Work Text:
Akaashi has always seen the world in black and white.
Adults around him would talk about colours, how to match and mix them, and how to create with them, but Akaashi learned not to rely on that or any of those theories because he simply can’t. Instead, he learned to rely on other elements of the world like shapes, forms, values, and textures.
Adults always told them that they would eventually see the world in colour, once they’ve found their soulmate.
Akaashi thought he found his soulmate when he joined Fukorodani’s volleyball club. A tall boy with light spiky hair and dark grey streaks pranced around the school gym during tryouts. His energy was infectious and his skills even more impressive.
When he tossed the ball, time seemed to slow down as the upperclassman was mid-air, ready to spike the ball. Everything came crashing back to normal with a resounding boom as the spike cut through the court, and Akaashi couldn’t help but think: he’s a star.
“Hey hey hey!” The boy exclaimed, raising his fists in victory. He turned to Akaashi, beaming, “That was a great toss? What’s your name?”
“Akaashi Keiji.”
“You’re sure to get into the team with those skills!”
“Thank you…” Akaashi’s voice trailed off. He didn’t actually know the name of the upperclassman.
“Bokuto.” He held out his hand for Akaashi, who took it. His grip was strong and firm. “Bokuto Koutarou!”
“Bokuto-san, it’s nice to meet you.”
“I’ll see you in practice next week.” Bokuto winked.
Sure enough, when the results came out for the volleyball team a few days later, Akaashi was on the top of the list. He came into the gym the next week in jogging pants and a dark grey shirt.
“Would you look at who it is!” An upperclassman who Akaashi was unfamiliar with exclaimed, he had narrow eyes and light hair. “Bokuto wouldn’t stop talking about you the past week; he kept saying you were the best setter he’s ever laid eyes on. I told him that’s impossible because you just tossed to him once, I saw.”
“Bokuto-san seems a bit…” Akaashi eyed the wild-haired boy who was currently doing drills with another teammate. “Enthusiastic.”
“Oh, he’s more than just enthusiastic.” He rolled his eyes.
“Watch out, Konoha!”
The warning came a bit too late as a ball came crashing onto the side of the upperclassman—Konoha’s—head. He yelped and instantly turned around, furiously looking for the culprit. The rest of the team pointed at a dumbfounded looking Bokuto, who simply pointed at himself and muttered a simple, “Sorry…”
“Bokuto, when I get my hands on you—!” Konoha shouted, making a beeline towards Bokuto, who hesitantly accepted his fate.
Akaashi let out a soft laugh. This was going to be an interesting year.
The bus ride home from Spring Interhigh was filled with quiet snores. Once the award ceremony finished and Ichibayashi was crowned the winner, the five days on court finally caught up with the entire team. It was a close and brutal final match, but it still wasn’t enough for Fukorodani to bring home the trophy for their seniors.
‘At least, Bokuto-san was able to have a good final match.’ Akaashi sat beside Bokuto on the bus, looking out the window at the familiar grey Tokyo landscape, as Bokuto fidgeted beside him. Vaguely, Akaashi wondered how Bokuto still had any energy left in him when he constantly gave his one hundred twenty percent every game.
When they got back to campus, everyone gathered their bags and headed back to the gym. Time flew by as their coaches congratulated them and gave them their pep talks. The air was heavy with nostalgia of the past few years. Akaashi still had another year left, but for plenty of the team, this was possibly their last moment in the gym.
“Akaashi,” Yamiji, the head coach, turned to him, “We’re counting on you.”
“Yes, sir. I won’t let the team down.” Akaashi said, a pang of anxiety hitting him square in the chest. He has to be strong for the team.
Bokuto looked at him and gave him a smile and thumbs up. Akaashi smiled back at Bokuto. ‘I have to do it for him.’
Surprisingly, the goodbyes weren’t tearful. Despite the loss, everyone found peace knowing they played at the highest level they could at the moment. Exams were looming upon the seniors and the tournament was over; everyone had expected it and were just tired. Slowly, the gym started to empty out.
“Remember to lock the doors when you’re about to leave!” Yamiji told Bokuto and Akaashi as he shut the gym door behind him.
“Akaashi,”
“Yes, Bokuto-san?”
“Can you toss for me one last time?”
Akaashi smiled softly, taking in every shape and contour of Bokuto’s profile, “Of course.”
The pair played until nightfall came. By the time they were locking up the gym doors, the sky was a significantly darker grey. Light greys and whites peppered the sky, and the moon was bright and high up in the sky.
“I’m glad we got to play together, Akaashi.” Bokuto said, a rare solemn look on his face. He turned to Akaashi, eyes sparkling and bright in the moonlight.
‘He’s so beautiful.’ Akaashi’s mind whispered. ‘He’s just as bright as ever. A sparkle of light in this dark, dim world.’
Slowly, as if the two were in perfect harmony, they leaned in, eyes closed and kissed. It was gentle and short; a fleeting moment, and Akaashi opened his eyes to see Bokuto’s wide eyes.
In the same grey as before.
And instantly, he felt like the world came crashing down on him.
“Akaashi, why do I still only see in black and white?”
A few years passed since the kiss with Bokuto, and Akaashi’s world was still in black and white. At this point, he doesn’t even know if he still cares about the world and its colour. This was his norm, and while he could technically find his soulmate, the crushing disappointment of the kiss still haunted him to this day., and he didn’t want to hope for a brighter future when it could all just be in vain.
The lights around Tokyo were blinding and artificial; even when just in black and white, it overwhelmed Akaashi and he hated it. So when he found a simple onigiri store with a familiar name, he was compelled to enter as an escape from the loud outside.
“Welcome to Onigiri Mi…” The man behind the counter paused. “...ya. Is that who I think it is?”
Akaashi blinked, half surprised, but half expecting it considering the shop name. “Hello, Myaa-sam.”
“Well I’ll be damned, it is you.” The corner of Osamu’s mouth quirked up. “Fukorodani’s setter: Akaashi Keiji?”
“Miya Osamu.” Akaashi said, taking a seat by the bar and looking at the onigiri food models on display. If he were to guess, onigiri would be the perfect embodiment of black and white. Right?
“What can I get’cha?”
“Smoked salmon is just fine,”
“One classic, coming right up.” Osamu said, scooping up a serving of rice and filling it with some of the prepared cooked salmon. Akaashi watched, mesmerised by Osamu’s movement. Akaashi couldn’t help but notice that Osamu kept his strong, athletic physique even after retiring from volleyball. He was taller than when they were both seniors, his hair was a dark grey, almost black, instead of its usual light grey.
“Akaashi?”
“Ah,”
“You’re a bit spacey, aren’t ya?” Osamu snickered. “I wasn’t expecting that from you, actually.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Akaashi’s eyebrows furrowed as he bit into the onigiri. For something so simple, it was, for lack of better words, immaculate. ‘Simple, pure, is this what colours would taste like?’ Akaashi wondered before mentally smacking himself, ‘That’s such a stupid thought. Colours don’t have taste just like how taste doesn’t have colours.’
“What’re ya thinking about?” Osamu leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. His eyes were curious and much brighter than Akaashi has ever seen them.
“Just about… colours and onigiri…”
“That’s a weird combo.”
“Ah, I was just… wondering what it was like to see colours; would the sensation be the same as eating something as simple as onigiri?”
Osamu blinked at Akaashi dumbly, who turned a bright red.
“I’m sorry, please forget I said anything.”
“I don’t think there’s anything that can compare to colours, though.” Osamu said slowly before quickly adding, “Not that I would know, but Atsumu is a yapper so all I hear about at home is volleyball and colours.”
Akaashi paused, “You also can’t see colours yet, Myaa-sam?”
“Nope.”
Akaashi smiled sadly, “I thought I was about to, a few years ago.”
“Oh?” Osamu cocked his head. “With who?”
“Bokuto-san.”
Osamu let out a low whistle, “That’s weird, I always thought you two were meant to be or something.”
“Me too, Osamu, me too.”
Visiting Onigiri Miya was a ritual that happened once a week for Akaashi. Besides the food, Osamu proved to be pleasant company. When real world problems would stack up, Osamu opened the doors, sometimes just for Akaashi, and would lend an ear. Likewise, Akaashi found himself laughing and enjoying whatever stories Osamu had of his family, food, and volleyball.
Every night Akaashi would visit Onigiri Miya, he would feel a strange yet familiar feeling: it was built over the course of time instead of instantaneously, but it was also a dreaded feeling. It came with hope, anticipation, and excitement. It came years ago, when he first laid eyes on Bokuto.
‘I can’t…’ Akaashi thought to himself. His hand was on the handle of Onigiri Miya and for the first time in months, he hesitated to enter the store. ‘Relax, Keiji, nothing will happen. You’re just here to wind down after work. There’s nothing going on between me and Myaa-sam. We’re just good friends.’ Akaashi let out a breath of air, ‘We’re just good friends.’
Akaashi turned the doorknob. And it was locked.
‘Shit, Myaa-sam closed the store early.’ Akaashi cursed himself, partially relieved that he wouldn’t have to see Osamu when feelings were stirring up a storm in him. Akaashi turned around and took a few steps down the road when he heard the door slam open.
“AkaashI!”
“Osamu?” Akaashi turned around, surprised, relieved that Osamu remembered him, but also horrified that he would have to face his feelings and thoughts. ‘There really is no running.’
“Come in! Sorry, I locked the door because ‘Tsumu reserved the store for team lunch tomorrow. I have your usual ready.”
Akaashi froze. Team lunch. MSBY. Bokuto-san. “I would rather not, Osamu...”
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Osamu cleared his throat and closed the door behind him gently, approaching Akaashi, who averted his eyes to the ground. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, I just remembered something.”
“Is it Bokkun?” Osamu hummed, cupping Akaashi’s face with his hands. “Sorry, it didn’t cross my mind when I mentioned the team… I forgot they were even teammates.”
Akaashi let out an airy laugh. “It’s dumb and I can’t believe it still affects me. It’s honestly quite ridiculous.”
“No it isn’t…” Osamu muttered, “I know that feeling; thinking you’ve finally met your soulmate, only for the world to remain grey.”
Akaashi looked up at Osamu, confused.
“Who?”
“Suna.”
“Ah,”
“Volleyball players, am I right?”
Akaashi let out another laugh, a more sincere one.
“But something here feels different.” Osamu continued as Akaashi wrapped his hands around Osamu’s wrists. “I’d spend hours waiting for you. Seeing you at the end of the day was rewarding, it was the highlight of the day, and I’d wake up excited for another night with you. I don’t think I’d ever do this for anyone else. Not even ‘Tsumu, but don’t tell him that.”
Akaashi’s breath hitched. All this time, Osamu was feeling the same thing he was. Their feelings, their thoughts, were perfectly in tune with each other, but still, it was hard for Akaashi to think. He was scared. He didn’t want a repeat of last time to happen. It was so familiar, but he also came to realise: this wasn’t just admiration. It was something completely different. So slowly, Akaashi’s hands snaked their way to the crook of Osamu’s neck, who fell silent, and he pulled in the taller boy for a kiss. It was different. More heated, a bit desperate; it was one of two people who were cruelly misled by the universe at one point in their life.
When Akaashi cracked his eyes open, he was met with an unfamiliar sight.
Is this… a colour?
Osamu stared at him with a similar expression.
The Tokyo lights illuminated the pair in colours they’ve never seen before. Light greys turned into neon pinks and blues, and the black they were so used to seeing was now a dark blue, and the moon hung high above them, a pale yellow.
“You’re beautiful.”
The world was beautiful.