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During a break in their seemingly endless personal practice, Akaashi pulled out his phone to see a message from Kenma insisting that he come by again after practice to talk about what was bothering him. Kenma had convinced him to do it the night before, but he was able to guide the conversation expertly away from himself.
He debated whether or not to go. He wasn’t really wanting to talk about what was bothering him, but maybe it would be good for him to get it off of his chest. He considered it as he wore himself out on the court. It seemed as if with each set he felt differently about it. If he trusted anyone, it would be Kenma, but at the same time, he was embarrassed about it. He wasn’t sure if it was worth going through all of the embarrassment. He waffled about it the rest of the practice, something that was out of character for him.
When Kuroo finally insisted on calling it quits, Akaashi decided that he would go find Kenma. He didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to. They could just sit. They could talk about other things. He could even probably turn the conversation back on Kenma if need be.
He grabbed a quick dinner, but he wasn’t terribly hungry. After he had gotten changed and grabbed a jacket, he made his way to the hallway where the roof access was. He looked around to make sure that nobody was coming, and grabbed the door handle. It was unlocked as he expected. He made sure to lock it behind him and made his way up to the roof hatch.
As he popped onto the roof, he internally laughed at the sight of Kenma sitting on the roof of Ubugawa high, drinking steaming hot vodka that was chocolate flavored. He never asked where Kenma had found the key to the roof, or how he found out what doors it unlocked, but he was thankful it was a place that only the two of them and Kuroo knew about. Akaashi figured he would spend more time up here with Kenma the next year after their volleyball addicted spikers graduated, assuming Kenma kept playing, that is.
“Welcome,” Kenma said with a wave.
Akaashi nodded as he made his way towards Kenma. He sat on the blanket Kenma had laid out for him.
“I came prepared this time,” Akaashi said, pointing to his jacket.
“Oh, so did I,” Kenma responded, reaching to hand Akaashi a thermos.
“I assume this is steaming hot vodka?” Akaashi asked.
“Absolutely. It’s even in your own thermos this time. I stole Kuro’s,” he said with a grin.
“I ought to thank him for all of the things you take from him and then give to me,” Akaashi rolled his eyes as he grabbed the thermos, “I can’t believe how much I’ve let your degeneracy rub off on me.”
“You’re welcome. There will be more degeneracy to come. So what’s been on your mind lately?” Kenma asked.
Akaashi took a sip as he thought of his answer. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk to Kenma about it. He felt like maybe it was a dumb thing to be worried about and maybe Kenma wouldn’t understand. Maybe they could just drink in silence. It was pleasant after all, the warm drink and the cool night air. He looked out at the stars they could just barely see.
“You know,” Kenma spoke again, “You don’t have to talk about it, but it’s clearly stressing you out. Even if you don’t want my opinions on whatever it is, I’m happy to just listen if that’s what you need.”
“I actually do value your opinions for some unknown reason and I-“
“Rude,” Kenma interjected, taking an indignant sip of his drink.
“As I was saying, I think I do want your thoughts, but it’s embarrassing,” Akaashi admitted, “So, I don’t really want to talk about it, if I’m being honest.”
“I guarantee you it isn’t,” Kenma said.
Akaashi took another sip, making sure to avoid inhaling vaporized vodka into his lungs. It doesn’t feel very good.
“It really is,” he insisted.
“In that case,” Kenma said, wisely, “I have a story for you.”
“About?” Akaashi asked confused.
“So, about a week ago when I got home from practice, my mom was awkwardly waiting for me at the kitchen table,” Kenma started.
“Alright,” he said hesitantly.
Akaashi already didn’t like where this was going.
“Apparently she had wanted to download a game on my desktop as a surprise for my birthday. The issue was that I hadn’t actually locked my computer before leaving for school and I have it set to not automatically lock because I need to keep it open for one of my games on my PSP that I need the internet on my computer for. Actually, you definitely don’t care about that part, sorry, I’ve drank quite a bit. Anyway, the computer wasn’t locked, right?”
“Okay, and?” Akaashi asked, still confused as to why it was relevant to him, and not really wanting to hear the rest. There weren’t a lot of good directions for this to go.
“Well she clicked open my browser to try to figure out how to download a game for me and the porn I had been watching the night before came up. Unfortunately for the both of us, it was in fact kinky gay porn, as I am gay and kinky, so I had to have a discussion with my mother about not only being gay but also about watching ‘concerning’ porn on my computer. It was a nightmare. I do not have enough vodka to wash it out of my brain,” he explained.
“Why don’t you use your phone or your tablet like a normal human being?” Akaashi asked, regretting asking it almost immediately.
“Big screens,” Kenma said without elaborating.
“Okay, gross. I don’t know why I asked. Anyway, why did I need to hear about that?” Akaashi questioned. He took an enormous gulp of his drink as a joke indicating that he was too sober to have been subjected to that.
“Is whatever you’ve been worrying about more embarrassing than that?” Kenma asked, taking an enormous gulp of his drink.
“Oh, god no. I’m not convinced anything is, to be honest,” he said with a laugh.
“Exactly. I will send you the link to the specific video if that helps,” Kenma offered, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“I’m begging you not to do that,” he replied.
“Okay, so tell me what’s going on then,” Kenma said.
“Fair enough,” he replied with a small laugh, “You definitely got me there. We’ve been having these career days at Fukurodani.”
“Just rich kid problems,” Kenma said with a snort, “Imagine having a career day.”
“I’m on a scholarship, you asshole,” Akaashi pointed out.
“Just having a scholarship to a rich kid school problems,” Kenma amended.
“Anyway,” Akaashi said, ignoring him, “All of my teachers and my parents think I should go into engineering. I have the grades for it and my father is an engineer, too.”
“I assume you’re not interested,” Kenma said with a nod.
“I’m really not. I know I’d be able to do it and do it well, and I’d be financially well off for the rest of my life if I did,” he said.
“But you don’t want to,” Kenma finished.
“Exactly. I know it’s irresponsible to turn that career path down since I’m smart enough to handle it, but it sounds so boring. I don’t think I’d want to do it every day until I get old enough to retire or die,” he said quietly.
“Then what do you want to do instead?” Kenma asked.
“I know it’s dumb, but I want to go into literature. I love writing, but I don’t even necessarily need to be a writer. I could work as an editor or a publisher. I like reading and writing, and I’m a pretty decent editor. I think I’d like the work,” he admitted.
“What’s dumb about that? You’re sure you’d like doing it?” Kenma asked.
“Well, yes, but-“
“Then it’s not dumb at all. Knowing you, you’ve looked it up, so how much would you make?” Kenma pushed.
“Not nearly as much as an engineer,” he pointed out.
“Sure, but would you make enough money to live comfortably?” Kenma asked.
“Probably, but it’s sometimes hard to get into the field. Plus you don’t make much your first few years. I might not even be able to get a job in literature,” he continued.
“How hard would it be to get a job? What would you need to do?” Kenma asked.
“I’d definitely need to go to college. Maybe even grad school,” he said.
“Well, you have to at least do the college part to be an engineer. If you think you can handle engineering school, you could definitely handle this, especially since you like it,” Kenma reasoned.
“But what if I can’t get a job?” Akaashi asked.
That’s what was stressing him out the most. If he couldn’t get a job in literature, what was the point? He might as well just go be an engineer if he was going to have to do a job he didn’t want to do. At least that way he’d get paid well.
“Then you take a job you don’t want for a bit and get a grad degree and some experience. It’s not like you’re going to have to be stuck working a job you hate forever, but I think it’s okay having one for a bit, especially if it leads to something you really want to do. There’s nothing wrong with having aspirations other than just making money,” Kenma pointed out.
“But isn’t it dumb for me to reject a career path where I’d easily get a job and make a lot of money and requires the same amount or less schooling?” he argued.
“No. It’s dumb to reject a career path that you’re interested in because you’re worried about not making as much money or disappointing your parents. Coming from someone who regularly disappoints his parents, it’s really not the end of the world,” he said.
“I care about what my parents think of me, though,” Akaashi pointed out.
“And they’re going to be very proud of you when you get a good job in literature doing something that you love and you’re good at. You may not be rich, but it’s not like you wouldn’t be able to support yourself,” Kenma insisted.
“I don’t know,” Akaashi admitted.
“At least think about it. I know you’ve surely researched it to death. Write it out. Make a chart or something. You seem like the kind of person who would like making charts,” he suggested.
Akaashi said nothing. He wanted to object to that description of him, but Kenma was right. He did really want to makes some charts to help him think about it. He had a big dry erase board at home and many dry erase markers. It would be a good time.
“I’m sure in a decade if you had a job as a publisher and a pretty wife, your parents would be plenty fine with that,” Kenma said.
“More like boisterous husband,” Akaashi corrected.
“Since when are you gay?” Kenma asked.
“Since when are you blind?” Akaashi countered.
“Fair point, Keiji,” Kenma said with a laugh, “Though, I do recommend not leaving kinky gay porn on your computer. That’d really disappoint your parents.”
“I’m not a degenerate like you,” Akaashi pointed out with a snort.
“You’re sitting on the roof of a high school drinking hot vodka. I wouldn’t throw those stones,” Kenma responded.
“You’re a bad influence on me,” Akaashi said.
“I’m a good influence on you,” Kenma countered.
“Both,” Akaashi said, clinking his thermos against Kenma’s.
Akaashi always thought that the funny thing about Kenma was that he was often self contradictory. There would be times during volleyball games where he’d be uncomfortable that competitors were observing him merely for the purpose of figuring out his next play, but then Kenma just told him this super embarrassing story, unprompted. Kenma at times was both the nervous geeky kid, but also snuck onto the roof of a high school with what Akaashi realized much have been a lot of alcohol.
“I assume you’re expecting me to just forget about the whole ‘boisterous husband,’ thing?” Kenma asked.
“Ideally, yes,” Akaashi responded as he moved to lay on his back, “We don’t have that kind of time.”
“I’m not too sure about that. The night is still young,” Kenma said as he finished off his drink, “It’s possible I know exactly where you’re coming from, though at least my boisterous captain doesn’t have god awful hair.”
“How perceptive you are pisses me off,” Akaashi complained, “And I also object to the fact that you think Kuroo-san doesn’t have awful hair. It’s a mess.”
“It’s a delightful mess,” Kenma amended fondly.
“You’re unfairly biased,” Akaashi pointed out.
“Maybe so,” Kenma said, laying on his back as well. After awhile, he said, “Tell me about the things you want to write about.”
He thought about the stories he wrote.
An old man realizes that he made a promise when he was a kid that he never followed through on. He wonders if it’s too late to keep it.
A young girl figures out that she can predict the future, but nobody believes her, not even the people inside of her head.
A hero determines that maybe being a hero is overrated. It’s a thankless job and sometimes it is a lot more fun to do the wrong thing.
A young couple argues about their future. They don’t realize that their argument functions as a self fulfilling prophecy. You see the the things you look for.
A detective comes to the realization that all of the evidence for a crime points back to her sister. The only problem, is that her sister died three years ago.
An aunt notices that her nephew is hiding something. She ends up being the only one who finds out, but at what cost.
A pair of childhood best friends make bets against each other, but as they get older, the bets themselves are worth more to them than the bragging rights of winning.
Two teenaged boys get drunk on a roof, talking about things that won’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but are weighing heavy on their minds nonetheless.
“Oh, mostly just kinky, gay porn,” Akaashi said, “I’ll send you a copy.”
Kenma flung his arm out to smack him.