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bokuto is quiet now. that is to say, he’s unhappy.
the bokuto akaashi’s always known is loud, never to a fault, but almost always making his presence known to the world. whether you like it or not, he’s all over you, chatting enthusiastically, jumping around, and sometimes trying to braid your hair. (even if akaashi’s hair is too short to braid properly, bokuto will try.)
when akaashi sees bokuto’s enthusiasm, he knows immediately that he’s happy. this is what bokuto loves; bokuto’s passion is making other’s happy. all he has to do is /be/, his own joyful existence is infectious enough to heal even the deepest, most personal wounds.
but there’s something that others don’t know about bokuto, something that akaashi regretfully learned only recently. bokuto has his own personal wounds.
it really shouldn’t come as a surprise—everyone has their insecurities and doubts, it’s part of the human experience after all. still, akaashi can’t help but feel deeply unsettled when his eyes land on bokuto’s tiny figure hunched underneath a desk across the gym.
when bokuto’s sad, he’s barely recognizable. he shrinks himself down into the smallest form he can be, as if he’s trying to cause the least amount of inconvenience that he can. akaashi’s heart burns at the realization that maybe that’s all bokuto considers himself to be—an inconvenience.
with that, a fire is lit inside akaashi’s frail ribcage, right underneath his heart. the threat of his poor racing heart being roasted alive is what inspires akaashi to take unsteady, yet confident strides in the direction of his upperclassman.
akaashi watches as bokuto, not having noticed his presence yet, smooths down the last few strands of his once spiky hair. somehow, it feels more ridiculous now that it’s completely flattened against his head; amber eyes barely peeking out from behind tousled bangs.
akaashi gets straight to the point. there’s no use in asking if he’s okay, not when bokuto’s in this state. “what’s wrong, bokuto-san?”
bokuto looks like he’s near ready to jump out of his skin at akaashi’s voice. then, he comes back to his body, sniffling slightly. “nothin’.”
akaashi shakes his head. bokuto has always had a tendency to hide his feelings if he feels it’d benefit those around hik. it’s only natural if one feels that their emotions are too big and inconvenient.
he takes a step closer, kneeling down to be beside bokuto’s huddled body. he hates seeing his senior like this. it’s a far cry from his usual energetic, larger-than-life demeanor. “i know that’s not true.”
he doesn’t want it to be true, but when akaashi reaches out a steady hand to brush bokuto’s bangs out of his face, his heart pangs at the way bokuto’s eyebrows are bunched together. the fire burns brighter, and his heart is finally lit aflame.
he’s never seen him cry before, but his blood freezes when he sees how bokuto’s just about to cry.
but instead, bokuto huffs, hugging his knees closer to his chest. “‘m just tired.” he rests his cheek on his knees, turning away from akaashi.
akaashi frowns. this might be worse. in the past, whenever bokuto’s closed in on himself, his issues only festered and grew until they couldn’t stay inside anymore. “hey. talk to me.”
bokuto sniffles once more. “it’s stupid.” still, he turns his head to face his junior, and nuzzles almost imperceptibly into akaashi’s hand when it reaches out once more, this time to wipe unshed tears from bokuto’s puffy eyes.
“it isn’t.” akaashi’s learned over the past few months that it’s best not to leave any room for argument when it comes to bokuto’s emotions. “tell me, please.”
“well, it’s stupid,” bokuto’s gaze casts downward, trying to avoid akaashi’s uncharacteristically intense gaze, “but my sister is going on tour. in europe.”
akaashi pauses. of course he knows of bokuto satsuki. after all, he’s the bestselling author of countless poetry collections. how could akaashi not know her, being the notorious bookworm he is? akaashi can only imagine how bokuto feels, having his older sister leave the country—no, continent. he shakes his head firmly. “that’s not stupid.”
bokuto lifts his head at that. “you really don’t think so?”
“of course not. it’s only natural to be emotional when your sister is about to leave the continent, especially for an extended period of time.”
bokuto’s mouth falls open slightly, considering, for the first time, the possibility that his emotions may be valid, and not born of pure juvenile immaturity.
it takes a minute for him to speak up again, his voice quiet. “i guess it’s just,” akaashi has to strain to hear the words as they tumble out of his mouth, “someone’s leaving me. again.”
and akaashi realizes.
of course bokuto’s going to feel abandoned when that’s all he’s ever known. first his father before he was even born, then countless friends throughout his life (akaashi has more than once prayed for their downfalls), and now…his own sister? even if it’s only for six months at most, it’s enough for bokuto to think he’s being left behind. worse, it’s enough for bokuto to, somehow, unimaginably, think he’s done something wrong.
akaashi swallows, trying to keep down the emotions as they threaten to crawl up his esophagus. he clears his throat. “she isn’t leaving you, bokuto-san. she’ll be back in six months, i’m sure.”
“but it’s not that, akaashi. it’s that i’ll have to stay with my mom and wait for her to come back, and then she’ll leave again or seika will leave before that. i can’t have someone leave again, akaashi. i can’t take it.”
akaashi pauses once more. he weighs his options, trying his best to decide what bokuto would want to hear—or, more accurately, what /akaashi/ would want to hear.
he takes a deep breath and places his hand on top of bokuto’s knee. he knows this won’t fix his abandonment issues, he knows this won’t comfort his immediately, he knows this probably won’t work at all, but still, “i won’t leave any time soon, bokuto-san.”
once his words process in bokuto’s mind, his eyes widen. the deep pools of amber reflect greens and blues, and akaashi swears he sees his pupils dilate. “a-akaashi?”
“and i know satsuki is leaving for now, but she’ll be back before you know it. not to mention the fact that she’s here now, with you, in japan. until then, you and your sisters all have each other. and if all else fails,” akaashi squeezes bokuto’s knee, trying to fight the flush threatening to creep onto his face, “you’ll always have me.”
bokuto doesn’t break eye contact, and akaashi wouldn’t look away in a million years. “you mean it?”
“i know it.”
a single tear rolls down bokuto’s cheek, and akaashi’s hand is there to catch it.
akaashi reacts immediately, dark eyebrows furrowing and gaze growing increasingly concerned as more tears begin to follow tear tracks already streaking down bokuto’s face. “you’re crying.” akaashi’s touch is cautious, a mere brush against bokuto’s skin.
“i am?” bokuto doesn’t try to hide the smile that creeps onto his face. more tears roll down his reddening cheeks as his eyes slowly turn into half-moons. akaashi thinks bokuto is comparable to the sun peeking out from behind a dark cloud, or like a rainbow in the middle of a sun shower. “i’m just so happy.”
akaashi says nothing in reply and instead cups bokuto’s face in his hands. he wipes away the tears as they steadily roll down bokuto’s slowly brightening face, and soon he begins to smile and giggle along with him. to akaashi, it feels like it’s just him, bokuto, and the useless, burnt-to-a-crisp heart in his chest threatening to beat its way out of akaashi’s charred rib cage. once again, he forces himself to gulp down his emotions, except this time, he also has to repress the desire to pepper kisses across bokuto’s wet, rosy cheeks.
“are you feeling better, bokuto-san?” he says, once he feels like he’s able to speak without shouting his desire for bokuto to the world.
bokuto grins, and akaashi’s last walls are broken down without fanfare. “yes!” he nearly shouts, and doesn’t attempt to apologize for how loud he was.
akaashi laughs, ears ringing and heart on fire, knowing bokuto’s back to his bright, happy self. “then, do you want to practice a bit longer?”