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It’s been a long time since Akaashi had shed a tear, for anyone or anything. In fact, it probably had been a couple of years. It pained him to cry, but not because it damaged his ego or masculinity, but because it physically pained him whenever tears rolled down his flushed cheeks. Over the course of many years, as he watched from on and off the court, he learned to just keep whatever emotion he felt to himself—a decision that benefited himself and everybody around him. It sometimes annoyed his friends, however, especially Bokuto, who never knew what Akaashi was thinking.
“—and I told him he shouldn’t be wasting too much time on it, and I’m right, right?”
A sudden silence filled the room like smoke as Bokuto stopped and shot Akaashi a look, almost as if he was asking for the younger’s opinion.
Akaashi, however, wasn’t really listening. He stared off and focused on one part of the beige wall, wondering if something unusual would eventually pop out if he focused on it hard enough. Instead, he snapped back to reality when Bokuto gave him a tap on the shoulder.
“Yes, you’re right,” Akaashi said absent-mindedly. He pulled on his cardigan as the harsh and crisp winter breeze swept through the room, and he finally pulled his gaze from the wall to Bokuto’s golden eyes, hoping that he’d see an emotion that he had failed to see before in the millions of times his eyes studied his.
“Akaashi, are you okay? You seem quiet,” Bokuto paused, “more than usual, I mean.”
The younger forced a smile onto his pale lips and pushed his thick glasses onto the bridge of his nose. God, his vision had gotten so blurry in such a short time frame. It took him a while to respond, and Akaashi debated whether or not to admit if he truly was okay or not.
“Yes, Bokuto-san. I’m fine,” Akaashi assured him, taking Bokuto’s hand that was still on his shoulder, gently prying it off of him. He brought his eyes up to stare at Bokuto’s once more, this time a more readable expression on his face. He knew, however, that he’d stay oblivious. Not that it was his fault—Akaashi knew Bokuto would never intentionally mean to harm Akaashi in any way.
“Okay, so, I’ve been meaning to tell you something, Akaashi,” Bokuto started, taking Akaashi’s hands into his and catching him off-guard.
Akaashi’s breath hitched in his throat, and he nervously gulped it down. Was this what he had been waiting for? No, it was better not to get any ideas. But still, as his heart frantically started beating at a rate faster than it should be going, his mind ran wild with possibilities.
This wasn’t anything new, Akaashi thought to himself. They had held hands numerous times before, so many instances over the years that Akaashi had already lost count long ago. Still, the feeling stayed near euphoric, like Bokuto’s effect never seemed to wear off on him.
“Go on,” Akaashi signaled, barely managing to keep his sentence straight. He tightened his grip on Bokuto’s hands, both dreading and awaiting what came next.
“I’ve thought about this for so long, Akaashi. I know we’ve been through the absolute best and the worst of the worst together, but this is something I know I’m making the right decision on, and it’s something I know I will never regret, even sixty years into the future.”
Akaashi felt his throat tighten, like a barbed wire had been forcibly pressed against his neck and pulled with no remorse. He kept note of the expression he was wearing, careful not to show any emotion toward the older boy in front of him.
Although he kept a stony face, he couldn’t hide his shocked expression when Bokuto released his tight grip on Akaashi’s hands and began to move. He blinked—hoping that his eyes could stay closed for as long as possible without Bokuto noticing—and when his eyes fluttered back open it was a scene that would be branded in his mind for the rest of his life.
There he was, the man Akaashi truly loved for far too long, in front of him, on one knee with a ring so beautiful, so detailed Akaashi could see it from where he was standing. He felt lightheaded, like he had been suddenly deprived of all oxygen, and he knew the words that were about to follow.
“I love you with every fiber of my being. You are the reason I look forward to a new day, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I want you to be the last person I ever touch, I kiss, and I smile at. I want to grow old with you. Akaashi,” Bokuto paused, and for a moment Akaashi noted Bokuto’s gaze was an emotion he had never seen before.
“Will you marry me?”
Akaashi was at a loss for words. He knew it was coming, and in fact he had known it was coming for a very long time, but hearing it was like he had never known about it at all. Bokuto stayed in his position with a hopeful expression, and Akaashi never really showed how he ever felt, but he truly was on top of the world.
“I—”
When a warm draft greeted them both, something in Akaashi clicked.
“Oh, are you guys finished?” Hinata questioned, scratching the back of his head. He was still wearing his black jersey, a yawn immediately following suit.
“Yeah, just about done!” Bokuto grinned, bolting up from his kneeling position and popping the ring back into its dark blue box.
Akaashi smiled.
“Nice to see you again, Hinata-kun,” Akaashi greeted with a slight bow. He once again pushed his glasses onto the bridge of his nose, noting that his specs were now a bit smudged.
Akaashi immediately noticed his displacement in the room and cleared his throat after a moment of silence, knowing it was about time he had better get going.
“Ah, I’ll be going now. Bokuto-san, stop being so nervous, would you?” Akaashi joked, forcing a tiny smile on his face as he picks up his messenger bag.
“How could I? Anyway, thanks again, Akaashi. I love you, best man,” Bokuto grinned, his tone lighthearted and hopeful for the near future.
The younger felt his heart skip a beat, and he smiled in return. There was something about Bokuto that Akaashi loved: it was his ability to make anybody smile with genuinity, no matter the mood they were in.
Akaashi started for the door, where Hinata had moved away from. His grip on his bag had never felt tighter, and he didn’t know nor cared if Bokuto and Hinata noticed his white knuckles. He swallowed all the words he wanted to say, especially the reply he had been interrupted from saying.
“I love you, too, Bokuto-san.”
And with that, Akaashi turned and walked down the backstage hall of the stadium. It was only then, when Akaashi teared off the glasses from his eyes and continued down the hallway did a familiar pain strike his eyelids. His eyesight was blurry and he could no longer make out the people he passed by.
Tears sprung onto his eyes and poured down his cheeks with no remorse as he barely managed to keep a choked sob in. As he emerged from the stadium’s main entrance and into Sendai’s snowy night, he couldn’t help but pity himself for being on the short end of the stick—and dreaded the lecture he would have to receive from his ophthalmologist soon.
With his eyes swimming in tears, from across the street, he could barely make out a woman about to cross, and for a moment he wished so desperately to switch places, so he could at least experience a tiny fraction of what she was going to savor for the rest of her life.