Work Text:
On the inside of Akaashi Keiji’s pointer finger on his right hand, there is a singular word in messy scrawl: pretty. Honestly, Keiji kind of hates it. It’s not like it’s a bad first impression for his soulmate to have of him; it’s just that since he was young enough to be considered pretty, that’s what he’s been labelled. Oh, that Keiji will surely get all the girls once he gets older, from all of the old ladies in his neighborhood; Akaashi-kun is so cute, whispered between girls in his grade; a never-ending barrage of people taking him at face value. So, Keiji tries to forget about the writing, hiding it for years behind athletic tape wrapped around his finger. By his first year of middle school, nobody except for his parents knew about his mark - though he saw them so little that they might have forgotten, too.
Keiji started volleyball when his father encouraged him to start a sport; he continued to play as an escape from the emptiness of his house, and tried to not be disappointed when his parent’s work stopped them from attending his matches. Eventually, he stopped looking for them in the stands.
Keiji is fourteen and the novelty of volleyball has worn off - honestly, he’s not even sure why he agreed to see the Fukurodani match - boredom, probably. But then, he appeared. A boy only a year older than Keiji but so, so much brighter. He’s a star, Keiji thinks. ( Later, he will define the boy more - odd, immature, determined, and a host of other adjectives. For now, though, the boy was a star.) (He is always a star. Keiji does not know yet.)
A few months later, Keiji is opening an acceptance letter from Fukurodani Academy, trying not to let his excitement show. (He does not succeed, but his parents are strangers to the small tells of teenage Keiji’s emotions.)
One month later, he is announcing himself as Akaashi Keiji, Setter in the Fukurodani Volleyball gym, and a minute after that, he meets the star.
“AGHASHI!! Set for me!” Keiji turns to see the boy with spiked black and white hair waving to him from across the gym.
“It’s Akaashi…” He trails off, realizing that he doesn’t actually know the name of the boy now bounding towards him.
“Sorry, Akaashi. I’m Bokuto Koutarou, ace of Fukurodani!” Bokuto halts right in front of Keiji, leaning forward so that his eyes (bright, bright ) are right in front of Keiji.
“Nice to meet you, Bokuto-san. I can set for you.” Bokuto whoops and sets off across the gym. Akaashi has no choice but to follow. (This will be a trend.)
—
The story goes like this: Bokuto and Keiji walk home together, exhausted from hours spent in the gym, packing in extra practice whenever they can.
The story goes like this: “Hey Akaashi, you’ve got manners, but you’re not polite.”
“Excuse me, Bokuto-san? You probably shouldn’t talk.”
“Well, see, like that - you’ve got the -san, though I’ve told you that Bokuto is fine, but also you’re all passive aggressive! Manners, but not polite.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Bokuto-san.”
“Nah, I like it about you.”
The story goes like this: they’re sitting in the park and Bokuto is teaching Keiji about all kinds of different owls, their friends running over to them with a volleyball in hand.
The story goes like this: somehow, Keiji finds himself at Bokuto’s or Konoha’s or Onaga’s or any other team member’s house more than his own. (It’s most likely Bokuto’s, though - the two of them, sometimes side by side and sometimes spread out in Bokuto’s room but still together.)
The story goes like this: six months into his first year of high school, Keiji wakes up and realizes that somewhere in between extra practice and study sessions and park visits, he’s fallen for Bokuto Koutarou. (It’s not at all sharp or intimidating because he has always been in love with Bokuto, from the moment he gazed upon a star.)
—
Keiji wonders about Bokuto’s soulmate. Really, he knows that it’s hypocritical to wonder about the words written under the bandage that Bokuto wears on the heel of his hand, but still. Keiji wonders. He tries to hide it, because it’s not his place, but Konoha catches him staring one day.
“Ah. Bokuto’s soulmate, right? One of the deepest secrets of Fukurodani.”
“Oh, Konoha-san, I wasn’t-”
“Nah, it’s okay, we’ve all wondered. The most common theory is that it’s actually something really mean - like, no doubt that Bokuto’s soulmate will love him, he’s a great guy, but his first impressions can be… well, you know how it is.” (Keiji does not know how it is. He does not say this.)
Keiji stops wondering after that, because if he wonders, he will start to imagine that he could be Bokuto’s soulmate. And he could never be - Bokuto, who is loud and moody but also so genuine. Bokuto, who leads not fearlessly but strongly, who cares so, so deeply and shines so bright. No, Keiji could never be Bokuto’s soulmate. (He still hopes before shutting the thought down and cramming it into a locked box.)
Bokuto Koutarou is a star and Akaashi Keiji is but a human, drawn in by gravity and destined to burn.
—
On the heel of Bokuto Koutarou’s right hand, there is a singular word in neat, sloping scrawl: star. Bokuto treasures it, because somewhere in the world, there is a person who thinks that he is a star.
Koutarou is in the second grade when he plays volleyball for the first time. He’s hooked instantly, and spends more and more time playing until he’s choosing middle schools by their teams. It’s in middle school that Koutarou learns about the stars in class; learns that because they burn so bright, they are all alone, surrounded only by space. (Koutarou practices extra hard that night, pretending not to notice that he is the last person in the gym. He stops by the convenience store on the way home, and gets a box of black bandages. He would prefer to not think about his soulmark right now.)
Koutarou stops trying to search out his soulmate once he reaches high school; they will come to him, he supposes. Plus, there’s nobody who he would wish to be with forever - until Akaashi Keiji. Akaashi, who steps into the Fukurodani gym and catches Koutarou’s eye forever. Akaashi, who is pretty, in looks but also in the way a painting hung in a museum is; Akaashi is unattainable in his grace and suddenly, Koutarou wants nothing more than to shine for him.
—
They get closer, close enough that despite the age and personality difference, Akaashi is Koutarou’s best friend. It’s a relationship built on late-night phone calls, trips to a convenience store after practice, Akaashi helping him with English homework during lunch. (“Hey, Akaashi, how are you so good at English?” “My father is a businessman and works with many international companies, Bokuto-san.” “That’s so cool, A-kaa-shii.” “I suppose it is.”)
They are close enough that Koutarou doesn’t notice it when he falls; he just knows that suddenly, Akaashi’s hand brushing his makes Koutarou’s heart flutter, that now, anybody else calling him Bokuto-san feels wrong. All Koutarou knows is that one day, he woke up and was in love with Akaashi, as if he’d been doing it all his life. (These thoughts are tamped down, because they sound like things that you would say about a soulmate. And Koutarou is not Akaashi’s soulmate, not in a million years would he be worthy of Akaashi.)
—
The match is one of the best they’ve played. Koutarou barely has a moody moment, and at the end of the final set he runs to Akaashi, picks him up, and spins him around.
“Akaashi! Akaashi, look!” It’s when they’re back at school, Koutarou and Akaashi last to leave, as usual, when Koutarou shows him. The small black business card with white writing and three gold claw marks across the bottom left corner: a business card from a MSBY Black Jackals scout.
“They scouted me! Akaashi, the Jackals are one of the best D1 teams-”
“That’s very nice, Bokuto-san.” That’s all Akaashi says before practically running away. Huh? That… wasn’t supposed to happen. Sure, Koutarou knew that Akaashi might get a little sad to be reminded that he was leaving by the end of the year, but - well, Akaashi could have been a little bit more cheery.
—
Keiji has royally fucked up. He knows this, but he can’t stop running, because running is the only thing keeping him from sitting down, crying, and never getting up again. He fucked up by falling for Bokuto, who he knew was going to leave, who could never be his soulmate, who- is sprinting towards him. Shit. Keiji tries to go faster, but Bokuto easily catches up. ( He has always done that, hasn’t he?)
“Akaashi! Ak- Keiji!” It’s the use of his first name that gets Keiji to stand stock still as Bokuto runs to him. “Keiji, I’m sorry, I just- why did you run from me?” His eyes are overflowing with hurt, and Keiji is weaker than he appears. Fuck it. Their relationship is already practically dead, so nothing Keiji says could make it worse.
“Bokuto-san, when I first met you, I thought you were a star. And I was selfish, and wanted to keep you for myself,” he starts, tears pricking at his eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought that I could- I don’t know. Stop time, stop something so that we could always be close. I’m sorry. Seeing you with that card, it just reminded me that you’re leaving… I’m sorry.” Keiji knows that he’s a mess, tears streaming down his face - but Bokuto doesn’t look much better.
“Akaashi- Akaashi, what did you say? The first part.”
“I- I said that you are a star.” Bokuto moves quickly then, tearing the bandage off of his hand and practically shoving it into Keiji’s face. It takes a moment for his tear-laden eyes to adjust, but oh. Written across the heel of Bokuto’s palm is a simple word: Star. Oh. It all clicks into place. The ease with which they became friends, the way that Keiji knew Bokuto like he knew no one else; they’re soulmates.
“Keiji - I’m calling you Keiji, if that’s alright - can I see your soulmark?” Keiji’s brain stops short circuiting just in time for him to pull his hand away.
“No, I don’t- Bokuto-san, I don’t like my soulmark,” he chokes out. “Wait, that came out wrong- I like you, Bokuto-san, it’s just the soulmark.”
“Keiji. It’s okay.” Bokuto is suddenly there; not in an oppressive way, but in a way that lets Keiji lean on him. ( It’s funny, because many people think that Keiji is always the one comforting Bokuto, and sure, he is, but it’s Bokuto’s support that lets him keep a cool head.)(He really should have realized the soulmate thing sooner.)
“…Okay, Bokuto-san. You can look.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Keiji is sure - sure because he knows that Bokuto wouldn’t push past his boundaries, has never pushed past what Keiji was comfortable with.
Bokuto slowly unwraps the athletic tape around Keiji’s finger. “Oh. Keiji, if you don’t mind… Why is it bad?” He sounds hurt, almost, and Keiji’s heart breaks just a little bit.
“People have always taken my looks first, I… I suppose that I hoped my soulmate would be different.”
“That’s not how I saw you, though.” It’s a simple statement riddled with confusion that has Keiji’s head jerking up. “Wait, no, that sounded like I’m insulting your looks-” Flustered, Bokuto cuts himself off as if Keiji wasn’t hanging on his every word. “Can I start again?” Keiji nods. ( He has always given in to Bokuto.)
“Okay. Keiji. Look- When I saw you, I didn’t think of you as pretty in the conventional way. I mean, you’re, like, so handsome, but that’s not what struck me. It’s like… You’re pretty in that way that a painting or a sunset is, yknow? Or, like - oh, like when you go to one of those fancy restaurants and they plate your food and it looks all nice and it’s pretty and even though you know it’s totally out of fashion you still take a picture and upload it to Instagram? Like that.” Bokuto looks up at him, and Keiji smiles so wide he thinks his face might break.
“Yes, Koutarou. Yes, I do know.” (Keiji has always known.)
——
“Wait, Keiji- If I’m a star, then what are you? We gotta come up with something cool!”
“That’s alright, Koutarou. I’m happy to just be an astronomer.”
“Keiji! Why’d you say just an astronomer? Don’t you know that it’s the astronomers who truly look at the stars? I mean, without them, the stars wouldn’t be known! What world would that be?”
“…I suppose that you’re right.”
“‘Course! I’m always right!”