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Bokuto groaned as he walked towards the door of his and Akaashi’s shared apartment, his muscles still aching from training. He loved volleyball, and he loved the way that he was going, but even he would feel the strain of the sport sometimes. But he smiled as he remembered that every day he could come home to a haven that would melt any pain away. Sometimes all it took was just one glance at Akaashi hunched over his desk or even just ordering dinner for them and everything would be warm and fluttery again.
But as Bokuto opened the door and stepped inside, something felt odd . Bokuto knew that Akaashi was a quiet person and that usually meant a quiet apartment until he arrived, but something about the air was too silent and too still.
“Akaashi?” Bokuto tentatively called out as he switched on the lights. “I’m home.”
He waited and waited, but there was no response. Bokuto’s heart was threatening to pound out of his chest, but he forced it to calm down. He quickly headed towards the bedroom, hoping to see a snoozing Akaashi who had just been far too tired to hear his call.
But as he approached, he was only greeted by the cold sight of a made, but ultimately empty bed. And yet another fact that set Bokuto’s nerves into further disarray was the fact that Akaashi’s watch was not on the bedside table. Nor were his books on the shelves, his notebooks and laptop weren’t on the table, his clothes weren’t in the closet.
Bokuto’s breaths were growing faster by the minute, trying to catch after his racing thoughts. Had they been robbed? Was Akaashi kidnapped? Was he hurt somewhere? He stepped outside the bedroom, already reaching towards his phone to call Kuroo or Daichi or anyone who could help him understand the absence of Akaashi when his eyes landed on a neatly folded piece of paper on the coffee table in the living room.
He took it, unfolded it, and read.
˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆
Dear Koutaro,
I never used to think much of my name, not even when others would tell me it was a pretty name. But with you, I finally could see that beauty. The way your tongue would gently caress every syllable, every letter before having it flow from your mouth. You would take such care in every part, taking my name and turning it into a sweet symphony that I would pay millions to hear over and over and over again.
I never thought much of my hands either, aside from the fact that they were “setter hands” as everyone else knew them. But you taught me they were so much more. You taught me that my hands could be a safe haven for yours; soft and warm and embracing. You taught me that my fingers are tools of exploration that could travel through the landscape of your hair and nose and cheeks and chest. They could feel and find. And you gave me the best possible map to venture upon. You even taught me that my hands could bring stories to life. When you finally wrangled the ideas I had kept safe and unseen in my mind, you were the one who told me that I could write them into existence for everyone to see. Your words were the ones that guided me, your arms were the ones that swept the doubts away, your sparkling eyes were the ones that made me realize that I wanted my words to be seen. You did all that, just to convince me that my mind was a wonderful place and that my hands could bring change into this world.
Last, of all, I never thought much of my heart. Or perhaps, I had thought of it too much. You knew how I was in the beginning. Reserved, quiet, a little guarded if needed. My heart did not know passion like you who was a blazing supernova even then. Mine was tucked away, unharmed, but unaffected by so many of life’s joys and pains. But you, you felt everything. You let your heart out bare and naked into the world. I once called you foolish for that, but now I know better. Now I know you were brave, and that you were right. When you, not-so-slowly, came in with reaching and expectant arms towards my heart, I had made sure to hide it away even deeper. But you were persistent, and my heart had unknowingly been stepping out of its cage for a very long time. And once it saw the sun, once it felt the heat that yours had been experiencing all your life, it knew that you were brave.
I guess what I’m trying to say, Ko, is thank you. I always knew you were a shining catalyst, and I am direct proof of that. Your life had touched mine and it is now bleeding with color and sensation and light. And I know you’re going to do that with so many others, especially with the path you have chosen to go on.
You are going to move mountains and light fires and create universes. I can already see it now: Packed stadiums, all eyes focused on you, creating a frantic, flowing energy, they’ll all be screaming your name. You are gonna touch their lives as well. It’s a great path, really, one you are well suited for. I’m just not sure I can come with you.
The path you’re on is for the great and golden. And I am not that. I am the grey moon merely reflecting your shining sun rays. When you leave, I will be dark and dull all over again. I know I could stay with you, we could keep what we have, but it would be selfish of me to cling onto you like that and drag you down. The guilt would creep all over me, and you would be left with a suffocated shell of a boyfriend, and I do not want that for you.
So this is goodbye, Koutaro. I know it wasn’t in our plan. I know it isn’t easy to tear a four-year relationship apart, but I think it’s for the best. I know this may seem sudden to you, but please trust me when I say that I have given this careful thought. No matter how much I ache to stay right where we are, I can’t be the weed that leeches off you and your greatness. I would never be able to forgive myself.
Please know that none of this is your fault. You are an absolute angel. You have changed me for the better, it’s just me that is not enough. I love you Koutaro. And it’s precisely because I love you that I can’t let this go on. Please know that if I can’t be by your side, I will always be cheering you on.
Thank you, truly, for everything. Though our time was finite, it will forever be seared into my mind. Know that my heart will still be calling out to you each and every day. Know that you are the best home I could have ever asked for, and nothing else I ever try to build for myself will ever compare. And know that this is farewell.
Love,
Keiji
˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆
Bokuto wanted to tear the letter apart. He wanted to burn it and throw the ashes into the trash. Because this could not possibly be real. But even through bleary, tearful eyes, he could still tell the letters were written in Akaashi’s unmistakably beautiful handwriting. And anything that had a hint of Akaashi, no matter how scorching, would be something that Bokuto would treasure. So he gently placed it back on the table as he ungracefully fell to the floor, clutching his face as his tears continued to flow.
There were so many things crashing through him right now, but the prevailing thought was: Was I too much?
Bokuto knew that Akaashi told him that it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help the sharp thoughts piercing through him.
While he had lived his best life, Akaashi was silently suffering thinking he wasn’t enough. He was out here worrying about training and dealing with fans and travel plans for tournaments, and his new, big life had made Akaashi feel small. He had never meant to, of course, but he should’ve known, he should’ve done something. Akaashi had tried to thank him, but Bokuto had failed him. He had been too focused on all the big things, he wasn’t able to see the thousand tiny little ways Akaashi was probably breaking apart. He couldn’t believe Akaashi was thanking him when he had obviously not done enough to keep the fear and shadows at bay. And now he was gone.
A loud sob escaped from Bokuto’s throat and he let it. He was sorry to any neighbors who might hear him but this pain couldn’t be kept inside. It was already tearing him apart as he let it out and he would feel every shake, he would scream his throat raw, he would cry until his eyes could not produce any more tears. This pain was here to remind him of everything he failed to be for Akaashi.
He picked up the letter again and hugged it to his chest, wanting to feel even a semblance of the warmth that Akaashi used to give him, as selfish as it was. He had nothing else with him except this letter and his pain. The fans, the stadiums, the popularity, none of it mattered if Akaashi wasn’t there by his side smiling with him. He would give it all up if it meant he could get him back.
“Keiji...I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t make you feel enough. Please, please come back to me.”