Work Text:
i.
Fittingly, Akaashi finally comes to terms with his feelings for Bokuto during the second qualifying round for the Interhigh, in his third-year of high school. The mantle of captain is heavy on his shoulders, but it’s nothing that he can’t bear.
Or at least, that’s what he thinks until -
Set-point: Fukurodani is just one point away from winning, and they’re seven points up from their opponent. Unless a freak accident happens, victory is undisputedly theirs. Honestly, it’s a comfortable position to be in, and Akaashi’s fingers are tingling in the way they do when he’s on form.
So, when the last ball is sent over to him to toss, with such an air of finality that Akaashi just knows in his soul that this is going to be the toss that ends the game, he calls out, as he always does, as he believes he always will, “Bokuto-san!”, sending the volleyball up.
It’s instinctive - a motion that goes deeper than muscle memory, an impulse that buries itself in his heart. Goes so unquestioned, just as simple as breathing is to him. He pauses for the slightest moment to admire the ball’s beautiful trajectory, as it soars towards the other side of the net. Perfect, is what Akaashi thinks as he sees it flies, the type of shot that Bokuto-san loves -
Except that it’s not Bokuto who slams down the ball with a powerful spike, it’s Onaga. The slip of tongue entirely ignored, he receives the toss with a flawless grace and brings it crashing down into the opponent’s court, without a moment’s hesitation.
“Ni - nice kill,” is what Akaashi says, as Onaga turns around to face the other members of the team, pumping his fist into the air. The whistle cuts through the air, and the rest of Fukurodani pile onto Onaga, celebrating their victory, Akaashi’s momentary lapse easily forgotten.
But Akaashi remains frozen where he is, momentarily alone at the other end of the court, looking down at his hands. He can still feel the ghost of the ball lingering along his fingertips. It’s taken him long enough, almost four months since Bokuto’s gone off to university, but if he’s being honest with himself, this is perhaps a fact that’s two years in the making.
Instead of the warm rush of adrenaline-joy that comes with victory, Akaashi’s seized with a sudden feeling of homesickness - like there’s something, or someone, missing, a phantom limb that’s asserting its presence in its absence. The second and first-years have migrated their huddle over to Akaashi’s end of the court, unaware of the icy coldness that’s got him shivering even in the stuffy air of the gymnasium.
The truth reverberates within him, with a stomach-twisting echo: he’s in love with Bokuto.
ii.
Bokuto calls regularly - four times a week, five if his schedule allows.
The modality depends on where he may be: if he’s rushing for practice, it’s a breathless phone-call (breathless for Bokuto because he’s cycling as fast as he can, weaving in and out of traffic so that he can make it to the court on-time; breathless for Akaashi because he can hear the sounds of the cars in the background, scarily close, snapping at the ankles of Bokuto’s dare-devil cycling); if it’s late at night, then Bokuto appears as a cheesy grin on Akaashi’s Skype, his silvery-grey hair flattened under the owl-print sheets they’d chosen together before Bokuto went off to Osaka. Video-calls seem to always start with a close-up of Bokuto’s eyes, as if he’s trying to peer through the camera lens to see if there could be a tiny Akaashi squirreled away in there somewhere.
What never changes, no matter the time of day, the method of their call, is the way that Bokuto sings his name when the call connects. All bright and cheery, like it’s the answer to all the questions in the universe and more. “Akaashi, how are you today?” says the one golden eye on-screen, and Akaashi has to hold back a chuckle.
(It was hard at first, facing Bokuto after the realisation of his feelings on court, but Akaashi is good at compartmentalising.
Love is a tricky emotion to deal with, but he thinks he’s managed to excise the unnecessary dream of a romantic relationship - because Bokuto deserves the world and so much more than what his hands could ever offer. Being close, like this, is enough, will always be enough for him.)
Today, Bokuto’s cheeks are huffed out in a pout, after he finishes recounting a particularly hilarious incident that happened at training that day, complete with three segues that branched off into the strange forests of his thoughts that make a perfect Bokuto story.
Even though it’s a funny tale of how he’s learning to work with a new setter, he ends with a petulant, “I wish you were here with me, so you could set to me.”
Akaaashi tuts, feigning disappointment, even as Bokuto’s words ignite sparklers of happiness all along the inside of his veins, “Is that the only reason why you’d want me there, Bokuto-san?”
“No, of course not!” The answer is immediate as Bokuto dives head-first into the trap Akaashi’s set. He charges on, all clumsily but always, always bold in the simple ways he declares his feelings and for once, Akaashi is grateful for the terrible quality of his web-camera, the way it hides the blush that forms when Bokuto pronounces, “It’s because I miss you too.”
Then he blinks, moving from wistful to half-cheeky in a blink of an eye, “But I miss your tosses. No one here is as good as you.”
“I’m sure that’s a lie.”
“It’s not!”
Akaashi raises an eyebrow - and even with the crappiness of his laptop, the terrible distance between them, his intent is loud and clear.
Five hundred kilometers away from him, Bokuto deflates so visibly that his hair curls downwards too. He raises his hands in surrender, “Okay, I’m exaggerating. But they’re not the same as you.”
“That’s alright,” Akaashi says, even as he wishes he were microscopic enough to hitch a ride on the particles of information flying in between his laptop and Bokuto’s, to materialise in the older boy’s room as easily as his video appears on Bokuto’s laptop screen. Why were humans not built to teleport, is what he wonders for the nth time (solely, in the spirit of offering support as a best friend, platonic as platonic can be, is what his mind appends on hastily), as he continues, “Different can be good too.”
In response, Bokuto just exaggerates the pout he’s pulled, a second away from breaking out into a whine. It’s impossible to deny him anything when he looks like this; that’s a false statement because Akaashi, try as he might, has never been able to refuse Bokuto.
Maybe it slips out, the sliver of longing, the way Akaashi says, words spoken into existence before his mind has the chance to censor them, “Besides, you know you’ll always have me, don’t you? Even if I’m not on the court with you.”
“I know…” Bokuto pauses. Within the silence, it’s like something’s changed, and Akaashi’s heart is his throat.
It takes a second, maybe longer, before Bokuto breaks into a grin - just like daybreak, the bursts of golden-orange bleeding into the inky purple sky - after a long, dark night. He says, warm with the promise of a new day on the horizon, “And I’m always gonna be with you too.”
iii.
7.10am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
Morning Bokuto-san
Don’t forget to get groceries today
9.34am
my bo oooo!!
i already stocked my fridge yesterday i just forgot to tell you!!!
don’t u trust me
i met a cute cat on the way to the gym otday
!!!!
IT REMINDED ME OF U :D
but maybe a little more friendly bc she let me pet her!!!!
and you hit me when it ried to do it once
;__________;
1.29am
my bo oooo!!
akaaaaashiiiiiiiiiii
!!!!!!
IT’S RESULTS DAY FOR MIDTERMS TODAY ISN’T IT
I BET YOU ACED EVERYTHING
u’re the smartest person i noe
and now that i’m old and i’m in uni i know lots of people
so that means you’re SUPER SMART :)))
13.17am
my bo oooo!!
don’t keep me in suspenseeeee
how did you do!!!!
14.34pm
my bo oooo!!
are you going for practice now!!?!??
i’m at training now toooooo
send some tosses over!!!!!!
I’LL HTI THEM FROM OVER HERE
18.12pm
my bo oooo!!
i’m sending you a hug akaashi <3
you can redeem this for a real one when we finalyl meet!!
i'll even give you one more for free
19.25pm
my bo oooo!!
[ image attached ]
here’s what i’m eating for dinner today!!!
make sure you eat well too okay?
you trained hard today!
you did well today!!
today and yesterday and tomorrow too
you’re always doing so well
i’m alwaaaaaaaaays proud of you akaashi
20.42pm
my bo oooo!!
homework is reaaaaally boringgggggg
but at least i started on my assignments before they’re due this time
it’s bc of your good influence!!
23.31pm
my bo oooo!!
do you wanna call?
just to say goodnight
23.33pm
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
Yes
plaese
[23.33pm - Call connected ]
[02.11am - Call ended ]
02.11am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
Thank you Bokuto-san
02.11am
my bo oooo!!
there’s nothing to thank me for!!!!
i only said the truth
you’re the smartest most capable
most amazing
WONDERFUL
person i know!!!!!!
and it’s okay not to be perfect all the time
even though you’re already so perfect
got it?
02.15am
my bo oooo!!
i’m not gonna sleeeeep until you say it
02.16am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
I understand
02.16am
my bo oooo!!
whatchaaaaa understaaaaand
you gotta type out all the words!!
02.17am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
All of them?
I could just copy and paste your text
That would save me some time since you should sleep soon
02.17am
my bo oooo!!
you can’t cheat like that!!!
say it in your own words!
i’ll know if you don’t mean it
02.19am
my bo oooo!!
it’s okay
you can take all the time you need
02.22am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
I’m more than just the grades I get
And it’s okay to make mistakes
02.22am
my bo oooo!!
and???
02.23am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
I’m a good captain
And a good volleyball player
02.23am
my bo oooo!!
you’re a GREAT captain and player!!!
aaaaaand?
02.23am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
That’s it
02.23am
my bo oooo!!
you’re forgetting the most important one
02.24am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
Am I?
That’s all I recall you saying
02.24am
my bo oooo!!
now you’re just teasing me :(
akaashiiiiiiiiiiiiii
how could youuuuuuuu
02.25am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
That you’re my biggest fan
But that would be a paradox
Since I’m your biggest fan too
02.25am
my bo oooo!!
AKAASHIIIIIIIII
;______;
02.25am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
Now go sleep
You’ve 8am classes, don’t you?
02.26am
my bo oooo!!
i don’t need to learn anything in class
when i’m friends with the SMARTEST PERSON IN THE ENTIER UNIVERSE
02.26am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
Bokuto-san…
02.27am
my bo oooo!!
okayyyye
goodnight!!!!!
dream of me so you’ll only have sweet dreams
<333
02.27am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
I think they may be nightmares
02.28am
my bo oooo!!
!!!!
02.28am
akaaaaaaaaaaashi <3
Just kidding
Goodnight, dream of me too
<3
iv.
To:
AKAASHI KEIJI <3
Waseda University
Higashi Fushimi Student Dormitory
Room 03-46
Tokyo, Japan
Tokyo 202-0021
(1/5)
AKAASSHIIIIIII
hello from whenever you’re receiving this postcard!!!!
i miss you! i wish you were here with me
i don’t know how long the post takes to deliver from italy to japan
maybe a week?
i’ll still miss you even in a week or even in a month so it’s okay how long this card takes to reach you
do they deliver mail over using an aeroplane
well i guess they would have to since it’s called airmail
ha ha can you imagine all of these postcards having to carry a passport
(2/5)
i ran out of space on the first card
tsumtsum asked me to write smaller but i can always buy more postcards
won’t it be fun!!! it’ll be like a puzzle and you’ll have to figure out which card came first
you’ll figure it out for sure since you’re so smart
we’re training really hard the team is so good here
you’ll know all of this already since i just texted you that
see! you just replied my message
your lunch looks good today akaashi i miss yakitori
not as much as i miss you but i really want to eat yakitori
(3/5)
we should get yakitori when i get home
maybe i should tell you new things
like how real gelato doesn't use ice cream scoopers to serve
so that means the gelato we tried when you visited me in osaka wasn't real!!!
let's come to italy to eat gelato, and i can show you around all the best places
i learnt how to say things in italian too
volleyball is pallavolo hello is ciao hungry is affamato
and i learnt ti amo
do you know what that means?
it's a secret!!
(4/5)
i haven’t written this many words since highschool exams so my hand’s aching
you’ll probably laugh at me because you write all the time
we visited the trevi fountain yesterday and it’s a wishing fountain
even though you’re not allowed to throw coins in anymore
i still did it to make a wish, and i’ll tell you what it is since i’m not afraid of jinxing it
it’s gonna come true anyway so it’s not really a wish
i told the fountain that you’re gonna be a really famous author one day
and everyone in the universe is gonna know your name and read your works
but they'll have to all fight me since i'm always gonna be your BIGGEST FAN
(5/5)
i’ll see you soon
i’ve a secret to tell you
i think i always knew this but being here makes it feel different
like it made me know that it was real real
maybe i should tell you face to face
what if this card reaches you before i reach you?
but i also really want to tell you!!!
okay i’m gonna race this card home so that i’ll tell you this face to face first then you can read this after
ti amo akaashi
- Forever Yours,
Koutarou
Out of the five postcards that Bokuto mails over from Italy where the team is at for a two month-long training camp, the fifth one reaches Akaashi first, three days before Bokuto’s scheduled to arrive back in Osaka.
Akaashi sleeps with the postcard under his pillow, counting down the seconds, because he, too, has a secret he has to share with Bokuto.
v.
It’s like bird-song opens in Akaashi’s chest when he sees Bokuto, emerge from the Arrival gate.
Even amidst the noisy, large group of fifteen that the team gathers in, Akaashi picks out Bokuto easily. He’s gesturing wildly to one of his team-mates, as if relaying a particularly interesting story; his hair all flattened down on the right, as if he’s spent a good part of the flight leaning his head to that side. It’s a crowded terminal, even on a Monday morning, and it’ll probably take the team about five minutes to make their way across to the pick-up area, where Akaashi is at, still contemplating how he should make his appearance known.
Although far away, Akaashi can almost make out the rumbling of Bokuto’s warm laughter, and he finds himself taking a step, then another, towards them, drawn automatically into the orbit that is Bokuto Koutarou.
Then, just like those romantic novels full of purple prose that Akaashi honestly detests, Bokuto looks up in the middle of his conversation; his eyes meet Akaashi’s, across the sea of people. It takes a split second for the realisation to sink in. Then Bokuto’s face lights up and Akaashi thinks he goes momentarily blind because the next thing he knows, there Bokuto is, standing in front of him, all bright-eyed and shining.
“Akaashi,” Bokuto breathes out his name, like it’s some kind of precious spell and Akaashi is entranced, his heart hammering against his chest. There’s some hollering behind Bokuto - his team-mates calling out to him - and Bokuto holds up a single finger, one second ; he turns around and waves them off, “I’ll make my own way home. Don’t worry!”
To be honest, in the three days since he’d received the first postcard (another two had followed in succession, the next day), Akaashi had written a script of all the things he’d like to tell Bokuto, when they finally met. It’s a script that encompasses five years worth of emotions, one that he’s been rehearsing for the past 72 hours.
Yet, in this moment, with Bokuto before him, these words have all but traitorously abandoned him.
“What are you doing here?” Bokuto’s question jolts Akaashi back into the present. In front of him, Bokuto’s mouth is open in a large O, and Akaashi can’t hold in the chuckle that tumbles out of his lips. Bokuto’s hands are fluttering; they hover in the air in between Akaashi and him, as if he can’t decide what to do with them. On the other hand, Akaashi’s arms feel leaden; it would be so easy for him to catch Bokuto’s fingers in his own, if he could just move.
But before Akaashi can do anything, Bokuto’s hands make a decision: his left hand reaches into his pocket, and he pulls out his handphone to check the date. The O grows comically larger, “It’s Monday! Don’t you have classes right now?”
Akaashi shrugs, a casualness that is 100% feigned. The movement proves counter-productive as it jolts awake the sleeping butterflies in his stomach, and sends a wave of nervous ticklish energy up through his fingers. “I skipped it to welcome you back.”
Bokuto lets out between a gasp and an exclamation, and the sheer energy of his astonishment is perhaps enough to power a small city for days, “But it’s your favourite class today!”
“Yes, but -” and here, Akaashi takes in a deep breath, ignores the feeling of how his stomach is braced for impact the way it feels when you’re perched on the edge of a long-drop on a rollercoaster, “You’re my favourite person.”
It’s like being body-slammed but in an affectionate way, how Bokuto charges forward and envelops Akaashi in a tight hug. Bokuto is all solid muscle and warm softness, as he wraps his arms around Akaashi’s waist, holding him close. He says, burying his face in the mess of curls that is Akaashi’s hair, voice quivering in the straight-forward fashion Bokuto wears all his emotions, “Akaashi, you can’t just say things like that!”
The solidity of Bokuto’s arms around him centres Akaashi, “Bokuto-san, I’ve a secret to tell you.”
Bokuto lifts his head, and looks down at Akaashi curiously, as if trying to place the familiar words.
Then he gasps, a sharp inhale. Bokuto narrows his eyes at Akaashi, asks, tone full of betrayal and scandal. “Did you steal my secret?”
In all the scenarios that Akaashi had mapped out in his head, he’d failed to anticipate for this reaction - and it’s the absurdity of it that has Akaashi burst out into laughter, even as Bokuto shakes him gently, continuing on in the same tone of exaggerated hurt, albeit with a giant goofy grin on his face, “You really did - didn’t you? You’re gonna steal my secret and make it yours!”
“How about we both say our secrets at the same time then?” Akaashi cajoles. He can see himself reflected in Bokuto’s golden eyes, a fun-house distortion of an Akaashi in the arms of this one person that’s been a constant in his life, all through these years: there’s a smile on hi face, almost as silly as the one Bokuto is wearing.
Bokuto pretends to take a moment to think before he hums in agreement. He counts off, “One…”
“Two..” Akaashi joins him, leaning in closer to Bokuto. The distance between them narrows to the slightest sliver.
“Three,” they say together, just a breath away; and then, their lips meet in the softest of all embraces, the secret between them glowing bright and true. Ti amo, I love you.
+1
Unsurprisingly, the reunion date and mode of the meeting had been suggested by Kuroo and Bokuto; the former putting all the skills he’s learnt as a Business Management major in use, and detailing an excruciatingly long list of reasons for why their idea should be endorsed. It required at least four scrolls to get through his proposal in their group chat.
[Group Chat: Save Tsukki 2k16]
1.14pm
Reluctant Catboy
Fine
Just stop blowing up my phone with your texts
Some of us actually have work to do you know
1.15pm
Bad Influence
awwww babe
is that any way u should speak to ur bf
don’t be grumpy just bc u’ve too much summer hw
1.16pm
Reluctant Catboy
Keep disturbing me and that may just change
1.17pm
Love
tsukki!!!!!!!
you cant break up with kuroo
then it won’t be a double date anymore
:((((((((((
1.17pm
Reluctant Catboy
What if I break up with him after we meet?
1.17pm
Love
oh!!!
then that’s okay then :D
1.18pm
Bad Influence
bro
i thought u were on my side
1.18pm
Love
i’m only on akaashi’s side :D
1.19pm
my love!!!! <3
That’s not what you said yesterday
When I asked you to do the dishes
1.20pm
Reluctant Catboy
LMAO
1.20pm
Love
akkashiiiiiiii DDDD:
It’s a sticky day in July, a few weeks after the university school term ends, when the four of them meet. Even sheltered inside the gymnasium, with the fans whirring silently above them, does little to stave off the incoming summer heat. That, however, does little to diminish Bokuto’s level of excitement. He’s bouncing from one foot to the other, jittering with anticipation, and Akaashi has to hold back a laugh.
“You’d think that a pro-athlete wouldn’t get this excited over a game with his friends,” Akaashi teases gently, from where he’s sitting on the ground, mid-stretch.
Bokuto’s saved from having to answer, as the gym door finally swings open to reveal a beaming Kuroo and a slightly more disgruntled-looking Tsukishima. Bounding over, Bokuto tackles Kuroo in a hug, then loops an arm around Tsukishima’s neck, “Happy five years of friendship!”
“Technically, you’ve all been friends for more than five years. I’m just collateral damage,” Tsukishima points out dryly, although the fond smile on his face betrays his true sentiment. Akaashi raises his hand in greeting.
Bokuto releases the couple from his half embrace-half chokehold, grinning from ear to ear. “Well, happy five years to our friendship then,” he corrects smoothly, pumping his fist up in the air; a gesture which Kuroo follows enthusiastically, earning him an eye-roll from Tsukishima, who’s emanating the energy of an eighty year old, despite being a) the youngest and b) the second person after Bokuto who spends the most amount of his time on volleyball.
“Come on now, Kei,” Kuroo teases, ruffling the younger boy’s hair. “The cutie doth protest too much.”
“I see you’re paying attention in class for once,” grumbles Tsukishima, swatting away Kuroo’s hand. “You may want to leave the quoting of classics to the real Literature student though, so you don’t end up embarrassing yourself.”
Kuroo guffaws at this, catching Tsukishima’s hand in his and dragging him onto the court with him. There’s the faintest dusting of red across Tsukishima’s face, as if the two fools haven’t been dating for the past two years. They’re bickering softly on court, fingers still tangled together, and Akaashi wonders if he looks as silly-soft as Tsukishima does, when he’s with Bokuto.
In between university classes, the part-time job at his favourite bookshop he’d somehow picked up along the way, and the constant attention his thesis demands, it’s been a while since Akaashi’s played volleyball; much longer, if he has to search his memory for the last time he’d stepped on court with Bokuto by his side.
Even so -
“Come on, Akaashi,” Bokuto’s hand is outstretched, and Akaashi accepts it easily, pulling himself off the ground. His hand is warm; his fingers and palms all calloused from the many hours he’s spent training.
They step onto the court together, hand in hand; and the strangest emotion wells up in Akaashi’s chest, it’s not sadness, not happiness exactly. Just a quiet humming feeling of finally coming home.