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“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said. “Can I sleep with you?"
Bokuto sleepily nods, draping a lazy arm over the blanket, gesturing Akaashi toward him. Akaashi settled in the covers next to him.
“You’re cold, Keiji.” Bokuto said. Akaashi just snuggled into Bokuto’s arms.
“Why do you call me that?” Akaashi asked. “‘Keiji’.”
“Do you not want me to?” Bokuto said. He pressed his face into the top of Akaashi’s head. Akaashi smelled like apples.
“It’s not that,” Akaashi said. “I’m just not used to it.”
“Well, get used to it,” Bokuto starts, he puts his hand on the small of Akaashi’s back, pushing them closer together. “When we get married—“
“We’re going to get married?” Akaashi asks, his body going rigid.
“Do you want to?” Bokuto asks timidly. “Get married, I mean.”
Both males go silent, neither moving, Bokuto stares at the wall as he attempts to calm down his breathing.
“Yeah.” Akaashi said. “I want to marry you.”