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They travel home together most days. Akaashi’s chest aches at every slight brush of their knees, eyes trailing over his captain's profile, silhouetted perfectly against the dying light that fills the train windows.
Despite the pounding of Akaashi’s heart, there’s a calmness to those moments he adores. A comfort found in sitting beside Bokuto as they move from one place to another, ease enveloping him as he listens to Bokuto recounting their day.
But today the train is more crowded than usual.
They have to stand near the doors and Akaashi can feel his unease building as more people push their way on. But Bokuto’s voice is filling the space between them and Akaashi clings to the sound.
Yet he can’t quell the surge of panic that grips his chest as he’s jolted forward, body pressing against Bokuto’s firmly, face inches from his captain’s.
He sees golden eyes widen, those animated words dying on open lips, and Akaashi drops his gaze after half a beat too long.
Akaashi lives in fear of the day Bokuto will see too much.
The day he will finally see Akaashi’s heart laid bare, when he’ll realise how deeply and unequivocal in love with him Akaashi is. That he aches for Bokuto in every possible way.
He knows how perseptive Bokuto is, that he’s wily in his awareness even, able to read people intuitively, able to spot and assess so much. Spot everything apart from Akaashi’s affection it seems. A truth Akaashi is both incredibly thankful for and maybe a little broken hearted by.
“I’m so sorry, Bokuto-san. Forgive me. It’s so tight, I can’t move back.” He mumbles the words with as much dignity as he can manage.
His eyes can’t help but fix on the press of Bokuto’s broad chest against his own. And suddenly that’s far too much, so he lifts his head, gaze locked on the city skyline vanishing behind his captain’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Kaashi. Man, it’s busy though!”
There’s a strain to Bokuto’s voice and Akaashi suspects he’s wishing they'd taken another train (He misses the way Bokuto’s eyes dart across Akaashi’s face, misses the way Bokuto bites at his lip as he watches the lowering of Akaashi’s lashes, the way his body hums at their closeness)
But Akaashi can never look away for long and he lets his eyes find him again, allows himself to be weak.
Bokuto’s handsome face is so warm, filled with something Akaashi can’t quite read and when his captain smile’s, it’s smaller, delicate. Like it’s one he doesn’t want anybody else to see.
Before Akaashi has time to consider, the panic rises up again at the push of people behind him. The shoving against his spine harder this time and Bokuto’s body braces so they don’t stumble backward. Akaashi feels his anxiety surge, little whimper escaping him, chest constricting as he struggles to breathe.
He can see the anger and concern in Bokuto’s face, thick, arched eyebrows furrowed at the people behind them.
But the need to comfort Akaashi is paramount,
“Kaashi, look at me! It’s ok! You can rest against me. I’ll keep you safe.”
Bokuto’s voice cuts through to him. The protective edge to the words is abundantly clear and Akaashi feels another rush of need surging through him as he realises, yes. He very much wants to be protected by Bokuto, be shielded by Bokuto.
And despite Akaashi being a relative stranger to touch, to physical comfort, he does very, very much want to rest against this boy.
So he lets his head fall forward, lets himself settle against Bokuto’s shoulder. The strength of Bokuto’s powerful body bedrock for Akaashi’s hammering heartbeat, the warmth radiating from his captain a stark contrast to his own clammy skin.
“Can I, Kaashi?” A large palm hovers above his hip. Bokuto’s never asked to touch him before. But there’s something about this moment, the intimacy, the new territory, the need to make sure Akaashi feels safe.
He nods against Bokuto’s shoulder, breath stolen yet again as a large hand frames his waist, sliding to cup his hip. If he’s honest, Akaashi’s days and dreams are plagued by imagining his captain this close, closer.
His eyelids flutter shut, the rhythmic stroking of Bokuto’s palm, the weight of his other arm solid around Akaashi’s back, grounding him.
Bokuto manages to somehow make his heart race with want and yet bring him incomparable peace, the sharp edges of Akaashi’s anxiety soothed by Bokuto’s presence, yet his soul awoken.
Bokuto’s cheek rests against his hair and Akaashi let’s himself breathe deeply, taking in his captain’s salty skin, his absoluteness, his safety.
It’s packed, people everywhere. But Bokuto is air and comfort and the space to breathe, the barrier that keeps the panic at bay. And Akaashi holds him as his North Star in this moment more than ever.
After they depart Akaashi know’s he'll be able to reason this out as a busy commute.
The situation demanded they stand in each other’s arms. Akaashi’s self doubt will guide him away from the obvious truth that Bokuto’s more than a little in love with him too.
But the awareness is yet to dawn on either of them.
Little does he know that one day the broad shoulder against his cheek will be even broader. One day he’ll wake every morning like this, Bokuto’s arms holding him close, rings on their fingers, kisses pressed to his curls as he’s rolled beneath him. Their laughter resounding in their bed, in their room, in their shared life.
But for now, for 17 year old Akaashi, this is enough. It’s enough for a lifetime, really.