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Keiji's dreaming of something innocuous. He's on the bus looking out the window and listening to Bokuto-san going on and on about something ridiculous Keiji had decided to tune out. Dreaming about Bokuto-san's voice wasn't that strange, even if he was listing vegetables and rating them out of ten. What's strange is the bus shaking, like he was caught in an earthquake for one second. And then stopping. And starting again. And stopping. And then it starts shaking and shaking, shaking for so long that the bus starts disappearing.
Keiji wakes up with his phone vibrating under his pillow, Bokuto-san's name shining on the screen. He turns and looks to his old alarm clock, standing on the bedside table, to notice it's 2 in the morning. He accepts the call and speaks, voice croaky and deep with sleep.
"Hello?" There's a sharp intake of breath from Bokuto-san's side of the line. "Bokuto-san? Is everything okay?" An exhale.
"Keiji, I–" Keiji is alert now, more awake than he's ever been.
Kotaro is drunk, he realises this. He knows his sisters are having fun seeing him be even louder than usual. But then they go home, and Kotaro gets in bed, and he's feeling much too warm. His head hits the pillow, but the room won't stop spinning and it's too fucking quiet. He hears the creak of the floorboards, the sounds of his oldest sister going down the stairs, the front door opening and closing, the car starting. His parents are asleep, Hana-nee-chan vomited outside in Kaa-san's favourite rosebush and Mika-nee-chan took her to bed. Kotaro is the only person currently awake in the house, and it's so big and quiet and lonely. He's not used to being alone, let alone feeling lonely. He can feel his happiness slowly going down down down to hide-under-the-desk levels of sadness. He's going to Osaka. Alone. Lonely is all he's going to feel. His family won't be there. His team will be completely different. He's never going to hit one of Akaashi's tosses again.
That's what does it for him, really. Thinking of not being with Akaashi, not even near Akaashi. Kotaro feels his eyes burning with tears he's holding back, and his hands immediately go for his phone. He's on autopilot and doesn't even realise he's calling Akaashi, so he hangs up in a panic. It's two in the morning, Akaashi's asleep. Akaashi probably looks like an angel when he sleeps. He presses the call button again, thinking of Akaashi's eyes fluttering open. He imagines Akaashi in his bed and feels his heartbeat quicken, and then he's warm, so warm again. He hangs up after two, maybe three, rings. He's staring at his phone like it's a criminal, a siren tempting him with songs of "Akaashi Keiji, Akaashi Keiji", and he's staring at the name on his call log. Two failed calls to Akaashi Keiji. Keiji. Keiji. Such a pretty name. He wants to say it, so he does. He's awake in a sleeping home, no one will hear.
"Keiji," he says. It's wrong, taboo, maybe. "Keiji," it's soft and sweet and he wants to say it more. He's still staring at his phone, and his traitorous hand must press the call button without his brain's permission. He hears the faint ringing as he imagines Akaashi getting flustered at the use of his given name. Would he blush? Would those pretty blue-green eyes widen? Would he stutter a response? Would he call him Kotaro back?
"Hello?" Kotaro is caught by surprise and takes a deep breath. He has noticed his body's reaction to Akaashi's voice before, hasn't he? He gets little goosebumps and his stomach flip flops a little bit every time he hears Akaashi's soft voice. But now it's not soft, it's deep and rough and– "Bokuto-san? Is everything okay?" He needs to hear it. He needs to hear this voice—the voice that's making him warm on the inside, on the outside, all over—say his name. Kotaro's insides are on fire; he needs to ask.
"Keiji, I–" it feels so good on his tongue, that name. He wonders if Akaashi will feel the same about his name. Will Akaashi's tongue feel heavy as he says Kotaro? Will Akaashi feel his insides on fire? Will Akaashi's hands twitch with the need to touch? Because Kotaro wants– he wants to touch. Keiji. Keiji. Keiji. He wants to say it, sing it, chant it, pray. He wants to hold Keiji and say his name. He wants to beg, Keiji, say my name and touch me, please, but he can't. He's leaving. "I wish you had celebrated with m– us. It was fun. I'm sorry I woke you, Keiji."
It's silent for a bit. He wants to ask, will you come to the airport to say goodbye?, but he already knows he will.
Akaashi breathes, probably annoyed at Kotaro calling him in the middle of the night on a Friday. Fuck, stupid Kotaro, stupid, stupid, stup–
"Me too, Kotaro. Good night."