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Bokuto was ecstatic to be back home; he could barely resist the smile that was climbing its way onto his face. He had been gone for two weeks because of his training, and this time Akaashi couldn’t come with him. Near the end of his trip, he could feel the excitement from traveling and spending time with his teammates fade away. He was drained and spent the last couple of days alone in his hotel room curled up in bed; not even Hinata was able to get him to move. In those moments of despair, he would have given anything to trade a night out with the team for sitting on the couch way too far apart from Keiji.
Bokuto quietly unlocked the front door to their shared apartment and slipped past, making barely any noise. A part of him wanted to run through the door, make as much noise as he could, stomping around the room, letting his bags fall to the floor with a thump and his keys jingle from being tossed in the air. He wanted to be loud, to laugh, to cry, to make so much noise that Akaashi would come shuffling out of his room with his dark, messy hair, rubbing his eyes. He wanted to make noise to get to see the faint smile on his lips when Keiji would notice that he was back home, but it was late. Instead, he slowly placed his bags on the floor and put his keys down on the counter, slipping off his shoes as he walked so the sound of his footsteps wouldn’t disturb Akaashi from his sleep.
He was drained from the plane ride and from being around so many people all the time. As much as he loved his team and spending time with them, it always felt refreshing to spend time quietly with his roommate. He couldn’t help but sigh; he would have to wait until tomorrow or at least a couple more hours, he thought to himself, looking down at the silver watch on his wrist, it was already 3 am.
Bokuto didn’t want to go to sleep yet, a decision he would most likely regret in the morning, but right now, all he wanted to do was sit on the pale grey couch and absorb what it felt like to be home. To sit on those cushions, to see the plants lining the living room window, to listen to the faint sound of electricity humming around them and the sound of cars rumbling down the streets below them. He wanted to feel like he was home again.
He traced the walls with his fingers as he walked the short hallway that would bring him to the living room; now and then, they would catch on the peeling wallpaper. He would have fixed it a while ago if it wasn’t for the fact that the peeling paper and worn furniture made the flat feel like his home, somewhere he and Akaashi had lived together for years. If he let his imagination wander, he could see them in the same place when both of their hair would have faded to grey, snuggled up together on a couch, and maybe they would even have a cat.
He had to stop to shake his head, hoping the dream would fade; it wasn’t possible. Akaashi would never feel the same way. Instead, he tried to focus on what he would do now to pass the time, maybe he would start reading a new book or watch the tv with the sound off, and as soon as the clock hands above the tv would turn to seven, he would get up and make a cup of green tea and some buttered toast and great Akaashi in the kitchen.
He smiled down at his feet at the new image developing in his head, maybe Akaashi would be so happy to see him that he would run towards him and hug him tightly, and maybe Bokuto wouldn’t have to let go and pretend that he didn’t feel anything more for him than he should.
It always hurt so much to let go, and it was even harder to pretend that it didn’t. Akaashi knew him so well; he knew everything that upset him and his favorite foods, the temperature he liked to keep their apartment at, and how many minutes he let his tea steep for. Keiji knew him better than anyone, and yet he didn’t know the feelings that Bokuto sheltered for him deep in his heart ever since his third year.
Bokuto was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts when he heard soft muttering coming from the couch that should have been empty. On it lay Akaashi, curled up clutching a pillow tightly to his chest. His eyes were squeezed shut, causing lines to appear on his forehead.
He couldn’t help but freeze and try to capture the moment in his memory, wishing that the pillow clutched in Keiji’s arms was his body and that he could trace the angles of his face with his fingertips and smooth out the lines on his forehead. Instead, he knelt on the floor in front of his sleeping body and whispered his name. As much as he wanted to let him sleep, he knew that from past nights spent on the couch that Akaashi would wake up stiff and uncomfortable in the morning.
Akaashi didn’t stir with the whispers of his name escaping Bokuto’s lips, but his body relaxed with the sound of his voice. Bokuto couldn’t help but grin at the sight; he hoped the reaction was because Keiji felt comforted by his presence and not just the feeling of not being alone.
He reached out hesitantly, letting his hand hover in the air right above Keiji’s head. He tried to calm his heart by taking a long breath in and out. His palm hovered over Keiji’s hair before he took the risk and pressed it down against his head.
He pushed his fingers through the messy strands, letting his hand slide up until he pushed the hair away from Akaashi’s face, “Keiji,” he whispered.
Akaashi groaned before, moving his arm to rub at his eyes, “hi,” he whispered back, staring up at Bokuto through long lashes, “when did you get back?”
Bokuto smiled; even just staring into Keiji’s eyes made him feel refreshed, “A couple of minutes ago, I would have let you sleep, but I didn’t want you to feel sore in the morning,” he confessed, letting his hand drop from Akaashi’s face down to couch to pluck on the grey threads.
Akaashi smiled, it was brief and small, but it still made his heart speed up. Akaashi sat up, unleashing the pillow from his fists, and instead threw his arms around Bokuto’s neck, pressing his face into his shoulder.
Bokuto froze, forgetting to breathe until Akaashis mumbled out his name as a question. He relaxed, wrapping his arms around Keiji’s waist, and pressed himself closer. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from confessing everything. He loved him from the moment Keiji agreed to join the volleyball team, from his third year when Akaashi told him that he was his world. He loved him, and he wanted to tell him, and he wanted to kiss him, but the fear of rejection and being alone scared him enough to keep him silent.
He could live with the pain in his heart caused by the unrequited feelings, but he didn’t think that he could live with Keiji leaving him because Bokuto couldn’t control his emotions. He didn’t want to let his feelings control his life, he didn’t want to be a burden on Akaashi or anyone around him, and if he had to pretend he was okay to make everyone else happy, then he would do it.
Bokuto squeezed him even tighter. He would have been content to stay there for the next couple of hours and probably would have if Akaashi didn’t start fidgeting, trying to squirm his way out from the confine of Bokuto’s arms.
He pulled his arms away, wrapping them instead of around himself, and shifted back on his feet to create distance between them. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. He messed up. He messed up badly. After all the planning on keeping his distance, he still failed. He walked through this front door planning on letting Akaashi sleep. He said he would be quiet, and instead, here he was kneeling on the floor with Keiji awake right in front of him.
He glared down on the floor, trying to blink away the wetness developing in his eyes. He wouldn’t cry, not over this. It wasn’t Keiji’s fault, and it never was; Bokuto always wanted too much.
He didn’t move, just mumbled another apology when he felt Akaashi stand up from the couch.
“Kōtarō,” he heard Keiji plead out, sitting down on the floor next to him. He knew it was rude not to respond, but he was scared to look at him right now; he didn’t want to see the disgust on his face. Akaashi never looked at him like that, but he knew seeing that expression and the look of hatred in his eyes would break him.
Something warm settled on his head, and Bokuto jerked his head up to find Akaashi staring at him deeply with his hand running through his hair. He felt like he couldn’t breathe seeing the look in his eye, so he tried to avert his gaze and stared at the pattern on Akaashi’s sweater.
A very familiar yellow sweater with tiny stars around its collar, that made Akaashi look like he was drowning in the fabric. A sweater that looked very similar to the one he kept in his closet. He almost yelped when he noticed it, quickly darting his gaze up to stare into Akaashis’ blue eyes.
Akaashi didn’t look mad. Instead, he looked nervous, and the tips of his ears seemed to be turning a brighter red as the seconds passed, “I-I missed you,” he stuttered out in explanation, this time, he ducked his head to avoid staring into Bokuto’s eyes, clutching the fabric in his hands.
Oh.
Akaashi was wearing his sweater.
They continued to sit on the floor quietly, looking at each other and blushing whenever they caught each other staring.
The silence was finally broken by Akaashi, who let out a loud yawn, “bed?” he asked. Bokuto didn’t want this moment to end, he wasn’t sure if he understood what was happening, but he knew that maybe he wasn’t as alone in his feelings as he thought.
He ended up reluctantly agreeing to the request and slowly moved to stand up, reaching out to tug Keiji to his feet too.
He wasn’t tired before, but the rollercoaster of emotions caused him to feel dead on his feet, and he stumbled towards his bedroom. He had only just grasped the doorknob before hearing Keiji call his name.
He turned around to see that Akaashi stood the same way as he did, clutching the doorknob to his room. Keiji let go, taking a hesitant step forward before he paused again, “Can I?” He asked, looking at Bokuto and the door to his room.
Once again, Bokuto was left speechless before he remembered how to use his voice, whispering out a yes. He wasn’t sure if Akaashi heard him at first until Akaashi smiled. This time it was like a blooming flower with shining white teeth that could have rivaled the white petals’ color on a Daisy.
Bokuto didn’t even realize he was moving until he noticed that he was crawling under the grey blankets on his bed, and Akaashi was lying down next to him.
He stared at him, feeling shocked that Akaashi was lying on his bed, under his sheets, next to him. Is this a dream? He thought to himself, or at least he thought he did until he heard Keiji giggle.
Akaashi was staring back at him, the smile still on his face before he reached out and caressed the side of Bokuto’s face, “I hope it’s not.”
Bokuto hoped that too, leaning into the warmth of his hands.