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It wasn’t his best plan.
It probably wasn’t even in his top twenty best plans, and Bokuto was a man who prided himself on being able to formulate the best plays to score on the volleyball court.
Granted, this was different from spiking a ball or diving to dig it across the polished ground, or even receiving a brutal serve with his chest. During matches, Bokuto’s body was attuned to every shift in his field of vision, his mind racing, reading and discarding information in a split second
This felt more like … well, risking receiving the ball with his face. And making that decision deliberately.
“Yo,” said Kuroo, his Nekoma jacket tossed over dark pajamas, socked feet jammed in slippers. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, which he probably had considering the time.
Bokuto was, uncharacteristically, fidgeting. “H-hey hey heyy, bro! You made it!”
Kuroo glanced up at the dim window above their heads and back at Bokuto with a smug expression. “So what’s this? Have we skipped over confessing and gone straight to kidnapping the princess?”
“Kuroo!” hissed Bokuto. “I would never!”
His friend laughed carelessly, tucking his palms in his pocket to ward away the chill of early autumn. “Alright, what are we doing?”
“I need you to lift me up,” Bokuto jerked a thumb at the window over his shoulder, standing almost twice his height.
“Is this your true owlish nature rising to the surface? You wanna be an owl, Bo-chan?”
Bokuto’s nerves gave out a little. He smacked Kuroo’s arm. “Not cool, bro! I’m totally panicking over here.”
“Naaw you’ve got this. We all know Akaashi has a big, fat crush on you that you’re too blind to see,” Kuroo said as he crouched. “Come on, hop on lover boy.”
Bokuto released a shaky laugh, impressed as always by Kuroo’s steadfastness. He was truly a great friend. And thankfully a well-built one; Bokuto didn’t expect many people could lift him up but Kuroo managed it with minimal grunting and only sounded slightly out of breath when he rose to his full height.
“Whoa,” Bokuto clung to his hair for a perilous moment.
“You have approximately five minutes before my shoulders give out, make it count.”
Shit.
Bokuto sucked in one final breath and knocked over the curtained windowpane. Moments passed in silence, prompting him to knock again, harder.
He could hear shuffling now, and confused grumbles. The lamplight flared to life, and seconds later, the curtains were yanked open to reveal a sleepy, bedraggled Akaashi.
“Bokuto-san?” he said hoarsely, confused and disoriented, muffled behind the glass.
He pushed his window up, lucidity summoning worry to his features. “Are you okay? How are you—holy shit is that Kuroo-san?”
“Yo, Akaashi!” Kuroo tossed cheerfully. “Pretend I’m not here for a moment, Bo-chan’s got something to say to ya.”
Anxious blue eyes shifted between them, and finally settled on Bokuto. “Bokuto-san, it’s two a.m.”
So perhaps Bokuto should have done this at a more reasonable time, but it was too late to reformulate a plan.
“It’s important,” he said, and the honesty of it scraped uncomfortably against his throat. But Bokuto was never one to run away, and he won’t start now. “I’ve had an epiphany.”
“… I didn’t realise you were capable of those,” Akaashi said, somewhat dryly. “Or that you even knew what they were.”
Bokuto pouted. “I’m smart sometimes you know!”
“Three minutes, Bo-chan,” Kuroo reminded, sounding more strained now.
“Right, shit,” Bokuto said in a rush, looking Akaashi in the eyes. Maybe if they’d done this differently he would have had the time to appreciate the rare sweetness of Akaashi’s sleepy expression. “Akaashi. You know how volleyball is about that one moment that gets you hooked?”
Akaashi nodded slowly, confusion still present in his expression.
“I love volleyball,” Bokuto explained, and it was only then that he’d noticed how clammy his palms were. “I’ve had many moments, enough to know, to be sure. I’ve always known it’s what I want to do and … and …” he faltered. His heart was doing a funny thing. Bokuto wasn’t used to this squirmy feeling in his chest.
“And…?” Akaashi said, leaning closer, like he wanted to leech the answer out of Bokuto by the force of his will. Or maybe he could read his thoughts on his forehead.
“And … it got me thinking about what else I like,” he swallowed with some difficulty. It was now or never. “Akaashi… I realised that when I think of volleyball, I think of you. And when I think of you it—it hurts. Here.”
He pressed a palm to his chest. Even now, it tightened to the point of pain. “I think I know what it is now,” he added, quieter, and took in Akaashi’s bewildered expression. “It’s the same feeling I get before a big game, when I want to win so badly or when I want to hit the best spike. It means I want something really badly, that I like something enough to want it with everything I have and—and Akaashi what I’m trying to say—”
He could hardly breathe, and he could distinctly feel his thighs clamping down around Kuroo with anxiety. What a strange feeling, he could count on one hand the amount of times he felt like this; breathless, lightheaded, and terrified.
“I like you.” It came out as a whisper. “I like you a lot. I like you an absurd amount and it took this long to realise it because I think—I think on some level I’ve always liked you.”
Bokuto wilted slightly, Akaashi’s shock palpable, and his silence even more deafening than usual.
His five minutes were probably up, and Akaashi wasn’t responding, so that meant Bokuto had gravely miscalculated, and he was about to meet the pavement face first, a metaphorical ball to the face when he heard Akaashi’s shuddering exhale.
It thundered in his ears like his heartbeat and then—Bokuto gasped as a hand fisted his hair and yanked him closer.
Kuroo made a quiet ‘oof’ as he was reared closer to the wall, and his balance wavered for a tenuous moment. However, none of that mattered at all to Bokuto because Akaashi’s mouth was suddenly on his, and it took several seconds too long to register what was happening.
The feeling in his chest bordered on a fine point between pleasure and pain. Made his heart race and race and race until he’d used up all the oxygen in his lungs; had lost most of it to that quietly imploring mouth.
“Akaashi,” Bokuto strangled out, breathing hard once Akaashi released him, blinking owlishly at the man before him. “Does that—does that mean you—?”
“Yes?” Akaashi said, voice cracking and mouth kiss-bruised. “You can’t have not known—I’ve been—for months now.”
“So… so you like me too?” Bokuto’s voice wavered, and barely steadied as he awaited Akaashi’s verdict.
“I like you too,” Akaashi confirmed, mouth lifting in a shy smile. “And as far as romantic confessions go, I must say I’m surprised.”
It was Bokuto’s turn to grab and kiss him. He cupped his face and dragged him closer and didn’t stop until Kuroo was jostling him badly enough that his teeth caught on Akaashi’s lips hard enough to elicit a shudder of pain.
Kuroo cleared his throat. “Bro. Not to rain on your moment but—my legs are about to give out—”
“Oh shit,” all three of them muttered at the same time just as Kuroo went down and dragged Bokuto with him.
They fell in a heap, Kuroo wincing and Bokuto grunting as he smacked his shin on the pavement.
Akaashi’s worried face peeked out of the window, eyebrows knitted. “Bokuto-san—are you okay?!”
Bokuto waved him off, laughing incredulously. “Fine,” he reassured, breathless and riding the best high of his life.
He looked up at Akaashi, beaming. “I want to kiss you forever,” he declared bluntly, and grinned wider at the blush that bloomed in the other’s cheeks.
“Stop saying corny things at two a.m. I don’t even have the energy to be properly annoyed,” Akaashi grumbled, but his cheeks were spasming with the force of his suppressed smile.
Bokuto pumped a fist in the air. “There’s one way to shut me up!”
“I foresee this becoming insufferable; you’re lucky I like you.”
“Sure as hell am!” Bokuto rose to his feet, dusting the back of his shorts. “See you tomorrow, Agaashi~”
On his way back home, Kuroo clapped him on his back and grinned proudly. “Ayyy, told you bro, I fucking told you! Now, next operation: you have to plan a good date.”
“Oh shit, what should I do?”
Kuroo’s grin only widened, bordered on omnious. “Oh, I know exactly where you should go.”
Bokuto hoped Akaashi liked him enough not to mind if this date crashed and burned, because going by Kuroo’s expression, it could only go amazingly or catastrophically bad.
One could never tell with sly cats.