Chapter Text
Akaashi Keiji was seventeen, but he wished he were older.
Bokuto Koutarou was graduating in a few weeks and had already been scouted to play for a pro volleyball team. In a few weeks, his rambunctious, obnoxious third-year captain would be leaving. In a few weeks, his best friend who loved every little thing unconditionally would be gone.
Akaashi prided himself on his realism, and this case was no different. He knew that above all else, in a few weeks, whatever it was that had been occurring between him and Bokuto would likely be gone too. And while it pained him to properly acknowledge this, Akaashi knew it shouldn’t. Afterall, Bokuto was pursuing his lifelong dream. The setter could handle the sting of their relationship straining with distance if it meant allowing Bokuto to blossom into the star he was meant to be.
Akaashi couldn’t recall how many times he’d stayed up long after he’d finished his homework, creating fantasies in his mind of how life would be if he were Bokuto’s age. He’d have set for him for three years instead of two, would be saying goodbye to his second years with him, would be cramming for exams with him. When he finally drifted into sleep after hours awake, he always dreamt he’s with Bokuto.
Dreams always end, though.
In the grand scheme of the impermanence of life, one year isn’t a large gap. If anything, it’s a mere crevice. But that doesn’t mean it’s an easy fissure to cross. Regardless of how many realities he replayed, Akaashi still wouldn’t be by Bokuto’s side in the only one that mattered.
Akaashi never expected an age gap of one year and a little over two months to cause so much anguish.
The looming threat of his third year commencing wasn’t exactly a nice distraction from Bokuto’s departure either. This would be Akaashi’s first and final year as captain. While Bokuto had insisted that it wouldn’t be much of a step up from vice captain, Akaashi could still feel the weight of responsibility beginning to crush his shoulders when he considered the position of leadership.
Instinctively, Akaashi winced, closing his eyes under the tangible pressure. He knew confronting his future would keep him alive, but right now, the idea of confrontation was killing him.
The notification of a text pulled Akaashi’s mind back to the present. Seeing Bokuto’s name, the setter felt his cheeks tinge pink, in spite of the fact that the misery he’d just put himself through was centered around the boy. Akaashi supposed he would always associate Bokuto with sunshine, even after spending hours in the rain.
He quickly read the message, then padded downstairs to let Bokuto in. Today was Saturday, their typical hangout day. With Akaashi’s mom and dad often out of town over the weekends for work, the house usually ended up theirs. These days together consisted of Akaashi helping Bokuto with homework, binging volleyball videos on YouTube, the occasional practicing in Akaashi’s backyard, and an excessive amount of junk food.
As he unlocked the door for his teammate, Akaashi thought about how thankful he was that Bokuto had come per usual, even when he, himself, had almost forgotten. With all the changes he’d been mulling over lately, Akaashi needed the stability of routine.
Bokuto entered, backpack slung over his shoulder, a bag of convenience store food raised in his right hand. “Hey, hey, hey, Akaashi!”
Akaashi managed to keep his composure while being in the face of such direct sunlight. He let Bokuto grab his elbow and pull him towards the kitchen table, watching amusedly as Bokuto shrugged off his backpack before dumping the plastic bag upside down. The boy smiled proudly at its contents.
“Bokuto-san, if you expect that we’re going to finish all of this today,” Akaashi frowned, gesturing to the plethora of carb-loaded snacks and sugary candy, “you’re worse off than I thought.” He crossed his arms.
“Always so judgemental, ‘Kaashi!”
“Judgemental, maybe. But someone has to keep you in check.”
Bokuto moved to stand behind Akaashi before wrapping his arms around the setter’s small waist. He leaned his chin on Akaashi’s shoulder. Akaashi inhaled sharply. Bokuto had been far more affectionate the past few months, sitting just a few inches closer to Akaashi when they studied, or resting his hand on the second year’s thigh when they watched movies together on Saturdays like this one.
“You always keep me in check,” Bokuto grinned, tugging Akaashi a little bit closer to him.
Afraid that he’d somehow ruin the mood—if that was what you’d even call it—Akaashi remained still until Bokuto pulled away. The third year reached for a pack of poifull jelly beans. He tore open the package, offering a handful to Akaashi who politely declined, before shoveling them in his own mouth, munching happily.
“Come on, let’s get to studying,” Akaashi sighed, taking the candy from Bokuto’s grasp before he could down all of them and consequently complain about feeling sick afterwards.
Bokuto stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “I hate studying. Can’t we do something else?”
While Akaashi desperately wanted to preserve Bokuto’s good mood, he also wanted to preserve the latter’s grades. Starting the studying process always required a gentle shove. Akaashi took Bokuto’s wrist in one hand and his backpack in the other, dragging him into the living room, where his own schoolwork was already laid out. Bokuto ruined the neat studying arrangement in a matter of minutes, strewing papers across the tatami mat, but at least the studying had actually started, Akaashi thought to himself.
After two hours of studying, Bokuto’s whining began to really push Akaashi’s buttons.
“Why do we have to read this? What relevance does it have to the real world?” Bokuto complained. He tapped his pencil against the book forcefully, as if to try and spite it.
“With your reading level, Bokuto-san, I’m surprised you even used the word ‘relevance’ correctly,” Akaashi responded bluntly.
“Hey, hey!” came the offended response. Bokuto playfully swatted Akaashi’s arm, but his hand pulled away more dejectedly than usual.
Akaashi could sense the start of one of Bokuto’s spirals. Dealing with a dejected Bokuto was not on his list of Saturday plans. He racked his brain to find a solution that might keep it at bay. When he decided on one that would hopefully work, he tapped the boy’s shoulder, then tilted his head towards him. “If we finish in the next two hours, we can watch a movie tonight.”
It was as if a light switch had flipped on in Bokuto’s head, because his eyes illuminated upon hearing the words. “Only for you, Akaashi,” he drawled. He began furiously scanning his textbook, pencil poised in his hand, eyebrows knitted together.
Akaashi frowned but didn’t bother to comment on the lack of logic in Bokuto’s response.
All studying was finished in a startling hour and a half, and before he knew it, Bokuto was excitedly stuffing his school supplies into his backpack. He practically chasséd into Akaashi’s room before jumping onto the bed. Akaashi followed him, closing the bedroom door behind him silently and picking up his laptop off his desk before he climbed in next to Bokuto.
Watching a movie in bed while laying next to his best friend was far more intimate than Akaashi had intended for it to be. There wasn’t much room to put distance between himself and Bokuto, and there was even less room to maneuver to view the film comfortably, so Akaashi ended up laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling about halfway through the movie. Surprisingly, he didn’t mind much though, listening to the gentle lull of Bokuto’s breathing beside him. A pensive mood overtook him and eventually he stopped trying to listen to the dialogue of the film at all. When the credits started to roll, he looked over to see Bokuto pause the movie and shut the computer. Draping his arm over Akaashi, he placed the laptop on the ground beside the bed. Akaashi didn’t miss the way Bokuto’s outstretched arm lingered on his chest a moment too long. He didn’t mind it either. He sighed unapologetically, maybe out of contentment or exasperation, or both.
After what Akaashi knew felt like hours to Bokuto but was really only a minute, the boy blurted, “‘Kaashi, what’s wrong?”
Akaashi could hear the concern laced in his voice.
This was it. This was the conversation. “Bokuto-san,” he began, struggling to choose his words, “where are we going to end up?” He could feel the surprise of his best friend as he tensed beside him. “I mean, it’s only a few more weeks before you graduate and leave.”
And leave me behind, too was left unsaid, but it was implied.
“I don’t know,” Bokuto said after a too-long pause. Akaashi didn’t know whether he should have been disappointed in the response.
“But!” Bokuto continued, “I’m-I’m not going to lose you!”
Akaashi felt his cheeks flame again. He clenched his fists beneath the sheets. He had always known this conversation would come, but now that it was here, he didn’t feel ready. He knew confronting his future was what would keep him alive, but the confrontation was killing him. “Bokuto-san, I don’t know if that’s really under your control.”
“I’ll make it under my control,” the third year said so earnestly that Akaashi knew it would only hurt more when the words would inevitably prove to be empty.
“Sure you will, Bokuto-san.” As he was met with stiff silence, Akaashi wondered if he was too curt. The low growl from Bokuto perturbed him.
“Akaashi, I don’t know why you feel the need to say it like that!”
Akaashi was used to Bokuto’s outbursts, but not ones like this. He turned to face Bokuto, whose eyes were so livid he was surprised they didn’t scorch him.
“You make it seem like I don’t care about you, when all I’ve been trying to do for these past few months is show you how much I do!” Bokuto continued, running a hand through his hair, messing up the delicately gelled spikes.
If Bokuto was infuriated enough to disturb his hair, he was seriously passionate.
“I sit at lunch with you every day, even asking the other club members to eat somewhere else so we can have the roof to ourselves; I come over to your house every weekend for hours; I text you like every day; and… And I just don’t understand how someone so smart can be so dense!” Bokuto’s breath came out in ragged huffs, eyes still sharp, still piercing Akaashi. But above all else, Bokuto looked tired, Akaashi thought. He could see the emotional exhaustion now, creeping along the creases of his upperclassman's eyes and clinging to the furrow in his brow. So, so tired.
And then everything made sense.
“Or if you’re not dense, you’re just so, so—AGH, I don’t know how to say it!—not caring about every move I’ve been making!” Bokuto finished brusquely. He was panting. Almost immediately he closed his eyes, breathing in through his nose, then holding his breath, and then exhaling, and Akaashi knew he was trying to calm himself.
Bokuto’s eyes fluttered open when he felt Akaashi’s lips press against his own, his touch featherlight. The setter kissed just as he was: gentle, and yet unrelentingly supportive. Bokuto closed his eyes as he melted into Akaashi’s touch. Akaashi’s lips were so much softer than Bokuto could have ever imagined.
But all too soon, Akaashi pulled away. He placed his forehead against Bokuto’s, catching his breath. “Apathetic,” he said so quietly Bokuto wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly. “Or indifferent, I guess.”
“What?”
“The word you were looking for earlier, the one for not caring,” Akaashi mumbled, eyes trained on Bokuto’s chest, refusing to look up.
Even after the whirlwind of emotions he’d passed through over the last few minutes, Bokuto found himself cracking a grin at Akaashi’s smallest comment. Only Akaashi could ever. “You’re cute, you know that?”
The corners of Akaashi’s mouth turned up slightly, barely even perceptibly, but Bokuto noticed. “So I’ve been told,” he responded, meeting Bokuto’s gaze.
Bokuto was breathless all over again when he looked at Akaashi. He was everything. Hooded sea green eyes, framed by dark lashes. Sharp, petite nose. Plump lips. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
Tentatively, Bokuto leaned in, closing his eyes when he made contact. Kissing Akaashi felt better than any nailed spike. It was better than any victory he’d had in volleyball, or any victory in life, for that matter (if it was even possible to separate the two). Kissing Akaashi was safe. He reached his hand over to card through the boy's messy black curls as he leaned in closer, deepening the kiss. Akaashi opened his mouth just the slightest bit, as if he were trying to give a cue. Bokuto accepted the invitation, slowly inserting his tongue into Akaashi’s mouth, hesitantly exploring. Bokuto had anticipated what kissing Akaashi would feel like, though nothing in his head compared to actually kissing him. He hadn’t anticipated the low, raspy moan Akaashi let out when he sucked on his tongue. It was music to his ears—better than any victory on he court.
He moved his lips off of Akaashi’s, instead ghosting them over the boy’s stained cheeks before moving to pepper kisses across his jawline. He trailed to the end of his jaw and descended down his neck. He kissed the skin above Akaashi’s collarbone repeatedly before he pulled away again to look up at the boy. Akaashi’s lips were pink and pouted as he gazed down at Bokuto. Bokuto swallowed. “Am I allowed to, uhm, you know, make a mark?” he asked, suddenly shy.
Akaashi nodded with a tiny half-smile. The boy winced when he felt teeth nip at his skin, but elicited a quiet moan when he felt Bokuto’s tongue smoothing over the bite. He tried not squirm when Bokuto sucked on the bruised skin.
After awhile, Bokuto kissed his way back up to Akaashi’s face, then cupped his cheeks with both hands. With the utmost care, he planted a kiss on the boy’s forehead. “You’re perfect,” he murmured into Akaashi’s skin.
“I wish I could have set for you longer, Bokuto-san.”
Bewildered, Bokuto scooted back from Akaashi, then pulled him onto his side to face him. He studied the boy in front of him. “So you’re telling me that I just had the hottest make out session of my life, and you’re thinking about volleyball?”
Akaashi giggled. “Roles seem kind of switched, huh?”
“Yeah,” Bokuto sighed, leaning in to kiss Akaashi again. After only a few seconds, he pulled back. “Why do you wish you could have set for me longer?”
Akaashi wondered if Bokuto knew that the rouge of his cheeks was now from guilt. “It’s selfish, really,” he laughing shakily. “I guess I just wish I could have had you a bit longer. Because now you’re all grown up.” Akaashi reached out and pinched Bokuto’s cheek. “And you’re leaving me behind.” He played with his fingers for a moment. “I’m not good enough to get to the stage you’re ascending to, Bokuto-san. And I’ll never improve at your rapid rate. So I guess I wish I could have had one more year with you in high school, setting for you when I still could keep up.”
Only now did Akaashi realize that this was the real conversation he’d dreaded—the confession of his own insecurities and fears. Embarrassed, he buried his head in Bokuto’s chest.
A strong pair of arms wrapped around Akaashi’s small frame, hugging him tightly. “These past two years with you have been incredible. And I know you don’t believe me now, and I don’t know if you ever will, but it’s you.” He blushed. “It’ll always be you, Keiji.”
Akaashi poked his head out to press a kiss to Bokuto’s jaw. “Okay, Kou.”