with fluid gathering inside, and he’s become too familiar with the queasy feeling in his chest.
This time, Bokuto lifts himself off the futon, wiping at his neck damp with sweat. A burp rips out of him, and he stands up shakily, using the wall as support.
Nobody is there to help him out, this time. He’s on his own, and his stomach gurgles ominously. Sweat rolls down his chin as he crawls out of the room, eyes looking around for the nearest bathroom.
Miraculously, the bathroom is right beside his room, only separated by a few doors. Nobody spots him as he clutches his stomach and slithers into the bathroom. He tastes a sickly sweetness in his mouth, and pushes open the stall door hurriedly.
Nausea washes over Bokuto like a wave pool, and abates just as quickly as it arrives. He drops to his knees, leaning one hand on the wall. A drop of saliva dribbles out of his mouth, dropping into the toilet bowl.
A groan escapes his lips. His stomach cramps are even worse. He breathes in deeply, but a heave catches in his throat, choking him. He remembers what Akaashi would tell him, when he was anxious. Breathe in, count three, hold for four, out for five.
Bokuto shakily takes in a breath, but a wet gag seizes him as he holds it. He clenches his teeth and keeps his mouth shut. He can feel his face go red. He needs to do it the way Akaashi taught him, or else he’ll feel worse.
A shudder jars him, and he pitches forward. Warm liquid hits the back of his throat, and this time, it’s less painful and disgusting. Of course, he’s only eaten jelly and water for the past few hours.
There’s no use fighting it. A watery retch tears out of him, and a stream of vomit splatters into the toilet bowl. His cheeks swell until he opens his mouth to throw up, again. His stomach clenches onto nothing, and his entire upper stomach feels like it’s been squeezed like a sponge.
Bokuto starts crying. He can’t help it. The pain is stabbing at his stomach, ripping him mercilessly. He coughs into the bowl as he heaves, refuse splattering beneath his face.
He’s sobbing so hard, he doesn’t notice that someone’s come into his stall. He’d left it unlocked, his emergency taking priority. Someone is kneading the tension out of his shoulders, shushing him gently.
“Shh, you’re okay. Try to breathe slowly.” Akaashi rubs his back in slow strokes, breathing in time with them. “Oh, sweetheart. I know, it sucks being sick. And just as I thought you were getting better.”
Bokuto tries to stop his sobbing, and honest to god, he does- but Akaashi’s words only have him coughing and crying harder. He only ever uses affectionate names and that sweet tone when Bokuto’s feeling really vulnerable.
“It- it’s not fair,” he cries out, as Akaashi caresses his face with soft wipes, wherever he’d gotten them from. “It hurts, I’m not feeling any better, I felt so much worse after waking up…”
“Mmhm,” Akaashi listens to him as he speaks in garbled words, nodding thoughtfully as he pats his back slowly. “You’re not feeling better after sleeping, are you? That sounds horrible. Would it make you feel better if I stayed in the same room as you?”
Bokuto nods so much that he almost collapses from dizziness, and he would have, if Akaashi weren’t there to catch his bobbing head. “It’s boring, and lonely. And I wasted the jelly that Kuroo gave me…”
“Not your fault,” Akaashi says firmly. “You’re shaking. We have to get you back in bed. I think your fever’s gone up.” He lifts Bokuto into a standing position, as he lets out a hot exhale of air.
***
Akaashi pats Bokuto’s shoulder as he dry heaves into the trash can beside his pillow. He’s sure there’s nothing in his abused stomach anymore. Only clear spit drips from his mouth, and a whimper of pain after each gag.
And it’s scary, because Bokuto doesn’t get sick. When he does, he bounces back from it in a day or two. Akaashi’s never won against him in any sort of physical competition, aside from eating.
But Bokuto is weak and shivering, in front of him. “Do you think you can manage some water?” Akaashi asks, and Bokuto screws his eyes shut and holds back a retch. “I’m guessing that’s a no, then.”
Akaashi checks the thermometer, and Bokuto’s fever is climbing. “Is your stomach ache any better?” Bokuto shakes his head no, groaning and gripping his middle. “Anything you want me to get for you?”
“No.” Bokuto shakes his head firmly. “Don’t want anything. Just stay with me, please…”
Akaashi can’t say no to his watery eyes. “I’m right here, Bokuto-san. Just promise me you’ll try and get a few sips of water in you, all right?” Bokuto frowns, shaking his head faster. “We can’t have you dehydrated.”
“It’s just gonna come back up.” Bokuto refuses. “I don’t want to be sick again.”
Akaashi takes out a bottle of rehydration solution, uncapping it and pressing it to Bokuto’s lips. “A small amount is enough. It’s better to have something to throw up, even if it’s water.” He gently coaxes him to take a gulp, and Bokuto hesitantly obliges.
Bokuto’s throat rises and falls as he takes sips from the bottle. Akaashi rubs his scalp with the pads of his fingers, murmuring praises to him for trying his best. Bokuto takes the bottle from Akaashi’s hands, tipping it further to drink more.
Half the bottle is gone, by the time Bokuto is done. “Are you all right, drinking that much?” Akaashi knows he’s the one who pushed him to drink, but he didn’t expect Bokuto to have so much in one go.
“My stomach felt empty. Thought it might help.” Bokuto hiccups, and lays back down onto the pillow. Akaashi rubs at his stomach gently, hoping that he’ll be spared from any more pain and sickness.
Akaashi stares at him with a watchful eye. “Are you feeling any pain? Anything uncomfortable?”
Bokuto grimaces as a cramp grips his stomach, but shakes his head. “I’ll deal with it…”
Even though he says that, the cuff of his t-shirt is already drenched with sweat. Akaashi can tell he’s trying to push through a ton of pain and discomfort already. He can only pray it doesn’t get any worse.
Bokuto’s throat closes up as he jerks, and Akaashi has a trash can ready at his hands. Bokuto waves his hands at Akaashi’s face, shaking his head. He’s resisting it, as much as he can.
“Hey, don’t fight it.” Akaashi whispers, running his fingers through Bokuto’s hair. “I’m sorry I pushed you to drink.” He feels immense guilt, now that Bokuto’s desperately trying to keep the liquid down. He should have waited a little more before giving him anything.
Bokuto leans over the trash can, both hands pressed firmly onto his mouth. His eyes tell Akaashi everything. I don’t want to, please, don’t let it happen to me. But as much as he wants to change places with him, Akaashi can only watch.
Akaashi knows when Bokuto’s hit by a wave of pain. The way his eyes water and his spine curves into a c-shape. Akaashi alternates between rubbing circles in his back and stroking his hair, as Bokuto whines into his palm.
“I feel really bad, ‘kaashi. It hurts…” Bokuto rasps out, throat scraped from stomach acid. “I can’t deal with this anymore, I don’t like it.” His unwaxed hair flops into his face, as Akaashi rubs his drenched back. Akaashi’s palm burns as he touches him, every shiver vibrating into his skin.
“Breathe in, nice and deep. I’m right here, all right?” Akaashi guides him through it, but Bokuto clamps his mouth shut before he can fully inhale. “You have to breathe, okay?”
Bokuto keeps swallowing convulsively, and refuses to take proper breaths. For a few minutes, Akaashi is stuck on what to do. He could blame himself for possibly making Bokuto feel worse, but now isn’t the time to pity himself.
“Hey, it’s all right. Just let it happen. Don’t try to hold it down, it’ll hurt more.”
Akaashi’s words are met with a defiant shake of the head. Bokuto comes close to heaving a number of times, but shuts his mouth and holds his breath every time. He doesn’t dare open his mouth to let out an exhale, for fear that he’ll throw up.
All of a sudden, a groan turns into a wet sound at the back of his throat.
Something splatters weakly into the trash can, and tears start to drip into it. “Here we go. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Akaashi murmurs sweet words under his breath as Bokuto hacks painfully. “You don’t need to panic. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
But as Bokuto coughs up what looks like slightly green-tinted water, his breath starts to quicken, and he’s not taking in enough air before a retch pushes it all out. “Akaashi,” he whimpers, swallowing the urge to vomit. “I don’t want-”
Bokuto’s stomach clenches, but he holds back the inevitable, shoulders shaking. Something red drips into the trash can, and Akaashi stares at Bokuto’s face, now stained with blood.
“Bokuto-san?! Are you all right?”
As soon as Akaashi shows the first sign of being panicked, Bokuto’s eyes widen as he starts to hyperventilate and puke at the same time. “What- what’s happening? Why is there blood in the-”
Akaashi needs a few seconds before he can collect himself, but when he does, he realises that it’s not as serious as he initially thought.
The blood is dripping from Bokuto’s nose, running down his face. The blood vessels in his nose must have ruptured, from the force of the gagging and Bokuto’s weak attempts to subdue it.
And, at the worst possible time, Kuroo steps into the room.
“Oh my god, Akaashi! Is he- did he just puke blood?!” Kuroo is over at Bokuto’s side in an instant, grabbing tissues to wipe the blood off Bokuto’s face. “We have to call someone! An ambulance!”
“Calm down, Kuroo-san!” Akaashi raises his voice, noticing Bokuto’s breathing hitch. “It’s a nosebleed. Bokuto-san is all right.”
But it’s already too late. More and more dark red runs freely from Bokuto’s nose, as he sobs and coughs harder. “Bokuto, deep breaths, yeah? Don’t inhale so much. Get it out first, and then take a breath.”
Akaashi rubs at Bokuto’s back as he spits red-tinted froth into the trash can, as Kuroo wipes the blood off Bokuto’s face. “I know that was scary. It was really sudden, and none of us knew it would happen. You’re all right.” Akaashi holds Bokuto’s hand, and Bokuto grips him tightly.
Both Akaashi and Kuroo help Bokuto through his panic-induced anxiety attack, rubbing at his knuckles and whispering to him in their comforting, low tones. It takes a while before Bokuto’s breathing finally calms down, and he’s no longer breathing erratically.
“Bokuto, you have to get some rest now.” Kuroo is firm, but his hands are gentle as he tucks Bokuto into the covers. “How’s your temperature doing?”
The thermometer reads thirty-eight degrees, still in sick-person territory. “We’re going to have to get you home, if you’re not feeling any better after tonight.”
Bokuto lets out a sound, like he’s been kicked in the gut. “Please, please don’t send me home! Please!” His cries are pitiful, and Akaashi’s heart feels like it’s being beaten to a pulp.
“We don’t want to, either.” Akaashi slips into the futon with him, ignoring Kuroo screaming that he’ll get sick too. “Bokuto-san, rest up. I’ll be there for you when you wake up.”
Bokuto closes his eyes, after hesitating for a moment. “Okay… I just want to feel better.”
“You’re a good kid.” Akaashi pats his shoulder, as Bokuto curls up beside him. His body heat pressed next to him, like a large hot water bottle. “Go to sleep.”
***
Bokuto doesn’t feel like throwing up, when he wakes up again. His stomach cramps up, but after a few moments of squeezing his eyes shut and breathing deeply, the wave of pain decreases considerably.
“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi’s eyes open too, and he murmurs in his drowsy voice, “are you feeling any better?”
“My stomach feels sore, but I feel a lot better now.”
Akaashi presses his palm against Bokuto’s skin, checking for any sign of fever. “You’re still resting today. If you don’t throw up for the whole day and your temperature is back to normal, you can come to the gym tomorrow.”
Bokuto whines, but doesn’t protest. He’s not in any condition to be playing right now. His stomach is still gurgling unhappily, dull pain radiating around his middle. “Okay. Is Kuroo all right?”
“Never been better.” Kuroo, who nobody knows how long he’s been there for, enters the room. “Don’t push yourself too hard, Bokuto. Your team was really worried, you know.”
Bokuto can picture everyone on his team practicing without him, and he feels frustration. He wants to get up on his feet and run to them. But Akaashi and Kuroo have taken care of him so much, he doesn’t want to waste their efforts.
“Okay. I’ll make sure to rest for today.” He promises, and Kuroo nods at him.
“Good. We have to go now, but someone’ll be there in case you need anything. And make sure to drink plenty of water. You need to make up the amount of fluids you lost.”
Akaashi runs his hand across Bokuto’s hair one last time, before getting up to join Fukurodani’s practice. “I’m really relieved you seem to be better, Bokuto-san.” He smiles, wrapping him into a small hug.
“Thanks, guys! You’re both awesome!”
Bokuto finds it hard to wait until he’s completely better. He loves practicing with Akaashi, and while he’s relished every second Akaashi’s spent caring for him, he’d rather have the attention on him when he’s not sick. But he’s sure Akaashi will give it to him. After all, Akaashi is smitten, and they both know it.