Archive of Our Own

Ragged pants leave his throat as he hunches over the bathroom sink. A bloodied mess of petals cover the once-white surface, and he grimaces at the sight. He risks a glance up into the square mirror in front of him. His face is a lot paler than it normally is and the blue eyes that stare back at him are much duller than they were a couple of weeks ago. Still breathing heavily, he wipes the side of his mouth when he spots a droplet of blood on his skin.

“Shit.” He breathes out, the taste of blood overpowering his other senses. On shaky legs he leans down and opens his schoolbag, taking out his water bottle and gulping down half of its contents. The bloody aftertaste still lingers but it’s much more bearable.

When the school bell rings to signal that lunch is over, Akaashi swears as he realises that he still needs to dispose of the yellow and white flower petals. He grabs as much tissue as he can find and scoops up the petals, wrapping them up so no one can tell what they are and throwing them into the bin near the exit of the boys’ toilets. Turning the tap on full power, he scrubs the white surface until the blood is no longer visible.

Pushing up the grey sleeve of his school blazer he checks the time. He’s already late for his lesson so a couple more minutes won’t make a difference. Sliding down the wall, he tucks his legs into his chest and hides his head in his hands.

Three weeks. He’s been dealing with this for three weeks now.

The constant coughing, vomiting, random spiking of body temperature, occasional loss of appetite. It’s something he’s been able to miraculously hide from his teammates, not wanting to burden them with the news that their starting setter and vice-captain is suffering from unrequited love. He doesn’t want them panicking and treating him any different, especially since they’re about to go back to the training camp and are so close to the Interhigh tournament where they have the chance to go to Nationals.

Telling them wouldn’t fix anything. Granted, the person he’s in love with is on the team but it’s not like they can force themselves to fall in love with him. If it’s going to happen then it’ll happen naturally.

He can deal with this on his own. He has to.

The door to the boys’ toilets opens and an unfamiliar face rushes in, leaning over the sink next to the one that Akaashi had been throwing up in. The boy gags a couple of times and proceeds to shove his fingers down his throat like he’s searching for something. The boy’s eyes water as he retracts his fingers and Akaashi’s eyes grow wide when a pink flower with its stem and leaves still intact is pulled out and dropped into the sink.

So far Akaashi has only been presented with petals and in rare instances a flower head. How long until he reaches that stage? His head grows dizzy at the thought, and he shoves his head between his knees, his hands starting to shake as he wraps them tightly around his waist.

The boy coughs up a couple more petals and does the same thing as Akaashi, wrapping them up in toilet paper and putting them in the bin. He runs a hand through his blond hair and seems to realise he’s not alone when his eyes lock on the hunched figure against the wall. The boy clears his throat and Akaashi looks up. The face of the boy in front of him is a lot worse than his, and even though they’ve tried to cover it, you can easily see the signs of pain and fatigue.

“Four months.” The boy croaks and Akaashi immediately knows what he’s referring to. “I can barely go an hour without a stupid flower blocking my airways. I’m surprised I’m still alive you know.” He lets out a harsh laugh, his eyes going back over to where he threw away the flower. “It’s rare to make it past three months and still be able to function normally. Not many people survive the two-month margin, some even die after two weeks and here I still am. I guess this disease just wants to see me suffer for a bit longer.”

“Is there any chance to get them to love you back?” Akaashi mutters quietly, but still loud enough for the boy to hear him.

“She has a boyfriend.” The boy sniffs, making his way over to Akaashi and sitting against the wall so they’re shoulder to shoulder. In normal situations, Akaashi would be annoyed at someone intruding on his personal space without asking first, but with it being someone in a similar situation to himself, he says nothing and lets them sit. “I had finally built up the courage to tell her how I felt but then I saw her kissing someone else. I think that’s when the symptoms started to make themselves known.”

Akaashi loosens the hold around his waist and straightens his legs. He keeps his head facing the floor as he twists his fingers together. Maybe telling one person would be okay, it’s not like he would ever talk to this student again and it’s likely that they would not go spilling his secret.

“Three weeks.” Akaashi finally whispers. “I’m in love with my best friend.”

The boy’s head swiftly turns to look in his direction, his mouth open in shock. Instead of saying anything, Akaashi is pushed to the side as the boy leans forward and wraps his arms around the setter’s shoulder, pulling them closer. Akaashi isn’t sure how to respond but as the hold grows tighter, he wraps his arms around the other’s shoulders too.

“We’ll be okay.” The boy sobs quietly. The words mean nothing, and both of them know that the minute they’re spoken. The only way they could be okay is if their feelings are reciprocated or if they can pay for the surgery. Granted, Akaashi’s family do have money, but not nearly enough to cover the expenses of the procedure.

“We’ll be okay.” Akaashi repeats back, for once in his life having no idea on what to do to help the situation.

❁✿❁

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Akaashi!” Are the first words that Akaashi hears when he steps into the gym the next day. He’s learned how long he can be in close proximity to Bokuto before the petals start choking him. At the moment he can be with him for quite a long time – an hour at most – but as the weeks pass that time will definitely shorten. “Can you practise some spikes with me?” Akaashi finishes tucking his dark blue t-shirt into his white shorts as he goes over to one of the baskets and rolls it over to the net.

“Sure.” He replies, handing a ball to Bokuto so the spiker can throw it into the air. There’s still a lot of the team missing so they continue to set and spike balls until everyone turns up. As usual, Akaashi has no problem in keeping up with Bokuto’s frantic energy. He can feel a genuine smile forming on his lips as his hands connect with the volleyball and he makes a perfect pass to the spiker each time. Next to him, Bokuto is grinning and celebrating after each successful spike. The sight both warms and aches Akaashi’s heart. This is the boy he’s in love with, but also the boy who’s unknowingly causing him so much pain.

Akaashi’s glad that the rest of the team turn up in the next twenty minutes because he can already feel himself growing warmer when he rubs his hand over his face. Sighing, he greets a couple of the other third-years and goes to grab one of the water bottles that the two third-year managers brought in.

Taking a small sip, he watches his team as they all begin to gather around their coach, Yamiji Takeyuki, who has a clipboard and pen in his hands. How much longer until he can’t play the sport he loves? The disease varies from person to person but it’s a given that things only get worse the longer you have it. He knows that it’ll almost certainly get to the point where he can barely play through one full set of a game.

Akaashi puts down the water bottle and joins the team in their huddle. Yukie and Kaori are standing off to the side deep in conversation with their notebooks out. They’re probably helping get things ready to go back to the training camp. Akaashi makes sure to stay away from where Bokuto is standing while the coach talks the team through where the summer training camp is going to be held.

The most recent was two weeks ago at Nekoma, where they were introduced to Karasuno for the first time. They looked strong but Akaashi knows they have a lot of improvements to make if they want to make it to Nationals. He hopes they’ve taken this break between the camps to work on their skills as much as possible. In a couple of days, they’ll be heading to Shinzen High. Akaashi likes playing them. They’re amazing at combination plays and always make sure that he is playing at the top of his game when coming up with strategies to overcome their attacks.

“Akaashi?” Blinking, he realises that everyone is looking at him.

“I’m sorry, what was the question?”

Their coach frowns, finding it strange for Akaashi to not be focusing. His eyes slide to Bokuto who gives him a small shrug, not knowing what’s wrong either. He finds that even stranger because since joining the team, those two have been almost inseparable. He ponders if something has happened in the past couple of weeks to distance the pair. “I asked if you’re still okay to come.”

“Of course I am, coach.” Nodding once, Akaashi twists his hands together behind his back. If everyone knew they’d force him to stay at home and take it easy, but why would he waste his life doing that when he could spend his last few months with the people who have become a second family to him.

“Alright, let’s go straight into practising blocking and defending. Bokuto and Akaashi, you two can stay on this side of the court, everyone else can go to the other side of the net.”

Everyone goes to where they were instructed to, Yukie and Kaori picking up all the stray volleyballs that litter the gym floor. Bokuto approaches Akaashi and slinks his arm over the second-year’s shoulder. A shiver runs through his body at the contact, and he swallows down a cough that has formed. “You okay Akaashi? It’s not like you to zone out like that.”

“I’m fine Bokuto.” He replies, liking yet hating the warmth he can feel coming from the third-year. His finger twitches uncontrollably and he quickly forms a fist to hide the trembling. It’ll go away in a few minutes anyway.

“Good, because if there’s something wrong you can tell me, I’m here for you! Not just as your captain but also as your best friend!” He exclaims, removing his hand from around him and rushing to the left-hand side of the court as Kaori picks up a ball.

“Yeah, best friend.” Akaashi murmurs to himself as the coach blows a whistle and Kaori throws the ball above him so he can set it to Bokuto. With his back facing away from their coach, he doesn’t see the concerned look he’s given.

❁✿❁

He was supposed to be on the bus five minutes ago. Instead, Akaashi has his hands pressed against one of the bathroom’s sinks as he spits out blood into the running water. His vision briefly goes black as he struggles to get enough oxygen into his diseased lungs. With the sound of running water being all he can focus on; he collapses onto his knees and holds the base of his throat with his right hand. His left hand clutches the thin material of his white tracksuit pants. Akaashi’s not sure how long he stays in that position. It can’t have been that long though.

So much has happened in the last few days.

With shaky hands, he tilts his head down and puts his right hand into his mouth. When it touches something, he carefully grabs hold of it and slowly starts pulling it out. Suddenly, he starts being able to breathe better and lets out a few stray coughs as the thing that was lodged in his throat is thrown onto the tiled floor. Sobs rip through him as he covers his face with both hands, not ready to find out what came out of his mouth this time.

He shifts so he’s sitting on the cold floor, hands still over his eyes. Knowing the team will be searching for him and probably blowing up his phone with calls and messages, he parts his middle and ring finger to peek at what’s on the floor next to him. He gasps when he sees a yellow flower connected to a very bloodied stem. He stares at it in shock, his mind whirring at how something that size had come out from his lungs. Akaashi looks down at his upper body where his lungs are hidden behind skin and blood.

If he wasn’t sure of it before he’s sure of it now.

He’s not going to be one of those who lasts for months like the blond boy did.

After cleaning up after himself and fixing his appearance, he makes it to the bus that’s waiting outside of the school entrance. Apologising for being late, he makes his way onto the bus and takes one of the empty seats at the front of the bus. As expected, Bokuto is at the back; accompanied by Konoha, Komi and Sarukui. Bokuto is shouting about how he can’t wait to see everyone again whilst the others are hunched around and pointing at something on Konoha’s phone.

Washio is sitting in front of them with his headphones in, not as keen to get involved with all the chaos. Yukie and Kaori are sharing earbuds and mouthing to the song playing. Yukie has two onigiri rice balls in her hands that she alternates taking bites from. The first-years are scattered on the other seats, either on their phones or resting their heads against the glass windows.

“Akaashi! Where were you?” Bokuto shouts from his seat. “Let me come sit next to you!” Akaashi turns around and gives him a pointed look. Bokuto freezes mid-step and tilts his head in confusion.

“Stay where you are Bokuto. There’s no point in moving seats.” He wants to tell him to come closer, that he would love nothing more for them to sit together. But he doesn’t, because he needs time to breathe before he has to be playing set after set in close contact with him for the duration of the training camp. Pouting, Bokuto mutters something before slouching back down next to Komi.

Komi realises what’s happening and gives Akaashi a subtle nod, spending the next ten minutes of the journey trying to get him back to his playful self. Akaashi feels guilty – it is his fault that he’s like this – but he can’t be near Bokuto right now; especially due to him having been barely conscious less than an hour ago.

Sighing, Akaashi rests his head against the cold glass and closes his eyes. This is going to be a long week.

❁✿❁

It was a lot easier to hide the side effects last time. Back then, it hadn’t even been a week since he’d developed the disease. There were barely any petals and the most he felt was dizziness now and again which wouldn’t stick around for more than a couple of minutes. It could easily be covered up with bathroom breaks or pretending to have left something in the shared bedroom. But the disease has progressed a lot since then.

Scratching his throat, he grabs his shoulder bag and follows his team into the building that they’ll be staying in. With multiple bathrooms, Akaashi feels a bit more relieved, at least if he has to hide out in one then there’s still one available for the others to use.

The team starts unpacking some of their items, but Akaashi drops his bag into the corner of the room and lies down on the closest makeshift bed that has been thrown together. He stares at the ceiling then throws an arm over his eyes.

The hand by his side twitches. He moves his hand off his face and shifts his head sideway where his eyes meet a pair of golden ones lying next to him. He notices that Bokuto’s hand is almost touching his and as much as it pains him, he moves his own hand away and drapes it over his stomach.

“Why didn’t you want me sitting near you on the bus?” Bokuto frowns and Akaashi almost smiles when Bokuto’s hair appears to droop with the action.

“I told you, there was no point in moving seats.” He replies, the hand on his stomach clenching the material of his shirt when a wave of dizziness passes through him. He keeps his face neutral and takes a deep breath, waiting for it to pass.

Bokuto grumbles something to himself and a small waft of wind tickles Akaashi’s arm as Bokuto suddenly shoots up into a sitting position. “Hey, Akaashi?”

“What is it Bokuto?”

“I think we’ll finally win Nationals this year! I mean, our team is awesome! Especially with you there to set to me!” Akaashi throws his arm back over his eyes, not because he doesn’t want to look at Bokuto, but because he doesn’t want Bokuto to see the tears that are forming and threatening to flow down the sides of his face. Akaashi isn’t someone who cries often, he prefers to keep his emotions to himself. And yet, he’s picturing a world in which everything is okay, where he’ll be standing on the National stage with his second family. A world that is just out of reach, as much as he tries to reach for it, it always scrapes past the tip of his finger.

“Yes.” Akaashi breathes out, blinking rapidly under his forearm to keep the tears at bay. “The team this year is awesome, you’ll definitely win Nationals.”

If Bokuto hears how Akaashi didn’t include himself in the winning of Nationals, he doesn’t mention it. “Yeah, we will!” He cheers, jumping to his feet to peer out of one of the windows of the large room. “When will Karasuno be here? I’ve seen everyone else but them!”

Konoha speaks up from the other side of the room where he’s tugging on his kneepads. “If you looked in the right direction you’d see that their bus is over there. Some of Nekoma have already gone to greet them.”

“Let’s go to the gym! I can’t wait to play them again!” Bokuto goes back over to Akaashi. “Akaashi! Let’s go do some spiking practise to warm up!” Akaashi sits up, softly rubbing the edges of his eyes. Bokuto crouches down in front of him, wearing one of his signature grins as he holds out a hand to help Akaashi stand up.

His heart skips a beat as he stares at the outstretched hand. He forces down a cough as he slips his hand into the third-years and gets dragged to his feet. Bokuto doesn’t let go of his hand as he makes his way to the door. For a moment, Akaashi also pictures a world where the two of them find their happy ending together. Bokuto would be playing professionally and Akaashi would probably have a job where he’s either editing or writing books. He’d try and see as many of his matches as he can, travelling for hours when he’s playing in a different prefecture.

“Bokuto, you might want to let Akaashi get changed first.” Komi calls from near Konoha. Akaashi snaps out of his thoughts and looks down at his white tracksuit.

“I’ll meet you down there whilst you change!” Bokuto shouts as he lets go of Akaashi’s hand and races out of the room. He gives Akaashi an excited wave as he disappears behind the door. The team members that are changed follow Bokuto out, saying they’ll make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble.

Akaashi flicks his gaze between his empty hand and the door that his closest friends left through. His thumb rubs across his palm as a stray tear escapes the corner of his eye. How long does he have until that goodbye turns into a permanent one? How long until he sees them for the last time?

“Akaashi? Are you okay?” One of the first-years who are tucking their tracksuit into their bag asks. Akaashi lets his hand fall to his side as he hides his face from them.

“Nothing you need to worry about for now.” The first-year looks hesitant but nods his head nonetheless as Akaashi zips open his bag and takes out his white shorts to get changed into.

❁✿❁

Kuroo and Bokuto are talking animatedly to each other with Kenma sat against the wall with his oversized hoodie covering the majority of his body. He’s deeply focusing on the gaming device in front of him, fingers pressing the buttons in a calculated rhythm. Bokuto had dragged Kenma and Akaashi into practising with him and Kuroo for a couple of hours before bed. Things had gotten a lot worse since coming here so Akaashi had planned to have an early night to stop him from getting too fatigued, but with the look Bokuto gave him, he couldn’t say no.

Kenma agreed because he didn’t want to hang around with Lev.

Akaashi is leaning against the wall near Kenma, sneaking glances at the fighting game he’s playing. The graphics move so fast that it’s hard to keep up with what’s happening, but he knows that Kenma is winning.

“Hey you! Skinny… with the glasses!” Akaashi looks up when he hears Kuroo shouting at someone from outside the gym. “Can you maybe jump a few blocks for us?”

It’s pretty dark outside so Akaashi can’t make out who is being referred to, but when he hears them speak he realises that it’s one of Karasuno’s middle blockers. “Sorry, I’m all done for the day. You have a good night.”

“But there’s no point in practising our spiking if we don’t have any blockers.” Bokuto moans, leaning his arm against the gym entrance. “Come on!” Akaashi rolls his eyes, knowing Bokuto would happily practise even without blockers; if the late-night practises the two of them used to do together is anything to go by.

“I thought it was just going to be us four practising tonight.” Kenma hums, not taking his eyes off the game. “I don’t really like the idea of playing with Tsukishima.”

“You know what the two of them are like, they always annoyingly want to help people grow stronger.” He points out. Kenma pauses his game and frowns at Akaashi, not wanting to admit that what he said is right. A few coughs leave Akaashi’s throat, and he quickly moves his hand in front of his mouth. Removing his hand from his mouth, he panics when he sees the blood smeared on his palm and a couple of flowers. His eyes dart around the room as he searches for something to wipe his hand on. When he finds nothing, he clenches his fist to hide the mess and tells Kenma that he’ll be back.

He weaves through the three bodies at the door and jogs to where the nearest toilets are. As soon as the door is closed behind him, he shuts himself into one of the cubicles and unravels a large quantity of toilet roll to clean his hand.

With as much of the blood gone as possible, he flushes it down the toilet and perches on the end of the seat. Taking a deep breath, he waits a while to see if another coughing fit is about to happen. Relieved that nothing happens, he opens the cubicle door and steps back out.

What he doesn’t expect to see is Kenma waiting for him inside the bathroom, his gaming device tucked into the pocket of his shorts. He looks Akaashi up and down, checking to see if anything is wrong. His eyes linger longer than necessary on his face, which Akaashi is sure doesn’t look the best.

“Are you sick?” He questions, stepping closer to him.

“No, I’m fine.” Akaashi states.

He goes to move past Nekoma’s setter when he feels his arm being grabbed. “You’re lying.” The grip tightens when Akaashi tries to walk away so he stops resisting. “As a friend that cares about you, I’ll ask again. Are you sick?”

Opening his mouth to reply, he stops when the overwhelming urge to gag takes over and he finds himself hunched over the sink. Kenma’s neutral face grows worried when he takes in the sight of fully grown flowers leaving Akaashi’s mouth. Akaashi continues to choke, eyes watering, and the only thing Kenma can think of doing is rubbing his back.

He’s throwing up flowers for a lot longer than he previously had been but still manages to stay conscious. Kenma takes in the yellow and white flowers decorating the sink and the pieces click together in his head.

“Bokuto?” He whispers. Akaashi nods quietly, too caught up in calming his breathing to give a verbal response. “Does he know?” Akaashi shakes his head. “Does anyone?” Another shake of his head.

“Fuck, Akaashi.” Kenma rests his head against Akaashi’s back. Kenma only swears when things are extremely serious and he doesn’t know what to do, so the fact that he did has tears forming in Akaashi’s eyes. Every day something seems to confirm things even further. “This is bad.”

“Promise me that you won’t say anything.” Akaashi manages to rasp out. His throat is a lot sorer. He rubs the base of his throat softly and swallows large amounts of saliva to try and get some relief.

“Your feelings are important too.”

“Promise me.” He pleads, moving his body so Kenma is forced to remove his head and look at him.

Kenma uses his hoodie sleeves to hide his hands. “But you need to tell Bokuto at least.”

“And make him feel guilty? Make him feel responsible for my suffering?” Akaashi lets out a weak scoff that results in him coughing again. Kenma rushes to grab some more toilet paper to help clean it all up.

“There could be a chance he is starting to think of you as more than a friend.” He says as he hands Akaashi the paper and turns on the tap to wash away as much of the blood as possible. On the outside, he’s trying to keep calm for his friend but the knowledge that Akaashi might not be around for much longer has him terrified. They only met a year ago when they were first-years after Kuroo and Bokuto had introduced them, and they bonded over the two second-year idiots that went around claiming they’d be captaining their teams next year.

He should have known that something was wrong the minute he lay eyes on him this morning.

“There’s nothing anyone can do so I just want to be happy until the time comes.” Akaashi gives Kenma a weak smile and Kenma nods timidly. If he were in the same situation, he wouldn’t want everyone fawning over him either. Maybe that’s why he agrees to keep Akaashi’s secret

“Okay.” But Kenma keeping that secret to himself might not have been the best course of action.

❁✿❁

“Akaashi!” Bokuto calls from his left as Akaashi gets prepared to set the ball. His eyes flick to the six guys wearing yellow bibs and white t-shirts on the other side of the net to see where they’re all positioned. He doesn’t know why he considers doing anything else; he knows he’s going to pass to Bokuto whenever the ace asks for the ball.

It’s the third set they’re playing today and Akaashi hates to admit it, but he’s growing exhausted. His reaction times are a lot slower than they typically are and he’s aware that he’s pushing himself way past his limit. But with three more points they win the game, and he’ll be damned if he’s the reason that Fukurōdani loses – even if it is merely a friendly match.

Bokuto’s cheers have him smiling, glad that his setting skills haven’t been affected. Clearing his throat, he rotates to the side as Washio goes to serve. Two more points. He takes in Karasuno’s positioning, formulating a plan on how to get past Tsukishima and how to stop number 9 and 10’s crazy quick attack that seems to be improving as the days pass. The ball flies over the net and is received by their captain. The ball goes straight to their setter who wastes no time in sending it to number 5. Akaashi runs over to Onaga’s side of the court to help block it.

Karasuno ends up getting the point and Akaashi wipes his forehead with the palm of his hand, wincing at how hot it feels. Bokuto bounces up next to him and pats his back. “We’ll get the next point!” Giving him a small nod, they go back into their positions as Karasuno prepare to serve.

Akaashi coughs into his hand and so no one can see the blood he quickly wipes it against his dark blue t-shirt – under the light blue bib he’s wearing over it so it’s not visible. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Kenma sitting on one of the benches that have been placed against the wall. Nekoma isn’t playing so are watching the games. Kenma furrows his eyebrows, having seen what Akaashi did but Akaashi waves it off and focuses back on the game.

The next rally is a long one, each team not wavering in their attacks. Akaashi coughs again, this time a petal appearing which he swiftly hides in the pocket of his shorts, hoping that the blood it’s covered in keeps it stuck to the white material. He’ll need to put on his spare pair when this game is over. His heartbeat echoes in his ears as he runs across the court to scoop up the ball. The play is short and difficult to reach but he trusts his team, certain that one of them will be able to get it over the net.

Cheers from his team alert him to a point won. His eyes stay on the ground as his breaths come in fast and heavy. His eyebrows knit together as a familiar itching grows stronger in his throat. ‘Ignore it.’ He thinks to himself. ‘Worry about it after the game is over.’

His teammates' words become muffled, and his breath hitches slightly. A couple more coughs leave his throat, but his hands stay by his side as he feels his eyes grow glazed.

One more point. They only need one more point. One more—

“Akaashi?”

He feels his legs give out as his hand instinctively reaches for his throat. The match that is happening on the other court has stopped and everyone is staring at the setter who is clawing at his throat. Everyone is in a panic, desperate to provide help but not knowing how to. But no one is more panicked than Bokuto, who watches the person he sees as his best friend coughing uncontrollably on the floor.

His breathing becomes strained, struggling to get enough oxygen into his lungs. The coughing continues, making breathing even more difficult. His legs are the first to start shaking, his arms follow soon after. All the coaches are shouting something that Akaashi can’t make out, blurs of coloured bibs are running around, no doubt following orders that the coaches have sent out.

He is only aware of where one person is, and when Bokuto tries to get closer to him, he uses all his strength to weakly raise his hand to stop him.

“What’s happening?” Bokuto cries, his own hands starting to shake as he is helpless to watch Akaashi struggle to breathe. Their coach pushes everyone out the way and lifts Akaashi up into a sitting position. He places his arms around his waist and bends Akaashi forward. The team watch as he starts giving the setter abdominal thrusts in the hopes of unblocking whatever is trapping his airways.

From the other side of the gym, Kenma is running his hands through his hair as his legs grow restless, uncontrollably moving up and down. He should say something. He should tell Fukurōdani’s manager that it won’t help to do CPR techniques. The problem is not just in his throat but in his lungs as well.

Kuroo seems to notice Kenma’s uneasiness and wraps an arm around him as he bites his fingernails. “He’ll be okay Kenma.” He whispers.

Kenma rapidly shakes his head, his voice breaking as he speaks. “No. No, he won’t.” Biting his lip, he realises that he should have broken his promise of not telling anyone. He tucks his face into Kuroo’s neck, maybe if he pretends it’s not happening then everything will turn out fine. That thought leaves him quickly.

At the same time that Kenma is about to tell Kuroo, Konoha seems to spot something peeking out of Akaashi’s shorts. It’s yellow, thin and covered in blood. His eyes widen.

“Akaashi is that—” He points to the petal that falls onto the gym’s wooden flooring. The whole team look where he’s pointing and soon everyone understands the situation. “But who is it that he has a one-sided love for—” Konoha, Komi and Sarukui immediately dart their gazes to Bokuto, who when he notices the three pairs of eyes on him starts to hyperventilate.

“No, no Akaashi would have told me. He would have told me how he felt.” He stutters out, his golden eyes becoming blurred by tears.

“Where is that damn ambulance!” Karasuno’s coach yells out as he does his best to keep the other teams away from what’s happening.

A couple of yellow and white petals spill from Akaashi’s blue lips as his eyes flutter closed. Bokuto slides on his knees to reach Akaashi and grips his hand tightly. His other hand runs through his black locks that are wet with sweat. “Akaashi, you’re going to be okay. An ambulance will be here soon. You’ll be okay. You’re okay.” He whispers, his usual jovial voice nowhere to be found. He rests his forehead against the setter’s hand and squeezes lightly.

The whole Fukurōdani team clutch each other’s hands tightly. They’re disappointed in themselves for not noticing what Akaashi was going through, what their vice-captain and starting setter was battling all by himself. A small part of them are furious that they weren’t told but that’s overshadowed by the dull ache spreading through them.

Akaashi slowly feels his breaths shallow out, his heartbeat no longer echoing in his ears. His limbs are too heavy to move, and he lets them all follow the direction of gravity. Someone close to him is crying. He can’t work out who it is. People are hovering over him, who are they? His head droops sideways and lands on something that’s soft yet also hard at the same time. The world becomes too fuzzy and all the colours and bright lights in front of him blur together as the world fades to black.

The last thing he can make out is a familiar voice screaming his given name—

“KEIJI!”

—and then there’s nothing…