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“She understood, you know. You don’t need to worry about that.” A wrinkly hand is placed over yours. A hand you once knew so well, a hand that you still know so well, despite the way that time has worn them down. His hands, so defined by age, were once rough and calloused from his volleyball days.
There’s no longer any trace of those days long gone.
Not even his family was in there with him. Only you. He had requested only you stay with him until his dying breath.
He had once said to you, back when you were both still young and in love (although, if someone were to ask you now, you would still say you are young and in love), that he would like to live to be as old as he possibly could. That his vitality would allow him to live the longest out of his best friends.
You believed from personal experience that he would live to regret those words. He never did, contrary to your confidence that he would. He didn’t regret his words once, not even when his best friend, Akaashi, had finally passed away.
“I didn’t tell you I was worried about her.” You were, though.
“You didn’t have to.” He gently rubs a pattern onto your hand with his thumb. “I think I just had to tell you.”
He still knows you so well. Back when your relationship was beginning to get more serious, you had broken the news to him that you aged much, much differently than a normal human being. That you were thousands of years old, and the day you die would not come anytime soon. He told you he still loved you, and that he didn’t care.
You told him that he should. And when your fears were beginning to come to fruition, when his age was beginning to show, you had told him that he should be happy. To find someone else to love, to start a family with them, and continue his legacy with someone else. He did.
His wife had always had a feeling that a part of him was still in love with you. She never hated him for it, though. She never even hated you, the one who he still loved. She was kind and beautiful. Their children were kind and beautiful. He loved them, he really did, and he would give his life up for any single one of them. But he was still never able to let go of you.
You could barely look at him. You knew where this would end up in the next few hours. No matter how old his body may have gotten, his eyes are still the same bright, shining gold. The same eyes that you fell in love with. The same eyes that used to look at you with nothing but pure, unadulterated love and adoration. In fact, they still do.
You squeezed his hand, “Bokuto…”
“Koutarou. Bokuto always sounded weird whenever you said it, you know?”
You force a small smile onto your face. “Kou, how can you still love me? It’s been years since I last saw you.”
“It’s been exactly 63 years, actually. The last time I saw you was at my wedding. You were my second dance, remember?”
“I do. Your wife… She’s so kind. I’m glad she was the one you chose to marry… You kept count of the years, huh?”
“Mhm.” He’s beginning to get tired, but he wants to continue the conversation. He doesn’t want to stop talking. He’s missed your voice too much, so he forces himself to answer.
“Don’t you think it’s a little bit rude not to let your actual family in?” You ask, lightheartedly.
He shakes his head, slow and deliberate. “They understand. They’ve said their goodbyes, already.”
You nod in understanding. You try to think of more to say. Despite the comfortable silence, you want to hear his voice as much as he does yours.
How cruel fate was to drop someone in front of you, to make you love him like you’ve never loved anyone before- even in the thousands of years you’ve been alive- and then to let the curse of mortality take him from you.
Your heart aches. “Do you remember, heh, when we first met? When you spiked a ball straight to my face? Oh, man, I remember your face so well when you saw my bloody nose. You were panicking so much that Akaashi had to help me out instead of you, you know.”
A smile graces his lips. “Akaashi. I miss him, you know? I wonder if I’ll see him.”
Your smile falters and you have to bite your lip to prevent the tears gathering in your eyes from spilling. “I’m sure you will,” you place your other hand on top of the hands you and Bokuto have clasped together. “A-and,” don’t let your voice crack. No stuttering. “And you’ll see Kuroo, too. And that boy you’re so proud of, Hinata. You’ll see them all.” Your efforts are in vain because you can’t stop yourself from crying.
His eyes trace a tear running down your face. “Hey, don’t cry. We’re supposed to be happy. We’re finally together after so long.”
“I ca-” you sob. You give yourself time to collect yourself before you dared to speak again. “Kou, why? Why did you ask me to come here?”
His arm, once so strong, weakly raises to wipe a stray tear. “We promised that we’d be together when we died, remember? Maybe you don’t want to, but I wanted to make good on that promise.”
And suddenly, you break down into a crying mess once again. Of course, Bokuto would keep a promise you both made when he was eighteen. He kept every promise he made. No exceptions.
“Hey, hey, hey.” He raises his arm once again to cup your cheek, “I’ll see you again someday. I promise. And when I do, I’ll be with Akaashi and Kuroo and everyone else. We’ll wait for you, for as long as it takes.”
You can’t say anything. You don’t trust your voice to stay steady enough. The rest of your stay is a comfortable silence, save for the beeping of the machines attached to him.
When he finally took his last breath, you wept. The weather didn’t match the mood, contrary to how it probably would be in the movies. In fact, you don’t recall a day ever being as clear as this one.
“The sky is celebrating because they took him back, right mama?” You overhear his granddaughter say in the hallway outside. You can’t help but smile, despite the tears streaming down your face.
Yeah. You’ll see him again one day. You’ll see all of them again.