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Friday was practically every student’s favorite day of the week. Once the last school bell rang, they were free to strip out of their starched uniform and do as they pleased. For Bokuto and Akaashi, Fridays entailed going to practice and sleeping in a bed other than their own.
Akaashi had been in Bokuto’s room when the spiker’s mother came in to warn that dinner was almost ready. In fear of bordering on intrusion, Akaashi stood to grab his umbrella and shoes but Bokuto pushed him back onto the bed, insisting that he would assert his “captain-ly authority” to make him stay. His formal addressing of his teammate made dinner confusing as he asked “Bokuto-san” for more rice and was met with three sets of hands trying to pass him the bowl of rice. The oldest Bokuto-san, Koutarou’s dad, was structurally a mirror image of his son minus a few centimeters of height and several kilos of muscle while his mother shared the same golden eyes and silver hair. Once dinner concluded, he tried again to leave before encroaching further on the plethora of Bokuto-sans but was cut off again by Bokuto Koutarou, this time standing firmly in the doorway and lecturing about how it was dangerous to walk home in the pouring rain when it was this dark. Koutarou then proposed what he claimed to be the only solution, Akaashi sleeping over.
The next time it happened was a complete accident. They had been sitting on the Akaashi family couch watching some movie Kuroo had suggested to Bokuto. An exhausting game earlier in the day and hot showers drained most of their energy, though Bokuto’s natural speaking voice was still booming enough to startle Akaashi’s parents at dinner. Wrapped in a shared blanket, Bokuto fell asleep on Akaashi’s shoulder and before he could protest, Akaashi’s head dropped on top of Bokuto’s. Since then, they alternated sleeping over at each other’s homes. Bokuto’s parents quickly warmed up to Akaashi and his reserved yet genuine disposition. He sensed that he was a welcome presence that successfully balanced the zeal with which Koutarou did everything. Akaashi shielded Bokuto from his parents as much as possible, their quantitative minds overwhelmed and possibly disgusted with the abstract way in which Bokuto described games and school.
Tonight, it was Akaashi’s turn to host.
“Hey, Akaashi. You know what I think?” Akaashi dimmed the lights until they shut completely off.
“What, Bokuto-san?” He turned back to the two futons on the floor that had been pushed together by Bokuto. Bokuto had been doing it every time he stayed over for the past few months and Akaashi questioned himself why he bothered setting them up apart. He placed himself on the unoccupied futon.
“I think you’re gonna be a great captain,” Bokuto declared. Moonlight streamed in from the window, illuminating the room in a cool glow just enough for Akaashi to make out Bokuto sitting cross-legged and bouncing, his hair ungelled.
“Hm?”
“Next year, I wish I could be there to see you be a captain. I bet you’re gonna be the best captain ever. I know you will be. You’re so collected and calculating. Maybe calculating is a bad word. At least it sounds bad. Not calculating like scheming but— never mind, you get what I mean.”
“Strategic?” Akaashi suggested.
“Yes! Strategic! That!” Bokuto rocked himself backward, keeping his legs folded together so his body formed an uncomfortable-looking right angle. He didn’t make any effort to erect himself, instead, letting his amber eyes fixate on no particular point on the cream-colored ceiling as silence fell over them. Akaashi repositioned himself so his legs too were crossed. There was another beat of stillness from Bokuto.
“Hey, Akaashi?”
“Yes, Bokuto-san.” He should have sounded annoyed but a late-night lethargy relinquished any bite in his voice.
Bokuto lifted his head.
“Are you gonna miss me when I graduate?”
Akaashi fought to maintain his austere expression and looked down the bridge of his nose at his friend. The knowledge of Bokuto’s departure from their small high school had been occupying his mind since the moment he had introduced himself in Akaashi’s first year. At first, he tried to keep him at arm’s length to avoid such conversation, but Bokuto forced his way into Akaashi’s life. For the past few months, he had been proofreading all of Bokuto’s college essays, preparing him for entrance exams, and even tagging along on college tours at universities nearby. (He had seen the second oldest Bokuto-san cry about missing her baby a few too many times than he would like to admit.) Separation was inevitable and it would be foolish to entertain any idea otherwise.
“Do you think I will?” he proposed back. Bokuto pondered the idea of a moment and propped himself up on his forearm.
“Well, I know I’m gonna miss you loads,” he began, pushing himself up to face his setter. The moment their eyes met, Bokuto deflated. “But you’re gonna be here, thinking about where you’re going to college, which means you’ll be super focused on grades and taking all the entrance exams. And you’re going to be on the volleyball team and be the captain which is going to take up a lot of your time. What if you’re too distracted doing other things to think about me? ”
“That’s what you think?” Akaashi felt a cloud drift over Bokuto, engulfing him in a grey weight. It wasn’t uncommon at this point, just a temporary funk that one successful spike or a few words of encouragement could pull him out of. But this was different. It lacked the dramatic, borderline superficial seeming, flair, replacing it with a tinge of sourness. Of authenticity. Of fear.
“I’m not worth all that time. You should be focusing on your studies and stuff. Ugh, I’m selfish for even asking the question in the first place.” Bokuto pulled at his hair and scrunched his face. “Damn it. You’re gonna do great without me and my stupid moods. I just hope I can find someone as good as you at, well everything. Your sets are always in the right spot. You’re so smart. And all your onigiris are the right shape and all even.”
“I don’t think I’m the only person in Japan that can set well and make onigiri.”
“But I’ll have to find that person. I won’t have you down the road to go get mochi with late at night but it turned out the mochi shop was closed so we just got those dorayaki with the whipped cream at Lawson. Or to throw me tosses for hours after practice. Or help me study for math tests that are way too hard and useless for the real world. Or—” Akaashi put a hand on top of Bokuto’s.
“Bokuto-san, I’m not dying after you graduate. You can always call me if you need anything.” Bokuto’s wide-eyed stare filled with tears. Though impossible to see in the moonlit room, Bokuto’s cheeks burned red and hot enough that Akaashi could feel the heat.
“But everyone says that. They always say that they’ll stay in touch. ‘Oh I’ll call you’ or but they never do. ‘Just text me’ but if you text them and they never reply. And if you do that to me, I’ll be completely lost. I’ll be in a new place with no one and nothing. And I’d miss you so much.” His words trailed into a series of pained sobs. He wheezed and rubbed at his eyes, trying to form another apology or explanation. Akaashi scooted closer and pulled Bokuto towards him. Tears soaked into the fabric on his shoulder. Bokuto’s size made him difficult to hold at such an unnatural angle but it would have taken an army to pry him off Akaashi, despite how violently he was shaking. Akaashi looked down at him. He had seen Bokuto sad, angry, happy, stressed, nervous, but this was new. He was scared. His arms were wrapped in a firm grip around Akaashi’s shoulders. Akaashi snaked his arms around Bokuto’s chest and ran his hands up and down the length of his back, occasionally rubbing small circles as he did so.
“I thought you knew me better than that.” Bokuto tilted his head in a lame attempt to look at his friend but he was met with a face full of ebony curls. Akaashi placed a hand on the back of Bokuto’s head and momentarily ran his fingers across his scalp.“Being at different schools won’t prevent us from being friends.” Bokuto grabbed at Akaashi’s shirt.
“But I don’t want to be at different schools,” he sobbed, tightening his grip around Akaashi’s shoulders.
“I know but you have to move forward with your life. You’re gonna be the best volleyball player the world has ever seen and you can’t do that if you’re stuck here. I’m not good enough to play professionally, but you are. You’re going to do great things.” Akaashi felt Bokuto shift but pressed his hand into a knot on the spiker’s trap before he could form another tearful rebuttal.
“And it’s impossible to ignore you. I’m going to respond if you text me. I need to talk to you just as much as you need to talk to me. How often do you see me talking to people in my grade? Never. Because I’m always with you. Moreso, your ramblings about what I’m doing next year are ridiculous. I’ve heard all your hypotheticals before and this one has been the most inaccurate, and frankly the stupidest, one I’ve ever heard.”
“So what are you going to do when I’m gone?”
“You’re not going to be gone, Koutarou. You’re not leaving me. You’re just moving forward,” he asserted, desperation bubbling over in his voice. “When you’re in school, I will be here. I will go to school, I will go to practice. I will try to make it to nationals, which might be hard considering I haven’t heard great things about the incoming first years. I won’t be spending hours after practice tossing to you so I will go home on time and finish my homework.”
“What will you do with all your free time then?” Bokuto asked, his voice still raspy but steadier than before. A softness washed over the pair like sea foam. The question was innocent and genuine, asked out of childlike curiosity. Bokuto collapsed into Akaashi’s lap, filling the setter with a comforting warmth. The shaking had stopped. Akaashi paused before answering.
“I will probably study for entrance exams. I might read more. I might write more. Maybe even pick up a new hobby. I’m not entirely sure yet. One thing is for certain, I will FaceTime my best friend and listen to him talk about everything he did that day.”
“And what did your best friend do that day?” Akaashi ran his fingers through Bokuto’s hair and let out a low exhale.
“Hmm let’s see. He went to school that day and turned in an essay that I may or may not have proofread. The same professor assigned a new project and he was a little annoyed at the amount of writing a class that wasn’t even a Japanese literature class required from him. Otherwise, school was uneventful, but after school was very exciting. My best friend is a great volleyball player—” Bokuto pointed a finger into the air.
“The best volleyball player,” he corrected.
“My mistake, the best. So he is the best volleyball player so he won his game, naturally. Not a single one of his spikes were stopped by the blockers. They all hit the ground with a deafening smack and every time, it was absolute pandemonium. The crowd went wild,” Akaashi softly mimicked the roar of the crowd and fluttered his fingers down Bokuto’s arms. “And to celebrate, he and his teammates went out to yakiniku and he would get a little sad because the opposite hitter ate the last piece of karubi but it was fine because he got the last piece of short rib. After that, he went back to his dorm. There isn’t much in his dorm room. He has a desk that’s meant to look like oak, but there is no way that the college could afford that. On top of it, there are a few textbooks that he is definitely reading consistently, a navy blue pouch with all his pencils and pens and what-not, some notebooks and binders, and two framed photos.”
“What are the pictures of?” He looked down at Bokuto, who stared expectantly back up at him. Akaashi lay back down on his futon and pulled Bokuto with him. Bokuto pulled himself up and rested his head on Akaashi’s chest, wrapping his arms around the setter’s waist.
“One of them is a photo of his high school volleyball team that they took for the yearbook. It’s one of the outtakes that the yearbook staff didn’t use because they said he looked too unprofessional since he put his hand on my waist and the libero in the front row had the ball stolen from him. The second photo is of him and me when they went on a hike way too early in the morning but they got to see the sunrise. They were tired the rest of the day but it was okay.”
“He should really get more stuff for his dorm. Maybe a cute little plant or something.”
“Well he had a plant he got but he killed it a month into owning it, so I got him an owl plushie.” Bokuto frowned at his hypothetical dead plant but smiled at the stuffed owl that would be sitting on his bed.
“And you answer every call your best friend makes?”
“I try my best. Sometimes I can’t because I’m busy or asleep and I feel a little dimmer when that happens. I know it means a lot if I answer, even if we don’t talk and instead just silently study. The company is nice. I like seeing him after he showers because his hair isn’t spiked up in little horns. He puts way too much effort into spiking his hair up even though it looks just as nice down.”
“So do you miss him?”
“Of course I do. But I’ll be here when he comes home.”
“What happens when you graduate? Then you’ll both be away.”
“We will keep talking and then every time we come home, we will make the most of our time together.”
“I think your best friend would like that a lot.”
“Obviously, I want to see him in person but I know he loves me and he knows I love him no matter what so it makes it easier.”
“Akaashi,” Bokuto effused, burying his face further into Akaashi’s chest.
“Bokuto-san.” Bokuto squeezed him tighter and he squeezed back.
“Keiji.” He drew out the last syllable. It was foreign for anyone besides his parents to address him by his first name, but the word felt right in Bokuto’s voice, a little too loud but pure in its delivery.
“Koutarou.”
“You said my name,” Bokuto exclaimed, grabbing Akaashi’s cheeks so he could look him in the eyes. Akaashi rolled his eyes but leaned into Bokuto’s hands.
“Yes, I did. I also told you tha—”
“Oh yes, I love you, Keiji. I love you so so much.” Bokuto pressed his cheek into Akaashi’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck in a feeble attempt at a hug. Akaashi combed through the black and grey locks brushing against his neck. He exhaled and his whole body eased into Bokuto’s warmth.
“It’s getting late.”
“Aw man, can we sit like this for a few more minutes?”
“Only a few. I can’t stay awake for too much longer.”
“That’s okay. As long as you’re here.” Akaashi placed a chaste kiss on Bokuto’s forehead. Bokuto returned the affection by pecking the setter on the nose. It was cold and soft and Bokuto would do it a million more times if Akaashi hadn’t settled his chin on the top of his head. He compromised by intertwining their fingers. Akaashi would always be there in the morning.
It would be more than 150 days before Bokuto would officially leave for college but Akaashi was not inclined to start counting yet. All he knew is that he was going to leave on a Friday night. For now, he would make the most of the time he could spend with his best friend, the person he loved most in the world.