Chapter Text
Akaashi Keiji has never told the truth in his entire life. Not to anyone and not even to himself. There are a few things that he tells himself when he’s trying to fall asleep at night. He tells himself that he is not broken, that he is fine. That it’s good that he can’t feel anything anymore. That it doesn’t matter who or what hurts him because he’s already dead inside. He reminds himself he’s incapable of laughing or crying or showing anything at all and it’s better that way. Yeah, overall he’s doing pretty great. He’s practically fucking invincible. But you have to remember that Akaashi Keiji has never told the truth in his entire life, not even to himself.
This story starts in a city, it doesn’t matter the name, it could happen anywhere. But it happens here, in this dirty, dark, and rough side of town that holds onto people, that chains them down and keeps them stuck. More specifically this story starts in a shady, rundown club, packed full of bodies, warm and writhing, under the influence of a million things. Akaashi is 16 and dancing on tables, body coated in glitter, hips rolling, green eyes dead and empty. Bokuto Koutaro is 17 and higher than a kite, trying to fight off the bout of manic depression he can feel creeping up on him. One could say they meet by chance. Someone else might even go so far as to call it luck. That would just be plain wrong. Akaashi and Bokuto meeting is far from lucky. In fact, they should probably never meet each other. But they do, here in this club, under flashing neon green and lavender lights. Akaashi, with his pretty dark hair and hooded bedroom eyes, breaks into Bokuto’s drug-addled mind and holds it hostage. He’s going to be talking about Akaashi all night.
“Those eyes, Kuroo. Come on, look at him.” Bokuto practically screams this and his friend with the permanent bedhead covers his ears and glares.
“He’s underage, idiot.”
Bokuto only laughs and yells, “So am I, idiot.” Kuroo just shrugs and sulks. He is 19 and extremely pessimistic, been on his own for six years, dealing drugs for three. He’s managed to work his way up the ranks and sells everything from weed to the hard stuff. Neither of them says it, but they both know that’s one of the only reasons they’re friends, that and the fact that Kuroo is the only one who’ll deal with Bokuto’s intense mood swings. Even if his way of dealing with them is by plying Bokuto with drugs. Kuroo himself doesn’t partake though, so right now he’s practically sober while Bokuto is out of this world.
“I’m gonna go talk to him.”
Kuroo shakes his head, “He’s busy.” Bokuto follows Kuroo’s gaze and tries to pick out green eyes from a swirling, blurry mess of faces and lights. He finds them, batting their lashes and gazing downwards, playing up their innocence, as their owner grinds up against an older man, a fake smile spreading when money’s pushed into his waistband. There are a few things Akaashi tells himself when rough hands rub up and down his swaying body, pinching and rubbing, shoving cash into his face. He tells himself that he likes it, that he’s getting paid so it’s fine. That it’s good that people want him. That he should be proud of his beauty and his body. He reminds himself he’s incapable of feeling anything when they touch him and it’s better that way. Yeah, overall he’s got a pretty good job. He’s practically living a dream. But you have to remember that Akaashi Keiji has never told the truth in his entire life, not even to himself.
The club’s closing down now and everyone’s leaving. But, Akaashi sticks around, he always does, waiting for someone to ask if they can buy his body for the night. He’ll accept, he always does, ‘cause the money’s nice and he’d rather not go home. No customers tonight, though. He does, however, see the bird boys. He’s seen them around a lot. But, he doesn’t know their names, just knows that the brunette, whose hair resembles a rooster deals, and that the silver-haired owl boy is always fucked up on something. Akaashi doesn’t understand how this kid willingly loses control of his body to a substance, but to each his own he supposes. He also doesn’t understand why owl boy keeps staring at him, amber eyes surprisingly piercing for someone who’s so burnt out.
“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Bokuto says this again, but he’s whispering now because the club’s basically empty. He stumbles forward.
“No, you’re not,” Kuroo mumbles as he steadies Bokuto, “You can barely walk straight, I’m taking you home. Besides, I think he left.” Kuroo’s wrong about that, though. Akaashi’s outside, by the door. He’s waiting for the bird boys. He figures, because of the way owl boy looked at him, that maybe they’ll be interested in taking him home for the night. It might actually be nice, seeing as both boys are close to his age and, despite the strange hair, are very attractive, he honestly doesn’t care if they pay him. All he wants is to put off going home for as long as he can.
Bokuto trips through the open doorway, nearly falling onto the pavement, and comes face to face with green eyes. The boy is right there, holding onto Bokuto’s arm now. Bokuto opens his mouth, lost for words.
The boy just smiles and leans forward, his voice low and sultry “Hey. My name’s Akaashi. And I was wondering if you and your friend wanted-”
“Come home with me,” This just slips out and Bokuto curses himself for deciding to smoke that third joint earlier. The boy, or Akaashi, as he had just said, furrows his brow for a second, looking confused. Oh great, Bokuto thinks, I just fucked up.
But then, a smile spreads across Akaashi’s face and he says, “Okay.”
Owl boy is apparently struck dumb by this. Akaashi might find his stupid expression funny if he remembered how to laugh. But, he doesn’t, not really anyway.
“Okay?” Bokuto’s voice lilts up childishly into a question and he curses himself again. He must sound idiotic.
Akaashi nods, “Yeah. I said okay. I’ll go home with you.”
Bokuto tries to stop it, but he can feel a wide, crooked smile spreading across his face. He offers his hand to shake “Great. Well, my name’s Boku-“
Akaashi holds up his hand in protest and cuts owl boy off. He doesn’t know his name yet and he doesn’t want to. It will make it harder to leave come morning.
“I don’t need to know,” is all Akaashi says and he watches the owl boy’s face become twisted with confusion. But the owl boy’s smile doesn’t go away and he doesn’t drop his hand. He actually moves closer.
“But, I want to tell you my name, Akaashi. You told me yours.” He moves his hand closer offering even more, “I’m Bokuto.”
“Alright,” Akaashi says slowly and accepts Bokuto’s hand, “Nice to meet you Bokuto-san”. Bokuto’s hand is warm and calloused. Akaashi thinks that his own hand must be very smooth and cold, he wonders if he feels as dead on the outside as he does on the inside. Bokuto doesn’t seem to think so because he holds Akaashi’s hand tightly and shakes it with exaggeration. His smile grows, and his eyes become wide. Akaashi can see just how blown out his pupils are. The rooster haired boy comes out, just as they break their handshake, and Bokuto twirls around to him, same dopey grin.
“Kuroo!” He yells this, and turns back to Akaashi, as Kuroo comes to stand beside him, “This is Kuroo. Akaashi’s coming home with us.”
“No.” Kuroo says flatly, shaking his head, “Not us. You. I’ll drop you both off at your apartment and then I’m going back to my place.”
“Oh,” Bokuto says and he keeps smiling, but it seems less genuine, “Okay. My dad’s not home anyway. It’s fine.” He still looks hurt though. It’s because Bokuto knows that next morning when he’s sober, he won’t want to do anything except lay in bed and cry and scratch at his arms and legs until they bleed, if he was at Kuroo’s it wouldn’t matter. Kuroo doesn’t care if he sleeps all day and cries all night, eventually, he’ll just give in and help Bokuto get high again. But if Bokuto’s at home, cramped into the tiny apartment with his dad, it’s a different story. He’s shaken out of his thoughts by a pale, cold hand reaching down and grabbing his wrist.
“Come on Bokuto-San,” Akaashi says, gently tugging on his wrist. “I’ll still come with you.” Bokuto follows the other two to Kuroo’s car, he holds open the back door and lets Akaashi slide in. When he turns to go to the passenger side, Kuroo pushes up against him and presses a bag into his hand.
“Take some of these,” he whispers, gesturing to colorful pills, “They might help.” They won’t, not in the long run, but Bokuto will take them anyway . He takes two a little later, as soon as they get inside his apartment. Akaashi watches him, bottom lip pushed out, expression serious. Bokuto can feel his eyelids drooping, as the familiar warm rush crashes into him and makes his head spin.
“I don’t know if I want to let you do this if you're high.” Akaashi’s voice is still low, but it’s harsher now, not as soft as it was the first time he spoke.
Bokuto rubs his eyes, trying to understand what Akaashi’s saying, “Let me do what?”
Akaashi sighs, running his hand through his hair, “Let you fuck me.”
Bokuto can’t see straight and his whole body feels heavy, is that what Akaashi thought they were going to do? Was that what Bokuto had intended, when he’d asked Akaashi to come with him? He doesn’t know anymore. He can’t remember that far back. And all he manages to say is a slurred, “What? N-no, I’m not gonna do that.”
Akaashi just raises an eyebrow, otherwise expressionless, “Oh. Did I misread this then? Do you like girls? Because I can pretend. I just really need to stay here tonight.” Emotion. For just a second. One moment of truthfulness in Akaashi’s life. Bokuto doesn’t really notice though, the pills have really kicked in. He just stumbles forward, slurring.
“You can stay ‘Kaashi. Just want to talk to you.” Bokuto nearly falls, but Akaashi catches him, letting Bokuto support himself against his thin frame.
“You’re too high to talk, Bokuto-san. You should go to bed.” And Bokuto sort of leads the way, Akaashi sort of drags him to his tiny room, no bigger than a closet and Bokuto just falls on the bed. He pulls Akaashi down with him, holding tight when Akaashi tries to get up.
“Please” He can hear himself say, “Stay ‘Kaashi.” And Akaashi does. He lets himself lie back down and lets Bokuto wrap his arms around him. Bokuto’s already asleep, breath deep and warm against Akaashi’s skin. Akaashi rarely sleeps and when he does it’s never for long, but now he surprises himself as his own breathing slows and his eyelids droop. He snuggles up into Bokuto’s arms and feels very warm, very safe, and very...loved. No , his mind starts to wake up, No you did not just think that. Idiot. You aren’t allowed to be loved. You can’t even fall in love. Idiot. His mind tries to fight off the blanket of sleep, but it loses. You aren’t talking to him again. That’s the last thing on his mind as he drifts off. It’s a lie though, of course, it is.
Bokuto wakes up, sometime in the early morning, newly sober and dying for a hit of something, anything. Screw you, Kuroo. You said those pills would help. He pushes himself up, his whole body feels weak and shaky and he wants to cry. You can do this. Nightstand second drawer. You usually have something there. He fumbles the drawer open and digs around. Empty packets and plastic bags. Nothing. He gets up. Maybe his dad has some pain killers or something. Bathroom. I can look there. He trips. And nearly falls. Akaashi is still asleep. Bokuto doesn’t want to wake him up. He pushes into the bathroom and falls against the sink. He opens the cabinet. Empty bottles. Nothing. No. No. Nothing. I need something. Please. He can feel his breath growing faster and faster and his eyes tear up. His hands move up his arms and his nails dig in. Scratch. Bleed. Cry. Repeat. But he’s not bleeding. Cold, pale hands are on his own, pulling them away.
“No, Bokuto-San.” Akaashi’s voice is low and gentle again, “Don’t do that. You’ll be alright. Come back to bed.” Bokuto follows him. How could he not? It’s strange that this boy he’s only just met brings him such comfort. But he hears a crunch in his pocket when he starts to walk. Reaches in, finds the bag Kuroo gave him. Two pills left. Perfect.
“You can take them, Bokuto-san. I don’t care.” That’s a lie. Akaashi does care. He knows he should tell Bokuto not too, that’s what a good person would do. But Akaashi isn’t a good person and probably won’t ever be, he’s a liar and he’ll probably never stop lying. But, Bokuto doesn’t know this, so he swallows the pills and sits on the bed waiting for the rush to come. It doesn’t at least, not as quickly as he wants it to. Bokuto starts to cry. Akaashi watches him, leaning back against the wall. Does Bokuto even know he’s here anymore?
“Akaashi.” There’s his answer, mixed in with sobs and an outstretched pair of arms, “Please ‘Kaashi.” And Akaashi goes to Bokuto, helps him lay back and stretch out. He pulls Bokuto’s head onto his lap and plays with his hair. He doesn’t know what to say. Nobody ever really comforts him anymore and nobody ever really did before, anyway.
“My dad’s coming home tomorrow. I don’t wanna see him.” Bokuto whispers this, his crying having subsided. Akaashi doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet. It doesn’t seem to matter though, Bokuto keeps talking, “I think I’m gonna pass out soon. W-will you still be here when I wake up?”
“Oh.” Akaashi thinks for a moment, “I don’t know. Depends on the time, I’ve got to go home in the morning.”
“But, do you want to?” Bokuto says this slowly, starting to slur again. Akaashi doesn’t know what he’s asking.
“Do I want to?” He whispers and begins to rub circles on Bokuto’s back. Bokuto presses into his touch.
“Do you wanna go home?” Bokuto says, barely audible now.
“Oh. Yeah, I guess I do.” That’s a lie, of course, it is. But, Bokuto’s got enough problems and Akaashi doesn’t want to trouble him any more, doesn’t want Bokuto to know that he’s scared of going home, that it’s never been a home to him, always just been a waking nightmare. And Bokuto is too far gone anyway, he rolls over and stares up, amber eyes rolling back under drooping lids.
“I’m scared, ‘Kaashi”
“Why, Bokuto-san?”
“I’m scared I won’t remember you when I wake up.” Akaashi doesn’t get to respond because Bokuto’s eyes close and his breathing gets shallow. Akaashi gently moves his head and lays down beside him. He tries to fall asleep again. It’s harder this time.