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He looks at the small, round button sitting innocently in his palm, his heart a deafening drumbeat in his ears. “Bokuto-san?” he asks, a little bit short of breath. Because this isn’t what he thinks it is… right? It can’t be…
“You know, Akaashi, I thought really hard,” Bokuto says, scratching at the side of his head distractedly. For once, his school uniform isn’t messy, everything properly tucked in, tie properly tied. The only thing out of place is the empty buttonhole in his blazer.
“About what?”
“This team has been amazing, especially these last two years.” And nope, Akaashi will not tear up, will not feel down at the reminder of their loss at the Spring Interhigh. It’s over. It’s in the past. “But out of everybody, Akaashi has been the best. Always took care of me and knew how to handle each of my mood swings.”
Yep, he’s going to cry. Damn . “Bokuto-san, it really wasn’t-” that big a deal, he doesn’t manage to say. It gets stuck in his throat.
“It is. For me, it is.” And he looks so serious, sounds so serious, that Akaashi can do nothing but nod, and look back down at the button in his hand.
“And so?” he prompts, because this is starting to look and sound more and more like… But no, no. It’s not. It’s not .
“And so, I thought about what I could give Akaashi to show my appreciation for all that he’s done for me the past two years.”
Akaashi’s head shoots up, so fast his neck twinges. “Bokuto-san, you don’t have to-”
“I know, I know,” he’s cut off, Bokuto waving his hands wildly between them. “But I wanted to. But I coldn’t think of anything. Not anything… significant but not too…” he gesticulates something large, “y’know… too much, too big. Akaashi wouldn’t accept anything too glaring. So…” He shrugs, nodding towards Akaashi’s open palm. “That’s all I could come up with.”
And it’s… sweet, and so very Bokuto, and for once in his life, Akaashi almost does something incredibly stupid.
He looks back down at the button. It’s barely bigger than his thumbnail, black and simple. Innocuous.
It’s the best thing he’s ever received.
The closes his fingers over the button, brings his hand to his chest. “I will accept this, Bokuto-san,” he says, heart still pounding wildly in his chest. It might not be what he thought it is, but he doesn’t care. This is just as good.
Bokuto’s smile is blinding.
~
(“Akaashi?”
“Mn? What is it?”
“If you’re not busy this weekend, let’s meet up.”
“Bokuto-san?”
“We can play some volleyball in the park by the school. Get something to eat after.”
“I-”
“If you don’t have other plans.”
“I don’t.”
“Then?”
“I’ll… see you on Sunday, then.”)