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day one—
Akaashi Keiji was a hypocrite—a truth he had become acutely aware of the older he got.
He possessed a deep-seated need to help others however he could, whether it be through small acts of service or simply telling them what they needed to hear. It wasn’t this need that made him a hypocrite, though. No. It made him someone reliable, someone his friends turned to when they needed to hear a hard truth.
His hypocrisy, he knew, came from the simple fact that—for all the help he bestowed unto others—he refused reciprocation.
“Keiji-kun, can I help you with your groceries?” his neighbor often asked, seeing the way he struggled to unlock the door with his bags still in-hand.
“That’s alright, I’ve got it,” he would respond. Then he’d angle his body away from the woman so she couldn’t see the bags nearly spilling from his arms when he finally managed to turn the key to his unit.
Keiji could no longer count on both his hands (and his toes) the number of times he’d helped his neighbor with her things. Still, he refused her help under the mental guise of: I don’t want to inconvenience her.
He knew that made him a hypocrite, but it wasn’t enough to convince himself to change.
Akaashi Keiji’s hypocrisy was the reason he’d landed himself in his present predicament: allowing a very nosy stranger to move into the spare room of his two-bedroom apartment one week after the semester began, but refusing said stranger’s help when he exclaimed, “I bet I could help you and Bokuto-san get together!”
Oh no.
His new roommate’s statement was the culmination of a gradual build-up of inquiries that had started the moment he’d walked through the front door. Before he’d even set down his things, Hinata Shoyo had turned to Keiji and asked, “Is Bokuto-san your boyfriend?”
Keiji had paused, trying to compose himself long enough to choke out a, “No, he’s just a friend.”
“You’re not dating?”
“Why would you think that we’re together?”
It was then that Hinata had set down a large cardboard box and his duffle bag, turned to a framed portrait hanging on one of the living room walls, and said “You just look like a couple, is all” with a shrug.
Ah yes: The Picture. An image captured on the day Keiji had graduated from high school. It was a candid portrait taken by his mother shortly after the ceremony had ended. Keiji had been talking to a classmate when Bokuto had snuck up from behind him, wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and gave a boisterous “Hey! Hey! Hey!” into his ear. The image documented the exact second Keiji realized it was Bokuto behind him. Their mirrored smiles shined brighter than the sun hanging in the sky above them.
“We’ve known each other a long time,” Keiji had said to Hinata after several seconds of silence. He wouldn’t offer anything else, not yet.
“Oh.”
From there, Keiji had attempted to direct the conversation away from himself. He wanted to know about Hinata: what year he was, the course of study he’d chosen, if he preferred to shower in the mornings or in the evenings. Standard roommate things.
But lingering just below the surface, a single question remained: Why do you think Bokuto-san and I look like a couple? He didn’t have time to think too hard about that, though—not when he needed to help Hinata unpack.
They spent the first night working together to get Hinata settled into his new room. While they made the bed and taped photos on the walls, Keiji learned about the man who would be living with him. He learned that Hinata was in his second year and that he was studying to be an elementary school teacher. He preferred morning showers because they helped him wake up—the opposite of Keiji, who saw a night shower as the final chance to relax at the end of a long day.
Above all, Keiji learned that Hinata was grateful to him for offering up his spare room.
“I’m so glad Bokuto-san gave me your name, Akaashi-san! My other plans fell through, so it’s really cool of you to let me stay here.”
“Just Akaashi’s fine, and it’s not a problem.”
When Bokuto had come to him asking for “a huge favor,” of course Keiji had accepted. Because that’s what happened when you had a constant need to see others at their best—especially when that someone was the person you’d had a crush on since high school. He wouldn’t let Bokuto down by turning Hinata away.
Besides, having a second occupant meant he didn’t have to cover the rent by himself, which he’d been doing in the two months since his previous roommate had moved out.
Hinata’s insistent inquiries into Keiji’s relationship with Bokuto, though, were proving to be troublesome. And they would only grow worse with time.
“He talks about you every day,” Hinata said in between mouthfuls of take-out that night. “That’s why I figured you’d be a great roommate!”
Keiji reached for a napkin to dab at the corners of his mouth. He wanted to obstruct from his roommate’s view the upward twitch of his lips at the thought of Bokuto talking about him to others. Every day, no less.
He composed himself after a second, set his napkin back down, and asked: “You know him through your club team, right?” It was another attempt for Keiji to divert the conversation away from his own relationship with Bokuto.
“Oh, yeah! I joined late last season and he taught me this really cool feint technique.” Hinata paused, then cocked his head. “Why don’t you play anymore, Akaashi? Whenever Bokuto-san hits the ball into the net, he always tells Atsumu-san that you would have made sure he got it over. You must be really good for him to say that!”
Great, Keiji thought to himself. So there’s no getting out of this.
“Bokuto-san and I played on the same team in high school, but I told him from the start that volleyball was just something I enjoyed doing in my spare time. I was content to stop after three years. I don’t think I could keep up with a college league.”
“Maybe you could come to practice?”
“I don’t think I have the ti—”
“Just one practice!” Hinata interrupted. “Besides, I bet I could help you and Bokuto-san get together!”
Keiji folded his hands in his lap; he wouldn’t let his new roommate see the slight tremor in his fingertips. “That’s alright,” he managed. “I don’t think my relationship with him will ever be anything more than friendship.”
“Well, do you want it to be more than friendship?”
Ah, so I’ve finally met my match, Keiji thought to himself. Hinata was quickly proving to be someone whose emotional intelligence was a match for his own. It was a terribly inconvenient thing to have someone living in his spare bedroom who could read Keiji the same way he often read others.
“I don’t want to pursue anything that he doesn’t,” Keiji said eventually. It was a hard truth, nothing for him to be sad over. He wouldn’t forgo years of steady friendship because of his own selfish thoughts. That would be utterly presumptuous of him.
Hinata gave a “Hmm” in response before changing subjects to ask about the kinds of classes Keiji was taking and what his plans for the future were. It was a good strategy—a great one, in fact. The same strategy Keiji had used on Hinata earlier that day.
Neither of them mentioned Bokuto for the rest of the evening.
📦
day five—
Sharing an apartment with Hinata proved to be a challenge.
For one, he never stopped talking. Even if he was content not to talk about Bokuto, Hinata found everything else to discuss: Keiji’s favorite food, the weather, what “that jerk Kageyama said to me today.” Everything.
Keiji was grateful that his new roommate was personable and easygoing, but there came a time when he missed the silence he’d lived in for two months. And even when there had been another occupant living down the hall, his old roommate hadn’t been so loud. It would take some getting used to—rooming with Hinata, that is.
Keiji’s longings for silence usually came at night, after dinner but before he went to take a shower. He’d explained to Hinata that he called those three or four—sometimes five or six—hours his designated “homework time.” It was the time of day Keiji had built into his schedule to work on his assignments. The time of day where he would slip into a pair of sweatpants and a shirt with a ridiculous saying on it, make a cup of tea, and retreat to the desk in his bedroom.
His longings were exacerbated a little less than a week after Hinata had moved in, though Keiji blamed himself—not his roommate—for letting those longings reach their pinnacle. His mistake that night was the simple fact that he’d left the door to his room ajar: an old habit he’d developed from living alone. Really, he should have known better.
He should have elected to work on class readings and a paper outline from one of the campus library’s silent floors, but he had gotten so used to having a quiet, comfortable space to work in that his trips to the library were more infrequent than they used to be. He should have known better.
His peace was interrupted midway through a reading about symbolism in Kazuo Ishiguro’s An Artist of the Floating World. Keiji had been nearing the end of the article when he heard his name called from the other side of his bedroom door.
“Hey, Akaashi!” came Hinata’s voice. His roommate didn’t enter the room, but he pushed the door open just enough to stick his head through. “I don’t want to disturb you, but—”
“Come in,” Keiji said. He set down the pen he’d been using to annotate with before turning to face his roommate.
Hinata opened the door the rest of the way and stepped inside, a frantic expression wearing on his face. “You seem like a smart person, Akaashi. Do you know anything about aerospace engineering?”
“What about it?”
“Well,” Hinata said, moving to sit at the edge of Keiji’s bed. “I needed a science credit so I ended up in this intro course…but I’m in way over my head because I didn’t realize how much math would be involved. I’m pretty bad at math. Do you know anything about this?” He held up what looked like a worksheet.
Keiji turned his body toward Hinata before leaning forward to inspect the paper in his hands. It was familiar, the same one he’d been handed two years ago—back when he was in his first year and his best friend had announced that he was going to declare his major in aerospace engineering. Because Bokuto Koutarou wanted to be a rocket scientist, or something of the sort.
He’d asked Keiji for help with the same worksheet his roommate was now handing over for him to get a better look at.
“I’m not good with math,” Keiji admitted to Hinata, the same as he’d told Bokuto two years ago. “But I can try to help.”
He turned back around and set the paper on the desk, reading over the directions with care. He hadn’t taken a math or science course since his first year—when he had quickly tried to get any and all general education requirements out of the way—and his memory was spotty when it came to solving equations. Still, that need to aid others meant Keiji was prepared to do what he could to help Hinata with the assignment.
“Do you have a textbook?” Keiji asked after a moment. He kept his eyes on the worksheet instead of his roommate when he said it.
“Oh...wait!” Hinata jumped from the bed and came to join Keiji at the desk. He hovered at an uncomfortably close distance. “I don’t have my textbook yet, but Bokuto-san was going to lend me his old one. I bet he could help! Do you mind if I call him to come over?”
Oh no.
Keiji kept his expression neutral when he turned to face Hinata. “I don’t mind,” he said.
Of course he minded, but he tried to reason with himself that having Bokuto in the apartment to help Hinata with his assignment meant that Keiji could return to his own. Undisturbed.
He should have known better.
It took little time for Bokuto to arrive, and he quickly made his presence known. To Keiji’s displeasure, though, Bokuto’s presence was made known most fully in his bedroom. After letting him in, Hinata had taken Bokuto straight to Keiji’s room instead of the dining table, or even Hinata’s own room.
“Ha!” Bokuto said by way of greeting. “I can help Hinata with something you can’t, Akaashi.”
“It makes sense, Bokuto-san,” Keiji responded dryly, giving his attention to Bokuto. “I’m not supposed to be the rocket scientist here.”
“Yeah, but you’re good at everything else,” Hinata chimed in. “Besides, you’re the one who reminded me about the textbook. I probably would have forgotten all about it if you didn’t mention it.”
Right, came Keiji’s unspoken response.
Anything he wanted to say aloud, though, was interrupted by Bokuto beginning to engage Hinata in a conversation that had nothing to do with studying. He tried to tune the two of them out, turning back to his reading in vain. It took less than thirty seconds for his attention to be pulled away from Kazuo Ishiguro once more.
“I’m hungry.” He heard Bokuto complain. “Oi, Hinata, we can’t work on an empty stomach.”
Good, Keiji thought to himself. They’re leaving.
“Akaashi! Bokuto-san and are going to get something to eat, you should come with us.”
Slowly, Keiji turned back around. He was met by a sight that caused his shoulders to straighten and his lips to tighten. Bokuto and Hinata were sprawled across his bed, an unopened textbook between them.
“No thank you,” Keiji said. “I would also appreciate it if you could study elsewhere. I have a lot of assignments to get through, and—”
“Akaash’ come on!” Bokuto rolled himself off the bed and came to stand beside the desk. “I’ll pay.”
Keiji couldn’t help but laugh: Bokuto never offered to pay. “Is that so, Bokuto-san?”
“Shut up!” The other man teased. “Besides, hanging out with me and Hinata is better than reading some boring article about a book no one cares about, right?”
“Ishiguro is one of the most celebrated contemporary authors, Bokuto-san. He’s not boring.”
Bokuto looked like he wanted to give a counter argument, but Hinata stepped in to say, “I’ve bothered you enough today, Akaashi. Come on, Bokuto-san!”
“This isn’t over, Akaash’.”
“Whatever you say, Bokuto-san,” Keiji quipped.
He watched Hinata and Bokuto make their way to the door, giving them a final wave once they passed through the threshold and began their walk to the genkan. In the quiet, Keiji was left to ruminate on all that had just happened and all that was likely to come when the pair returned.
He contemplated going to the library to study, but he knew that would mean having to change out of his sweatpants and shirt with a dog on it—his favorite shirt. Below the image of the animal, the caption read: Coconut says ‘Hi!’. Keiji had found the shirt at the thrift store and treasured it as if Coconut the Dog were his own. He didn’t want to part with Coconut tonight—he was too comfortable.
He also knew that a trip to the library would be useless because Bokuto and Hinata would find their way back to him no matter where he sat, bringing their nonsense into an otherwise silent space when they did.
So Keiji remained at his desk, took a sip of his lukewarm tea, and turned back to his article. He would soak up every second of silence offered to him, knowing those moments were precious—but fleeting—things.
To his surprise, when he heard the door open several hours later, there was only one set of footsteps that approached his room, not two. Only one voice greeted him: Hinata’s.
“Hey, Akaashi!” Hinata said, giving a knock on the door that had been left ajar. “Sorry about the noise earlier. Bokuto-san and I ended up going to his place to study. I also brought you back some mochi. It’s been sitting out for a while, but should still taste okay!”
“Thank you,” Keiji responded. He gestured for Hinata to join him in the room. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, and don’t worry about earlier.”
“You sure?” Hinata set the bag containing the mochi on an empty corner of the desk. “I just want to be the best possible roommate.”
Keiji nodded. Really, things hadn’t been that bad with Bokuto in the apartment. They could have been worse. Keiji had the tendency, though, to catastrophize when the slightest thing upset the routine he’d carefully carved out for himself. He should have planned for a scenario in which his homework time was disturbed by his roommate, and he really should have planned for a scenario in which his homework time was disturbed by Bokuto Koutarou.
He should have known better.
“In the future,” Keiji said after a moment, “I would prefer it if you didn’t do your homework in my room.”
“You got it, Akaashi. I’ll let you get back to your work.”
Hinata parted with a final goodbye, leaving Keiji to pour over his assignments with a cup of cold tea and less-than-fresh mochi. A typical university night.
📦
day seven—
It took one week for the first major problem to arise.
The incident: dirty dishes.
Keiji had quickly picked up on Hinata’s tendency to leave half-full cups wherever he went. On the table, next to the sink, in the sink. Keiji had even found one in the shower. He told himself to ignore Hinata’s habit at first, operating under the assumption that his roommate would clear the cups from the shower and the sink by the time Keiji next used one of the appliances.
He was wrong.
The cup that was in the shower on Monday night was still there on Tuesday, and the cups remaining next to and in the sink hadn’t been cleared out when Keiji had gone to wash his own dishes on Wednesday. Not wanting the mess to grow, Keiji cleaned up Hinata’s cups and washed them alongside his own. It was common courtesy (mixed with a need to maintain order).
He figured that it would be a one-time thing, cleaning up after his roommate. The second time he found a cup filled with coffee in the shower, though, Keiji built “lecturing your roommate about his cups” into his already busy schedule.
“Hinata,” Keiji said once his roommate had returned home from practice that night. He was waiting for him near the entryway. “Can I talk to you about something?”
Hinata looked startled. “Oh, sure. Did I do something wrong?”
There was no point in lying, which was why he said “Please clean up your cups” in a matter-of-fact tone. He probably came off harsher than he’d intended—something he felt bad about.
“My…” Hinata began, voice trailing off until he gave a boisterous, “Shit! My cups! I completely forgot about them.” His startled expression became one of horror, likely in response to his realization that he had, for the last week, been leaving cups wherever he went. “You probably think I’m the worst.”
Keiji waved him off. “I just want us both to be mindful of the fact that we’re sharing a space. I also want to know why you drink coffee in the shower.” The second statement was more of a curiosity than it was a criticism of Hinata’s habits.
“Oh, that’s because I keep missing my first alarm. Instead of running even later than usual because I need to shower and drink my coffee, I just drink it while I shower! I heard Atsumu-san talking about doing that to save time, and it seemed like a good idea, so I started doing it, too! I won’t leave my cups in there anymore, though. I swear.”
He realized he couldn’t fault Hinata for his logic—or Miya Atsumu’s logic, rather—because there had been a time last semester when Keiji had brought a beer with him into the shower. It had been midway through finals, and Keiji had needed to feel something again. Instead of joining his friends at a bar, or even going to one alone, he’d allowed himself as long as it would take for him to shower to finish his drink. Then he went back to work as if nothing had happened.
He’d written a paper that night in his post-shower buzz, one he’d earned top marks for.
So really, he couldn’t fault Hinata for what he did in the shower. Keiji just hoped his roommate would clean up after himself in the future. He was certain a few cups wouldn’t be the only issue that arose between the two of them, which was why he wanted to mitigate one problem before another inevitably arose.
He and Hinata were adults, and they would settle matters as such. At least, that was his hope.
📦
day seventeen—
Keiji’s problems were exacerbated just over two weeks after Hinata had moved in. It was a Saturday night, and Hinata had invited over company. Unannounced. That simple fact—inviting someone over without consulting your roommate—was bad enough in Keiji’s opinion. The exacerbation of his problems, though, came about because Hinata had only invited over a single guest.
From down the hall, a familiar voice came: “Hey! Hey! Hey!”
Keiji had been in his room, working on an assignment at 8:42 on a Saturday night like the scholar (or recluse) he was, when he heard the call.
Fuck.
Next thing he knew, Hinata and Bokuto were standing in his doorway wearing mirrored expressions. They looked like teacher and student; master and pupil. Two pains in Keiji’s ass.
“Akaash’ come on,” Bokuto said as he took a step into the room. “Don’t be boring.”
“This isn’t boring, Bokuto-san.” Keiji turned back to his reading and skimmed the next few lines. “It’s an article about how politics shape literature in times of war.”
“Not this again! I’m falling asleep over here!”
“We’re going to watch a movie, if you want to join us,” Hinata offered. “Bokuto-san said you really like the Spider-Man movies, and I’ve never seen them, so I thought it’d be fun to watch as a group.”
Of course he did, Keiji thought. He kept his eyes on his paper. Aloud, he said, “I really need to finish this assignment, but I’ll stop by later.”
“You better, or I’m busting down your door!” Bokuto said with a hearty laugh. “Hinata will help me do it.”
“Then you can pay for the damages,” Keiji shot back. There was no malice in his voice, though; just the usual sarcasm he reserved for Bokuto. It was his way of flirting without admitting that it was flirting—because he was certainly not in a position to be flirting with his best friend. Or something like that.
“Akaashi, please!” Bokuto tried a final time before he and Hinata were ushered out of the room by a dismissive wave of Keiji’s hand.
It took exactly five minutes for him to abandon his assignments in favor of joining Hinata and Bokuto in the living room. He was strategic about his arrival, though. The television was on loud enough that the other two didn’t hear him slip out of his room, nor did they notice him making his way to the kitchen to place a plate in the small, free-standing dishwasher that sat on the counter. His slippered feet were cautious as they crept toward the living room.
Like everything else about the apartment, the living room was small. There was enough space for a TV that rested on a close-to-the-ground stand, a coffee table with several cushions scattered around it, and a single white sofa. Bokuto was spread across the sofa; Hinata was spread across the floor with his arms curled around one of the cushions.
Keiji was prepared to join Hinata on the floor when he was stopped by Bokuto, the first to notice he’d arrived.
“Ready to not be boring, Akaashi?” he asked.
In the dark, Keiji watched Bokuto sit up and gesture for him to join him on the couch. Keiji obliged, but was sure to keep distance between them. As much space as possible on a sofa meant for two.
He should have known better.
He tried to settle into himself, tried to focus on Tobey Maguire’s Spider-Man instead of the man beside him who had just adjusted his position so that their thighs brushed.
Whatever, Keiji told himself. Bokuto’s always been comfortable with touch; it’s just how he is.
It’s just a thing friends do.
He turned his attention back to the screen, gave a yawn, and ignored the string of comments Hinata and Bokuto made as the movie progressed. The feeling was comfortable, amicable even. Keiji liked spending time with them.
That was before his night took a turn.
(Whether it was for better or for worse, though, Keiji wasn’t sure.)
He didn’t know when exactly it happened, but it must have been around the movie’s halfway point when he felt his eyelids droop. His yawns began to come with more frequency. He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but when Keiji woke, he realized he had a problem.
A major problem—several major problems, in fact.
The first thing that indicated something was wrong was the image on screen. Spider-Man was fighting Doctor Octopus, not the Green Goblin. They were watching Spider-Man 2, which meant he had been asleep for well over an hour. That was bad enough.
His problems grew worse when two additional realizations dawned on him: his head was resting on Bokuto’s shoulder, and Hinata was no longer in the living room.
Keiji carefully lifted his head from where he’d nestled it against his friend. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself—no more attention than he’d already drawn by falling asleep on Bokuto.
“You finally awake?” Bokuto asked. He paused the movie mid-battle. “You missed all the best parts.”
Shit. So there would be no ignoring the problem.
“Sorry,” Keiji said. “Where’s Hinata?”
“I think he went to his room.” Bokuto was nonchalant when he said it, as if there was nothing off about Hinata going to his room when the whole reason movie night had been called was because he was the one who hadn’t seen Spider-Man.
Keiji stood up and stretched out his arms before asking, “Should I go get him? We can restart the movie, if you’d like?” He didn’t know why he’d suggested it to Bokuto; Keiji knew he was going to get Hinata. Until he could reflect on and assess what was happening, he wanted his roommate there. He needed the easy conversations Hinata provided, and none of the awkward ones he feared would come between Bokuto and himself if left alone.
This is not the time to be selfish.
“Akaashi—” Bokuto began, but Keiji didn’t give him the chance to finish, already taking off down the hall toward Hinata’s room. He wondered if Bokuto could hear the beat of his heart amid the growing silence.
I just fell asleep on him, came Keiji’s unspoken thoughts as he knocked on his roommate’s door. And he let me stay like that? He tried to tell himself that it was something friends did, because really, it was. But Keiji couldn’t shake the knowledge that, in all their years of friendship, neither of them had ever done something like that before.
He didn’t know what it meant, if it meant anything at all. Keiji didn’t have time to think on it, though; his self-reflection ended when his roommate opened the door.
“Oh, uh, hey Akaashi.” Hinata seemed shocked to see him standing there, a reaction that Keiji classified as another unusual sight needing to be added to the growing list of peculiarities from the night. “Did Bokuto-san go home?”
“No, he’s still here.” Keiji nodded in the direction of the living room where Bokuto remained seated on the couch, yet to resume the movie. “Sorry I fell asleep. We can restart the movie, if you’d like?”
“That’s okay! I figured you and Bokuto-san wanted to spend some time alone anyway.”
Keiji cocked his head. “I thought…never mind.”
There was movement from the direction of the living room, and both Hinata and Keiji turned their heads to watch Bokuto walk toward them. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“I think movie night’s over, Bokuto-san,” Keiji said. “I should get back to my assignments.”
He didn’t miss the glance that passed between Hinata and Bokuto. It was a look that indicated something was not going as intended, another curious thing Keiji didn’t know how to respond to.
“It’s a Saturday night,” Hinata tried. “We haven’t gotten to hang out much as roommates, and I really want to see how Spider-Man 2 ends!”
Keiji sighed. “I need to start on a paper, I’m sorry.” He stepped around Bokuto and began toward his own room. “You two watch without me. I’ve seen it enough times as is.”
He slipped into his room without another word, ignoring the protests from the other two when he did. Keiji needed time to think, and he couldn’t do that from the living room. Not in a space where accidentally falling asleep on his best friend could once again become his reality.
Testing the boundaries of his friendship with Bokuto was not his priority. Falling asleep once brought forth a selfish longing; Keiji wouldn’t allow it to happen again.
He saw no point in acting on feelings that could ruin the present and jeopardize the future. So instead, he turned back to schoolwork and pretended like everything was fine—because it should have been.
📦
day thirty-five—
Things were different in the weeks following movie night. The problem, Keiji realized, was that he couldn’t figure out why they were different. It was a terrible predicament for a person like himself to be in, someone who needed to be aware of everything happening around him. Someone who needed to be in control.
Bokuto’s visits to the apartment were less frequent, and Hinata had begun spending more time away. Keiji didn’t mind the silence, but he was starting to wonder if he’d done something wrong. He hoped that if he’d managed to upset Bokuto—or even Hinata—that one of them would say something.
He refused to let things become weird between them just because he’d accidentally fallen asleep on Bokuto two weeks before, even if he’d been the one to make things weird in the moment.
Really, Keiji just wanted to figure himself out, and he decided that talking through his observations with his roommate would be the first step in his self-assessment.
He saw an opportunity when Hinata returned home from practice one night. Keiji had been waiting on the sofa for him, mentally going over everything he wanted to say in the thirty minutes he’d been sitting there. In that time, he’d managed to prepare for several different scenarios.
“Hinata,” he called. “Did your serve accuracy improve?” Keiji knew his roommate had been working on spot serving, and figured it would be the best way to ease into a conversation.
“Oh…uh, yeah,” Hinata responded. He set his bag down and joined Keiji on the sofa. They kept as much distance as they could manage between them. “I still need to get a lot better, though, and Bokuto-san offered to help me again tonight…so I should get going…again…”
His roommate’s babblings were the first indication that something was, in fact, wrong. Hinata was known for being talkative, but he wasn’t known for tripping over his words in the manner that he presently was. He wasn’t known for lying so outwardly.
“You don’t have to lie to me,” Keiji told him. ”I’m not asking you to spend time with me, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just wanted to make sure everything’s going well.”
This caused Hinata to pause, mouth opening and closing once before he settled on something to say. “I’m not lying, Akaashi! Bokuto-san has been helping me with my serving.”
“Then what’s bothering you?”
“It’s kind of a secret…”
A secret? He hadn’t prepared for that.
The conversation was not going the way Keiji had intended for it to go; if anything, he was making things worse. His need to help others was backfiring, and he didn’t know why. Perhaps he and Hinata were playing the same mental game, each trying to be receptive to the other’s emotions without revealing their own. It was a dangerous game for two roommates to play.
Keiji decided to let Hinata win the day’s round.
“Okay,” he said after a moment. “I don’t want to keep you.”
Hinata stood up. “I promise to tell you everything soon...just not right now.”
“Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to tell me.”
“Oh, uh…”
Keiji gave a sigh. “I don’t want you to think I’m forcing you into anything.” I just want to help.
They regarded one another. Keiji took note of the way Hinata bit his lip, as if the secrets would spill from him if he left room for his lips to part. He seemed wired in a way Keiji hadn’t seen before, reduced to silence for the first time since he’d moved in.
Keiji didn’t like it, but he told himself not to pry. When Hinata was ready, he would share what was troubling him. At least that was his hope.
The two remained in an uncomfortable silence until Hinata announced his departure. He gave a chipper goodbye and reached for his bag before beginning back toward the door. His words were cheerful, but Keiji sensed uneasiness still looming below the surface.
Things had somehow grown worse between them after Keiji’s attempt at conversation, something he had little appreciation for. He told himself to push their interaction aside, but the words they’d exchanged replayed in his mind even after he’d left the sofa and went back to his room.
I only meant to help, Keiji thought to himself as he opened up his laptop and set to work gathering articles for an upcoming paper. I still want to help.
It didn’t take long for him to close his laptop in frustration and retreat to his bed. He needed a plan.
If Hinata came back to the apartment that night, he did so undetected by Keiji, who spent the rest of his night in his room trying to figure out what went wrong.
📦
day thirty-six—
When Keiji returned from his classes the day after his ill-fated talk with Hinata, he found his roommate sitting at the dining table with a nervous expression on his face.
Weird, Keiji thought. Hinata never came home before him.
“Akaashi!” His roommate greeted. “Do you have a second?”
“Sure.” He made his way over to the table and took a seat in the chair opposite Hinata. “Everything okay?”
He wouldn’t let the previous day’s awkwardness affect him, not if he had an opportunity to patch things up. Not if he had an opportunity to help Hinata with whatever was bothering him.
Hinata nodded. “Great, actually! I just wanted to make sure things were okay between us after yesterday. I ended up staying the night at Bokuto-san’s place...not because you did anything wrong! I just, well...I still can’t tell you.”
Oh.
“Hinata,” Keiji said. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I just wanted to help, that’s all.”
“Help?” His roommate asked, cocking his head. “Help with what?”
It was Keiji’s turn to tilt his own head, confusion wearing on his face. “I assumed…” He stopped. He wasn’t sure what he had assumed, just that something was bothering Hinata. Maybe he assumed that it was his responsibility to fix his roommate’s problems before he even knew what they were—before he even knew if he was qualified to help.
Typical Keiji.
“I appreciate your help, Akaashi,” Hinata filled in the silence with. “But you’re not responsible for everyone.”
Keiji felt himself sitting straighter. He knew what Hinata was saying was true, but it was never something he’d let himself believe. Keiji hadn’t known a point in his life when he hadn’t felt responsible for someone else. Even as a child, he would offer to help his teacher clean up at the end of the day, or would give the treat in his bento to one of his classmates if they looked like they were in need of it. Anything he could do to see others at their best.
He never stopped to consider what he was sacrificing in the process.
“Can I ask you a question, Akaashi?” Hinata asked when Keiji didn’t respond to his previous statement.
Keiji nodded.
“You don’t have to answer, but do you like Bokuto-san? Not in a ‘just friends’ way, I mean.”
He wasn’t sure what the question had to do with anything they had been previously discussing, but Keiji gave a nod. “Yes,” was all he said. A single word that spoke for everything he felt when he saw Bokuto—when he thought about the man he called his best friend.
After a moment’s pause, he added, “But I don’t want to pursue anything he doesn’t. He’s my best friend, and I’m fine with that.” It was the same as he’d told Hinata when his roommate had first moved in.
“But if Bokuto-san wanted to pursue something...would you let him?”
“I would.” He saw no point in lying.
Hinata stood up suddenly. “Well! I’ve got to get back to practice,” he said. “Don’t want to keep Bokuto-san waiting… See you later, roomie!”
Well, Keiji thought to himself. At least things are better between us.
He would think on everything else later.
📦
day thirty-seven—
The following night, Keiji was sitting on the couch thumbing through a novel for class when he heard two things at once: the sound of his phone vibrating on the coffee table, and a knock at the door.
He reached for his phone first, mouth falling open when he read the single message waiting for him:
Hinata Shoyo [9:25 pm]: It’s okay to ask for help sometimes, roomie 😁
Another knock at the door startled him.
He decided he would respond to Hinata later, body now drawn toward the source of the second noise. Keiji set down his book and his phone before beginning the walk through the apartment. With cautious movements he unlocked and opened the door.
Oh.
There, standing before him in a suit jacket and a tie that looked suspiciously like the one he used to wear at Fukurodani, was Bokuto. He held a bag of take-out in his hand.
“I brought you dinner,” Bokuto announced. “And before you say anything, this is a date. I’m taking you on a date. Right here in your apartment, because I like you. More than friends like each other.”
A small smile began to work its way across Keiji’s lips. “Come in,” he said. Then, in a display of sudden boldness, he added, “Because I like you, too. More than friends like each other.”
For once in his life, Akaashi Keiji allowed himself a night to be selfish.
(He knew he would have to thank Hinata later.)
📦
day thirty-eight—
“Whaddya mean you can’t make pancakes, Ji? Everyone can make a pancake!”
Keiji rolled his eyes at the man standing in the too-small kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that had been pulled from the depths of Keiji’s drawer. A pair of sweatpants his boyfriend—because that’s what Bokuto Koutarou was to him now, apparently—had left in his apartment months ago. An item of clothing Keiji had never worn, but one he had never returned either.
(So maybe he was more selfish than he thought.)
“If you’re so confident in your abilities, why don’t you cook for me, Kou?”
At this, his boyfriend straightened. A wild smirk began to spread itself across his face and he gave a laugh before saying, “Challenge accepted.”
Their attempts at cooking breakfast were interrupted when the front door opened and Hinata announced his presence.
“Oi, Hinata,” Koutarou called. His face broke out in a grin. “Our plan worked!”
“Whoooaaa!!” came Hinata’s response.
Thus began the long-winded story about how, for weeks, an intricate plan had been coming together for Koutarou to ask Keiji out. Every evening Hinata had spent away, every awkward glance between the two, had been part of the plan. Things were properly set into motion only when Keiji had admitted to Hinata that he would accept Koutarou’s feelings if they were presented to him. Apparently the two hadn’t expected Keiji to disclose such a thing to Hinata so quickly. The timeline they’d built anticipated that happening three months from now.
It seemed, though, that everyone was glad the timeline could be discarded—especially Koutarou, who had been waiting for the right moment since high school. Because apparently, for as long as Keiji had liked him, Koutarou had felt the same. He just hadn’t acted on anything until he knew Keiji was ready.
“See, Ji,” his boyfriend said to him around a mouthful of pancake later that morning. The three of them sat at the table enjoying a breakfast prepared by Koutarou. “Good things come to selfish people.”
“Are you saying you’re ‘good things’?” Keiji challenged, pointing his fork at him.
Koutarou scoffed. “I’m great things.”
The sound of laughter filled the apartment, a joyous noise that would continue throughout the morning and well into the afternoon. Even when Hinata and Koutarou left for their Saturday practice, the air in the apartment remained amicable—something that let Keiji know that what he was doing was okay. That accepting help from others—that being selfish—wasn’t the worst thing someone could do.
He kind of liked the way selfishness felt.
That night, he sat with Hinata on the sofa. They were the only two in the apartment.
“Thank you,” Keiji said to him. “I needed the push.”
“I know,” his roommate responded with a smirk. “Now, come on! Do you wanna watch Spider-Man 2 with me?”
Sitting there, watching a movie with Hinata that he had seen countless times before, made Keiji realize something. The two of them weren’t the most compatible when it came to being roommates, but Keiji couldn’t deny that they made great friends.
He was grateful for the man who had stumbled into his life less than two months before, and for all the change this once-stranger had brought. Really good change.