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The night is clear, allowing a spatter of stars to be visible across the darkened sky. They’re lying in Bokuto’s bed, wrapped in each other, encased in the stillness of the night; whispered words, light brushes and lingering touches. Their eyes meet; a collision of captivating gold and alluring blue-green. Fire and ice. Day and night. Sun and moon.
Opposites. The word grips Akaashi’s mind; hushed voices crowd his thoughts for a moment, the white noise of inadequacy plaguing him: boring; unremarkable; unworthy.
Akaashi drowns it out. He tries not to allow the thoughts to get to him, though they reoccur often. He knows Bokuto’s feelings for him; he had expressed them to Akaashi after a day of practice, all fidgety feet, fiddling fingers and furtive glances. Bashful words spilling from his mouth like a gushing waterfall. It had flooded Akaashi with warmth. And he had pushed through his inner turmoil, past his curated exterior and allowed the feelings caught deep in his chest to break forth too. To break free. The look of pure, unadulterated joy on Bokuto’s face in and of itself had been worth the difficulty.
And then everything after that. Akaashi hadn’t expected it to be so easy.
But it is. No matter how frequently his mind swallows him with racing thoughts. It is easy with Bokuto. It is natural. No matter how self-destruction may threaten to consume them both. They are patient with each other, they ground each other. Akaashi has never felt so needy and needed. The reciprocity still alarms him. Bokuto broke through Akaashi’s cool demeanour, his light melted the wall around Akaashi’s heart. And it terrified Akaashi; it still does. To be cared for so deeply, with such abandon and to allow himself to feel the same.
After over a year of stifling his feelings for Bokuto, he had resigned himself to an unrequited crush. One that threatened to consume him whole. Even after Bokuto’s confession, their change in relationship had felt like a fever dream, one of his innermost desires and recurring thoughts playing out before him. Akaashi hadn’t believed it was real, often freezing, his thoughts clashing and overcrowding his mind until Bokuto reached through the haze and pulled him free. And there are still moments where Akaashi freezes up and shuts off, alarmed by his own emotions, his own vulnerability. Though Akaashi is often labelled quiet and collected, patient and calm, his mind is the opposite: loud and always whirring, never stilling.
But Bokuto is patient and never short of affirmations, always taking the opportunity to verbalise how much he cares for Akaashi, reminding him how deep and true his feelings are. Even when Akaashi feels like he doesn’t deserve it. Often, he feels he doesn’t deserve Bokuto. Bokuto, so bright and beautiful, a shining star. Eclipsed by Akaashi. Somber, sceptical Akaashi.
Bokuto’s affection is free flowing and seemingly endless. Akaashi, on the other hand, is more rigid and reserved, still struggling through the thick haze of anxiety to express himself honestly. Sometimes, he worries that Bokuto doesn’t understand the sheer depth of Akaashi’s feelings for him, but he also worries that Bokuto would be offput by their depth. Bokuto deserves to be cared for openly, freely and without restriction and Akaashi is still working on displaying his emotions more openly. His words still fail to capture the sheer weight of his feelings about his boyfriend.
On his doubtful days, this thought of being mismatched lingers in Akaashi’s mind, like a persistent irritating itch. Because they are incredibly different. For all Bokuto’s bright colours, his shining glow, Akaashi is deep mystery and dark stillness. For all Bokuto’s boundless energy and emotion, Akaashi is carefully curated expression and exterior.
“You’re overthinking something,” Bokuto says softly, surprising Akaashi, who had been completely lost in his spiralling thoughts. It always surprises Akaashi when Boktuo reads him so well; it equally scares and warms him. To be so known and still so liked, so wanted. It is foreign to him. Akaashi never likes to reveal his innermost thoughts to others, worried they would be scared off or worse use the vulnerability against him. For this, he is guarded and reserved. To protect himself. So when Bokuto, bright and shining Bokuto, broke through his walls and guards, he was shocked. And when Bokuto first heard what was on his mind and didn’t even flinch, only reassured him, he was astounded. And when Bokuto reads his moods with terrifying accuracy and helps him navigate his way through them, he is still shocked. It floods him with affection. But with that, the painful current of fear.
To be known is to be vulnerable. To be vulnerable is to be hurt.
Akaashi shudders as his thoughts take an even more dismal turn. Bokuto knowing him so well meant he could be hurt that much more. The unshakeable fear of Bokuto hurting him, of Bokuto leaving him is like an incessant whisper at the back of his mind, clouding his thoughts.
“Do you think we’re too different?” Akaashi murmurs into the still night, verbalising his earlier thoughts to save the current ones spiralling in his mind from drowning him. The words hang in the air, a foreboding fear, disrupting their peaceful reverie. It’s only Bokuto he allows to see this side of him; his deepset anxiety and self-destruction; these recurring moments of turmoil. They grip him and threaten to crush him. It’s only with Bokuto he allows the thoughts to manifest themselves out of his mind. To be vulnerable, wholly and painfully vulnerable. He doesn’t know if he even wants Bokuto to hear what he’s said. But there is no noise besides their own breath and shuffling under the sheets; the sound of Bokuto’s happy humming as he runs his fingers through Akaashi’s hair.
Bokuto’s fingers pause and he looks at him quizzically, eyebrows knitted together. He is lying across from Akaashi, his usual owl horns let down in gentle waves over his forehead. Akaashi loves seeing him like this, a sight only he got to enjoy; a display of vulnerability. “Too different?” Bokuto questions, his brow furrowed.
Akaashi regrets saying anything, he just wants to kiss the crease between his eyebrows away and pretend he never said anything. But he knows that will just worry Bokuto, so instead he nods and says, “two opposites. Like the sun and the moon.”
Bokuto tilts his head to the side, further splaying out his hair against his pillow “we’re different,” he says, “but not in a bad way. Don’t think about opposition,” he continues earnestly, “think about balance.” It’s moments like this his year senior to Akaashi shines through; these moments of wisdom, of fresh perspective.
It’s not impossible, it’s just hard.
Think about what’s fun, not what’s easy.
Balance. He’s so right. The sun cannot exist without the moon. Endless night or endless day would be disruptive. They co-exist. They balance.
It all changes for Akaashi after that. Maybe Akaashi is the night to Bokuto’s day. But they balance each other. It isn’t that Akaashi is the eclipse to the sun, as he often sees himself. Rather, if Bokuto is the sun rise, Akaashi is the horizon. If Bokuto is the stars, then Akaashi is the night sky. If Bokuto is the strong tides, then Akaashi is the moon.
Bokuto is watching him intently and begins to ask “wha-” but Akaashi is already responding.
“I’m the moon,” Akaashi whispers.
Bokuto smiles in response, it lights up his whole face. “So I’m the sun?”
And he really is. His warm eyes, his bright smile, his ability to lift the energy in a room.
“Yes,” Akaashi breathes back.
“And if I’m the sun, and you’re the moon, then together we’re like… a solar system.”
Akaashi doesn’t have the heart to correct this clear inaccuracy, but he appreciates the poetic intention of Bokuto’s words and indulges him, allowing his literary mind to overtake his logical one.
“Together, we’re a galaxy,” Akaashi whispers, almost embarrassed by his own words.
Bokuto’s eyes sparkle with the beauty and allure of a thousand stars and any emotions Akaashi feels other than complete adoration vanish entirely. Bokuto’s hands move to hold Akaashi’s face, with gentleness as though he’s something delicate and breakable. And maybe he is. He knows if he had agreed with Akaashi’s earlier sentiment, realised their mismatched nature and left him, he would have shattered like glass. But they’re not mismatched, he reminds himself, they’re balanced. The pads of Bokuto’s thumbs trace the planes of Akaashi’s face, brushing over his forehead and temples, his eyebrows and eyelashes. Akaashi feels a trail of warmth everywhere Bokuto touches him. His thumbs continue their exploration down the bridge of Akaashi’s nose, over his cheekbones, his cheeks, down to his chin. “God, Keiji,” he breathes, “you’re so beautiful.” Akaashi feels his heart race. Even after all this time, the direct compliments do not fail to leave him breathless. The way Bokuto is looking at him, the way he’s holding and touching him. With all the gentleness and care in the world. No, in the galaxy. It makes Akaashi ache. Ache with the knowledge of being cared about so deeply. Ache from the unwavering attention. Ache from the affection settled deep within his bones.
The pads of Bokuto’s thumbs brush over Akaashi lips, slightly parted in anticipation, a gentle release of breath escaping them. Bokuto leans in, kissing Akaashi gently, slowly. Perfectly fitting their mouths together. Lips moving in unison. The tenderness of the moment fills Akaashi with warmth. His fingers come up to run through Bokuto’s hair and hold him closer. They’re kissing with the slow intimacy of people memorising every movement, every taste, every feeling. Savouring it. There’s something to be said about kisses that are needy and gentle, filled with deep emotions that makes passion pale in comparison. Akaashi is lost in this moment, never wanting it to end. Every fibre of his being is alight with Bokuto. Drinking in Bokuto. Basking in his glow and touch.
Though they’ve done this aplenty, it never fails to leave Akaashi breathless and enamoured all over again. As though he is experiencing Bokuto’s kiss for the first time. Akaashi sighs against Bokuto’s mouth and feels him smile and a realisation settles in his mind. Flooding down to every nerve ending, setting him aglow with resolution. Akaashi kisses him one last time, chaste but lingering. Their foreheads rest together, their chests rising and falling in unison. Day meets the night. Bokuto is always breath-taking, but now, with his hair brushing his eyelashes, his eyes soft and filled with unspoken emotion, he is even more so. Akaashi brushes the hair out of Bokuto’s eyes and allows his hand to travel down to rest on his cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing gentle circles on his smooth skin. Bokuto hums and leans into the touch, his eyes closing with content.
“Bokuto Koutarou,” Akaashi whispers, like a promise. Bokuto’s eyes open again, melted gold shining in the moonlight, evidently surprised by the use of his full name. A small smile graces his lips, reaching his eyes and the realisation solidifies itself in Akaashi’s being. Strong and resolute. Filling every crevice of his body with surety and decisiveness. He kisses Bokuto again, an edge more longing and need in this one.
“I love you,” Akaashi says against him. The words roll from his tongue, crisp and clear. They fill the space between them, colouring the night air with their clarity. They shine in the moonlight. His heart is hammering against his chest. Bokuto puts a finger under Akaashi’s chin and tilts his head up to look properly at him. He’s beaming now, eyes alight with happiness and tears, glowing even in the dark of the night.
“I love you, too,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like Akaashi hasn’t battled with the thought, trapping it from his mouth for months. “You’re my world, Akaashi Keiji.” The air is knocked from Akaashi’s lungs. His world. He’s Bokuto Koutarou’s world. He’s swept up in a whirlwind of emotion. His heart is ablaze. Disbelief threatens to steal this moment from him, but he doesn’t let it. This is their moment.
Composure be damned, Akaashi’s voice breaks and tears brim his eyes as he says “you’re a star, Koutarou.” He pauses momentarily and then says, “my star.”
Bokuto beams in response. “So I’m a star and the sun?” he says, puffing up at that.
Akaashi shakes his head and laughs, affection lacing every vibration. He’ll explain later that the sun is a star. And tomorrow, they will wake up, whispering those treasured three words again and again. Under the morning light. Against skin and hair and lips. They will whisper it to each other, like a secret. Their secret.
But for now, Akaashi leans forward and they meet again in a beautiful collision of day and night, sun and moon, star and world.
Together, they really are a galaxy.