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Akaashi Keiji knew the consequences of dating Bokuto Koutarou.
He knew the consequences of dating a man who still lingered outside the door of a heart that’s long been locked forever.
“You’re just like her,” Akaashi would hear sometimes, a sleepy Bokuto whispering to himself, not even aware of what he was saying.
“You’re just a rebound,” Akaashi would hear sometimes, a worried Sugawara sitting across from him.
“But I love him,” He’d say to Sugawara, trying to convince the pretty setter.
“But I love him,” He’d say to himself, trying to convince his poor blind heart.
Akaashi Keiji knew the consequences of dating Bokuto Koutarou.
He knew the moment the words “Will you go out with me?” left the ace’s lips that he’d be a heartbroken mess by the end of this.
He knew he’d be hurt before Bokuto even asked him out so why, why did he agree?
Maybe it was the want to finally be selfish for once. Maybe it was the need to be loved. Maybe it was the yearning for Bokuto’s arms around him.
Akaashi didn’t know but what he did know was that it hurt. It hurt way too much.
It hurt more than he had expected.
Keiji realized that as he stood by the door to Bokuto’s room, watching him stare at a polaroid of her.
He couldn’t deny it—everyone was right, he did look like her, he spoke like her, he had the same interests as her but what Bokuto keeps forgetting is, he isn’t her.
“I miss you,” Bokuto spoke in a soft voice, one Akaashi has never heard before.
Keiji watched as the ace looked at that polaroid with more love than he could ever give the setter.
A fucking photograph was more important to him than his own living, breathing boyfriend.
It hurt more than he had expected.
Keiji realized that every time Bokuto mentioned her, comparing her to him.
“She loved listening to the 1975!” Koutarou once brought up when he saw Akaashi watching one of their music videos.
“She always double tied her laces,” Koutarou whispered, kneeling in front of his boyfriend as he tied the loose shoelace. Keiji had to summon all of the patience he had just to not kick the bi-colored hair boy in the face, stand up, and walk away forever.
“She never left the house without hand sanitizers in her bag,” Koutarou shoved a small bottle in Keiji’s bag.
It was exhausting. It was painful. It was torture.
It hurt more than he had expected.
Keiji realized this every time the words “I’m not her,” threatened to slip from his lips.
“I’m not her,” He wanted to scream.
“I’m not her,” He wanted to shake Bokuto free from this prison he put himself in.
“I’m not her,” He wanted to wake himself up from this delusion.
“I’m not her and I will never be her,” It was too easy to say that in front of a mirror. It was easy to look at himself in the bathroom mirror, water dripping down his wet black hair. It was so easy lie to himself.
It was so much easier said than done.
Keiji loved Koutarou. Koutarou cared for Keiji. There’s a difference. There will always be a difference.
Bokuto wasn’t the best boyfriend but he was the best best friend.
Yes, Akaashi can admit that their relationship is less of a relationship and more of an over glorified friendship. There wasn’t any difference anyways, it was just that Akaashi had the extra privilege of kissing the boy.
Was it really worth it? For once in his life, the always ready and prepared Akaashi Keiji was lost. He was frozen in place, the road splitting into multiple directions and he didn’t know what path to take.
Was it really worth it? The fleeting kisses behind gym doors and the hugs that lasted just a second longer? Was the pain worth it?
Akaashi didn’t know.
“I’m a smart person but when it comes to him I just…I fall apart,” Keiji mumbled over his coffee, his friends watching him with that are-you-fucking-kidding-me look on their faces. Kenma lifted his gaze from his phone, observing Keiji. The way his lips turned down as the thought of Bokuto flashed through his mind, black hair messier than usual from the lack of sleep, and the way his hands wrapped just a little bit tighter around the hot beverage, seeking the warmth that Bokuto can never provide.
And Kenma saw all of these signs—Kenma knew all of these because he acted exactly like that the first time he realized he was in love with his own best friend.
“But is he willing to pick up your pieces once you’ve been broken down when he’s still picking up his own pieces?” The Nekoma student rebutted, his words might sound harsh but his intentions were pure. Kenma knew his friend needed to wake up once and for all; In Bokuto’s eyes he was nothing more than a rebound.
Keiji Akaashi needed to wake up to the reality that Bokuto Koutarou was merely using him to grasp on to the threads that she left.
And in his deep slumber, a loud alarm rang through his sweetest dreams.
“Acute myeloid leukemia,” Akaashi hated the hospital. It reminded him of death and hopelessness and the coldness, the impossible coldness of the hospitals just wrapped around his lungs and squeezed them but what he hated the most was the way the doctor looked at him with pity.
“How many years?” 5 years they said. 5 years left and would he be willing to spend the last 5 years with the only boy he ever loved?
“Akaashi!” That loud voice.
“Akaashi toss for me!” Those wide loving eyes that have been hurt too much.
“Akaashi thank you for being there for me!” Was he really willing to put Bokuto through the same pain she put him through, again?
“I’m breaking up with him tomorrow,” The setter breathed in but he never breathed out because that tomorrow turned into next week, that turned into next month, until its been a year and Keiji still found himself wandering through the halls and in Bokuto’s firm arms.
The arms that he made into a home when he was only just a guest.
Bokuto Koutarou knew he could never love Akaashi as much as he loved her — in fact, he could never love anyone as much as he loved her but Akaashi was still his best friend, the person that knew him more than anyone else. The person who would always patiently stay by his side and help him through his “moods”.
Keiji never really had the chance to break up with him.
None of them saw it coming.
Keiji had passed out, almost hitting his head on the concrete if it weren’t for Kuroo catching him.
Keiji never really had the chance to tell Bokuto how much he hurt him.
“Where is he—?” Bokuto slammed open the hospital door, words getting stuck in his throat when his eyes fell on the pale body on the bed, shallow breaths escaping his lips.
Bokuto loved flying, he loved the wind running past is face, he loved the adrenaline but he hated the fall.
He hated the moment where reality seeps in and snatches that daydream from him.
But he couldn’t bring himself to hate Akaashi for stealing away the chance of a future together — of a lifetime together.
“Akaa—Akaashi!” The usual loudness of Bokuto’s voice was gone, it was barely even above a whisper.
“Please wake up, Akaashi, please don’t do this,” No response.
“I can’t lose you too,” His hands were so cold.
“Keiji, please don’t leave me alone again please don’t leave me just when I was starting to learn how to love you please,” Bokuto’s voice cracked, his hair a mess, fat tears streaming down his face as he knelt beside the bed, hands grasping Akaashi’s unresponsive ones, and he begged. Bokuto Koutarou couldn’t even remember the last time he begged this hard.
“Kou,” Kuroo placed a hand on his friend’s shoulders, squeezing it tight.
Keiji never really had the chance to give Bokuto a proper goodbye.
“No,” Bokuto stood up from his chair when a deafening sound rang through the air—it had been hours since Keiji had fainted and Bokuto could care less about everything else.
“No no no no,” He mumbled over and over again to himself.
Keiji was flat lining.
Doctors and nurses barged inside the room, rushing Akaashi to the ER.
Bokuto wasn’t a religious person but that day, he prayed to whoever was up there. He prayed hard and tearfully.
“Don’t take him away too,” Hands wrapped around the other rested on his foreheads.
Bringing out his phone, Bokuto took off the cover, taking out the two polaroids that hid inside.
The first one was of her, smiling brightly. Her heart was too big. She was too kind for this world. The paper was crumpled, loved, and held tightly many times.
The second and newer one was of him and Akaashi—they were in a sunflower field and Bokuto broke down. He never noticed how Akaashi was looking at him in that picture, with so much love, with too much love.
Did he really deserve to be loved so much even to the point where he couldn’t understand it?
“Time of death November 3 7:34 AM,”
It was sudden.
It was like a snap.
Like waking up to an alarm.
Bokuto stood in the waiting room but why—how could he hear the doctor’s voice from the ER?
Death was fast. It was quick. It was rude. It was quiet.
Death was unwelcomed.
Bokuto felt his heart stop just as Akaashi’s own stopped.
What a tragedy, to lose your soulmate even before you realized they were your soulmate. To live life knowing you had them in your arms once upon a time but wake up every day also knowing you can never have them again.
Akaashi was gone just like that.
He never even got the chance to say he loved him too.
“I love you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi ’s gaze fell on Bokuto, figure bathed in orange hues.
“You’re an angel, Akaashi,” Bokuto grinned, eyes still on the sinking sun.
Akaashi Keiji knew the consequences of loving Bokuto Koutarou but he would never ever trade it for a lifetime.