Chapter Text
Undoubtedly, Akaashi’s pride and joy is his garden. His mini-sanctuary is an ensemble of green with speckles of white, which Akaashi has done purposely to give the effect of fresh-fallen snow on deep green leaves, even in the spring, to remind him of his favorite season, winter. It’s his best effort to create his own White Christmas in a town that rarely receives snow. The distylium, pittosporum, lororpetalum, and abelia he has nurtured with every loving watering and every little secret he confides in them are fodder, helping their branches reach toward the sun at his urging. They’re planted in a row of fertilizer at the front of Akaashi and Kenma’s shared townhouse. Kenma isn’t much for horticulture and house decoration outside of Animal Crossing, so the front yard is entirely, quintessentially Akaashi.
Akaashi’s favorite part of the garden, though, isn’t a plant. Next to the mailbox, is a “little free library”: a wooden box with a glass door sitting atop a small post, displaying one shelf that can fit up to about 6 Moby Dick’s, give or take. The rule is simple—if you want to borrow a book, leave a book in its place. The rule is neatly inscribed in black paint on the side of the library, in Akaashi’s precise handwriting. Akaashi had ceremoniously “opened” his little library shortly after he and Kenma had moved in, thinking it fitting since he was starting the new chapter of his life in this neighborhood as a bookstore owner. Akaashi keeps the library fresh, by occasionally rescuing an under-appreciated book from the store from accumulating too much dust.
In the library today are four books, one of them must have been swapped out by a neighbor today, since he doesn’t recognize the binding. The Kite Runner. Akaashi peers in through the mini-library’s glass door to take note of the new addition, having just returned from a shift at the bookstore. He opens the tiny glass door and takes out the book, humming a quiet tune as he walks up the steps to the porch and loving the comfortable weight of a new book in his hand.
Kenma is inside in the kitchen, cautiously cutting open a cardboard box. When a new video game shipment comes in every week, Kenma always looks like a kid on Christmas morning, basking in the anticipation for a new discovery.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Kenma takes out the contents of the box, shiny plastic cases protecting pre-release video games that the famous streamer, kodzuken, is sent from video game companies for him to try out. The cases are usually undecorated, since Kenma receives them before the official art is finalized for the case’s cover. Being one of the top five streamers in Japan must be a lot of pressure, but Kenma is never fazed.
Next to the cardboard box is a plate of saran-wrapped chocolate chip cookies, piled on a white plate. The cookies are sizable and have a generous chocolate chip to dough ratio, as if the baker responsible erred on the side of too much rather than too little. Akaashi raises his eyebrow, knowing that Kenma is more of a cake person than a cookie person. Following Akaashi’s gaze, Kenma pushes the plate toward Akaashi.
“Our new neighbors stopped by today to say hello while you were out. Bokuto and Kuroo. They brought these over.” Kenma finishes throwing away the plastic padding and breaks down the cardboard box, cleaning the countertop so he can start making dinner.
“Oh? The house across the street?” Akaashi remembers a moving truck in front of the house directly across from their street yesterday. 2164 Maple Street, a light-blue house with a brown shingled roof, finally had some new inhabitants.
Kenma nods and Akaashi asks, “What are they like?”
The last people to live across the street were a family of three, moving out because the husband had gotten a new job overseas. Akaashi remembers the mother would often contribute to the little free library, swapping out Akaashi’s favorite adventure books for romance tragedies. Akaashi wonders what kinds of books the new neighbors enjoy.
“Big and loud. You should introduce yourself to them tomorrow, they’re still unpacking and will be in the house the whole day.”
Akaashi agrees, remembering his own move-in with Kenma after college graduation. Kenma’s streaming equipment alone had taken about half a day to unpack and set up, even with Akaashi’s assistance. Kenma and Akaashi had been assigned college roommates their freshman year, and their peaceful demeanors led to an equally peaceful coexistence. None were the type to bring in rowdy friends or stay up too late when the other was in the room. A silent bond had formed between them when Kenma had asked Akaashi what he liked so much about books after learning Akaashi was a literature major. Kenma favored video games for a storyline that he had control over. Akaashi had considered this with a smile and said, “Video game stories and book plots aren’t all that different, but I do like being able to play out scenes in my head.”
Living in a house rather than a dorm room had changed only some of their living dynamic. Though similar in temperament at first blush, Kenma and Akaashi are more complimentary than identical. Kenma handles the cooking (or food-ordering, since his streaming schedule can get a bit hectic) and helped with the house repairs when they had first moved in. Akaashi, a semi-serious minimalist, took over the responsibilities of laundry, tidying, and dusting the house every week.
Taking off the saran-wrap, Akaashi hands a cookie to Kenma, who has already tied up his long, bleached hair to prepare tonight’s omurice. Akaashi then bites into one of his own and is pleasantly surprised by the softer texture of the cookie, which has a nice hint of brown sugar. Akaashi doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, but the taste of this cookie is wonderfully homemade, perfectly sweet enough.
Maybe they could invite the neighbors over for dinner in the future.
✧ ✧ ✧
Like clockwork, at 6:30am on a Tuesday, Akaashi opens his door to stroll out to the front porch, watering can in hand and mug of coffee in the other. The morning fog is a bit chilly, so Akaashi decides to run in and grab his favorite cardigan, a cozy brown shawl made of scratchy wool. He sets his mug and watering can on the front porch to head back in the house, convinced that with his jacket, he will be ready to start the day.
Oh, how wrong he had been.
As he opened the front door, Akaashi Keiji heard a shout that can only be described as booming.
“NO SCOUT, NOT THERE! Oh my goodness, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW, OR I’M SENDING YOU BACK TO THE SHELTER, I DON’T CARE IF IT’S ALL THE WAY BACK IN TOKYO.”
Akaashi is a mere body in his doorway, soul escaping through his mouth as he is greeted with the terrible image of a giant German shepherd urinating in his beloved lororpetalum. Except this isn't a dream, it's very real. The mug of coffee Akaashi had so carefully placed on the concrete of his porch was spilled, presumably knocked over by the dog, Scout. The dog’s leash, which was on the ground, is quickly snatched up by a rather tall man with spiky gray hair, black roots ruffled as he runs a hand through it, facing Akaashi in embarrassment. Despite his hulking stature—the man was ripped—he seemed comically abashed and his expression rivaling that of a sulking child.
“I am SO, SO SORRY.”
The tall man pulls on the leash, guiding Scout away from Akaashi’s poor, defiled plant baby, as Akaashi picks up his mug and makes a mental note to bring out some wet paper towels to sponge up the remains of his fallen americano.
“I would have liked us to meet in a much better way, but nice to meet you! I’m Bokuto, from across the street!”
Bokuto extends a hand, the one not tightly gripping the leash, and Akaashi stands up and shakes it, noticing that Bokuto’s hands are uncannily calloused, as though he has been rubbing them on asphalt all day. He must work out, Akaashi muses, since Bokuto is also wearing a tight-fitting running shirt, hugging his broad chest. With a smile so wide and ribcage bursting with energy, Bokuto has an infectious energy that explains why he can keep up with his dog, at least most of the time.
“Hello, Bokuto-san. I’m Akaashi Keiji. You met my housemate, Kenma, yesterday.”
“Ah yes! Kuroo really seems to like him. Were you about to water your plants? Scout seems to have done that already.” Bokuto chuckles at his sheepish joke, while Akaashi’s eyes narrow, not forgetting the offensive act.
“Yes, I always do this before I head to my job. I don’t mean to be rude, but I should hurry up and get going.”
Akaashi picks up the watering can and deftly gives each bush their allotted water, whispering apologies that he cannot do it with more care. Bokuto watches him, Scout tugging at his leash, asking to continue their walk. Much like Scout, Akaashi wonders why the muscled man has not taken off yet.
“I can walk you to work, ya know! I don’t know my way around town, could I come with?” Bokuto’s eyes turn to Akaashi and plead with him. If Akaashi wanted to, he swears he could easily imagine a tail wagging behind Bokuto as well as Scout. The endearing image is almost enough to forgive Scout for terrorizing his garden.
“Sure. It’s a bit of a walk, almost at the boardwalk by the beach.”
“That sounds great! Scout and I love the beach. Let’s go!”
Soon enough, Akaashi is a bit winded, because although he is supposed to be leading the way to The Quill, Bokuto’s long strides and Scout’s unlimited endurance make him feel as though he should be walking at a faster pace. The streets of Shimoda are relatively quiet in the morning, but there is some bustle as shop-owners and fishermen make their preparations for the weekday. With Bokuto in town, the usual commute to work seems a lot more exciting. The brisk pace they’re walking at keeps Akaashi warmer than usual, cheeks flushed and heart light.
“Say, Akaashi, what do you do for a living?”
“Right now, we’re walking to The Quill, my bookstore.”
“YOU OWN YOUR OWN BOOKSTORE? That’s so awesome! You don’t look that old.” Akaashi is first taken aback, but lets out a calm laugh at Bokuto’s amazement, since Akaashi probably doesn’t look like a withering, grandmotherly librarian that normally fits the stereotype.
“Feel free to stop by any time. We have a cozy reading area.”
“I will! It’d be great to put in one of my videos. I’m thinking: ‘MY NEW LIFE IN SHIMODA,’ doesn’t that sound nice?” Bokuto scratches his chin, lost in thought at the prospect of a new video, as though he is trying to see if there are any other titles that are worthy candidates.
“What kind of videos do you make, Bokuto-san?”
Bokuto’s face lights up as he answers, “I’m a full-time YouTube vlogger! I started in university, filming lifting and volleyball videos, just for fun. I liked to share my volleyball and exercise knowledge! Initially, many of my subscribers were females, and I was going to stop after college. But a lot of my friends told me my videos were fun to watch—I didn’t believe them until I got comments from strangers saying that watching my videos cheered them up! I lived in Tokyo for a while, but the big city has a lot of creators, and I wanted to move somewhere new to get a fresh start and more content, which is how I ended up here with Kuroo.”
Akaashi listens, wondering how it must be to lead a life like Bokuto’s, going where the wind blows, trusting good feelings and intuition. It’s the exact opposite of Akaashi’s own life, structured and pre-meditated, but Akaashi finds himself inspired by Bokuto, who seems to relish life so much that he wants to share it with others. It makes you want to see life the way he does. Akaashi understands Bokuto’s appeal, and what must keep viewers subscribed.
“That sounds really nice. Shimoda is a small beach town, but there are a lot of special places to visit. I’m sure you’ll find all sorts of new inspiration for your videos.” Akaashi thinks about the pier, zen gardens, and numerous hiking trails that Bokuto would probably find interesting.
“Amazing! You’ll have to show me around more, then. I trust you, Akaashi!” Bokuto laughs heartily, patting Akaashi’s shoulder, bridging the space between them a bit, as the two descend the hill, getting closer to the beach, and to The Quill.
At the storefront, Bokuto looks up at the emblazoned bronze sign and grins. THE QUILL, in capital letters, is a quiet but stately presence on Seashell Way, a comfortable nook for locals to pick up the new releases or stop by to pick up some coffee and send a couple of emails. The front of the store is painted a deep, dark burgundy, and staring through the windows you can see shelf upon shelf of crowded books.
Akaashi invites Bokuto and Scout inside, and they are welcomed with a cheery, “Welcome to The Qui—Oh, it’s you, Akaashi, and who is your extremely fit companion and his dog?”
Sugawara, Akaashi’s co-owner, is sitting at the front desk, currently sifting through a new shipment, pausing from his task of checking off boxes on his clipboard. His cheeky smile flusters Bokuto, who nervously introduces himself as Akaashi’s neighbor. Sugawara’s gray hair is a bit damp, presumably from a morning shower. A whiff of his lavender shampoo wafts their way when he rushes over to them for a proper greeting.
“Lucky you, Akaashi. Your routine must be thrown off, today, huh?”
“You could say that. His furry friend, Scout, marked his territory in my garden.” Akaashi looks at Bokuto comfortingly, to tell him he wasn’t really mad.
“Not your garden!” Sugawara feigns despair by bringing a hand to his forehead and tilting his head back, chuckling at his own melodrama and Akaashi’s tiny grudge.
Akaashi looks at Bokuto, who seems enraptured by his surroundings. His eyes are darting across the interior of the bookstore. Akaashi smiles with pride, happy that it pleases Bokuto. To the left of the entrance, there is a small clearing by the window, sunshine shining down on a few cozy armchairs and a beanbag. A small, wooden desk is buttressed up against the wall, near a bookshelf with a sign that says, “Take a break with a book.” On the right-hand side are about ten rows of bookshelves, each labeled with a golden sign denoting the genre of book. At the end of each row is a small table with a potted plant, each one different from the last. Behind all the rows of bookshelves leads to a small room with about a dozen chairs and a small podium, reserved for special author readings or Akaashi’s weekly book club.
The center of the store is the front desk, where Sugawara is often seen typing away at the work computer, reaching out to authors to get them to come and do readings. Behind the desk is a door, which leads to the back storeroom, where Akaashi is usually found, counting books and seeing which ones have been the most popular recently. Above the front desk is a birdcage that hangs down from the ceiling. Inside, a realistic stuffed animal, a familiar white owl, perches, yellow eyes greeting all who enter, the centerpiece of the store.
“IS THAT HEDWIG?” Bokuto interrupts Sugawara’s performance and points to the birdcage.
Sugawara and Akaashi giggle.
“Yes!” Akaashi replies.
Akaashi and Sugawara smile knowingly at each other, childhood friends who first bonded over their love for reading because of The Boy Who Lived. Having Hedwig in their store as well as naming the store The Quill, was a homage to their friendship, and to reading and writing itself. Sugawara and Akaashi hoped to make reading the magical experience it had been for them, for their customers.
“I’m a full-blown Slytherin, Akaashi’s a solid Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff mix, and you are?” Sugawara inquires.
“Can’t ya tell, I’m a Gryffindor!” Bokuto smiles widely. Bokuto’s face falls as he sees the clock, remembering what time it is. He looks at Akaashi, crestfallen.
“Wow, this is a lovely place, I really mean it, I do! I would love to stay more, but I need to finish my run with Scout, or else he’s going to rampage the house when I get back! Let’s walk together again soon, ‘kay Akaashi? Very nice to meet you, Sugawara-san!” And with that, the whirlwind, Bokuto, waves his goodbye and is out the door, bell tinkling upon his exit. He is sprinting alongside Scout down the hill, to the beachside. Scout looks happy that they are out in the fresh air, bounding and straining against his leash. Bokuto really should get him a longer one.
The bookstore suddenly feels starkly quiet without Bokuto’s large presence, but Sugawara quickly fills the silence.
“Akaashi, you better invite that hunk of a man to our surfing lesson this weekend. It’s been way too long since you’ve been on a proper date.” Sugawara hums as he walks back to his place behind the front desk and starts to continue his morning inventory check, as if he had just remarked on something as normal as the weather.
Akaashi is mortified, glued to the floor where he stands. The books in the back would just have to wait.
“Please tell me you didn’t forget about our surfing lesson.” Sugawara looks up, to point out Akaashi’s silence.
Akaashi speaks after putting out the dumpster fire in his mind at Sugawara’s mention of his absent love life.
“I didn’t forget, and I don’t need to go on a date!” Akaashi manages to get out, indignant at Sugawara, who tends to stick his nose into Akaashi’s romantic affairs way more than he needs to.
Just last week, Sugawara was convinced Akaashi needed to ask out the deliveryman who had brought in their most recent shipment, just because the deliveryman had accidentally brushed Akaashi’s hand while handing him the pen for a signature. To speed along the process, Sugawara had slipped the deliveryman Akaashi’s business card, which included Akaashi’s cell number. And the week before that, Sugawara wolf-whistled when a cute college student had come up alone to Akaashi after book club had ended, to ask Akaashi for his thoughts on the symbolism in chapter three of the book they had discussed. The next book club, that same shy undergraduate couldn’t make eye contact with Akaashi the entire time. It was hopeless, Akaashi had decided.
“Okay, okay fine. But think about it: our group ticket is cheaper if we can split with a third person. The grand opening of a new surf shop doesn’t happen all that often! Since Kenma hates the water, we should at least try to find someone else.” Sugawara is right, and Akaashi would rather a third person be there so that Sugawara is not spending the entire time laughing at Akaashi’s terrible balance—it’ll be Akaashi’s first time surfing.
“Fine. I’ll ask Bokuto-san.” Akaashi relents, knowing that Bokuto would definitely love to come. Akaashi has no time to further think about what Bokuto might look like without his shirt on the beach, because Sugawara cheers in celebration, adding:
“For someone who is trying to write their own romance novel, you’d think you would jump at the opportunity!”
Akaashi silently considers this while scowling and decides hiding out in the back storeroom sounds like a good move for the rest of the morning. He heads into the storeroom and closes the door, sighing.
Akaashi’s day job might be a quiet bookstore owner, but his “mistress” Sugawara had called it, was to be a novelist. Akaashi hadn’t yet found his writing voice, however, and was experimenting with different genres. His first work was a short historical fiction novella, set in Feudal Japan. It was alright, but nothing special. It had taken him a few months to write, and Sugawara had mentioned he should try the hardest genres first, so he could return to them and try again if he had needed to. Eventually, Akaashi would work up to fantasy, his favorite.
To continue his writing practice, Akaashi had recently decided that romance would be hard enough, since he hadn’t experienced much of his own. It couldn’t be that hard, right? He had certainly read a lot about romance. He had been stuck on Chapter 1 for about two months, completely and utterly flattened by a heavy writer’s block.
Perhaps Sugawara was right, he could use any sort of date.
✧ ✧ ✧
There is a gentle knock on the door.
Bokuto and Kuroo had been in their own respective rooms, unpacking the last of their clothes before they were going to head out to dinner at an Italian restaurant by the beach, which Bokuto had seen on his run with Scout in the morning. They had unpacked the kitchen and living room boxes first, since Bokuto had wanted to bake an enormous batch of his “heart-winner” cookies to bring to all the neighbors.
Kuroo finishes setting aside his wetsuits in one pile, regular clothes in the other. He would worry about folding and hanging them up some other time, and takes the cardboard box to the living room, where all their moving trash has been put for now, as he makes his way to the front door.
Kuroo opens the door to a man with black hair and a delicate face, black waves falling at the edge of his eyelashes, lips pursed. The man was uniquely pretty and pensive. He wears silver glasses frames, a camel-brown cardigan and black jeans and looks as though he smells of coffee and old books.
“Hello, you must be Kuroo-san. I’m Kenma’s housemate, Akaashi Keiji.”
Kuroo remembers Kenma mentioning his housemate, a bookstore owner, hadn’t it been? Thankfully he remembered, because Kuroo had been very preoccupied by Kenma.
“Of course! I wish the house could be a little cleaner for guests, but you’re welcome to come in if you would like! We were just about to head to dinner, if you’d like to join us.”
Akaashi seems a little on edge, and Kuroo can’t really place why, because they had just met.
“No thank you, I have to help Kenma cook dinner tonight–”
Bokuto emerges from his room, asking, “Did I hear someone knock?”
Before Kuroo can answer him, Bokuto bounds over to the door, recognizing Akaashi from the doorway. Kuroo doesn’t miss the way Bokuto’s eyes instantaneously light up when he sees Akaashi. But then again, Bokuto gets excited about most things.
“AKAASHI! It’s you! How was the rest of work?” Bokuto rushes over to Kuroo and Akaashi. Kuroo notices Akaashi smooth over the bottom of his cardigan, as though trying to appear neater in appearance.
Bokuto fires probably twenty more questions at Akaashi, poor Akaashi. Kuroo’s phone goes off and he excuses himself, heading to his room to answer the call. It’s the restaurant, calling to confirm their reservation that he had made an hour ago. They must be busy and should head out soon to secure their spot. Kuroo’s stomach rumbles, unpacking is surprisingly more tiring than he had expected.
Kuroo takes a look at himself in the mirror, his messy hair looking a bit wild from the day’s frantic unpacking. He doesn’t even bother to fix it, knowing that his normal hair isn’t much better. As he puts his car keys in his pocket, he wonders if Akaashi and Bokuto are still talking, so he comes out of his room to hear:
“Bokuto-san, Sugawara and I were wondering if you’d like to come to surfing lessons with us this weekend. There’s a new place that opened up.”
Kuroo can’t stifle the laugh that escapes from his mouth. Neither can Bokuto. Even Scout looks up from his rest place on the kitchen floor at the sudden outburst of noise.
“You mean—you mean Kuroo’s surf shop?” Bokuto can barely breathe, his laugh turning into wheezes at this point. Kuroo chuckles at the serendipitous coincidence.
Akaashi’s eyes widen, realizing that he has invited Bokuto to his own housemate’s surf shop, in front of the owner of said surf shop. Poor Akaashi, Kuroo thinks once again. Kuroo decides to rescue Akaashi, since it is a neighborly thing to do—and he is a nice person, after all.
“Bokuto would love to, since he already promised me that he would come support me at the grand opening, anyway! Thanks to you, now he’ll have a friend to keep him company while I’m working.” Kuroo nudges Bokuto, giving him a knowing smile.
“The tickets are on me. But—only if you get Kenma to come with you.” Kuroo offers. He never knew he could be this forward, but there was something about Kenma that made him want to spend more time with him. This was the perfect plan.
Akaashi quizzically looks at Kuroo, but says, “I’ll do my best to get him on board. Enjoy your dinner. One of you should order the risotto. It’s very good.”
With that, Akaashi turns on his heel and waves goodbye to Bokuto and Kuroo. Out of the corner of his eye, Kuroo sees Bokuto emphatically waving to Akaashi, eyes glinting in a way that Kuroo hasn’t seen since Bokuto played volleyball in college. They don’t close the door until they see Akaashi safely cross the street and enter his own house. Akaashi seems surprised to see Bokuto and Kuroo still waving at him when he turns around to close his own door.
"I think I'll get the risotto!" Bokuto exclaims, putting on his shoes so they can make their way to dinner.
Well, this should be an interesting weekend.