Archive of Our Own

Akaashi was tired. His foot ached, eyes were droopy, and resolve was weak. He craned his neck to see his phone resting on the fireplace mantle, watching as the same person as always called his number. Morishita’s hand curled around his waist, the other scrolling through the recent news on his tablet.

“Look, Keiji. You’re in a story,” he tugged on the boy’s shirt, causing him to peek at the tablet screen with curiosity. “Police only have a few people looking for you. They’ve mostly given up on you.”

The setter winced, a single tear springing to his eyes, yet he quickly shook it off with a smile. “Well, at least they’re not wasting any time on someone like me. I am just one boy, after all.”

Morishita huffed in amusement. “It’s almost been nine months, now, Keiji. Have you truly found happiness here?”

“Of course! This is the only home I’ve known for the past nine months, so it’s only natural for me to be happy here!” he leaned his head against Morishita’s own. “I’ve learned that this is the best place for me, really.”

“You’re such an amazing boy, Keiji. Always know exactly what to say,” he chuckled, kissing Akaashi’s cheek kindly before shifting his attention back to the screen. “What would you like for dinner? I’ll order us some take out and send Watanabe to retrieve it for us.”

Akaashi thought for a moment, tapping his chin as he ran through all his options. “Pork curry? I’m kinda in a curry mood.”

“Well, pork curry it is! Watanabe! You’re going out once our food is ready!” Morishita snapped towards the door of the office.

“Yes sir!” Watanabe saluted, ready on standby for when he is told to leave.

On his tablet, Morishita searched up for a curry restaurant, not too close yet not too far. Once he had chosen one, he placed the order, using his alias, decoy credit card information, and faux phone number to complete the transaction. He whipped to face Watanabe, spouting off the restaurant name and sending him on his way.

Akaashi watched the man go, only wishing he was in his place. Oh, to be sent into the outside world once more. If only he weren’t trapped inside this wretched place. He would be with Bokuto right now, possibly even playing a match or at least practicing volleyball. 

Alas, impossible. This iron grip over him was tight, surveillance on him too strong. Luckily, if it could even count as luck, Morishita wasn’t as harsh on him any longer. He hadn’t completely ceased the abuse, but it was few and farther between. Instead, the mob boss helped Akaashi walk since his heel hadn’t fully recovered from the shard of glass slicing through his nerves.

But he knew the true reason. Morishita didn’t really want to help him. It was just an obligation. Perhaps a clever ruse to trick Akaashi into thinking he cared and understood he had sustained an unfortunate injury. However, thus the real reason; the abuse was partially halted because Akaashi hadn’t been sleep talking. The dreams of being with Bokuto had somewhat disappeared, only appearing every few nights nowadays. Due to this, he wasn’t deemed an annoyance much anymore, more of just an extra mouth they refuse to stop feeding or toss out. Morishita apparently ‘loved him too much’. 

Another ruse. Morishita never cared. Never had, never will. He did not wish his deeds discovered. Releasing Akaashi would do exactly that.

Akaashi never felt any shred of affection towards this man. Only hatred, fear, and disgust. Past bruises were fading, yet harsher ones took their place. 

The abuse had slowed, yet it was stronger than ever. 

Like a hero saving energy for more powerful attacks.

As Akaashi sat in the lap of the villain of his story, he couldn’t help but to think of how Bokuto had graduated and started college. Hopefully, at least. I hope he hasn’t delayed his education for the sake of finding me. He sighed, closing his eyes and titled his head to rest along Morishita’s collarbone. 

Those hands that he hated curled around him in a gentle embrace, running up and down his sides in an attempt to soothe him. Physically, they worked. Mentally, however… Get your hideous fingers off my body.

But, those words remained unspoken as Akaashi found himself slipping into slumber. 

He awoke to be in a field, painted with brilliant hues of pink, purple, and cyan. Yet, the colors that stuck out to him the most were peeking out from a bush of greens and light blues.

White-gray with black streaks.

He smiled softly. “Bokuto-san,” he called, taking generous steps through the flowers, finding a small dirt path after a couple careful placements of his feet. 

“Kaashi!” the spiker exploded upwards from the bush, his clothes covered in brambles. 

“How are you doing today?”

“I’m doing great, Kaashi! And you?” 

Akaashi watched with amusement as the spiker leaped over the bush, rushing to envelope him in a tight hug.

Yes, this is right. This is how it should be. He leaned into the strong arms of the ace, feeling his firm biceps beneath his fingertips. “I’m tired, but better now that I’m here,” he sank down, feeling Bokuto situate his body so they could sit comfortably on the path.

The spiker pulled Akaashi onto his lap, making the setter hum in appreciation. “It still hurts, you know? He still hurts me, but not as much these days.” Pushing on an apparent bruise on his shoulder, Akaashi twinged back and sighed. 

“He’s still hurting you, Kaashi? Just how much of a monster is this man?” Bokuto growled, then softened his approach when Akaashi snuggled closer to his broad chest. “Sorry, Kaashi. I just-”

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s all okay,” Akaashi breathed. “Let’s just enjoy this time together before he wakes me up for dinner.”

“Alright, Kaashi,” Bokuto said, leaning back slightly and gazing down at the boy cuddled into his chest. Using one hand to gently stroke the dark locks, Bokuto soothed the setter, who had begun to twitch. “Thinking of him?”

“Unfortunately,” he whispered. “I know I’m sleeping in his lap right now, so it’s hard not to think about.”

“So don’t focus on it, focus on me instead, Kaashi. Right now, you’re in my arms, okay? Not his, only mine,” he cupped Akaashi’s face, gapping the short distance between their lips in a tender kiss. It lasted just one chaste moment, but comforting warmth spread throughout Akaashi’s entire body.

“Only yours, yes,” Akaashi nodded. “Oh, I feel his hand on my shoulder. I must go, Bokuto-san. I’ll see you come nighttime.”

Another kiss, another goodbye.

Akaashi awoke, he was being carried to the dining room by the wrong man. The one he never wanted to meet. “Hello, my dear Keiji. Dinner has arrived,” Morishita gave his signature toothy grin.

Sickening. Akaashi wanted to punch those nauseating teeth. “It has? Perfect timing, I was getting hungry,” he flashed his own smile.

“And we don’t want a hungry Keiji, because I know a hungry Keiji is a grumpy, grumpy Keiji,” he cooed, poking Akaashi’s nose.

The wrong man is giving him the same sort of affection as the right man. Akaashi wanted to vomit. Only Bokuto-san should be able to poke my nose. This is all wrong. He’s all wrong. I need to get back home; back to Bokuto-san.

Instead, he giggled cutely. “I’m sure you don’t want a grumpy Keiji,” he pouted his lip just a sliver, crossing his arms then gazing up at Morishita with his gunmetal blues.

“Of course not. I want a happy Keiji,” Morishita planted Akaashi down on a cushion, as well as a peck on his cheek.

Akaashi nuzzled his head against those vile lips, folding his legs neatly and placing his hands into his lap. “And I’m going to be the happiest Keiji after dinner.”

Greasy fingers against his cheek, then the soft pluff of a cushion being sat on. Akaashi faced the low table, his curry already on a placemat with chopsticks prepared to be used. “Thank you for the food,” he chimed, pressing his hands together before he picked up a chunk of rice and chomping down on it. 

He heard Morishita hum affectionately, but he paid no mind. He focused on the springy rice and warm curry sauce, chewy bits of pork strewn all throughout the dish. “Keiji, turn towards me,” the man said, hands reaching for his face. 

“Hm?” he looked up, deer in headlights. Off-putting fingers gently swiping at the corner of his lips. 

“You’re being a little messy, my dear Keiji,” he wiped  the sauce onto a lace napkin, leaning on his hand to admire the boy. 

“Ah, I’m sorry. I guess I was excited,” he shined a sheepish smile.

“No need to apologize, my dear Keiji.” A soft pat to the cheek, chin tilted up by those dreaded fingers. “I’m just glad you’re enjoying your dinner.”

Nine months since the correct man locked eyes with him. Nine months since he’s spoken to him. Nine months.

Akaashi had never felt so disgusted as he did now. Never felt so much pain, so much longing for the outside world to welcome him back with open arms. 

That night, Morishita had business to attend to so Akaashi was alone. He was glad those sheets were cold. But, he just missed his family. He missed Bokuto. And on nights where he just missed the way things used to be, he cried. Quietly, so Morishita couldn’t hear him from the office even though it was two rooms away.

His breath hitched and halted as he heard the mahogany squeak open. He buried himself nose deep in the covers, terrified that Morishita had caught him crying.

“Akaashi?”

Not Morishita. “Wa-Watanabe,” he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“You’re hurt?” Watanabe sat on the edge of the bed, gazing at the boy with worry in his eyes.

“No… and yes,” he avoided the eyes. “I miss my old life, that’s all.”

“I don’t blame you.” His voice was comforting, and Akaashi relished in what was in front of him.

He crawled from the covers, down to the foot of the bed and sitting beside Watanabe. “Can I lean on you?” he asked meekly.

“Yes, Akaashi,” he lifted an arm, allowing Akaashi to take refuge under his wings. “You’re always welcome to lean on me if you need to. I may not be your ideal person of comfort, but I’m here.”

“Why are you so kind to me? He could hurt you,” he shivered.

Watanabe tightened his hold. “Because you’re a human boy, a teenage boy. You have no reason to be here, to feel this much pain, to be treated like this. You still have potential, but I’m a lost cause. I want to do what I can to help you out of here.”

“But-”

“Shh, it’s okay, Akaashi. You don’t have to worry about me. And, I know now that one of your scars had opened up. I can feel the blood. Come on. I’ll clean you up and bandage you.” He tugged Akaashi up by his hand, helping him to the bathroom. “Sit, and lift your shirt.”

Akaashi did as he was told, pulling his now bloodied shirt up to reveal an open wound along his hip. He hissed in pain as Watanabe pressed a disinfectant towelette to it. 

“Breathe, Akaashi, breathe. Take my hand if you need to squeeze, but remember to breathe,” he extended out his hand to the boy, who took it up as he nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll breathe,” he muttered, then suddenly gasped and squished Watanabe’s fingers between his.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Just one more, okay?” Watanabe said soothingly. “One more, then I’ll bandage it and you can head back to bed, okay? I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Mh-hm, o-one more,” he felt a tear escape his eye, running down his face and dripping onto his lap. “Do it!” He clenched his jaw and awaited the burning sensation, flinching back as soon as it hit him.

Though it ended soon, and a sticky bandage was gently placed over the wound. “You okay, Akaashi?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he exhaled a tiny breath and stood. “Thank you, Watanabe.”

“Don’t mention it, Akaashi.”

Bokuto had never felt so weak. The hallucination of his setter motivated him to eat and sleep properly, yet it was anything but the same. Almost a year had passed. No signs, no leads, no Akaashi. 

Kuroo hadn’t checked up on him since their last phone call about four weeks ago. Arguments never lead to great places. They had been fighting more and more, friendship deteriorating as Bokuto was lost again and again to grief and stress. 

Lucid dreams and hallucinations weren’t enough anymore. He needed Akaashi and he needed him now. Nothing could distract him, therapy didn’t help him, volleyball couldn’t save him. Not this time. Not when he knew the only setter for him was missing.

Possibly dead! You never know, Koutarou! 

And finally, another source of his depression. The slithery voices of negativity. They always wormed through his hallucinations and dreams, tainting them red. 

“He’s not dead!” Bokuto slammed his fist down hard on his desk, shaking the water bottle and watching it topple.

It collapsed to the floor, rolling a couple inches before knocking into the leg of the chair. Bokuto reached down, grasping the crinkling plastic and bringing it up to the surface of the desk. He gently replaced it on its rightful spot. 

Are you sure, Koutarou? All this is doing is causing you pain, making you hurt. He’s gone, don’t you understand?! Police have given up on him! Kuroo’s given up on you! Why can’t you just let go?!

“Shut up!” 

It fell again, but Bokuto didn’t even bother to reach for it. “He’s alive, he’s waiting, and he’s going to be found!”

Your lucid dreams are messing with your head, Koutarou. I’m the only thread of reality you have left! Accept it, accept me!

“NEVER!”

A hole to the wall, bloody knuckles, and a stab to the heart made Bokuto bawl his eyes out. A year, no luck. Nothing. It was almost Halloween. Only three days time left until the holiday. Bokuto wasn’t going out. He wasn’t going to dress up, nor was he going to hang out with Kuroo.

Kuroo wouldn’t even want to see him anyway. Bokuto knew how much heartbreak Kuroo had endured, watching his best friend shatter from the inside out over the past year. He knew, yet he could never cease the constant rants about how he was going to find Akaashi.

The black hair had even witnessed Bokuto’s worst. Graphic depictions of murder and the absolute demise of the ones who took the setter were made. Bokuto knew Kuroo couldn’t take it. But, he didn’t stop being selfish. This unfortunate series of events had morphed Bokuto into a completely different person. 

He couldn’t even recognize himself any longer.

When he looked in the mirror, all he saw was that desperate, angry, anxious boy who can’t let go of a single person; who didn’t want to let go of a single person. He always cried everytime he gazed into the mirror. 

He would’ve hated the person you’ve become, Koutarou. Where is that young, carefree, energetic ace now? Gone gone gone, down the drain. Swirl swirl swirl, there it goes; there he goes. You’re never going to see him again and the last thing you did was fail to walk him home.

“Please shut up!” A scream ripped from his throat, hands pressed against ears and knees drawing up to his chest. 

Whimpering, ignoring, crying. Bokuto didn’t know who he was anymore. Anxious, stressed, depressed. He couldn’t tell what was going to happen. Lonely, desperate, enraged. He just wanted Akaashi. Longing, helplessly yearning. He needed the final answer. He just needed clearance.

Was Akaashi dead or alive?

Would Akaashi still come back to him?

Would Akaashi…

“Still recognize me?”

Akaashi felt some blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, his lip split open from Morishita biting too hard. He stared up at the ceiling, his entire body aching too much for him to even move a muscle. He’d gotten used to this, and he also got used to that same movie playing in the background. However, there was no boss in the room to watch it. It was just Akaashi, and a million regrets.

He was alone in the room, while Morishita attended a meeting for his branch of the business. He would always enlighten Akaashi on current events in his business, as well as basically bragging about how he could go outside and see the sun. Akaashi maneuvered himself underneath the blanket with much difficulty, but soon sank into the pillows and soft, welcoming mattress. 

He got a small idea, and he leaned over the edge of the bed to grab one of Morishita’s misplaced shoes, and he lifted it up, dropping it right onto the floor with a loud thud. A pair of feet came near the door, and Akaashi knew from the careful creak of the door that it was the one person he needed to see.

“Hey, Akaashi? Did you drop something? Are you okay?” Watanabe whispered as he neared the bed. “Oh, did he..?” he trailed off, but Akaashi understood and painfully nodded.

“Turn off the TV, please?” he croaked, throat sore and scratchy.

“Of course,” he found the remote on the TV stand, and he clicked the power button. He kneeled beside Akaashi again, and sighed. “You want any pain meds?”

“Mn-mh, I’m okay. Just sore and exhausted. But… can you stay with me until I fall asleep?” he asked, and Watanabe couldn’t do anything but nod. 

“Yes,” he pulled himself up onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard and gently stroked Akaashi’s hair that resided on the pillow. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” he hummed and rolled over to press his forehead against the side of Watanabe’s thigh. “Thank you.”

“I hope you sleep well, Akaashi.”

“Mhm, you too,” he managed before he was claimed by sleep’s magic spell.

“Kaashi!” Bokuto yelped happily, scooping the setter up into his arms. “I missed you so much Kaashi!”

Akaashi slid his eyes open, smiling down at the spiker. “I missed you too, Bokuto-san. Have you been well?”

“Yes yes! I just ate, and now I’m napping! What about you, Kaashi? How are you?” Bokuto hugged Akaashi closer to his chest, willing the setter to listen to his heartbeat.

“Ah, I could be better, but it could be worse,” he shrugged nonchalantly and proceeded to bury his face into Bokuto’s shoulder. “I just want to come home.”

“Soon, Kaashi. We’ll find you, I promise. We’re getting closer and closer, but just… it’s not fast enough,” he admitted.

“So close, but no cigar,” Akaashi agreed. “And I have no possible way of communicating to you. Even if I told you what I can sort of remember about the outside of the house, this is just a dream. Nothing would change when I wake up.”

Bokuto sat Akaashi down in his lap as he took a place on the dirt pathway of the flower field. “Then I’ll just be your escape, Kaashi,” he guided Akaashi’s hand to some flowers. While the setter traced the petals, Bokuto ran his fingers up and down Akaashi’s extended arm, occasionally shifting his head to kiss his cheek.

“Please, don’t leave me, even in my dreams,” he pressed his forehead to Bokuto’s, and a tear of desperation slipped from his eye. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I won’t ever leave, Kaashi. I love you too much,” he nuzzled his nose against Akaashi’s own, speaking his comforting words of truth.

“Hold me?”

“Always.”

“Keiji!” Morishita’s voice boomed from outside the bedroom.

The setter awoke, rubbing his eyes and groaning as he sat himself upright. “Hm?” Watanabe was long gone, but the aching wasn’t.

“We are going to celebrate Halloween tonight! We are going out to select your costume!” Morishita pounced on the bed, making Akaashi yelp in surprise but force a small smile on his lips.

“We are?” Akaashi cocked his head sideways. 

“Yes yes, my dear Keiji!” The man scooped up the setter, leaving the covers disturbed across the bed and spilling onto the floor. “I’ve even bought you some new clothes to go out in!”

“You have? Well, that’s so nice of you!” he flashed a beam, nuzzling his forehead against the thick flesh of Morishita’s neck. 

“Anything for my Keiji!” He whisked the boy away to the closet, throwing the doors open and revealing an array of freshly purchased items of apparel.

He hopped onto the smooth hardwood floor, tapping his chin as he studied each outfit that was neatly hung up. He scanned for a few more minutes, before gasping and grabbing one of the hangers. “This one!” He giggled sweetly, holding the hanger up to his chest, smoothing down the outfit. He titled his head up to seek the approval of the sickening man.

“Go ahead, my dear Keiji. Once you’re dressed and fed, we will go to pick out your costume for the party,” he made to the firm mahogany door, creaking it open and flashing one last smile at Akaashi. “Join me in the dining room when you are finished, Keiji.”

“Okay!” The door closed.

Disgust and anger filled his expression. 

Though, the outfit wasn’t bad. It seemed Morishita had actually paid attention to when Akaashi, very rarely, spoke about the things he liked. The outfit consisted of a pair of comfortable yet slim black joggers, accompanied by a light blue three-quarter sleeve shirt and a sweater, big and baggy.

Just like Bokuto-san’s sweaters. Yet this one already reeks with Morishita’s stench. He slipped off his pajamas, tugging up the joggers and admiring them in the full-body mirror beside the wardrobe. He suddenly stopped, staring into his own eyes. 

He started running his fingers down his chest, feeling the bruises, tracing the scars, hating the sight. 

Will Bokuto-san look at me the same way after a year? 

He finally took the time to look at his face again. He had changed. His hair was completely different, longer and messier than before. However, it wasn’t in a good way. Shaggy, ragged, dirty. His features had hardened, shifting from innocent schoolboy to abused sex toy. His eyes didn’t have the same twinkle. Dull and faded replaced his old gaze. 

Truly pathetic, honestly. 

He finished dressing, hiding his embarrassed body with the layers. Sleeves floppy, hiding his fingertips with three inches of extra fabric at his hands. He crossed the room, hopping on each foot to slip on some socks. Mahogany pulled open, entering the dining room right outside the bedroom. 

“I’m ready,” he called, craning his neck to see Morishita gone. His head cocked in confusion. His shoes were by the table, keys and wallet there too. But no Morishita. Akaashi decided to sit on his own cushion, awaiting the man.

Shouting came from the office, the man’s voice included. 

“YOU’VE ALMOST GIVEN OUR LOCATION AWAY FOR THE LAST TIME!” 

Akaashi’s eyes shot wide and he began shivering, feeling the fear seep into his bones and cause his joints to buckle. He fixed his shaky gaze onto a small scratch on the supposedly smooth surface of the table. 

“It wasn’t my fault, this time! I swear, I swear on my life!”

Watanabe.

The setter closed his eyes, silently glad he wasn’t the one being scolded. Yet, Watanbe wasn’t a bad man unlike Morishita. He was another kidnapped victim, forced into submission and under surveillance by the mob boss. Akaashi had exchanged simple words with Watanabe, speaking of thanks for treating his wounds when Morishita refused as well as seeking some form of comfort from the kinder man.

He wasn’t a bad man, and that was why Akaashi also prayed he would stay alive. To whatever god there was in the sky, he did not pray for himself, no. He just prayed for the scolded man.

Please, let him survive. 

The unfortunately familiar sound of a slap. Akaashi’s fingers tensed on his sleeves. 

“You are such a disappointment, Watanabe! I gave you so much and this is how you repay me?!” Another slap, another, another, another.

One exclaim of pain after the other.

Until Akaashi couldn’t take it anymore. He abruptly stood, running though limping to the office. “Stop it! Please don’t hurt him anymore, Morishita!” he clung to the doorframe, pricks of tears in the corner of his eyes. “He didn’t give it away, right? We’re still safe and secret, right? So please stop it!” 

A head jerk and a glare made Akaashi stumble back out of pure habit. His arms shook, legs quaked, knees buckled. He hiccuped when his eyes landed on the bloodied face of Watanabe. “Please,” he whispered, voice meek. “Please, stop hurting him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Watanabe yelped as he was shoved against the desk, then fingers snapped and he scurried away. “Alright then, if it will keep Keiji happy.”

Loud and angry footsteps, then a rough hand snatching his hair forcing his head up. “Get into the car, Keiji. I’ll be joining you in just a moment.”

“N-no, let me treat Watanabe first,” Akaashi shouldered through Morishita’s grip. “I want to make sure he’s okay before we go, please.”

“Fine.”

Hair released, Akaashi jogged after Watanbe, finding him crouching in the corner of his quarters. “Watanbe,” he called out, soft and caring. “I’ll clean you up.”

“Akaashi?” the man looked up, blood mixing with tears along his face and clothes. “Akaashi won’t he-”

“Shh, don’t worry about me,” Akaashi kneeled down in front of him, his eyes scanning the man’s face, analyzing the proper way to treat his injuries. “Come on, he’s letting me clean you up.”

“Are you sure? Akaashi, please tell me he isn’t going to hurt you for this.” Hands grasped Akaashi’s, worry and fear in Watanabe’s cloudy grays.

“No, I’ll be fine. You’re the one hurt. Now do I have to drag you?” He held onto Watanbe’s shoulder, preparing to hoist him onto his unsteady feet.

Finally, a weak chuckle escaped the split lips. “No, you don’t have to drag me. Thank you, Akaashi. I don’t even know why you’re helping me.”

A quiet, triumphant snort sounded from the younger boy. “No need to know why.”

They, Watanbe partially leaning on Akaashi, hobbled to the bathroom just round the corner. The man sat on the closed toilet lid as Akaashi rummaged through the first-aid kit beneath the shining porcelain sink. “Hm, stay here. I’ll get you an ice pack as well,” Akaashi took out some bandages and cleaning cloths, placing them on the counter by the handful.

“It’s alright, this should work for now and I can get it myself,” Watanabe grasped his wrist, eyes wide and pleading. He mouthed the words, Please don’t go out there when he’s mad.

“Okay,” Akaashi dampened a facecloth, leaning close to Watanabe and gently swiping the blood away. “You know, here’s a reason why, Watanabe. Because you’ve helped me, and I’m the kind who returns favors.”

A small exclaim of surprise alerted Akaashi he was pressing too hard on the tender cheekbone. He withdrew his hand, sighing. “You’re going to get an ice pack once I’m done, okay? You’re going to bruise there.”

Watanabe nodded lightly, allowing Akaashi to continue his work. A small bandage was slipped over his split lip, another across his forehead. Finally, one final bandage caressed the bridge of his nose. “Make sure to be careful changing these, if you take it off wrong, your lip could split more,” the boy advised, and the man touched his own cheek. 

“You must be magical, Akaashi, because I feel brand new,” he raised his eye level to make contact with Akaashi, his body in the process of standing.

“I can promise that I’m no mage nor wizard,” his shoulders hopped with a few short laughs. “Just get some ice, rest, and you’ll feel even better.”

“Thank you, Akaashi.”

A nice pat to the head made the boy smile. “You’re welcome, Watanabe.”

Please keep Watanabe safe, whoever’s up there. I don’t want him to die. Please, he’s my only friend I have here.

Akaashi left the bathroom, flashing one last smile back at Watanabe before finding himself entering the proximity of Morishita’s wrath. A clean smack to the face later, Akaashi was sitting in the front seat of the mob boss’s car. 

“Where are we heading?” he asked, holding his cheek and tears back. 

“There’s this place I know, one of my associates runs it. He makes wonderful costumes, and I have a feeling you’ll like them,” he winked at the boy.

I have an idea, you disgusting perverted pig. 

“Oh? Like what?” Faking interest, Akaashi gave the man a playful side glance. 

“Hmm, you’ll just have to see when we get there, my dear Keiji.” A hand rubbed his sore cheek, staying on the back of his head and rubbing circles on his scalp.

“I’m excited!”

“I’m glad, Keiji.”

Just as he thought, the store was completely, entirely filled with skimpy dresses of all sorts.

I think I know my role during the party. I’m going to be his trophy. Why am I anything but surprised?

“Let’s go ahead and pick one, Keiji. We have about four hours before the party. And we will be outside for most parts of it, so make sure you’ll be comfortable,” he advised, excited hands trailing down his spine and gripping the hem of his sweatshirt. 

“I can pick any of them?” he looked up expectantly, a small smile quirking at his lips. 

“Of course, my dear Keiji. Nothing is too expensive for someone like me. Come along, let’s look together,” he released the sweatshirt. “Don’t forget to try them on, okay?”

“Okay!” He giggled happily as Morishita kissed his temple. 

I’m really not looking forward to this. But, I have to keep up this act.

He wandered through the short isles with Morishita trailing beside him, selecting hangers and examining each dress. Not all of them were dresses, however. There were crop top and miniskirt combinations as well as many tank tops and booty shorts with varying designs. 

Guess they love showing off legs. He bit the inside of his lip painfully at the thought and continued searching. I really hate this idea and concept.

It’s so cruel, but why did it have to be me?

“Oh, Keiji, take a look at this one! I think this one would suit you nicely,” Morishita plucked one from the rack to his left, holding it up to Akaashi and observing it.

“Well, then I’ll try it on!” Humming, he took the dress and scanned the shop for a fitting room. He found it with a couple moments of searching and he made his way towards it, pulling the curtain closed once he had reached it.

He avoided looking at his body as he changed.

Thinking of wearing this as a human trophy put Akaashi’s stomach at unease. It showed off his legs prettily, accenting his thighs in a way sure to make all the mob men at the party try and touch. However, there was no escape. No delay. Nothing to protect him from those dirty minded men.

He sighed and twirled around a few times, the skirt riding up his hips to reveal the tiny shorts underneath. Thankfully, the dress came with those shorts.

Thank God. I’d feel way too exposed in this without the shorts.  

He finally took some minutes to tie the ribbon up by his collarbones. He tried faking some cute and polite smiles in the mirror, practicing for he was surely going to need them. The top of the dress was carefully crafted with short, puffy sleeves, a front that hugged his chest and waist neatly. There was also a tiny crimson heart in the center of the chest, right underneath the ends of the tied ribbon.

The skirt’s apron had two pockets, one on each side. He didn’t tie the back since he would be taking off this monstrosity anyway, yet he knew it would make his, may they be very small, curves pop out much more than he had hoped. 

This is why I love baggy clothes. I may not be a girl but I unfortunately have some waist curve. 

Sigh.

He forced a smile onto his lips. “Morishita! I like this one!”

The dressing room door opened, and Morishita’s eyes found the boy. “Wonderful! Step out and let me see, my dear Keiji!” His feet came almost running, yet slowed once he was in front of the fitting room. 

Akaashi stepped out, posing cutely with his best smile yet. 

Fake.

“Do you like it?” He gave a spin, showing off the poofy skirt.

I hate this.

“It looks lovely, Keiji! Now, let us go purchase this, unless you wish to search around a little more?” he stroked Akaashi’s hair. 

I hate you.

“I think this one is good, I like it,” he leaned into the hand against his head, eyes wide and innocent.

“Well, if you like it, Keiji, I cannot deny you and your adorable puppy eyes.” A kiss to the lips. “Get changed back, then I’ll buy it for you and we’ll go home. Only three hours left! And, I’m also going to purchase a small amount of make-up for you.”

I hate your stupid ideas of fun and beauty. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it all. You’re a terrible, disgusting man. Get your filthy hands off me, you’re not allowed to keep touching me like this, you’re the wrong man.

Akaashi’s mind continued to spout everything he wanted to scream as he nodded and proceeded to take off the dress. He had never felt so glad to wear those joggers. 

This is going to be a long night.

Bokuto laid on his bed, thoughts deep and engraving themselves into his mind. It’s Halloween and it’s been a year. Still, he’s missing, he sighed at his inner voice. 

Just as he predicted, Kuroo didn’t ask him to hang out. No one spoke to him, may it be face to face or text. It has been a while since he’s even seen most of his friends. He never went to college. He couldn’t even focus hard enough on his words when sending voicemails to Akaashi’s phone anymore.

He sat up, gathering up enough willpower to make something to eat. The moment he hopped down the last stair, his phone rang. He picked it up, not even bothering to check the name. “Hello?”

“Is this Bokuto Koutarou?” the voice on the other line said, their voice seeming a little urgent.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. Something wrong?” he tilted his head in confusion.

“Bokuto-san, this is the Japanese police department. We know you’ve been trying to help out with the Akaashi Keiji case ever since it went public,” the operator took in a small breath.

“I-is everything okay? Is Akaashi okay? He’s okay, right?” he started to panic, a shaky tone and failing knees.

“Please calm down, Bokuto-san. I was instructed to call you because,” they paused for a moment. “We’ve found a lead on Akaashi Keiji.”

The phone almost slipped like water between his fingers. “A… lead?”

“Yes, we’ve found something that could help us find Akaashi Keiji,” they clarified. “Meaning, if this lead is indeed correct, he is alive and somewhere nearby.”

“O-oh.”

I told you, stupid rooster.

“Please, keep me updated,” he replied, monotone.

“Of course, Bokuto-san. We will alert you immediately when we find him,” they bid Bokuto farewell, and the call was ended.

When they find him. When not if. When not if, when not if!

“When not if!” he yelled, feet racing to the living room where his parents rested on the couch. “They’ve found a lead! When not if! They said when not if! They’re gonna find Akaashi!”

His parents exchanged wide-eyed glances at each other, then their son. “The police called you, Koutarou?”

“Yes, Mama! Yes they called me! They said when they found Akaashi, they were gonna tell me! They said when not if! He’s alive, he- I gotta call Kuroo!” His excited feet whisked him away to the backyard for a whiff of fresh air, then scurried up to his room. 

He quickly dialed his best friend, jittery and ecstatic. “Pick up pick up please pick up, Kuroo!”

“Bokuto?” Kuroo’s tired voice sighed.

“When not if, Kuroo! When not if!” he shouted, jumping up and down.

“What do you mean? And please keep it down, dude. Kenma’s asleep on my lap,” he made a shushing noise and Bokuto heard a quiet hum of appreciation from the sleeping cat-like setter.

“The police department just called me, Kuroo! They’ve found a lead, they’re gonna find Akaashi! They said when, not if!” Bokuto said, volume not toning down even just a hair.

“What? They’ve got something? That’s great, Bokuto! Kenma, Kenma wake up!” Kuroo shook the boy awake, and he responded with a groan. 

“What do you want, Kuro? I was having a good dream,” he rubbed his eyes.

“Police are going to find Akaashi!”

Kenma went silent. Then suddenly, he was sobbing. “Woah, woah, woah, Kenma!” Kuroo dropped the phone to hug the crying boy. 

“Th-they’re go-gonna bring hi-him home? He-he’s gonna b-be found?” Kenma’s voice squeaked and Kuroo nodded vigorously. 

“Yes, Kenma. He’s going to come home.”

He’s going to come home. After a year, he’s coming home.

Eventually, after he hung up the call with Kuroo, Bokuto himself began bawling his eyes out.

Akaashi was despising everything. The men were all staring at him, the make-up was uncomfortable, and he was never supposed to leave Morishita’s side. On top of that, he was to serve food and drinks during dinner then accompany his ‘master’ the entire meal.

Overall, a terrible way to spend this night. 

Luckily, Watanabe was there to smack prying hands away from Akaashi’s body. But, for every hand he kept away, Akaashi knew that added up to the amount of hits he was going to get. And he could tell Morishita was keeping track. But, he also deducted that Morishita hated the fact that others wanted to touch his trophy. 

Just like a child’s show and tell in school, it’s not show and touch. You can see, you can hear about, but you cannot touch what isn’t yours. Akaashi remembered all that he was reduced to that night. An object. A toy. A specific kind of toy. The kind that he despised with all his heart and being.

Just grin and bear it, Keiji.

Easier said than done, stupid inner voice Keiji.

Yet, he did just that. He was playful, cheerful, and even did small twirls for the peeking men just to tease. Morishita was clearly amused and approved his behavior. 

Only an hour of this had passed, and there were about three more hours. 

Lasting until midnight, Akaashi sighed at the thought. 

He was currently sitting on Morishita’s forearm, hanging his arms around the man’s neck as he spoke business with some of his other associates. He didn’t pay attention to the conversational details, however. Instead, he focused on upkeeping his sunny facade and cheap smiles.

That was, until Morishita spoke his name. “But then I found Keiji, and I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful in my life,” he turned his head to kiss Akaashi’s cheek, and he giggled cutely, leaning against the man. “He’s honestly made me want to become a better man over this past year and I can proudly say that my business has indeed sprouted a new beginning.” He held up his fingers, right to Akaashi’s lips. In between the digits lay a lighted cigarette. Akaashi took it, gently inhaling and exhaling a small drag. The disgusting taste of nicotine resided on his tongue, slightly burning just like it always did everytime Morishita forced a drag.

He didn’t cough, he didn’t wheeze, he didn’t even wince. By this time, he had already gotten used to that nicotine travelling down his throat, clouding up his lungs with its toxins. All he did was smile as he took in another breath, one last puff of smoke poisoning his lungs, burning on the way down.

“Such a good boy, Keiji,” Morishita presented a small kiss to Akaashi’s cheek as some sort of twisted reward.

The men were all enthralled with the way Akaashi made small comments in Morishita’s ears, giggling, smiling, and taking small whiffs of the cigarettes like it was nothing but child’s play. The boy noticed this, how much the men stared at him. He noticed, and gave a curt wave to the group. 

He swore that some of them looked downwards with a stunned expression.

They’re all feral animals. Feral, rabid, wicked creatures. And yet, here I am. Somehow tangled in their businesses when all I wanted was to go home that day. Go home, do my homework, and sleep. If only I hadn’t- No. It’s too late for all of that. It’s far too late.

Akaashi gave another giggle into Morishita’s ear, whispering about how much his associates seemed to adore him. “Who knows, they might like me more than your business!” he muttered, causing a hearty laugh to leave the man. 

“You may be correct, my dear Keiji. I do not believe they are interested in my conversation any longer. You’re the real star of the show,” he poked his nose, then nuzzled against Akaashi’s cheek.

“Hm,” he hummed, eyeing the men with a playful glint in his gunmetal blues. He gave a sly smirk to them, but only to them. It was precariously hidden from the man holding him. 

“Well, gentlemen. I believe dinner is ready to be served,” Morishita called after ten more minutes of ‘conversation’. “Shall we head inside?”

All of the men, maybe between twenty-five and thirty in numbers, agreed in varying tones. Some proper, some distracted, some a bit annoyed. It truly depended on the section of men. 

“Keiji, please head inside and prepare to serve us, will you?”

“Of course!” He hopped down from Morishita’s forearm, his small heeled shoes clinking nicely on the smooth stone pathway. He gave a tiny curtsy to the men, only making more of them flustered.

Akaashi had never wished for anything more than his freedom.

The party was over at around midnight, leaving Akaashi feeling so disgusted with himself that he washed his hair three times in the shower just to rid himself of that dirty, grimey feel. He sighed to himself, rinsing out the last of the shampoo and turning the water off. He stepped out, quickly towelling himself down and slipping on his boxers and a pair of joggers.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a good three minutes before yanking a shirt over his head. Just as he was about to exit the bathroom, there came a strange noise from outside the base. He listened close, then recognized the police sirens. 

“Wait, what?” He pulled the door open but was immediately shoved back inside, a large hand pressing against his shoulder. The door was slammed and locked from the outside, and Akaashi’s head tilted in confusion. “Oh. OH. Oh my god-” He covered his mouth with his hands.

“Everybody, roll out, storm in and search the house!” Thundering stomps and shouts ensued. 

No, it can’t be… 

The door was flung open, and Akaashi felt a hand on his wrist. He was pulled out of the bathroom by Watanabe, who hurried him into a darker corner of the room. “Watanabe, the police are here?” he whispered, voice hushed by the man’s hand. 

“Shh, Akaashi. We have to be quiet so he doesn’t come back, but yes, I called them here, when I ‘almost released our location,’” he assured him. “It’s going to be okay, just don’t panic, alright?”

He nodded, then hugged Watanabe tightly. “Thank you so much, Watanabe, thank you thank you thank you,” he breathed, his voice muffled by Watanabe’s shirt.

“Akaashi, please get home safely. Promise me that,” he sighed, gently patting the boy’s back. 

“I will, I promise, I will,” he nodded vigorously. “Come with me, we can leave together, yeah? We’ll both be free.”

“No, I’m afraid I cannot. Even if I did, I’m still a criminal. Besides, I’m guessing Morishita will kill me.”

“But!” 

No! Please! You’ve helped me so much I don’t want you to die! 

Small tears filled Akaashi’s eyes. “Please no, Watanabe! Come with me! We’ll find a way to keep you safe, we can!”

“I’m sorry, Akaashi. But this is what it is,” he pushed Akaashi away by the shoulders. “They’re going to come in here to search the house, but they’re looking for you, okay? They know you’re here and I am going to turn you back over to them. Don’t worry about me anymore.”

Akaashi choked back a sob and clenched his jaw as he painfully nodded one single time. “I don’t want to, I don’t want to watch you-”

“Please, just give me one real smile before I die, Akaashi. I know you’ve been faking them for a year,” he ran his hand through Akaashi’s ragged curls, then watched the boy shakily smile through his storm of tears. “Thank you, Akaashi.”

Then, the voice from outside became closer and louder. “We know you have him, where is Akaashi Keiji?!”

“That’s our cue, Akaashi. I’ll walk you out, then Morishita will likely shoot me on the spot so be prepared, okay?”

“O-okay.” 

“He’s right here,” Watanabe led Akaashi outside the base, hand on his shoulder, shaking in fear and anticipation. They walked past all of Morishita’s henchmen, and even Morishita himself. Akaashi found himself terrified at this, and he stuck himself further into Watanabe’s side.

“Step away from the child,” the officer ordered, pointing a gun at Watanabe. 

“No wait! Please don’t shoot him! He’s the one who’s been trying to help me!” Akaashi burst, waving his hands frantically. “Please don’t shoot!”

Watanabe released Akaashi’s shoulder, stepping away and taking to his knees, hands up behind his head. “Go on, Akaashi. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry anymore. You’ve been through enough.”

Akaashi stole one last glance at the man who saved him, then he looked at the officer, and past her was the police brigade. Beyond that, an ambulance awaited to take him to the hospital.

But there was one particular color combination that stood out to him amongst the blacks, flashing reds and blues. 

White-gray with black streaks. 

His breath hitched in his throat. “Bokuto… san.”

Just as he thought about breaking into a sprint, he heard the officer start shouting. “Put the goddamn gun down, right now!”

He whipped around, terrified. Then the gunshot. The blood. The exclaim of pain. They all flooded Akaashi’s mind at once. 

“WATANABE!” he shrieked. He wanted to run to the man, but strong arms grabbed him by the waist and dragged him back. “No! Let me go! Watanabe! Watanabe please!”

The bleeding man had fallen, and the last thing he sent towards Akaashi was a tiny grin and a wave. 

Eyes went dull, hand fell to his side, lungs ceased to breathe. The man who had helped Akaashi…

Was dead.

The man holding him was not. 

“Let me go you filthy perverted slug!” He finally did what he had wanted to do for the past year. He slammed his fist into the teeth of Morishita, scrambling back out of the man’s reach once he was released. The man gave a loud howl of pain, the blood dripping from his gums onto his filthy perverted fingers. The police encircled the mob boss as well as the henchmen that stood, staring at their boss with different expressions on each face.

A hole to the man’s smile, bloody knuckles, and a vaguely familiar hand on his shoulder made Akaashi realize something.

“Bokuto-san?” he whispered hoarsely as arms embraced him tightly. “Am I finally going home?”

There was a short moment of silence, then some tears trickled Akaashi’s back. “Yes, Akaashi. You’re coming home.”

Akaashi was admitted to the hospital that night. His things such as his phone and schoolbag were retrieved the following morning. Watanabe’s family was found and contacted, but they didn’t seem to care.

Akaashi was the only one who had cared for him. 

That was why Watanabe saved him.

That was why Akaashi cried for him.

But, he was finally back with the correct man. The man he always wanted to be with, the man who would be able to hug him, poke his nose, caress his cheek. He was finally back home at long last.

Yet it felt so wrong. 

Akaashi took a quick walk around his hospital room, picking things up, setting things down, peering out the window, fiddling with his fingers. All of these were done anxiously. The police had visited him a few minutes earlier, saying Morishita’s trial was to be held in two weeks. He was, along with his henchmen, being held in police custody.

However, Akaashi wasn’t really worrying about his kidnapper. He was worrying about Bokuto.

The once energetic-boy was, yes indeed energetic again, yet also depressed and stressed behind closed doors. Akaashi knew. He wasn’t wonderful at hiding it. 

I mean, who wouldn’t be this way after a year of having someone they love go missing. 

Akaashi didn’t know how to handle these new modes. Yet, Bokuto never expected him to. Bokuto didn’t want Akaashi to handle these modes for him. All he wanted was for Akaashi to rest, get treated, and be released once he’s healthy.

Whenever that was going to be.

Since Akaashi’s only form of treatment for his daily injuries was Watanabe’s first-aid kit, many wounds were not healed properly or fully. His scars opened up with just enough force, causing the boy’s hospital time to increase. 

Unfortunately, he could not stop Morishita whenever the man had a knife. Not too often, but enough to leave maybe twelve scars, mostly along his chest and back.  

It could be twelve, could be more. I never counted.

Sure, there was plenty of physical damage. Akaashi knew that much. But the psychological damage and mental impact on him was more than he could bear. It was leaning towards even worse than his dreams way back when. 

He couldn’t handle being alone, especially in the dark. He just couldn’t keep calm no matter what. Doctors diagnosed him with a panic disorder because of this. As well as post-traumatic stress disorder and an inferiority complex. An even worse inferiority complex. Yet that was more of a self diagnosis. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

As if it wasn’t bad enough before. Now I feel objectified, ruined, and… just so weak.

Bokuto was the only person Akaashi didn’t flinch at when he saw them walk into his hospital room. He was the only one who could lay a single finger on the boy on a whim.

Two days passed with Akaashi adapting to be in the outside world again. On the third day, he had some visitors. 

“Akaashi-kun? You have three people coming to see you. Bokuto-kun and two others,” Akaashi’s nurse poked her head through the door.

The boy looked up from twiddling his thumbs, sat upon his hospital bed. “Send them in.”

She bowed her head, taking a step back to allow the three people passage. 

“Kaashi! Kenma and Kuroo came to see you!” Bokuto bounded over to his bedside, yet softened his approach and stroked his hair. “Look, Kaashi.”

“Akaashi,” Kenma breathed, clinging tightly to Kuroo’s sweatshirt. “How… are you?”

He chuckled. “Come here, Kenma. I can tell when you need a hug,” he stood on shaky legs, opening his arms and taking in the smaller boy once he had gotten close enough. “Kuroo-san, Bokuto-san, you too.”

They cautiously joined in the embrace, and silent tears started to fall from all pairs of eyes. “We’re gl-glad you’re back, Ak-Akaashi,” Kenma gritted his teeth, attempting to pull his composure back into order.

Akaashi felt Bokuto and Kuroo hum in agreement, and he let out a short burst of emotion. “I missed you all, so much!” 

After another quiet minute, they pulled away from Akaashi, who was wiping at his eyes. He sat back onto his bed, patting the spots next to him. Kenma and Bokuto sat beside Akaashi, with the shorter leaning on him and the latter against Bokuto. Kuroo took the seat by Kenma, holding his hand supportively, gently caressing his palm with his thumb.

“We have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?” Bokuto sighed, and Akaashi followed suit.

“You’ve all changed so much,” he breathed. He took a glance at Kenma, carding his fingers through his hair. “So much more mature, but if I may be so bold, it’s for the wrong reason. You’ve all…” he trailed off for a second, then regained his thoughts and continued. “You’ve all become anxious and stressed, haven’t you? I can tell from your eyes.”

“How could we not be? You’ve been missing for a year,” Kuroo snorted. “Bokuto over there wouldn’t stop calling me in the middle of the night just to plot murder.”

“I must say, not some of my finer moments,” he raised one hand in surrender, but kept the other safely tucked in Akaashi’s. 

“Trust me, I’ve had some of my own moments too,” Akaashi admitted, squeezing Bokuto’s fingers. “But, they were just empty thoughts.”

Kenma sniffled quietly, and Akaashi ran his fingers up and down the boy’s arm. “I-I’m sorry, Akaashi, I-I just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to cry,” he landed his lips on the top of Kenma’s head, burying his nose into his hair. “Hell, I’m about to cry. Going home seemed like a distant dream.”

“Speaking of dreams, Kaashi, I have to ask you something,” Bokuto spoke up, and Akaashi turned to look at him, although still kept his cheek on Kenma’s head. He took the signal and began to speak again. “Look, over the past year, did you have any lucid dreams?”

“Yes, every night until about the eight month, then it became only every so often,” he sighed. “Why?”

“Oh,” Bokuto breathed. “What did you dream about?”

“Wait a minute, Bokuto, you don’t think..?” Kuroo trailed off, but Bokuto knew what he was insinuating. 

“I dreamt about being freed about two months after I was taken, and how we spent our time together afterwards until… until he woke me up one night, and then they stopped. After that, I dreamt that I was in a field of flowers with you, Bokuto-san,” he explained, his gaze reverting back to the spot he had found on the floor.

“Kaashi, is it strange that I had those exact dreams too? First one I had, you were listening to voicemails and then that night, we came and saved you,” he clutched Akaashi’s hand only tighter as the boy began to shake.

“Im-impossible, it was just a dream, there’s no possible way that happened,” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore anyways, right? I-I-I’m home, so it doesn’t matter!”

A few tears slipped from Akaashi’s eyes as he continued to stammer nonsense. Bokuto shushed him, gently whispering soothing words. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, yes, you’re home. You’re home, Akaashi, we’ve found you.”

As Akaashi continued to cry on Bokuto’s shoulder, the latter gave a silent signal for Kuroo and Kenma to give him some alone time. They both nodded, saying quiet goodbyes and stating they would be back the following day.

The couple had left, and Akaashi had hidden his face in Bokuto’s shoulder, hands gripping at the sleeve of his shirt.

“Alright, Kaashi. I think you should take a short nap, okay? I’ll stay and lay with you until you fall asleep, alright? I won’t leave you alone, not for one second,” he rubbed gentle circles on the boy’s forearm, who nodded a response. “Okay.” He rested horizontally on the bed, then patted his chest and Akaashi cuddled into it, sniffling softly. 

“I-I…” he began. “Thank you for never giving up on me, Bokuto-san.”

“I’d never give up on you, Kaashi. After all, you’re my world!”

I’m his world.

“Mh-hm,” he slid his eyes shut and clung to the front of Bokuto’s shirt, ear resting right over the older’s heart. “Yeah, I don’t mind being your world, Koutarou.”

“Then, you’ll be my world forever, Keiji.”

Kuroo and Kenma visited everyday for the next week and a half, with Akaashi adapting to normal human interaction once again. He could now hold a conversation for about thirty minutes before becoming overwhelmed. Once he was released, his parents invested in a therapist for their son.

Akaashi sighed, adjusting himself on the couch in his living room, shifting some of the last-minute bandages he was given before he was discharged from the hospital. His mother was cooking dinner in the kitchen and his father was at work, so it was just himself and his mother.

“Mom?” he called, sitting up and facing the kitchen.

“Yes, Keiji? Do you need anything?” she immediately dropped what she was doing, wiping her hands on her apron and walking to stand in front of Akaashi.

“Do you have any advil?” he looked up at her, and it was evident that some of his wounds were paining him. 

She brushed her hand across his forehand, feeling his temperature. “Yes, Keiji. I’ll get you some and a glass of water, okay?”

“Thank you,” he leaned back against the couch, fingers lightly picking at the bandages. 

There was a sudden knock on the door, and Akaashi was already rejected into staying seated as his mother patted his shoulder. “I’ll answer the door then get you the advil, Keiji.”

“Mh-hm,” he agreed, closing his eyes and breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth.

The lock clicked and the door swung open. “Hey hey hey! How is Kaashi doing?”

“Oh, he’s sitting on the couch, Koutarou-kun. Please be careful though. His wounds are hurting right now,” she smiled at him, allowing him entrance into the house. 

“Alright, thank you!” He bounded over to the couch. “Hello Kaashi!” Bokuto gently hugged the boy, smiling goofily into his neck. “I want to hang out with you before you go to your therapy session, then I have a surprise for you!”

“Oh?” Akaashi exhaled a breath, letting a grin swipe over his face. “Can’t wait for it, Bokuto-san.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have so much fun at the-” he cut himself off. “Nope nope nope! Not talking anymore! I am not telling you that we’re going-” He pulled away from Akaashi and let out a short screech of annoyance.

“Are you okay there, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi raised an eyebrow, suppressing his giggles. 

“I’m okay! I’m fine! I’m perfectly fine! I’m just not going to talk anymore!” He folded his arms and pouted.

“Here, Keiji,” Akaashi’s mother handed him two pills and a glass of water.

“Oh, thank you, Mom,” he nodded towards her. He tossed the pills into his mouth and gulped down the cup, which he handed back to his mother. She took the cup and went back into the kitchen, continuing to prepare dinner.

“Which ones hurt, Kaashi?” Bokuto asked, leaning on his hands, eyes concerned.

Akaashi lifted part of his shirt and pointed. “These ones.” There were three of them, one trailing down the middle of his bellybutton, another stretching horizontally over his hip and the final one drew itself between two of his ribs.

“Hmm… hold on. I’ll be right back,” Bokuto stood and hobbled over to the kitchen, speaking in a hushed voice to Akaashi’s mother.

The boy closed his eyes and turned himself into a sleeping position, leaning his head on a pillow and relaxing.

Which proved to be impossible.

Stupid memories won’t go away.

A loud bang made Akaashi startle up, then fall and crouch to the ground. He pressed himself against the foot of the couch, eyes wide. Watanabe… no no no he got shot because of me he got-

“Kaashi?” Bokuto was kneeling in front of him, hand outstretched. “It’s okay, no one’s going to hurt you.”

Akaashi gave a small nod and reached a shaky hand to clasp Bokuto’s. “Yeah, you’re right,” he buried his face into Bokuto’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Kaashi. You have no need to,” he moved to sit back on the couch. “When is your therapy appointment?”

“In an hour,” he scrunched up his nose. “You’re coming with me, right? I don’t think I can handle being alone with someone.”

“Of course I can go with you. That’s okay, right, Akaashi-san?” He raised his voice a little to communicate with the woman in the kitchen.

“Yes, I’ve already called them stating there would be another person with Keiji,” she nodded. “They accepted it.”

“Yay!” Bokuto nuzzled his nose against Akaashi’s cheek, then brushed his lips over it and giggled. “You’re not gonna be lonely, Kaashi! I’ll be there to protect you and keep you company!”

Akaashi chuckled, leaning against those two familiar hands that he missed so much. “Yeah, you’ll protect me, Bokuto-san.”

There came a triumphant huff from the older and Akaashi smiled easily. “We can’t have Kaashi being scared and alone!” He relished in the sight of the setter smiling, shooting his own grin himself. 

Akaashi hummed in appreciation. 

“Alright, you two, dinner’s ready. Then, Koutarou-kun, you’re taking Keiji to his appointment, or would you like me to drive?” Akaashi’s mother was dishing out the bowls of curry as she spoke.

“I can take him!” he grinned. “Want to go eat now, Kaashi?”

“Mh-hm,” he was about to stand, but just then, Bokuto’s arms swung his legs over them, picking Akaashi up like a princess. “Bo-Bokuto-san!” he gasped in surprise, hands clasping behind the older’s neck. “Wh-what are you doing?!”

“Carrying you, Kaashi! What does it look like?” Bokuto took a few steps forward, making Akaashi squeak and hold on tighter. “Trust me, Kaashi! I promise I won’t drop you!”

Akaashi’s mother sighed, shaking her head with a tiny grin. “Alright alright, Koutarou-kun, bring Keiji over. Dinner’s going to get cold.”

“Alright!” he cheered, walking with purpose to the dinner table. Before he sat Akaashi down, he pecked his cheek kindly and smiled against it. 

He blushed profusely, but there was only one thought on his mind. Yes, this is the right man. Finally.

“You happy, Keiji?” his mother pulled his chair out for him, and Bokuto let him down.

“Yeah, I’m happy,” Akaashi breathed, taking Bokuto’s hand under the table as soon as the latter situated himself in the seat. “I’m glad to be home.”

Bokuto stroked his hand comfortingly, using his free fingers to lift his chopsticks and take a bite. “We’re glad too, Kaashi!”

The younger’s lips curled into a wobbly smile, eating at a slower pace than the ace beside him. He remembered the night Morishita bought him curry, but this felt so different. It was the complete opposite as that night. Akaashi was happy, he felt safe and Bokuto was right there beside him, vowing to keep him safe. He stared down at the curry and rice, barely succeeding in the fight against the tears. He squeezed the hand in his, squeaking out a “thank you for finding me,” before taking a bite of his dinner.

They ate in a comfortable quiet, Bokuto occasionally squeezing the fingers in his palm. Akaashi ate about half of his dinner before he leaned back in his chair, pushing the plate up on the table a little. “Mom, how much longer do we have?”

“About thirty minutes. And don’t worry about cleaning anything up, Keiji. You and Koutarou-kun can just go and relax, okay?” she responded, standing and taking all of the plates.

“Alright. Thank you, Mom,” he bowed his head to her as Bokuto picked him up again, carrying him to and reclining on the couch as well as burying his face into Akaashi’s hair.

The younger sighed after a few moments of quiet. “Bokuto-san, when are you going to begin college? I’ve been found and I’m okay now, so you need to start focusing on your education.”

“Ah,” Bokuto hummed, mouth pressed into a flat line. “I know I need to, so once you graduate high school.”

“I can help you look for colleges, if you’d like,” he suggested, and Bokuto smiled.

“Maybe later, Kaashi. I have soooo much fun planned for after your therapy!” 

“I can’t wait, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto pulled up his phone, clicked on Candy Crush and positioned his phone so both he and Akaashi could see the screen. “Kaashi, I’m stuck. Can you help me?”

“Of course, Bokuto-san.”

“Well, do you like that therapist, Kaashi? Because your mom said if you didn’t like him, she’d change to a different one,” Bokuto held Akaashi’s hand tight as they exited the building.

“I think he’s okay, but I want you to keep coming with me for a while,” he said, breaking the contact as he walked to his car door. “So, where are you taking me, Bokuto-san? You said you had something fun planned.”

“OF COURSE!” Bokuto leaped into the car. “Thank you for reminding me, Kaashi! Let’s go right now!”

“But where?”

“You’ll see!” A quick peck to the cheek later, Bokuto was on the road. He was focused on the road, lips twisted in a goofy grin and eyes wide with excitement. “Oh, and don’t worry. Your mom already said yes.”

“Alright? But that still doesn’t tell me where we’re going,” he took hold of Bokuto’s hand, which had reached across the compartment towards him. 

“Don’t worry, Kaashi! You’re gonna love it,” Bokuto promised, gripping the setter’s hand tightly. “And we’re just a couple minutes away, so sit tight!”

“Okay,” Akaashi chuckled at the older’s enthusiasm, yet he knew that it was just a facade in order to keep Akaashi in his best mindset. It tore them both apart from the inside out. 

The younger male closed his eyes, finding comfort in the moving vehicle as well as Bokuto’s hand. He then raised an eyebrow, opening his eyes and looking down at their hands. He opened their palms, pressing them together. Oh, his hands are larger than mine now, he hummed, then squeezed the digits. 

“Look, Kaashi! We’re here!” Bokuto exclaimed after some time.

Akaashi stared out through the windshield. “An amusement park?”

“Yup yup! Come on!” Bokuto hurried out of the car, then dragged Akaashi out and up to the entrance. “We’re gonna have so much fun!”

“A-” he stopped, then his lips broke into a smile. “Yeah, we’re going to have fun.” 

“Well, what are we waiting for, Kaashi? Let’s go!” he tugged Akaashi inside, purchasing some ride tokens in the process. “So, what first, Kaashi?”

He thought for a moment, then pointed to a saucer-looking dome. “That really fast one. I think I can handle it,” he added when he saw a flash of worry in Bokuto’s eyes. “My scars are healed, they won’t open up. They might just ache a little afterwards, but it’ll be fine. The painkillers I took are still in effect.”

“If you say so, Kaashi. Let’s get in line,” he nodded towards the relatively short line of people, and Akaashi hummed in response. 

The younger took charge, picking up his pace towards the ride. Bokuto happily trailed behind, his nose scrunched up in excitement and still a small hint of concern for the younger male. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to an amusement park, I’ve almost forgotten what they were like!” He beamed at Bokuto, who returned him with a slightly saddened expression. “What’s wrong, Bokuto-san?” He stopped, face slightly falling as his hand landed onto Bokuto’s cheek.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I’ve just, I guess I haven’t fully realized that you’re home, you’re right in front of me,” he looked at Akaashi, silently asking permission. He received a small nod, then shifted his head to kiss Akaashi’s palm. “I really missed you, Kaashi.”

“Hey,” Akaashi stepped closer, grabbing Bokuto’s face with both hands. His fingers curled around Bokuto’s ear, gently toying with his hair before settling in a caress. “I’m home now, yeah?” He brought their foreheads together. “I’m never leaving again, even if I have to fight tooth and nail to stay.”

“And I’ll fight to keep you safe, because that’s the one thing I failed to do,” he wrapped his arms around Akaashi’s body, hugging him close and brushing his lips over the shorter’s, but only the ghost of a touch. 

Akaashi pulled back an inch, then slotted their lips together ever so perfectly that Bokuto almost thought he was flying, either that, or in his own personal haven. A secret sanctuary with Akaashi and Akaashi only. A tear trickled from his left eye and crossed over their connected lips, seeping in through the corner of his mouth, turning the taste salty, but neither one cared.

The taller male released the embrace reluctantly, then his cheeks warmed up significantly when his eyes locked onto Akaashi’s. “I really love you, Kaashi,” he ran his fingers over the shorter’s knuckles nervously. “I do, I really do.”

“I love you too, Kou,” Akaashi ran a kind hand through Bokuto’s hair. “Now, come on. Want to start on the rides?” He tossed his head towards the original destination, but remained connected with Bokuto.

“Yes!” he replied enthusiastically. “Let’s go! We’ll have fun and we won’t even think about anything else besides fun!”

“Yes, Kou. We’ll have fun,” he agreed, and just like that, Bokuto finished tugging him to the ride. Akaashi made it to the line, and he bounced on the balls of his feet. 

They finally boarded the ride, and Akaashi stood against the padded wall, with Bokuto taking a place right next to him. They clasped their hands together, and grinned at each other. The operator told everyone to relax against the wall, and he sat down in the center of the ride. He flipped a few switches, and the ride began to spin. It gradually sped up, and soon enough, Akaashi was completely unable to move. He laughed, clutching Bokuto’s hand tightly as the walls slid up and down. 

Someone on the other side of the ride screamed happily, and Akaashi almost yelped when his hand was violently separated from Bokuto’s. He closed his eyes, relishing in the wind forcing him to stay completely still. His wall section slid back down and his hand was met with Bokuto’s once more. This continued for about another minute, and the ride soon slowed to a stop. Akaashi fell from his place on the wall, right into Bokuto’s arms. His legs were shaky, his breath was uneven, and his hair was messy, but he was grinning. 

“I wanna go on this one again before we leave, Bokuto-san,” he leaned into the older male, who nodded vigorously.

“Let’s go find some games to play, and I’ll win some plushies for you, Kaashi!” he skipped around the area for a moment, gaining his bearings, then bolted in a direction, tugging Akaashi along with him, who was yelping in protest. 

“Slow down, Koutarou!”

Three owl plushies, two greasy corn dogs, some fluffy blue cotton candy, and plenty of rides later, Akaashi was asleep in the passenger seat. All of the plushies were cuddling him, and vice versa. Bokuto stared at the slumbering boy before starting the car. He watched as the sun set from the windshield, and it reflected off Akaashi’s features ever so prettily. Before he began to drive, Bokuto snapped some pictures of the boy, saving them to his phone and committing them to memory. God, he was so in love.

The scenery changed quickly as Bokuto drove, but nothing was more beautiful than the sleeping boy right beside him. He shifted, a small whimper escaping his lips, yet he settled back to a calm state and curled around the largest owl plushie. Bokuto wondered what he was dreaming about. 

He drove in blissful silence for thirty minutes, and Akaashi only awoke when the car was shut off. He groaned, rubbing his eyes as he situated himself in between the plushies. “Mnm, Bokuto-san? Are we home?”

“Yes, we are. Did you have fun, Kaashi?” he leaned across the middle compartment, kissing Akaashi’s nose.

“Mh-hm,” he nodded eagerly. “Take me again sometime?”

“Of course!” He scooted out of the car, crossing to Akaashi’s side and opening the door. He bent down, scooping Akaashi up along with the plushies. “I’ll get you right to bed, Kaashi. You must be exhausted.”

“Mhm, stay with me?” he asked, and Bokuto chuckled.

“I can ask,” he brought Akaashi to the front door and the latter knocked on the hard wood. 

Some footsteps later, it was open and they were greeted by Akaashi’s mother. “Ah, did you two enjoy yourselves?” She took notice of the plushies and smiled, stepping aside to let them enter.

“Yeah, we did,” Akaashi replied. “Hey, can Bokuto-san stay the night, too?”

“Of course. Shall I bring out the extra futon?” 

“No, it’s quite alright,” the setter leaned his head on Bokuto’s shoulder.

“Alright, if you need anything, call for me,” she kissed his cheek, then looked to Bokuto and simply said, “Thank you,” before she left the front room.

Bokuto carried Akaashi up the stairs, their shoes discarded by the front door before he began to climb. He brought Akaashi to his room and replaced his feet on the ground, kissing his forehead before they began to ready themselves for bed. 

With the lights turned low, the plushies, as well as each other, safe in their arms, and the covers warm, Bokuto and Akaashi drifted off to sleep.

Deep within the cover of night, a man was plotting in his jail cell. His roommate was a deaf man, so he couldn’t hear the babbling of demise for the cackles of evil laughter. Yet, that was alright. It meant he couldn’t tattle on him for planning his escape. It was too easy, so simple . This system was such a terrible excuse for prison security. It was almost laughable.

However, it was imperative that this was planned to the very last tippie-toe out the front gates. 

He knew his target, he knew, and he despised him. His new purpose in this compromised life was his was now to kill one specific man.

Bokuto Koutarou, you’ll be dead come Christmas…