Chapter Text
Akaashi Keiji had always been a calm person in general.
However, even the calmest person could snap when the person they had been pining for for nearly a decade announces his marriage to not just a certain someone he has seen on the screen for a very long time but also decided to not tell him about it before announcing it to the whole world. When Akaashi saw Twitter blowing up with all the latest news about the engagement of Bokuto Koutarou to one Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi found his heart all but crumbling into pieces, turning into dust that was only going to be scattered in the wind as the day went on further.
Aside from the heartbreaking news of his best friend getting hitched, Akaashi had to deal with the aftermath known as Udai Tenma. The mangaka had gone bonkers about his series being brought to an end much earlier than expected and when he had gone over with Akaashi over story ideas he might have, Akaashi found himself snapping at the mangaka much more than he would like, bringing the man to tears and even tearing out of the room. Akaashi didn’t bother following him out, staring at the pages left behind as he tried to contain the tears welling up in his eyes and slowly tearing him to shreds.
Who was he to say that he was the protagonist of his own story when he couldn’t even keep his shit together?
He could only look at the draft of the story Udai had come up with of a boy soaring through the sky with wings spread out on his back, fighting to stay on the court for as long as he could. The smile and energy the character gave off reminded Akaashi of the man he had loved for so long, from the bright smile and flashing teeth to the willingness of the character to go all the way to the top.
Akaashi found himself slowly crumbling from the inside out. Initially, it started with him pulling all-nighters just to get his head into work and not think about the numerous messages of their friends asking him about the wedding. Before he knew it, he was running on an hour of sleep or even going without sleep for several hours on end just to work on projects. He ended up taking on more work than he could handle and when the time came for him to help a mangaka debut for the first time, he found himself crashing and miscalculating all the deadlines needed to send the manga to the printers and send out to the bookshops.
In other words, it was an epic disaster.
Not only did the mangaka lose their golden opportunity to shine, they had ended up quitting being a mangaka altogether because of the pressure that had been pushed onto them to change the storyline of the manga until it suited the publishing house’s needs. Akaashi had felt obligated to make sure the readers got what they want, not let the creator themselves hold the reins to the story which made the failure even more devastating to the poor mangaka. She flatly told him that she would be quitting working with them altogether and moved to a different publishing house, rising to become a star in her own right, thus putting Akaashi in the position of having lost such a good mangaka to another competitor.
After hearing several earfuls from his boss and ever-growing rumours of him being rejected by Bokuto in the department (it was no secret that the editor was head over heels for the athlete given how many times he worked overtime just to go see his games), Akaashi decided he had had it and quit the company. After all, it wasn’t as though he liked the job, to begin with. He wanted to write literature, to create a book that people would come to love and treasure much like the authors he had loved growing up as a child.
How could he pursue a career when he had robbed people of their creativity just to please the world known as publishing and marketing? He had no right to write when the world only demanded what they wanted him to write instead of letting him be free.
Akaashi felt the cold breeze hitting his cheeks as he stepped out of his office building, not even once looking back as he walked down the near-empty streets of Tokyo. With it being very late into the night, Akaashi didn’t have to deal with people staring at the way his eyes were red from crying and the bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep. As he walked past a shop, his reflection mirrored a man who had lost the will to fight. His cheeks were sunken in from lack of rest and food and he could even feel his knees wobbling as he walked. His blue eyes had all but lost their shine in them, replaced with hollow pits that only saw despair.
Akaashi didn’t think as he walked on and on, his shoes scuffing along the pavement as he breathed in the cold November air. It had been around three months since Bokuto announced his marriage and he still couldn’t get out of his head why Bokuto had chosen Kuroo of all people. The man was obnoxious, loud, annoying, cunning…
So why did Bokuto pick him instead of himself when he had stayed by his side for so long?
“Akaashi-san?” a voice called as Akaashi halted in his tracks, the familiar tinkling of a shop opening as a bell rung in the distance. The wafting smell of freshly cooked rice and seaweed hit his nostrils as well as cleaning liquid, his head turning to see a mop of black hair covered by a cap standing at the threshold, the owner lifting the cap to reveal a handsome face that was now tinged with red.
Miya Osamu had been just about the only reason he had managed to stay sane this entire time. With his heavenly onigiri and his ability to make Akaashi feel at ease as he poured out his frustrations and worries, Akaashi had been able to hold out this entire time. When Osamu had told him he was going to open an Onigiri Miya branch in Tokyo, he had all but yelled in excitement, even going so much to hug the startled man.
Akaashi stared at the ground as the door clanged against the frame, Osamu stepping outside into the cold in just a t-shirt and an apron tied around his waist to cover ripped jeans. He leaned against the doorframe when he heard Akaashi’s stomach giving away a growl, the former editor scowling as he held his stomach as the chef laughed.
“Come on in. I still have some food left over and even a bit of drinks. Wanna have some?” he grinned as Akaashi groaned. Osamu always seemed to be there when he both wanted to see him and not. Right now, he wanted to go back to his room and curl into a blanket burrito, forgetting about the world until morning came and he had to find a new job. Rent wasn’t going to pay itself anyways and it would take a very long time for him to find a new job too. Publishing houses weren’t exactly doing well these days anyways with how few people actually read.
Akaashi stepped into the warmth of the restaurant, breathing in the smell of onigiri as Osamu slipped behind the counter. The set up was simple but elegant; small wooden booths were set up 2m away from each other. A long table ran along the preparation area where customers could see Osamu work his magic on his riceballs, a long mirror shielding him from the customers with tiny slots underneath big enough for him to slip food through once he was done. Red lanterns hung above their heads, giving the restaurant a soft glow and on the ground, tiles with the images of foxes dotted the ground in alternate intervals, a tribute to the chef’s former team.
Osamu slipped him his favourite onigiri combo from underneath the mirror, the former editor reaching out to grab it and stuff it into his mouth without thinking. The last time he had eaten was breakfast the previous day and since he had spent the whole day being yelled at by his boss and just packing his things (which he chucked into the bin since he didn’t want anything to do with it ever again), he didn’t have much of a chance to eat. His stomach absorbed the food easily, his stomach growling for more sustenance as Osamu laughed, “When was the last time you ate?”
“Yesterday?”
“Working hard?” the man asked as he slipped Akaashi some water, which he gratefully gulped before swiping his lips a bit too ferally.
“I quit my job,” was all he said to make Osamu’s eyes widen, his hands having stopped drying a glass as he gaped, “You what?”
“I got tired of the job and I felt I had failed my mangaka and I didn’t deserve to take away the dreams of someone who wishes to create a story.” He gulped down more water that was passed to him as Osamu slid him more onigiri, a worried look on his face as he asked, even though he knew very well what was the tipping point to Akaashi flipping out.
“Was it because of Bokuto?” He already heard a million and one stories from his twin about how happy Bokuto was and how the volleyball players was gushing about being a married man soon. As much as Osamu liked the guy, he felt that it wasn’t right for Bokuto, as wild and uncoordinated as he was, to dump such a huge announcement into Akaashi’s lap when he was already suffering so much from overwork and stress.
“Whatever. I hated the job anyway. It’s not like it’s a huge loss to me. the only problem now is money. Money. Money,” he groaned as he raised his glass. Osamu didn’t know if was a good idea to give the guy alcohol but he found himself pouring it anyways since Akaashi looked like he could use some spilling and soon enough, the editor was running his mouth about everything that he had been keeping in all this time from how much he hated his job to how broken-hearted he was about Bokuto.
All this time, Osamu thought Akaashi might have trusted him enough to talk to him about such things but looks like he didn’t. The chef felt his heart break even more as Akaashi poured about his unrequited love towards his ace and how many times he wished he had confessed but didn’t have the guts to since he didn’t want to ruin his career. He knew how Bokuto could be viewed if he came out as gay but now he was going to get married to a member of the Volleyball Association to boot, Akaashi wished he had just grown a pair of balls to ask him out.
Now, it was too late.
“Well, what is done is done. I guess I just have to focus on not becoming homeless. Maybe I will sell most of my stuff and just live in a small room. I don’t need much worldly things anyways. Maybe I could even sell my body; people always said my face was pretty,” Akaashi mumbled as he took a swig of his glass. Osamu felt his heart hammering as Akaashi leaned on his elbows, giving him a cute drunken look as he slurred, “Hey, Mya-sam, would you like to be with a guy like me who quits his job because his unrequited love got married? Must be such a sorry excuse of a guy.” Akaashi laughed as he tried to drink more from the glass only to realise that it was empty. He tried to reach for the bottle only to be blocked by the screen in front of him, the former editor giving a pout as he pressed his face against the screen.
“Mya-sam, give me more,” he hummed before slumping into his seat, a small snore escaping from his lips as Osamu sighed. He quickly closed shop and brought the drunken man back to his flat, setting him into the bed and moving to the sofa for the night. All night, he could hear Akaashi moaning in his sleep about Bokuto, wishing he could block out the parts where he cried out for the man in tears and the hiccups that followed.
The next morning, Osamu greeted a very hung over Akaashi with a tray of onigiri, clam soup and water. The editor seemed a bit flustered from having found himself in Osamu’s home, slowly turning his face away from him as he set down the food.
“Sorry about yesterday,” he muttered as Osamu chuckled, “Don’t worry. We all go through shit sometimes.”
“That was really rude of me to intrude on you,” Akaashi murmured as he took a swig of water along with some painkillers, the throbbing in his head slowly reducing before he was finally able to eat. As he munched on the food, Osamu fiddled with his fingers before turning to face Akaashi, hoping that the darkness of the room hid the reddening tips of his ears as he blurted.
“How about I hire you Akaashi? You can be my housekeeper since I’m hardly ever at home to manage the house. You can even come work in Onigiri Miya sometimes if you want, we could use some extra help once in a while. You can stay at my place so you don’t have to worry about rent! While you’re at it, maybe you can even work on the book you always wanted to do,” he stammered as his heart stuttered. Oh lord, what the hell was he thinking? As if a full-grown man with qualifications wanted to become a freaking housekeeper! There was no way Akaashi would agree to such a ridiculous notion…
Instead, he was met with shining eyes as Akaashi’s lip wobbled, his onigiri forgotten in his hands as he whispered, “Do you really want to take care of a failure like me and let me work in the place I love so much?”
“Of course! You’re organised, you would work well with the customers and attract more people if you’re there.” Osamu wasn’t going to deny the fact that Akaashi was indeed very pretty and that he might or might not have been pining after him for the past few years since he met him during an MSBY Black Jackals game.
And that was how Akaashi Keiji ended up becoming Miya Osamu’s roommate and the new face of Onigiri Miya Tokyo Branch.