Work Text:
When Bokuto wakes up, it’s to the faraway sound of muffled laughter.
He blinks, once, twice, before turning to face his right, where Akaashi is asleep on his arm. His hair is still damp from the shower he took right before getting into bed, and his glasses dig into the bridge of his nose from his face being pressed into Bokuto’s bicep.
Bokuto smiles fondly, realizing that they fell asleep while watching highlights from their favorite reality show on YouTube. Slowly, he plucks Akaashi’s phone away from his loose grip, closing all the tabs before turning it off and placing it on the nightstand. He moves his right arm slightly to angle Akaashi’s head towards the opposite direction so it’s easier to slide his glasses off. Akaashi’s even breaths can be felt on the side of Bokuto’s chest.
Tugging the boy closer towards himself, Bokuto observes his serene features. In his slumber, Akaashi appears more calm than usual. His lips jut out into a soft pout, and Bokuto knows from the handful of times he slept with Akaashi that the boy will be waking up with a trail of dried drool starting from the corner of his mouth. It elicits a smile from the ardent athlete, but the warmth in his chest coils with something sharp and scalding as he remembers that they will be separating again come the next afternoon.
The realization paints the blue from the moonlight in their Osaka hotel into a murky gray. Bokuto wills himself to focus on the cadence of Akaashi’s breath, on the sweet-citrus of his shampoo, on anything other than the uncertainty that makes his heart swell achingly.
When will I see him again? How long will my next break be?
Does this night have to end?
Bokuto presses a kiss onto Akaashi’s forehead, the momentary reminder that he’s here and close and tangible calming Bokuto down marginally. In some ways, it’s easier now, braving this constant distance between them. With Akaashi’s recent promotion allowing a more flexible routine and Bokuto’s longer breaks in between tournaments, seeing each other isn’t as difficult as it was when they were only starting off—back when Bokuto took Akaashi home after a spontaneous round of practice at the volleyball gym following the senior’s graduation, and Akaashi refused to let go of the hem of Bokuto’s jacket even after they said goodbye thrice.
They had known what was coming then. Or, at least, part of it. What was supposed to be one year bloomed into four more when Akaashi got a scholarship offer from a college he wasn’t even expecting to get into, and that bloomed into two more years when age taught both of them that decisions include more than just the people you love.
Akaashi shifts slightly in Bokuto’s arm, readjusting himself in his sleep so that his entire torso is now pressed against Bokuto’s side. The athlete breathes out a chuckle when he feels how cold Akaashi’s toes are, and he adjusts the comforters with his feet so that they cover Akaashi’s too.
Warmth. Citrus. Beads of ice-skin.
Here. Close. Tangible.
As if Akaashi had felt the ink-doused perturbation slithering towards Bokuto’s throat and decided to remind him that morning is yet to come. That Akaashi is still here.
✧✧✧
The most difficult year was the first.
“Due to a high volume of qualified applicants, we are unable to offer you a spot on the team this year.”
The words echo in Bokuto’s mind, uttered in an unknown voice which takes different forms the more he plays it in his head. He falls asleep like that; stiff and sweaty and body aching in a way he knows isn’t from the gruelling rounds of drills he had just completed. The dreadful knot in his chest unfurls as Bokuto slips into unconsciousness. Further, he falls into a pool of gunmetal blue, washed teal with the yellow of sunlight.
Further, further.
Further, still.
Teal turns to navy. The knot from his chest floats around him like snakes readying themselves to strike. The pressure returns, somehow buoyant despite its physical weight. A name dissolves between Bokuto’s lips, caging itself in a bubble. Up, up, it ascends to where navy melts back into teal.
Bokuto can see him—can see Akaashi dive towards him, hair dancing with the water that slides across his face, skin stained the warmest shade blue can be.
Bokuto reaches out towards the shimmering boy. The snakes tangle themselves around his ankles. He doesn’t stop reaching.
Close— so close .
His fingers reach the luminescence. They pass right through him. He is made of light and nothing else.
When Bokuto wakes up, he is shivering. His body is cold and sticky with sweat and his heart pounds fervently in his chest. He checks the time. It’s close to sunrise.
In the shower, the water has no color. It slides down his skin, warm and controlled.
Back on the night of Bokuto’s high school graduation, it was Akaashi who cried with the hem of Bokuto’s jacket in his fists.
“What am I going to do without you?” he had said shakily, eyes on the floor where Bokuto could see tears fall.
He doesn’t remember how he answered. He only recalls ending the conversation with a chaste kiss to the top of Akaashi’s head.
Bokuto glances downward. He watches droplets of water fall to the floor, from the shower, from his skin, from the inner corners of his eyes.
I wish you were here.
✧✧✧
They get the hang of it eventually.
Bokuto waits outside Akaashi’s office, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. The last time he checked his phone, it was almost one o’clock in the morning. He assumes it must be past that now.
Around fifteen minutes later, Bokuto sees a herd of people exiting the building. Their dress shirts are wrinkled and faces dark with sleeplessness, as is the norm on deadline day. Behind them all is Akaashi, hair disheveled and smile tired as he bids farewell to his coworkers. Even from across the street with his features almost blurred, he looks like he aged half a decade since the last time Bokuto saw him, during his match against the Schweiden Adlers.
The athlete grins when Akaashi spots him. He notices the way Akaashi’s steps get quicker as he crosses the street.
Bokuto spreads his arms once Akaashi is near him, feeling both their exhaustion seep to the floor once Akaashi crashes right into him and loops his arms around Bokuto’s waist. He smells like coffee and paper and ink.
“What are you doing here?” Akaashi asks. His voice jolts up an octave, the surprise from seeing Bokuto evident.
“I missed you,” Bokuto mumbles in response. “And, I thought we could spend some time together since you finally sent this week’s special edition off to the publisher.”
Akaashi leans back to get a better look at his boyfriend. There is a mixture of confusion and grogginess in his countenance.
“But, how are you here?”
“I got on my knees and begged to be let out of the dorms.”
Bokuto watches with mirth and fondness as Akaashi’s eyes widen. His grip around Bokuto’s waist gets tighter. “Did you actually?”
This causes Bokuto’s body to rumble with laughter. Akaashi is completely still in anticipation. Bokuto pulls him close once more to place a kiss on his forehead.
“I was completely willing, but there was nobody to beg. I snuck out.”
Akaashi pulls away once more. “Again? But you have to stay at the dorms during tournament season!” he hisses as if there are people around them listening in.
“I don’t have practice tomorrow, Keiji. Don’t worry.”
“But—”
Bokuto moves his hands to hold Akaashi’s shoulders. He nudges him back gently to fully look at him.
“I’m here for myself just as much as I’m here for you, Ji,” he states sincerely. “I was going crazy back there.”
Akaashi slackens under Bokuto’s touch. He sighs and gives him one final look before shaking his head and smiling.
“Okay,” he says, masking the giddiness in his voice. “Let’s go home, then.”
Home . The word makes Bokuto’s skin zing excitedly. He grins, wide and toothy and lacking all the tire he himself feels after having driven six hours to get to Tokyo. For them, home is composed of hotels scattered throughout the country and train rides before goodbye. Home is grainy phone calls and texts with replies that come minutes later some days and hours later on others.
Akaashi takes Bokuto’s hand and begins leading him towards the direction of his apartment. The yellow of the street lamps soften and harden and soften again as they move from under one to another. Akaashi breaks into details about how tough the week has been, and their steps slacken despite how much their bodies crave a warm shower and sleep.
They reach Akaashi’s apartment eventually, and Bokuto puts extra care into scrubbing Akaashi’s back in the shower. They sleep in the queen-sized bed Akaashi only purchased for nights like this—nights where they both smell like Akaashi’s citrus shampoo and share the warmth of the same comforter. Nights where Akaashi falls asleep first and Bokuto follows much later, after having memorized the feeling of having the boy he loves so close, hoping the memory lasts him until the next time they see each other.
✧✧✧
The progression of how easy their long-distance relationship becomes is not linear. Sometimes, there are short-lived exponential spikes followed by a sharp downturn that lasts for months.
“Are you liking the food in Germany, at least?” Akaashi asks through the phone. His voice is grainy and there’s a hum of machines in the background.
“Hmm,” Bokuto replies, recalling his lunch from an hour ago. “They eat a lot of meat here. Are you in the laundry room?”
“I am,” he mumbles. “Ah, fuck , hold on.”
Bokuto checks his screen to see if Akaashi hung up, realizing that the younger muted himself. After a few minutes, he returns. The noise in the background subsides.
“Sorry. People keep forgetting to clean out the lint. I’m back in my apartment now.”
“No worries. Did your building fix the heating yet?”
Akaashi hums in affirmation before they both fall silent. After a contemplative pause, Akaashi speaks.
“I miss you.”
His voice is smooth, low, and it pierces through Bokuto’s chest in a way that weighs him down. He grips his phone more tightly.
“I miss you too, Ji,” he murmurs despite his urge to whine. “I hate being so far away from you.”
“It’s only for two weeks, though. I heard German commentary is quite unique, so your matches should be fun to watch.”
“I wish I could see you on TV, too. Or anywhere. Like, when you’re working and just. Existing,” Bokuto says absentmindedly, lying down on his bed.
He waits for Akaashi to reply. There is only silence.
“Ji?”
“Do you think it would’ve been easier?”
“What would?”
“Do you think things would’ve been easier if I pursued volleyball, too?”
Bokuto’s stomach swoops, like the tug of dread before the rollercoaster is about to accelerate down the steep tracks. He sits back up and strains his ear for any additional sound. Akaashi doesn’t say anything else; only waits for Bokuto to respond.
This isn’t the first time this question comes about. There are moments where the icy air of insecurity blows over Akaashi. Sometimes, the distance between them will stretch over more than just roads and kilometers; interwoven with “maybe”s and “what if”s. Bokuto answered this question before, in different shapes and forms.
No, you shouldn’t have gone to your second choice of college.
Yes, you absolutely should take the offer from Shonen Jump.
“No, I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Pursuing volleyball was never your dream. You wouldn’t have been happy if you took it up professionally.”
“I would’ve been happy being close to you.”
“Are you not happy now?”
The question hangs in the air and in the strands of electricity connecting them. Akaashi’s shaky breaths turn to static as the sound makes its way to Bokuto’s ear.
“I am. I just—” he stops midway and sighs. Somehow, Bokuto knows exactly what he means.
“I know, baby. Me too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why, Ji?”
“That was such a dumb thing to say,” he answers, snorting. “I could never play professionally.”
Bokuto grins, hearing the cheerful sarcasm return in Akaashi’s tone. “Don’t say that, ‘Kaashi! You’re still the best setter I know.”
“Don’t let Atsumu-san hear that.”
“He already knows.”
The progression is not linear. Negativity latches onto them both. But if there is one thing time taught them, it’s that everything can be expressed. No lonely showers spent yearning, no thoughts left unattended. Rip off the band-aid in one go, until the tug of it can be dismissed with a hiss at most.
With time, they have learned.
✧✧✧
Of course, there are times when the expectations they dare hold are crushed. Precarity is proportional to the distance, after all.
“Lookin’ for Kei-kun?” Atsumu appears behind him as he searches the crowd near the row he reserved Akaashi’s seat in.
Bokuto doesn’t turn around. He squints to get a better look, vision focused on the sea of black and gold moving around to get to their seats.
“Yeah,” he mutters, training his gaze to the entrance instead. Momentarily, he faces Atsumu, who’s wearing his usual lazy grin.
“D’ya reckon he got busy again?”
“Probably,” Bokuto answers, stretching his arms above his head. Then, he decides to brag a little, “he’s currently one of the most likely candidates to get a promotion. Might be caught up with work related to that.”
Atsumu smirks, raising an eyebrow teasingly. Bokuto mirrors his brows right back, puzzled. “What?”
“I know you said the ring you hang around your neck is a promise ring, but sometimes you act like you’re already married.”
Bokuto’s cheeks heat up, ears following suit. His insides bubble with a sweet giddiness.
“It’s gonna happen eventually, so no harm in acting like it now,” he grins and scans the seats again. Most of the spectators have sat themselves down by now, yet there’s no sign of Akaashi. Bokuto tucks away his dejection and starts jogging in place to warm himself up. According to the clock on one end of the court, their match will start in twelve minutes.
“I’m tellin’ everyone what you just said,'' Atsumu quips before running off to where the rest of the team is. Bokuto shrugs nonchalantly at him before following him there.
He takes one last look at the crowd, just in case.
Akaashi is not there.
✧✧✧
More often than not, however, things work out.
From: Keiji <3
sorry i couldn’t make it kou :( got held up last minute
congrats on winning <3 i watched the highlights omw home. will watch the full match omw to osaka :)
To: Keiji <3
IT’S OKAY BABY
AND THANK YOU <3 <3 <3 I WAS GOOD WASN'T I?
ON YOUR WAY WHERE?!?!?!?!?!
From: Keiji <3
you were the best :)
osaka hehehe.
i got promoted and i don't have to start until wednesday
To: Keiji <3
!!!!!!!
SAY THAT FIRST HELLO???
I KNEW YOU’D GET IT!!! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU
WHAT TIME ARE YOU COMING? I’LL PICK YOU UP
From: Keiji <3
thank u
i’ll send u details of my ticket later
i’m gonna cook dinner now. wanna video chat?
To: Keiji <3
Hell yeah
I’ll get my earphones brb
✧✧✧
In their Osaka hotel, Akaashi twists around in his sleep. He turns away from Bokuto, curling into a fetus position and placing his palm lopsidedly above Bokuto’s, resting his head on Bokuto’s forearm.
Bokuto watches him carefully, knowing that he’ll go still soon. Sure enough, with one last adjustment of his legs, Akaashi returns to his placid state.
The older of the two muffles out a laugh. Contrary to what most might assume, Akaashi actually moves around a lot in his sleep. Countless times he’d woken Bokuto up in the middle of the night, shuffling and tugging and kicking in his sleep, either too warm or too cold or just uncomfortable in general. Come morning, he almost always has no recollection of the torment he’d cause his boyfriend, and Bokuto doesn’t bother trying to remind him. If it means Akaashi will get a good night’s sleep, Bokuto will go through that a dozen times over.
He cards through Akaashi’s hair, fingers deftly untangling the curls that stand up in odd directions. He’s careful not to tag at any strand, determined to not wake the boy up. The air conditioner hums, softening the sound of their breaths. Bokuto’s not sure how much time has passed since he woke up. How long did he spend watching the memories he cast all over the room? A few minutes? An hour? Even more?
For all he knows, half an eternity had gone by as he looked through incidents that spanned over just as long. Will he look back on this day too, someday? Which city will it be next? Maybe, Osaka again?
His train of thought is severed when Akaashi whimpers, removing his hand from Bokuto’s to blindly extend his arm behind him. He searches for something, almost flailing his arm around stiffly, until Bokuto reaches out with his other hand.
Akaashi takes the hand and tugs on it so that Bokuto has his arm around his torso. Akaashi lines his own arm with Bokuto’s, and the other boy can feel the cool metal on his third finger as he presses his hand atop Bokuto’s.
“Go to sleep, Koutaro,” Akaashi murmurs, running his thumb against Bokuto’s knuckles. The athlete stiffens and then relaxes when he realizes that could wake Akaashi up even more.
“Did I wake you?”
“No. Just felt cold all of a sudden,” he replies, just as quiet.
“Oh,” Bokuto smiles. He shifts so that his front is pressed against Akaashi’s back. He tucks Akaashi’s head under his chin after placing a gentle kiss there. “Goodnight, ‘Kaashi.”
“Mm.”
He turns the projector off in his mind, and the room finally goes dark. The air conditioner continues to hum, and the cool air circulates around the room—above their comforter and across their skin. Bokuto closes his eyes. He feels the weight of Akaashi on his arm, the press of skin on soft fabric where his other arm rests on the boy’s waist. He feels the Akaashi who’s here, the Akaashi who won’t disappear, and finally sleeps.