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Something strange had been happening in his bookshop recently.
Akaashi was sure of it.
He had been getting an itching feeling the whole month, like a little bug under his collar that kept telling him to check it out. It followed him every time he ducked into the back during a shift, creeping past the racks and peeking out at him from behind all the boxes of books he had yet to unpack. It followed him every second of his commute to work, leaping and jumping in his head when he flicked on the lights and turned the sign in the door to ‘open’. It followed him every time he closed up his shop, as loud as the rattling of the metal shutter that Akaashi always had to yank at twice to pull down.
It was strange indeed.
He had been trying to ignore it in favor of getting a peaceful night’s sleep, but it was starting to get a tad bit unbearable. Akaashi would deem himself to be fairly pragmatic, but this time it would seem that he had no choice but to listen to this gut feeling of his. He was only getting more certain that it wasn’t just his imagination.
So he wondered. He wondered and wondered and wondered about what could be the thing that made his gut feel so frazzled — like a stomachache of confusion and distress that wouldn’t go away. What was so strange? Was there anything different about the bookshop? Why couldn’t he shake the feeling that something was off?
It wasn’t until a fine Monday morning, the windows fogged over from the light rain outside and the bookshop quiet with only the books to keep him company, that it finally hit Akaashi. He had been sipping a nice cup of hot tea, the steam clouding his glasses over as he prepared for a quiet day of keeping inventory, completely unaware of the huge discovery that was about to interrupt his morning.
No, it wasn’t until then that the realization had struck him.
Books have been going missing .
He didn’t know how he hadn’t realized it sooner.
Walking over to the hardback wall — he liked to call it a center stage for all his personal hardcover favorites — he could see tiny gaps between the books that weren’t supposed to be there at all. Akaashi was able to pick out titles that had disappeared from the shelf, and he was sure that nobody had purchased those books in the past few weeks. He would’ve been aware, given the intimate nature of his bookshop; he would’ve been able to remember offering their new owners an approving look, or even recommendations for similar reads if they were interested.
He grazed his fingers over the shelves where the missing books should have been.
Books did not just sprout legs and scurry away as far as he knew.
There was only one logical conclusion here.
He was dealing with a book thief .
Someone was stealing his books from right under his nose, and Akaashi didn’t know whether to be angry or impressed. He had placed a good amount of faith in his customers, trusting them to enjoy themselves when looking around the place, but it would seem that someone had violated such a sanctity right here in his own bookshop.
Shaking his head, he compiled a list of all the books that had been stolen.
At the very least, he had to admit that the book thief had good taste. All the titles were ones that he held near and dear to his heart, ones that he had read over and over again any time he got the chance to. They were all fantasy novels, books that had the ability to instantly teleport him to universes, to take him somewhere far away where dreams came true and adventure was at hand.
The thief had stolen three books, which didn’t seem like such a huge number in all fairness, but for Akaashi’s bookshop it was a very significant sum. Every book in his shop had their own place, and to remove them from their place so sneakily would be to upset the balance of the little universe he had created for himself and all his customers.
When he had dropped out of school to open an independent bookshop in the suburbs, everyone had given him the strangest looks. A bookshop ? There was no prestige in owning a bookshop — no fame, no glory, no grand salary. Nobody could understand why he had wanted to open up a bookshop of all things.
Yet Akaashi had paid them no mind and went ahead with the deed anyway. Who could stop him from chasing his childhood dream after all?
It was quite the unusual sight for a young person like himself to be owning a bookshop, and this fact had drawn in more customers than he had first expected. Rent had been the toughest thing to figure out until he came down to sourcing books. He had the hardest time finding books to cater to the curious little clientele he had started to build up when he first opened.
Akaashi could very well say that those fantasy novels saved his bookshop and his life. Those beautiful hardback covers drew readers of all ages in; the stories were filled with a whimsical sense of adventure that lured young readers in, and a timeless otherworldly charm that kept older readers coming back for more. That was very well the reason that there would always be space on his hardback wall for the fantasy novels that he enjoyed. There was no such thing as too childish a read.
So of course he would’ve noticed if they were missing.
He dreaded thinking about what kind of character was out there laying their hands on his books, quite possibly doing all sorts of unspeakable things to them.
Well, this simply would not do.
With this new discovery in mind, Akaashi did the most logical thing any self-respecting owner of a small bookshop would do in such a situation.
He planned a trap for the book thief.
»»————- ————-««
It had taken him a bit of time and effort, but Akaashi managed to rearrange all the books on his hardback wall in such a way that the fantasy novels were concentrated on the side of the wall that he could see from his perch — the counter at the front of the store. This way he could keep a close eye on whoever drew near the wall, and with enough patience he could finally nab himself a book thief.
The morning was cold and rainy, the perfect day to cozy up with a good book and wear thick, fluffy sweaters. The soft pattering of rain against his windows eased him into a peaceful state. The calm atmosphere soothed his errant mood — a byproduct of losing sleep over the disappearance of his books.
He wasn’t expecting too many customers today. Usually the only people who came in during a rainy day only did so to seek shelter from the rain, shelter that Akaashi found himself quite willing to provide. He might even get a sale or two out of it if the poor drenched visitor wanted to look around.
As if on cue, the frenzied tinkling of windchimes signalled the arrival of one of these aforementioned poor drenched visitors.
“Hello,” Akaashi offered, not quite looking up from his book. He was reading a collection of poems on love, a lovely read for a rainy day. He had often wondered about experiencing such a heartwarming and curious thing himself, but the only experience he had with love was through pages and words.
“Oh, hello!”
The cheerful return of his greeting caught him off guard and he looked up.
“Didn’t expect the place to be so empty, ya know?”
Akaashi found himself making eye contact with a very dishevelled-looking stranger, drenched strands of black and white hair falling everywhere in his face as he quickly shut the door behind him. Even so, he could see the huge grin peeking out from behind the man’s bangs as he turned to face Akaashi, looking like a lost bird who couldn’t get out of the rain in time.
Gold eyes , Akaashi noted. Fascinating .
“Yes, nobody really visits when it’s raining.”
“I can see why,” the stranger laughed, shaking a few droplets out of his hair.
“How can I help you?” Akaashi asked. He tucked a woven bookmark in between the pages, carefully setting the book down on the counter.
“Oh that’s okay! I’ll just look around myself,” the stranger said before Akaashi could stand up. “I’ve been here before.”
You have ? Akaashi wanted to ask. It wasn’t until he leaned forward for a closer look that he realized that the stranger looked awfully familiar. There was something about that boyish face that struck a chord of recognition inside him.
“Aw, the rain made my hair go down,” the stranger remarked, miming a pointed hairstyle with his fallen hair, pushing the damp locks up with his hands.
Ah . So he had been here before. Akaashi had noticed the man walking around a few times, but he never stuck around long enough for him to strike up a conversation. He usually just took a few looks at the books on the hardback wall and walked away. He had always wondered how the stranger’s hair stood up like that. It usually made him look like a very tall owl. Now he looked like a very tall and soaked owl.
“Well, feel free to look around.” Akaashi picked up his book again. “Let me know if you need any help.”
“Will do!” the stranger replied with a slight salute.
Akaashi found that oddly charming.
He slid back into the quiet atmosphere, slowly losing himself again to the poems. He had reached a particularly ironic one — one where the speaker found himself at the mercy of his own feelings, having been unaware of how far they had fallen for someone who was nothing like them. It was beautifully written, and he quite liked the animal imagery the poet used.
He was vaguely aware of the stranger walking around thoughtfully in the background, trying to look between the hardback wall and the comic rack. He could already feel the stranger gearing up mentally to ask him a question.
“Do you have a book about owls?”
There it is.
“Of course.” Akaashi rose from his chair.
He made his way to the back of the shop, where the informational books on animals sat. He remembered seeing a guidebook or some sort of picture book about the owls in the area somewhere on the third shelf. It took him a while of searching, but he finally found it between the encyclopedia on snakes and a handbook on cats.
When he returned, the stranger was staring at him.
“Here you go.” Akaashi held out the book, a collection of photographs featuring the great horned owl. “I had a few, but I figured that you would like this one.”
The stranger was still staring.
He was tall, taller than Akaashi even, with a big jacket wrapped loosely around his broad shoulders and his hands shoved into the pockets. He seemed like he was stuck trying to find a response as he faced the bookshop owner with those wide eyes, like he had suddenly lost all ability to speak.
Akaashi reached out to grab the stranger’s hand gingerly before closing it around the book, feeling the full force of the stranger’s golden-eyed gaze fastened onto him.
“I—” the stranger stumbled over his words. “Thanks!”
“Don’t feel pressured to buy it,” Akaashi said over his shoulder as he went back to his seat.
It was a while, maybe about ten minutes, before the stranger had finished flipping through the book.
“I would buy it but I’m really short on cash,” he spoke up, a sheepish look on his face as he moved towards the door, ready to dash out into the rain again. He placed the owl book gently back down on the counter. “Thanks for helping me, though!”
Akaashi wanted to find that huge grin adorable.
He really did.
It was so genuine that he wanted to believe that this man was incapable of such a horrible deed.
“What’s your name?” Akaashi demanded curtly.
“My name?” The stranger looked confused.
“I’m reporting you to the police,” Akaashi clarified, moving to grab his phone. “Shoplifting is a very serious crime.”
All the life fell from the man’s face.
“Wait, I—”
“Turn around.”
Panic flashed across those golden eyes, but the stranger obliged.
“Take it out of your jacket.”
After a moment of hesitation, the man removed the book from under his arm.
Just as Akaashi had suspected.
It was one of his fantasy novels.
“Name,” Akaashi stated again, his voice eerily calm and still.
His decidedness about everything must’ve made the stranger panic, his fists clenching and unclenching shakily at his side.
It was a very long and tense moment before he spoke.
“Bokuto Koutarou,” he whispered, guilt eating away at his face.
He stood uneasily still, looking at the floor as he resigned himself to his fate.
Akaashi wasn’t going to ask. He really wasn’t. But something inside him told him to ask, and if there was anything he had learnt in the past week, it was to follow his intuition. So he did.
“Well, aren’t you going to explain yourself?”
Surprise flashed across Bokuto’s face, but he lowered his head again, a storm of conflicting expressions clouding those golden eyes of his.
Was he...ashamed ?
“It doesn’t matter,” Bokuto said softly. “You’re going to call them anyway.”
Akaashi stilled.
He tried to search Bokuto’s face for something, anything . Anything that could tell him that this man was a lying and sneaky thief. Anything to tell him that this Bokuto character was a horrible person. Anything that could compel him to move and grab his phone and be done with the matter.
But there was nothing.
He couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry.
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi started, shocking the owlish man into finally looking up. “I will hear you out. Just tell me why you did it.”
Bokuto opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped.
“I can’t, I-” he fumbled. “ I can’t .”
“Why not?”
“It’s humiliating,” Bokuto said, his voice cracking into that soft and guilty whisper again, a far cry from the cheerful one that he had carried with him into the shop.
“ Bokuto-san .” Akaashi was insistent.
Bokuto shook his head.
Akaashi sighed, and he got up to get the phone.
“Wait! I’ll tell you,” Bokuto burst out. “I’m too poor to afford any of the amazing books in your shop so I steal them, okay? I steal them because I have no job and no money or anything, and my little sis really likes your books and it breaks my heart to see her so down all the time so I just want to read her stories that can make her happy, give her books that can make her happy. Just don’t call them. Please. Please .”
He looked mortified at his own outburst, his hand shooting up to his mouth.
Akaashi blinked.
That was a lot to take in.
“I swear, I just wanted to read them to my sister and bring them back! I was going to bring them back, I swear. I swear on my life, please believe me!” Bokuto continued rambling, an ugly feeling clawing its way up his chest and swallowing him whole. “But she liked them so much that I thought I could just keep doing it and you wouldn’t notice anything and then I could return them and everything would be okay and—”
“Bokuto-san, calm down,” Akaashi interrupted. He wasn’t quite expecting such a strong reaction from a book thief. “I won’t call them.”
“Wait, really?” Bokuto broke the silence, his eyes still wide with fear.
Akaashi wanted to call himself a good judge of character. Focused, even. But as he stared into those wide eyes, gold ringed around the pupils and quickly sinking into a sea of despair and terror, he was too distracted to even think.
“Yes,” he said, the word tumbling out of his mouth before he could even stop himself. “I won’t call them.”
“You won’t?” Bokuto’s terror was replaced by immediate confusion.
“Yes,” Akaashi continued. No backing out now. “As long as you return the books.”
“Really?” Bokuto asked again, as if he couldn’t quite believe his ears. When he realized Akaashi was being serious, he almost sunk down onto his knees out of relief. “Thank you so much, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.”
Akaashi shook his head, a little disbelieving smile on it.
There was literally no part of this situation that could even warrant a smile, but he was smiling nonetheless. Could anyone really blame him?
“I’ll go get them right now-” Bokuto exclaimed, prepared to dash out into the weakening rain. Then he faltered, a flash of confusion flashing across his face as if he had forgotten something of grave importance.
He turned to Akaashi.
“What’s your name?”
“Akaashi,” Akaashi said, catching himself off guard. “Akaashi Keiji.”
Why did he do that?
“Ah! Akaashi,” Bokuto lit up again. “I’ll be back, wait for me okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said patiently.
“Good! Thank you, Akaashi,” Bokuto yelled over his shoulder as he ran out into the rain, his arms flying over his hair to cover himself. He nearly slipped on a stray puddle and sent himself flying headfirst into a lamppost, but he quickly picked himself up and looked back, flashing Akaashi yet another sheepish grin before running off.
It was a comical sight, Akaashi had to admit.
He settled back down into his seat, fingers resting tentatively between the pages where he had left off. He watched the light rain outside with a slightly amused look in his eyes, waiting for a certain Bokuto-san to come back with his books.
Today was an interesting day , he mused.
»»————- ————-««
As promised, Bokuto had returned all three books to the bookshop.
Akaashi hummed, pleasantly surprised.
All of them looked good as new. There were no scratches, no dog-ears, no cracked spine, not even a little crease in the pages. He ran his fingers over the cover, marvelling at the pristine condition.
“I put them under my jacket,” Bokuto offered quietly, still hesitant to say or do anything in front of Akaashi. “I was extra careful with them.”
He had taken quite a while to get back, about thirty-seven minutes to be specific, and Akaashi found himself wondering how far Bokuto lived from his shop. His mind wandered to the image of a Bokuto with a soaked jacket, shivering in the rain and the wind as he rushed back to the bookshop, the same owlish look in his eyes as he cradled the books under his arm, battling the elements on his way back.
“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said.
“Thank you , Akaashi!” Bokuto flailed. “You’re the best, you’re really the best.”
“Don’t steal any more books again, okay?”
“I won’t, Akaashi!” Bokuto nodded his head vigorously. “I promise.”
Akaashi flashed him an appreciative look.
He didn’t understand why he felt so warm and tingly inside, like a curious feeling that he hadn’t felt before. It made his heart go a bit faster, and his head spin a little. It made him want to read books that were of the slow and sappy variety, with romance plots and little love stories. He felt the little flutter in his chest every time he made eye contact with this Bokuto-san. Bokuto-san, the book thief. He didn’t understand it one bit, but he let it stay inside him anyway.
It wasn’t until later that he decided that he liked this feeling.
Akaashi spent the rest of the week wondering when he would next see the enigmatic Bokuto-san.
He didn’t find it as strange as he had first expected. He wasn’t too upset about being so interested in this book thief. Bokuto-san had a charming smile after all, and one couldn’t forget those bright golden eyes. He found his mind wandering back to Bokuto-san’s face, and that ridiculous hairstyle of his.
He had expected himself to be more angry, more disappointed.
But really, all he was was intrigued .
A week must have passed by already, and part of him had considered the possibility that Bokuto-san was never coming back, especially after the incident, but his gut told him to wait and see anyway. And as all things go, Akaashi knew he had to trust his gut.
So he kept waiting.
Soon enough, his patience was rewarded.
The sky outside was slightly overcast and the grass still slick with dew when Bokuto-san came back to the shop. It was a slightly cold day, but not as cold as the one when he first met Bokuto-san.
He donned a grey hoodie, the hood pulled hastily over his head as he ducked into the shop, eyes darting around as if he was unsure of where to look. His hands were shoved into the pockets once again, and he looked like a lost owl unsure of what to do now that he had flown here.
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, eliciting a tiny yelp from the man. “Why are you hiding your face?”
Bokuto stood in the doorway, awkwardly trying to muster up a response.
Akaashi found it almost adorable how flustered the man was.
“I’m here to get a book,” he declared decidedly. “To buy a book! Not steal one.”
“Oh?” Akaashi shook out his shoulders, offering him a small, surprised smile. “Very well, what book do you want to buy?”
Bokuto waddled over to the hardback wall and grabbed a book carefully, and then brought it over to Akaashi with a determined look on his face. He reached around in his pockets and fished out a little pouch. Then from this pouch he unearthed a few coins and bills, regarding the money like a treasure that had been buried deep within the mountains of old, before placing it on the counter.
The moment Akaashi lay his eyes upon the small pile of money on his counter, he knew that it wasn’t enough to cover the beautiful hardback storybook that Bokuto-san had picked out. It wasn’t even close, but it made him feel quite a lot of things inside to know that Bokuto-san had probably saved up for a week just so that he could come back here to buy one of Akaashi’s books. It was heartwarming in the littlest way.
“Is this enough?” Bokuto asked, a little worried.
“No,” Akaashi replied, and just before Bokuto’s hair could droop even further he continued his sentence. “I just need one more little thing, Bokuto-san.”
“What is it?” Bokuto was doing the staring thing again.
“I want you to read me your favorite part,” Akaashi said, holding out the book. “And then it’s all yours.”
“Really?” Bokuto shot back up to his full height, and Akaashi could’ve sworn his hair stood up with him as well. It had risen back to its splendidly pointed updo, the tufts sticking up from his head like horns. “I can do that!”
Akaashi nodded pleasantly, and leaned forward in anticipation.
Bokuto mumbled to himself as he flipped through the pages, his hands careful not to crease the pages (for which Akaashi was appreciative). There was an alarmingly delicate way he held the book, a stark contrast to the loud and boisterous movements he usually possessed, and Akaashi found himself marvelling at this little detail.
“There are so many good parts! I love all of them, but there’s this one part that my sister really really likes, and we used to read it every night when I- well, when I had this book with me! But now I’m buying it for real,” he exclaimed animatedly. “It’s the one when they found out that the dragon wasn’t the true villain of the story, and that it was the fights that they had all along.”
Akaashi found it so refreshing to see someone so enthusiastic about one of his books. He found himself leaning forward even more on his elbows to listen as Bokuto-san started to launch into a dramatic retelling of the paragraph he had picked out, complete with sweeping gestures and all. It was just the two of them in the bookshop now, nothing but the quiet blast of cold air in the back and the occasional rumble of a car passing in the little street outside.
There were many ways to describe Bokuto-san’s voice, but Akaashi had settled on comfortable . He had not been expecting such an animated and lively voice to be so soothing for someone like himself, but it was.
It was soothing like a heartwarming stew on a cold day, the occasional rise and fall in intonation like a firm caress. It was soothing like the shade of a willow tree by a river far away, a song that never strayed too far from the water. It was soothing like a freshly-brewed cup of tea, the leaves still spinning in the steam. It echoed through the little space, reading out the paragraph he had chosen diligently; his hands clutched tight around the book like it just might vanish from his reach if he let go even just a little.
Akaashi briefly wondered how it would be like to lie on Bokuto’s lap and fall asleep reading poems on a green hill in the spring.
Bokuto looked up occasionally to meet Akaashi’s eyes, as if asking silently whether he was doing okay, and there was something so endearing about the way his golden eyes bore into Akaashi’s own. They were so close, and it would be so easy just to lean in and close the distance between them — to unite their worlds as one and find out how love tasted like.
The sun was coming out from behind the clouds, and outside the bookshop, a bird began to sing.
Was Akaashi falling in love with a book thief?
»»————- ————-««
It was a breezy autumn morning when Akaashi found himself chancing upon the small street in the quieter side of town. He had decided to take a different route to work this morning — the longer one. There was just something about the colder weather and the crisper air that made him want to take a nice, long stroll through the neighborhood.
He tugged his coat in tighter and adjusted his glasses, pushing the bookbag onto his hip as he took long strides over dry pavement and empty roads.
Akaashi liked listening out for the sounds of the fall.
He heard the small birds tittering about in the trees by the road, the wind whistling through their branches.
He heard the sound of a bicycle bell dinging somewhere in the distance, the wheels thudding over cobblestones.
He heard a tap was running close by through someone’s window, the water burbling in the sink.
And then he heard something unusual.
It was a voice.
And it was a voice that he recognized.
He found himself following it, leaning towards one of the roads it was coming from. He was walking faster now down the street, turning the corner into one of the little lanes that could barely fit more than a bicycle. It weaved between two walls, and he emerged on the other side into a secluded cluster of doorways, the buildings here pressed together like no tomorrow.
And still the voice kept on reading.
It took a while but he managed to find the source of it.
Akaashi wondered if he was hallucinating this very curious sight. Seated on the doorstep of one of the houses was Bokuto-san. And he wasn’t just sitting, he was reading . And not only was he reading, he was reading a page from the book that he had gotten from the bookshop.
Only when he drew nearer did he realize that Bokuto-san was reading to a group of kids. They were seated around Bokuto in a circle as he read from the book, a smile on his face as his voice drifted in the wind. He was no master storyteller, but he made up for it with a pleasing sense of enthusiasm. Watching Bokuto read made Akaashi feel all warm inside, simply because he looked so happy to be holding a book. It was that same voice that he had heard back in his bookshop, when Bokuto was reading the book to him, but untouched by the tentativeness and uncertainty. No, this was beautiful and loud and clear and it rang across the road and the caverns of Akaashi’s heart.
That was what stories were meant for. To be shared. The beauty of words and the immersive nature of a good book was always best enjoyed when you shared it with someone else. And Bokuto-san was doing just that, sharing the book he had saved up for with these children. It was so unexpectedly heartwarming that it caught Akaashi up in a whirlwind of feelings.
Leaning against a wall under a tree a small distance away, Akaashi found himself enthralled. The kids looked to be the same way too, faces wide with anticipation as they urged Bokuto on with questions and oohs and ahs.
“Do they make it out of the mountain?” One of the kids jumped up.
“Ohoho, just wait and see little one,” Bokuto said. “We’re getting there.”
“What if they don’t?” Another kid asked.
“Who’s gonna save them?” The last kid chimed in.
“Patience!” Bokuto declared dramatically. “We’re getting to the good part.”
The kids laughed.
Good with kids , Akaashi noted.
Bokuto-san’s bright personality shone through even on this bleary autumn day, a ray of sunshine under the soft grey clouds that travelled across the sky. The wind picked up and ruffled over his hair, the two grey spikes sticking up and adding a curious twist to his cheery demeanor. Akaashi still thought the man looked very much like an owl, but in an endearing way.
By the time Bokuto got to the end, the kids were practically vibrating with glee. The smiles on their faces made Bokuto’s smile widen, his eyes lighting up with joy as he closed his book and waved goodbye to the children.
“Very impressive, Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto nearly jumped out of his pants.
“Ah, Akaashi! What are you doing here?” he asked, rubbing his hair sheepishly with a smile. His cheeks were blustered from the autumn wind, a little flush of red coloring his grin. The hardcover novel was clutched in his hands.
Handsome was the word to describe Bokuto-san.
“I was walking by and I heard someone reading,” Akaashi said, returning a small smile of his own. “So naturally I had to check it out.”
Bokuto must live here. It was quite far from the bookshop, and Akaashi’s heart did a little jump when he thought about Bokuto making the distance to visit him and his books.
“Yes, yes, me reading,” Bokuto continued, waving his hand. “I like reading out loud so I come here every week to read to the neighbor’s kids. They love a good fantasy story as much as my sister and I do.”
Handsome and kind . Brilliant. This was doing wonders for Akaashi’s heart.
“I see,” Akaashi chuckled. “They are very excited.”
“Hey, do you want to go get something to eat with me?” Bokuto asked.
Akaashi couldn’t help but wonder if Bokuto had just asked him out on a date.
“Yes,” he said without even having to think.
“Great!” Bokuto lit up. “Let’s go to the coffee shop down the road.”
Then he deflated a little.
“I wanna treat you to coffee, but I don’t think I have enough to do that,” he admitted, face dropping into a pout that Akaashi wanted to kiss off his face.
“That’s okay, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi offered him a comforting smile, which seemed to soothe his worries.
They turned out of the cluster of houses and wandered out onto the street. It was getting slightly colder, and Akaashi found himself leaning towards Bokuto as they walked. This was comfortable, the two of them. It was hard to fathom that Bokuto was the book thief who had been haunting his bookshop, and Akaashi found himself quite amused that they had gotten so far.
The sun overhead was starting to peek through the clouds.
“Hey Akaashi?”
“Yes, Bokuto-san?”
“Thank you.”
»»————- ————-««
Akaashi hasn’t seen Bokuto in a few weeks.
The bookshop felt strangely empty without his presence, the place just a little too quiet. Akaashi had gotten all too used to the loud declarations and large gestures that Bokuto brought into his shop, coming in to talk about books or ask about his day. He had grown to look forward to the smiles and the pleasant conversation and staring at Bokuto every time he walked around the shop.
He had even set out new books on the hardback wall to accompany the section that Bokuto usually frequented in the hopes that Bokuto would come by and be delighted by the new arrivals.
With a cup of tea and a book tucked away in the corner of his shop, Akaashi looked out the window, searching the little road.
Where is Bokuto-san ?
It wasn’t until later in the week when Akaashi had crossed the road to the row of shops opposite that he had found Bokuto emerging from a provisions shop in a harried state. He looked absolutely distressed, and for a moment he didn’t even notice Akaashi standing there.
“What happened, Bokuto-san?”
It was strange seeing Bokuto looking so down.
“Akaashi!” Bokuto shot up for a second, but the dejected look returned. “I’m trying to look for a job.”
“A job?”
“We need the money,” Bokuto said.
Akaashi didn’t ask further.
“I’m not getting anywhere,” Bokuto’s voice was getting softer and sadder. “Nobody wants to hire someone like me.”
Akaashi wished he could just wrap his arms around Bokuto and make everything all better. He wanted to keep Bokuto in his embrace and whisper sweet nothings into his ear until all his clouds of self-doubt went away.
The grey clouds were picking up in the sky, promising rain.
“Come, let’s go inside.” With one hand on Bokuto’s shoulder, Akaashi led the distressed owl man into his bookshop.
“What do I do, Akaashi?” Bokuto sounded so unsure that it took him off guard for a second. “We really need the money.”
This was such a different Bokuto from the happy, bouncy Bokuto that came into his bookshop every week. A different Bokuto from the dramatic and kind Bokuto that read stories to kids from his doorstep. A different Bokuto from the determined Bokuto that had wanted to buy a book.
“Then work here,” Akaashi said resolutely.
“Wait, what?” Bokuto’s eyes widened, frozen in place as if he couldn’t believe his ears.
“Work for me,” Akaashi said, serious. “You’d be perfect for the job.”
“Wait, Akaashi! Are you serious?”
“I could not be more serious, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi continued. “I want you here.”
Akaashi did want Bokuto here. He wanted to see that sunshine smile every single day he walked into the bookshop. He wanted to hear that beautiful voice greeting him when he opened up his doors. He wanted to watch the dramatic gestures and outbursts that Bokuto brought with him. He wanted it all.
Bokuto’s face melted into a disbelieving smile.
“Thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou.”
Akaashi smiled from within the crushing hug that Bokuto enveloped him in.
»»————- ————-««
Bokuto was a diligent worker.
He restocked the shelves and familiarized himself with the inventory, Akaashi often finding him buried under mountains of new books in the backroom as he tried to figure out the labelling system.
He talked to all the customers who came in, his infectious cheeriness and enthusiasm bringing new light to the quiet bookshop. He helped them locate books or pushed recommendations and said hello to all the little kids. Everyone loved him.
He swept up the bookshop too, and wiped down all the shelves. It was a menial task, but he still did it with gusto, occasionally busting out a tune as he whirled across the smooth wood floor with the broom.
Akaashi couldn’t be happier.
“Bokuto-san.”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you only take books from the hardback wall?” Akaashi asked.
There were plenty of other good sections in the shop, and an entire section dedicated specifically to fantasy books. He was sure that Bokuto would’ve found many more stories in the fantasy section.
“Because it’s where you put all your favorites.” Bokuto flashed him a grin.
Akaashi tried to hide the blush creeping up into his face.
He really tried.
It was a quiet night when they closed up shop together, a little routine they had grown to love. Bokuto has had much better luck pulling down that darned metal shutter than Akaashi, so he let him. There was something so satisfying about watching the lights go off in their little book sanctuary after a long day of talking to customers and watching their books go off to new homes.
“Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto turned to look at him with a questioning look, his eyes bright even in the dark of the night.
The moon was hanging overhead, staring down at them.
“When do I get to meet the little sister?”
Bokuto’s face jumped into an unbelievable red.
“Woah, woah, woah! Maybe take me out to dinner first, Akaashi.”
“Okay,” Akaashi said simply. “Where do you want to eat?”
If it was possible, Bokuto only got redder.
“Now? Like right now ?”
“Mmhm.” Akaashi nodded seriously.
“That’s so unfair, I haven’t treated you to dinner yet!” Bokuto exclaimed.
“You can treat me next time,” Akaashi assured. “We have lots of time.”
Bokuto smiled.
As they walked down the road together, Akaashi slipped his hand into Bokuto’s own. It was warm and soft and nice and everything else in between. He had been waiting a long time to do that.
Bokuto gripped it tighter, twining their fingers together.
The night was young.
They had a lot of time.
Akaashi sighed softly.
The book thief had stolen his heart too .