Archive of Our Own

It starts like this: Keiji wakes up and can immediately tell that something is off. 

Usually when he wakes up, he’s normal enough to roll over, do a little cat stretch, pull his blankets over himself, and rot in his warm, comfy bed until he’s forced to get up and speed run his entire routine 15 minutes before he has to leave the house. There is no buzzing blood under his skin and tightness in his shoulder blades. That comes later. 

Most days.

Today, apparently, is not most days, because the second he rolls over and drives his knees into the mattress to start stretching the sleep out of his limbs, there is an uncomfortable feeling blooming in his back, and his blood suddenly starts to feel too itchy for him to bear without—

“Hngh—” The sound is pushed through Keiji’s mouth, eyes screwed shut, coming from some deep part inside of his abdomen he has never been able to pinpoint. He doesn’t even realize his muscles are tense until he sinks into his worn bed after the fact and blinks, mentally assessing his body. Yes, he feels wrong. It’s typical, but that usually doesn’t come until after he’s gotten up and started moving around. He usually has more time, more time to assess his condition, and more time to find out how he has to adjust himself to hold back the involuntary movements and sounds.

Groaning, he shoves his face into his pillow and wonders what changed from one night to another. Did he not sleep well? Is he stressed about something? Did he not sleep well? His mind helpfully provides flashbacks: ‘Here, take this! It’s a visual of you making a five hour long playlist for someone you think might be your soulmate, then spending another 2 hours on fanfiction.net!’ 

Oh, right. He must have gone to sleep sometime around 3 AM, and it’s—Keiji checks his phone: 7:03 AM. About 4 hours of sleep; no wonder he doesn’t feel right. He’s exhausted.

Shaking himself off and ignoring the way his body is screaming complaints that he needs to twitch, he swings his legs over his bed and forces himself up. He’s supposed to meet Bokuto in about 25 minutes, like they always do before school, and though he has a feeling today is going to kick his ass, time waits for no one and he needs to start getting ready for the day because skipping school isn’t an option. He’s completely fine, really. It might be harder today, but he can tough it out like he always does.  A shower might help, though. Might loosen the energetic muscles that threaten to contract and betray him. 

He’s able to take two steps forward before his knees buckle and send him flying to the ground. 

“Akaashi, you’re doing that a lot!”

Keiji rubs his hands over his face (Even though he knows it's bad for his skin.) and sighs, covering his eyes. On the surface level, Bokuto may seem like a very distracted person, but he was actually the opposite. With his intense emotions comes heightened empathy, and Bokuto tends to notice a lot more than others can, and while usually Keiji is able to appreciate it and feel slightly proud of it at times, it’s completely different when he's on the receiving end of it, and quite honestly, it's not what he wants or needs right now. 

“I’m fine, Bokuto-san. I just didn’t get much sleep last night. My eyes are tired.” It’s not technically a lie, he’s just leaving out the part where his sleep deprivation causes his nervous system to freak out because of it, and misfire dopamine signals to his entire body. The last thing Keiji wants is to bring more attention to the fact that his eyes keep shutting against his will, screwing shut and refusing to open until about 5 seconds after. 

Bokuto sends him a confused look. “How can your eyes be tired?” God, Keiji loves him. 

It’s not as if Bokuto doesn’t know about his Tourettes. There came a point in time when Bokuto and him hung out too much for him to be able to completely hide his tics, and Keiji was forced to tell him about his weird brain disorder. As expected, Bokuto didn’t care (or so he claimed), just said,  “Damn!” and asked him a million questions about it, each one more invasive than the other before Keiji, red faced, told him he’s absolutely not telling him if he’s ever ticced while in the heat of the moment (as if he’s ever had the opportunity to test that out, unless it was about him alone…In that case, Bokuto didn’t have to know that yes, sometimes). Bokuto does know about his Tourettes, but that doesn’t mean Keiji doesn’t get insecure about it happening around him. If he can suppress them, he will, and he can . Realistically, he knows Bokuto will never judge him but god , Keiji has the biggest crush on him, and he really does not want to make an idiot of himself in front of someone he’s constantly trying to (subtly) impress. 

(Even though, it's not just Bokuto he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of, it’s everyone . He only wishes to blend in. He knows he’s a quiet person, if only his body can get the memo as well.)

They’re almost to the school when Bokuto asks, “Is it your tics?”

Keiji’s body lurches slightly as he gives a little squeak, which he quickly covers up as a cough, and he looks up to Bokuto giving him a genuine expression, like wants to know him. Keiji feels himself shiver under the intense gaze, and almost feels bad for lying when he says. “No, Bokuto-san.I don’t have many of them, remember? I’m fine, really. ”

He is not actually fine. 

The whole suppressing thing he is usually able to do on a day to day basis is not working. At all. It takes his first class period, and the sharp heat of his classmates eyes boring into him to realize he might have to change up his strategy. He attempts to shake his leg to let out all of his strange energy, but it's not his leg that wants to move. It simply doesn’t work, there's something slowly building up in him, between his shoulder baldes and down his arm into his finger tips, nowhere near his leg, and it's threatening to come out, screaming to be let out, one way or another. His chest lurches dangerously, but he manages to hold back a strangled gasp. He can do this. His fingers rub against his palm, he cracks his knuckles, pulls at his fingers. Anything to get them to stop buzzing, anything to get them to move under his control. Move, move, move, movemovemovemovedontmoveplease-

He doesn’t realize he’s banged his hand against the table until he feels the sting of the hardwood against his pinky, and everyone in the classroom is turning to look at him, a mixture of confusion and annoyance on their face. It’s quiet, everyone's attention is on him, and the teacher catches his eye, an understanding expression overtaking her features.

Keiji swears his face is about to melt with how hot it gets. “I’m…Excuse me. There…was a bug,” He mumbles out, sounding pathetic. He looks down at his hands, unwilling to look at his classmates. Anything to try and get everyone's attention away from him. 

This really, really isn’t working. 

Keiji doesn’t think he's had a tic day this bad in forever . He thinks they have only been this bad back when he was in middle school, the beginnings of puberty only just hitting him. His doctor told him back when he was diagnosed at 9 to not feel discouraged, puberty makes them worse, and worsen they did. He would have to leave the classroom often because of how disruptive he was. Kids would tease him; not directly to his face, but Keiji wasn’t stupid. He knew he looked dumb, his hooting vocal tic out of control and his sniffling tic driving people to move desks in fear of getting sick. It was only until he started taking anxiety plls at 13 that they calmed down, and he was able to successfully cope with the symptoms that remained, but he remembers how lonely it felt, how embarrassed he felt. How desperately he tried to hide in the shadows with a disorder that makes you loud. He wanted nothing more than to disappear. 

Wants nothing more than to disappear. 

Thankfully, the class has moved on from his outburst, but Keiji has not. There’s still an itch under his skin, discomfort coursing through his veins. With a rush of anger, he realizes that his brain is not going to give him a break today.

That's fine. Keiji can be stubborn, too.

17 bathroom breaks, 8 silent outbursts, and 5 more periods later, Keiji refuses to acknowledge he’s fighting a losing battle. 

He knows this goes directly against what his neurologist told him. “Don’t suppress, it's bad for you, redirect your tics. Learn to accept yourself for who you are.” …But he’s managed to survive a whole year without taking pills, and being able to suppress perfectly fine, so even on a bad day, he should be okay, right? It’s just a bit more challenging today then most days, but he’s learned, he’s practiced, he’s fine. 

He’s definitely struggling.

The last bell rings, and it’s like music to his ears. He jumps up out of his desk, quickly throwing on his backpack and bowing his head, hoping he looks invisible to the rest of the world, and walks out of the classroom as quickly and quietly as humanly possible. He’s meeting Bokuto again, and though they have practice, Keiji might have to tell him that he won’t be able to make it. 

They sat together earlier for lunch, and Bokuto definitely noticed something was up. 

“Akaashiiiii,” He had whined in that way that had Keiji weak in the knees. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand and twisted his neck to look at him sideways, blinking at him owlishly. Fitting. “If you don’t feel good, you should go home!”

“Oh, so you don’t want me here, Bokuto-san?” Keiji attempted to steer the conversation away from him and his weird tics.

It wasn’t hard to do, Bokuto is just so easy to work up, and he scoffed. “You’re the worst. Everytime i say something like that you always have to twist my words. You know, people think you’re this quiet, respectful guy or whatever, but you’re so evil! I’m gonna start exposing you.“

Keiji smirked, and violently stabbed his rice with his chopsticks. It was a tic, but he looked over at Bokuto. “That’s going to be you if you do that.”

It was a little out of character for him, but Bokuto’s eyes sparkled in good humor.

Hopefully, by now, Bokuto has forgotten all about Keiji’s bad day. He has a tendency to be slightly smothering at times if he suspects something is off with him, and Keiji wants his attention, yes, but in other ways. Definitely not through worrying. More like…Kisses. Maybe hand holding, through a walk in the park if he gets really lucky. He wonders if Bokuto would be the type of lover to buy him an edible arrangement, Chocolate covered strawberries, pineapples, and flowers. Would he present it to him on one knee, like the hopeless romantic Keiji secretly hopes suspects he is? What if he asked him to be his boyfriend like that? Keiji’s mind begins to spiral, and he doesn’t notice the dopey, self satisfied grin growing on his face, or the fact that his tics seem to go dormant. Would Bokuto write him love letters? Maybe name his pokemon after him? Would he ever give him a hoodie sprayed in his cologne, the one Komi got him for his birthday that he doesn't go a day without wearing now? Would he get possessive looking at Keiji in his jersey? Would he slip it off—

“AGASHEE!” 

—At once, his mind is pulled from that safe haven, crush island in his head and back to reality, where he hears himself shout an involuntary “Fuck!” and feels himself swing his head to the side, only to come face to face with said crush, only instead of looking at him with a face full of love, adoration, and lust, he’s pouting at him.

“Akaashi! You completely missed me! You just kept walking past! You looked so deep in thought, what were you thinking about?” Bokuto meets his strides, and leans in to take a good look at Keiji’s face. Butterflies blossom in his stomach, and he can't stand it. Bokuto is wearing that sexy cologne, and his face was so clear, his eyelashes so dark and full, the freckles on his face so beautiful. Oh god, he makes Keiji so nervous, he–

“Hoo-Hoo,” Keiji blurts out before he can stop himself, about an octave higher than what he normally speaks in, and immediately, his face burns in a humiliation. His hooting tic. He wants to bow his head and hide, but Bokuto is staring at him like he has a purpose, so he covers his mouth and his burning cheeks, “Uh…”

“I knew it,” Bokuto huffs, “You are having trouble with your tics today! Dude, why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Keiji quickly says, feeling supremely embarrassed, “Please drop it.” 

He knows he sounds rude, but Bokuto doesn’t seem to be very offended, rather, he is studying him intensely. Keiji swallows thickly, and looks up so they lock eyes, and just like that, the hallway chatter becomes nothing more than muted noise in Keiji’s ears. Tension grows, and they’re locked in a fierce staring contest. He resists the urge to look away first; usually he takes it as a blessing to be able to find an excuse to lose himself in those big, beautiful, yellow eyes of Bokuto’s, but now? There’s nothing pleasant about the way those eyes stare into his soul. Keiji feels exposed.

It takes what feels like a million years, but Bokuto’s eyes finally flicker away, and for a second, Keiji is relieved, until they start dragging down the length of his body, and he almost forgets how to breathe. Is Bokuto checking him out? Quick! Is he sucking in his gut? He clenches his abs, but before he can fix his posture, Bokuto grabs his hand, and Keiji’s holding his breath again, back at square one. 

Bokuto turns his hand over, and he shifts to place his volleyball duffle on the ground, never once letting go of his hand as the other comes to join it. Keiji almost gives him a nervous look until he realizes Bokuto’s fingers are caressing the bruise he gave himself back in first period, eyes fixed on the angry, watercolored bruise running through the side of his hand, dipping into his palm. Keiji inhales sharply. His hand is tingling, right where Bokuto is ghosting his fingertips, and he pulls his hand away before he can cause both his hand and Bokuto any more damage. Bokuto looks at him silently again, eyes wide and expressive, and the moment probably had potential to be disgustingly romantic and all, but the second they lock eyes once more, Keiji’s face moves on its own accord, and it scrunches up to send Bokuto what can only be described as a saucy wink.

Keiji wants to die.

Bokuto face colors, and there is a spike in the tension between them before he shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “Maybe you should skip practice, ‘Kaashi. ‘Specially if you’re not feeling well. You kinda look like death warmed over.”

Keiji presses his lips together in frustration (and ignores the anxiety welling up in his stomach at the implication that Bokuto is seeing him as anything but potentially attractive right now). That’s literally what he was going to do, but now that Bokuto brings it up, he feels himself growing stubborn. He knows Bokuto is only worrying because he cares, so he feels guilty when instead of feeling honored to be cared for by the other boy, annoyance overshawdows it. “I already told you, Bokuto-san, I'm completely fine. It’s not–” His neck tenses, his eyes screw shut, he sniffles– “not a big deal.” 

Bokuto’s eyes fall back onto his hand, and Keiji self-consciously clasps his hands together to conceal it. The thought of Bokuto seeing the effects of his strange condition, one of his biggest insecurities, makes him want to escape this conversation and run away to hide in the restroom like he did back in middle school, but somehow he feels stuck, trapped under bokutos unwavering gaze.

“I’m fine,” He repeats weakly, because he's starting to feel like Bokuto is studying him too hard, and it's making him nervous. He hides another vocal tic and head jerk with an unconvincing cough, “Please just drop it. I'm going to practice today.” 

He initially didn’t think it would be a good idea, but the way Bokuto is staring at him like he's some sort of damsel in distress is bothering him, and he needs to prove that he's ok. It's fine. It's really not that big of a deal. He has everything under control. Please, please just don’t put any attention onto it. 

“Akaashi–”

Keiji doesn’t let him finish, and he walks past him. His head is bowed and his eyes are shut tightly, only because his body is rebelling against him. He doesn’t ask for help, only hopes he doesn’t run into anyone. “We're going to be late, Bokuto-san.”

“Dude…Is Akaashi, like, ok? He seems kind of restless.” 

Keiji’s ears strain to listen into the conversation between Komi and Bokuto as he reaches towards one leg in his straddle. Everyone is in their own little corner, chatting with other teammates, stretching and warming up for practice, but not Keiji. Instead, he sits alone in a little corner of the gym, where no one can see him or hear him. 

Keiji wants to glare at Washio and fight with the statement, but unfortunately, he's right. He feels restless. He rolls his shoulders, shakes out his hands, stretches his neck, anything to try and control the energy in his body. Stretching, of course, doesn’t help, rather it makes it worse. Weirdly enough, it's one of the biggest triggers he has regarding his Tourettes. The pull of the muscles causes him to become hyperaware of areas in his body he didn’t usually think about on a day to day basis, causing them to feel off, too off, it makes him have to hold back what he knows are his more complex and vulgar tics, ones Keiji knew that if he let out would surely earn him a few looks, and possibly a few laughs considering his disorder likes to make him look like an idiot. Again, it's not like the team doesn’t know, they do have to sleep in the same room during training camp after all, but he would rather they didn’t see anything. It’s better if they never perceive it. 

Keiji turns his head slightly over to where Bokuto is also sitting in a straddle, facing him. He sees him swallow nervously, and look up to Keiji, sending him a pathetic look he briefly compares to what his dog looks like when he’s scolding him. Slowly and carefully, Keiji side eyes him, and responds with what he knows is one of his coldest, darkest, most ‘ If you say anything, i will never set to you ever again.’ type of look.

He swears he can hear Bokuto whimper, but is satisfied to hear him squeak out, “I think he’s ok! He might be tired!”

‘Good,’ Keiji thinks to himself, ignoring the fact that his chest fills with sick pleasure at seeing Bokuto be so submissive to him. He hears Washio accept the half-assed answer, and turns back to try and focus on stretching. He bends his legs into his butterfly and leans forward before a rush of discomfort so strong courses through his entire body, and he, horrified, realizes he is not going to be quick enough to predict or even stop the type of tic that is about to escape him.

“Achoo!” 

He quickly covers his mouth, but the damage is already done. Oh no. That was so obviously not a sneeze! He literally said the word “Achoo”! He hasn’t had that tic since he was 13!

Keiji's heart is pounding like it’s on a mission to send all of his body's blood to his face, and success! Because he can't remember his face ever feeling so red. He doesn’t have time to look up and observe his teammates reactions to his strange outburst before he is saved by his coaches whistle blowing authoritatively. Trembling, he pushes himself off the floor, refusing to look up. Maybe he should go home. He can’t be here…

‘No,’ He grits his teeth together and looks forward. No one else is looking at him, except for one set of golden eyes he doesn’t have to turn to know they’re watching his every move. ‘Tough it out. You have this under control.’

They’re going to play a practice match against eachother, and Keiji is pretty sure he can handle it. Volleyball actually calms his tics down, the brain power used to make decisions as a setter take up all of his focus and energy, so he is able to concentrate on whether or not he should give dejected Bokuto a set, rather than the fact that his blood feels extremely itchy and he just has to give the other team the finger.  It’s a great distraction most days.

Of course, Keiji fails to account for the fact that today is not most days. He takes his usual starting position, bending over and trying to not think about the fact that Bokuto-san is right behind him. His body is buzzing, almost shaking with the effort it takes not to move a single inch. He screws his eyes shut in physical effort, he really just wants the game to start, he really wants it to start—

The whistle blows, and thank god, finally. Finally, Keiji can focus on something else other than his tics and his body and Bokuto and Bokuto staring at his body. He hears the distant slap of Konoha serving the ball, and usually, by this time, he can get his head in the game and start analyzing the court, but when he tries, his mind goes blank, and turns on him. 

‘Calm down. Don’t start,” He thinks to himself. He takes a deep breath, in through his nose, all the way down to his stomach like his therapist taught him to do before, and exhales. Feeling a bit better, he steps forward and crouches down to observe the opposing team's moves.

The distant squeak of a shoe against the gym floor sends shockwaves down from his ears to his whole body.

He can’t help the squeak that escapes him, but he quickly disguises it with a cough before he can think anything of it. Seriously? Now sounds are too much for him? He sees the first year libero in training receive Konoha’s serve, and the game starts off rather quick, really, and for some reason, Keiji can't keep up. Can’t focus. There’s bugs in his blood and his muscles are sitting in his body all wrong. Keiji almost lets out a sob as the game continues, and there’s no time for this, because now it's time for him to send a set. The ball arches his way beautifully, and he quickly sends it over to Washio, even though that probably wasn’t the best choice.

Come on…Focus! Just…Play!

Another serve, another set, another hit.

You’re smarter than this!

Another unsteady set. 

Why can you just–

Keiji gasps and covers his mouth just in time to conceal his hooting tic. Oh no. No, no, no. He’s completely cracking, and it's only been about 20 minutes. His body feels like a LED light, buzzing with light and energy and electricity ready to burst into excitable atoms, and god, he wishes he had a different body, he can’t stand this feeling. Why him?

(“Hey, Bokuto…I really don’t think Akaashi is feeling okay.” Komi grimaces sympathetically. He tilts his head over, gesturing over to their setter.

Bokuto looks over at Akaashi. He looks as quiet as always, but he’s tense, red faced, even though they haven’t been playing that long. His head is bowed, like how it always is when he doesn’t want anyone to see his face. His shoulders shrug up and down, and up and down, over and over again, his nose is scrunched and his head shakes side to side like how Bokuto does when he’s trying to expel his bad thoughts out of his head. That can't be comfortable. Akaashi is definitely not feeling okay. In fact, he read about this, back when Akaashi first told him about his disorder. He looks like he's about to have a tic attack.)

Another pass. Another set, Another hit. Repeated once, twice, three times. Keiji tries, he really does, but somewhere in the middle of the game, his nervous system decides, that's enough, he is no longer allowed to try and act like a normal person, and truly, that’s quite selfish, because there's nothing Keiji wants to be more in the world than that.  

“Bokuto-san!” He calls out. He can’t concentrate, doesn’t think quick enough, his arms seem to possess a mind of their own, and as soon as the ball leaves his hands, he knows the set is a little too high, even for Bokuto.

A shocked sort of noise leaves Bokuto when he jumps up to hit it but in the end, it somehow ends up working because Bokuto is really good at volleyball, and great at adjusting as well. 

“Woah! That one was super high! Are you trying to get me to jump higher, ‘Kaashi? Push me to my full potential?” Bokuto grins over at him, but Keiji isn't listening.

He’s tucking his chin firmly into his chest. He can feel his shoulders shaking, his body shaking, and the team is probably quiet, but he can’t hear anything. He can’t move, doesn’t dare move. If he moves, he won't be able to stop. If he talks, he won't be able to control his words. He keeps his head bowed. He almost wishes he would pass out. Anything, anything to get him out of this predicament. 

“...Akaashi?” 

“Bo…” Keiji chokes out, and that's enough for his eyes to shut close, and his shoulders to shrug, and his head to shake, and his breath to hitch, over and over and over again. 

“Woah! Is he crying?” He hears someone say. 

“Shut up,” Keiji blurts out, his Tourette’s now completely taking over his body mercilessly. He has no control over anything. It’s like there's something alien taking over, someone else fighting for control over what’s supposed to be his body, and his body only . “Fuck…I can’t…Hngh…I can’t- I can’t- I can’t…I-I-I I'm sorry, I can't-i can’t be here!” He cries out. He hurries away, face buried in his hands as his head shakes over and over again. 

He gets closer to the door, and because what’s happening is apparently not humiliating enough, his brain only decides to let him leave the gym with a muffled, involuntary shout of, “Don’t look at me!” 

Keiji, for the hundredth time that day, really wants to die.

No, really.

He leaves the gym with tears streaming down his face and his knees locking underneath him every 5 seconds before he decides to run into the locker room and slide down the corner all dramatically, except he wasn’t even trying to do it all theatrically, it just happens, he’s that distraught. He really wants to die. His face burns with humiliation as his mind replays over and over again what just happened, and he wishes he can take a second to perhaps work out his feelings, but that's just it, he doesn't have a second to take it easy. He doesn’t even have a millisecond. The shame burning in his body amplifies his tics, and he’s sure he must look absolutely crazy right now. There's random words and tics he hasn’t had since he was a child pushing through his chest and escaping his lips like bullets. His shoulders shrug, his head jerks, his tongue clicks, and he’s gasping over and over again like he’s taking his last breaths, and honestly? Maybe he is. It certainly feels like he’s going to pass away. 

He screams into his hands. He’s not sure if it’s involuntary or not, but it helps him feel a little better. Not for long, though, because to end today off with a cherry on top, the gods have delivered nothing more than one, final, humiliating blow. 

“A…Akaashi?”

No. No, no, no. Absolutely not .

Keiji feels himself scream in frustration, this time completely voluntary, and it’s all it takes for Bokuto to come running in, looking pale and…kind of like his knight in shining armor?

“Akaashi!” He gasps.

Keiji doesn’t lift his head to look at him. He grits his teeth, trying to force his body still, but it’s no use. He’s jerking like he’s having a seizure, every part of his body is moving in some way. 

“Bokuto-san, go away,” He growls out. This is the last thing he needs right now. His head twitches to the side, and his fist slams into his thigh. 

He hears a weak retort come from Bokuto, and he distantly hears him walk over to where he’s sitting, and slowly slide down to sit next to him. 

Keiji doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move on purpose. If he speaks he won’t be able to control the words that come out of his mouth. His katsu tic might come out, or god forbid the moaning tic he had in 8th grade—

“God, shut up. Shut up. Please, Shut up!” Keiji groans to himself and his hand flies to his hair to tug on it as he feels the premonitory urge for that certain tic building up in his chest. Why did he think about it? He knows better than to think about a specific tic! He tries redirecting it, and it helps, before he begins to panic once again by realizing Bokuto is still next to him witnessing him yell at himself. 

He must look crazy. He knows he looks crazy.

“Bokuto,” He takes a long pause in between, holding back as many tics as he can. “Please. Leave.” 

He feels Bokuto place a hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy, and usually Keiji wouldn’t mind the gesture, but it comes almost as a shock to his body. Without even meaning to, his shoulder rolls, shoving the hand away and physically rejecting Bokuto. Whatever. Let it stay off. He doesn’t think he can handle physical touch right now. 

He brings his knees to his chest and buries his face into them. He’s tensing repeatedly, still gasping and muffling his katsu tic into his elbows, but at least now, he can feel smaller. Maybe, if he curls up into himself enough, he’ll disappear, flicker out of existance, and Bokuto will leave, and he won’t have to witness Keiji make a fool of himself. Maybe then, there would still be a chance that Bokuto would be able to look at him and think, ‘This is someone I could actually love.’

Highly doubtful. It’s too late now. Keiji is twitching and squeaking and shouting random words, and Bokuto is here to witness it all. 

Because he’s sure today cannot possibly get any worse, Keiji gives up hiding himself and finally looks up to glare daggers at Bokuto, who's looking at him all wide eyed and guilty. Good, he should feel guilty.  “This is—“ A sniffle and a hoot. “—this is embarrassing enough as it is,” His right hand shoots out to slam into his chest, and Bokuto lets out an alarmed noise. “cuh-cuh-can’t you just leave me alone?”

Strangely enough, Bokuto’s bottom lip trembles, and before Keiji even realizes what is happening, he’s being smothered against his strong chest. 

“Bokuto-san!” Keiji cries out, completely thrown off the loop. He thinks it might be a tic, but Bokuto doesn’t seem to take it as that. He wraps his arms around Keiji’s waist a little tighter, strong and secure, and though it should feel suffocating for his tics, it doesn’t.

“Akaashi, I know you feel bad right now, and you’ve probably been holding them back all day. Don’t do that, just let them out, ok?” Bokuto whispers into Keiji’s sweaty hair, and he thinks he might pass out, to be frank, because here he is having a tic attack in front of his crush, he’s holding him and telling him… to let it out? As if.

“You don’t know how—“

“I do!”

“— No.” Keiji hisses, and with a million tics in between and electricity coursing through his veins, he says, “I can't stand you looking at me in this condition. It’s humiliating.”

“You can’t control it, ‘Kaashi.” Bokuto practically begs, and Keiji is sick of Bokuto perceiving him right now. “It’s not your fault.” 

Keiji snaps. 

“I can control it!” He practically shouts, but he can barely get himself to believe it at this point. His hand slams against his knee. “Just give me a minute! And stop looking at me!” 

So, actually, that thing Keiji said before about ‘today can’t possibly get any worse’? Yeah, he spoke too soon. 

It's almost like it happens in slow motion. Keiji will later recall and say, yes, it definitely did happen in slow motion, he swears it. He feels his hand tingle, and before he even realizes what's happening, his hand shoots up from where it’s pulling at his hair, and slams against Bokuto’s face. 

Keiji really, really wants to die. 

The shock is strong enough to completely make his tics stop for a few seconds, isn’t that funny? One of Bokuto’s hands releases its grip on him, and goes to cradle his face, which is now steadily growing red. He doesn’t take his eyes off Keiji for a second, and strangely enough, he doesn’t look shocked. 

Keiji inhales sharply, and he’s honestly at a loss for words. 

“Are you doing this on purpose, Bokuto-san?” He croaks out, defeated. His heart is slamming against his chest like never before, it almost hurts, he's scared he's having a heart attack. His tics continue to bully him, control him around like a puppet. Never ending. “Do you like seeing me like this?”

Here sits his best friend, crush, and partner, staring at him while he hits himself and blurts out ridiculous words that are not relevant to the situation at all. The boy he hangs around all the time and has feelings for, putting all his attention on his biggest insecurities. He will probably have to go to therapy for this, he's pretty sure he’s traumatized now. This is extremely traumatizing,

“No,” Bokuto finally says something, and Keiji wants to cry and hit him again, this time on purpose, because he has the nerve to look ashamed of himself,  “No, ‘Kaashi, I don’t–I..maybe I should’ve let you be, but…I can't let you be by yourself when this is happening. I just hate watching you hold them back, and then have things like this happen. It sucks!”

“You don’t think it sucks for me? I feel like a total freak, Bokuto-san.” Keiji growls, and his arm shoots out to hit Bokuto again. This time, he catches it, and with a sharp tug, he’s holding Keiji in his arms again.

(It’s not really the time and place to be paying attention to these things, but holy shit…Bokuto’s got some muscles!)

“Listen...I know how you feel—”

“No, you don’t.”

“—I do though! My mood swings!” Bokuto blurts out, and Keiji’s mouth closes with a click and a lingering hiccup tic. 

He’s actually aware of them? Keiji didn’t think Bokuto thought much of it, considering the fact that he’s never mentioned them before, or even called them mood swings. Keiji simply thought Bokuto took it as just regular emotions. To hear that he’s actually aware that he has big emotions is a little bit of a shock to Keiji, to say the least. He almost wants to ask,‘ What about them?’, but he finds himself hesitating. If he asks that, it would imply that Keiji also classifies them as mood swings, and then Bokuto would know Keiji thinks of them as mood swings, and mood swings are generally listed as a negative quality, and the last thing Keiji wants to do is make Bokuto think that he thinks of him negative in any way, because how could he? His mood swings make Bokuto him , even if they cause him distress at times. All Keiji wants to do is be there for Bokuto, and help him through it, wants to help him and give him his all and let him know that he’s there , even if Bokuto thinks they’re embarrassing, because honestly at times Keiji even thinks it’s endearing , even though Bokuto may insecure about it, which is stupid, because he can’t control it—

“Oh.” Keiji says softly, and Bokuto huffs out a small laugh, pressing what feels to be a quick kiss on his hairline. 

Failing to notice Keiji nearly passing out in shock against his ridiculously sexy pecs, Bokuto continues, “Sometimes I don't even notice when I have these really big emotions until everyone is looking at me and I realize I'm being really loud, and it sucks, you know? ‘Cause nobody takes me seriously, and they all think i'm being a baby and, i feel bad, like i’m dumb, or stupid, or just–”

“Stop. I can’t listen to you talk about yourself like that,” Keiji interrupts, feeling his eyes sting with the threat of tears. How dare he? That's the love of his life he’s talking about, for goodness sake, “What is wrong with you? Can’t you see how great you are?

“But that’s just it, Akaashi! I ask myself that all the time about you!” Bokuto says desperately, he hugs Keiji a little tighter, and fuck, it feels good. Like instead of forcibly holding him down so he’s unable to tic, he’s holding him tight, becoming one with him, and sucking up all that nervous energy shooting through his body. “I see you holding back your tics and hurting yourself because you’re insecure about it and i think to myself, ‘why?’, It’s a part of you!” 

To say Keiji is shocked is an understatement. He lays against Bokuto’s chest, and from where he has his head, he can hear Bokuto’s heart beating wildly in his chest. Bokuto is nervous.

He feels Bokuto let out a sigh before continuing.  “And I know it sucks, and it can be embarrassing, but it sucks even more when you try to hide it because then things like this happen, and I…I can't bear it!  I hate seeing you hurt, Seeing you hide a part of yourself you don’t like. You’re perfect the way you are, tics and everything! It’s what makes you Keiji, and I like Keiji! All of you!” He cries out, a common fire in his voice that Keiji has heard when he’s giving his speeches as their captain, but somehow,its different. More intimate. He’s not just talking to the whole team, he’s talking to Keiji. 

Talking about him like that.

Keiji never really believed the idea of a full body blush before this moment, but the way his skin is burning with overflowing emotion makes him think he might actually burn Bokuto’s skin. He trembles with emotion, so far gone, tucked just perfectly into his body and feeling every word physically praise and comfort him. It’s almost too much.

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji chokes out, and this time, he doesn’t even try to hold back his shoulder shrug tic that builds up once he realizes he’s about to be very vulnerable. He nuzzles his cheek against Bokuto. “I just wanted you to see me as perfect. I didn’t want you to see me as anything but. I…Value your opinion more than anyone elses.” His face flushes harder, if it is even possible. He can't say it, but thankfully he doesn’t have to, because Bokuto sucks in a surprised breath, and he’s pulling back to give Keiji a smile, soft and gentle, unlike his usual boyish grins, and the stark difference of it makes Keiji’s heart flutter uncontrollably, even in its hyperactive state.

“Come here,” Bokuto says softly, bringing his hand up to caress a curl before pulling Keiji into a proper hug, tucking his chin into his shoulder, not pulling away even when it twitches dangerously. 

Keiji sniffles wetly and melts into his embrace, wrapping his arms around his neck and allowing himself to close his eyes and finally relax for the first time that day. He hasn’t even realized how tired he is until now, the weight of the day and his tic attack making him sink his whole body weight into Bokuto. He hasn’t felt this tired in ages . Not even after volleyball matches has he felt so mentally and physically exauhsted. He always thought he had it a little easier than others he read about with his condition, he’s seen worse cases than his, but damn , his body hurt and so did his mind. It was an emotional day too, he guesses. It wouldn’t hurt to give his mind a break, and maybe indulge a little. Shamelessly, he buries his nose into Bokuto’s neck, near his jaw, and inhales softly, smelling cologne and sports deodorant and sweat and Bokuto, a blend of scents he’s come to love and crave so much.

He feels Bokuto run his fingers over his back lightly, soft touches and nails lightly scratching the surface of his sweaty jersey, nudging his nose against Keiji’s neck. His touches are gentle, over fabric, but Keiji swears he can feel it on his bare skin. He lets out a trembling breath. If Bokuto doesn’t stop that…

He must have read his mind, because he pulls back all red faced, hands still holding onto his waist, and sends Keiji one last grin. “How do you feel?”

Better. “Better.”

“Good,” Bokuto rubs a thumb alond the small of his back, and pats it gently. “Let’s go home, ok?” 

“Let’s?” As in, the contraction of ‘let us ’? Both of them? 

“ Let’s,” Bokuto echoes, and Keiji looks away anxiously.

“Ok,” He whispers, after a second of silence. “Let me grab my bag.”

They’re sitting in Bokuto’s bed, side by side, eating onigiri Bokuto treated them to, with their legs under the sheets because Bokuto’s gross, and he doesn’t seem to care about potentially getting food all over his bed. Not that Keiji is a messy eater, but Bokuto certainly is. 

Keiji lets out a deep sigh, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the computer and the disney movie it has on display, Bokuto’s favorite, but his mind is racing a million miles per hour. He can’t help the guilt and embarrassment that is making itself well known in his chest. He was extremely stubborn, and in the end, not only did it backfire on him, but it backfired on Bokuto as well. He shifts uncomfortably, beginning to get lost in his thoughts. So, if he lets out his tics, he embarasses himself, but if he holds them back, he embarasses himself… and becomes a nuisance to those around him? A win-win situation! 

They finish with their food and Bokuto gives Keiji one of his hoodies because he knows Keiji is always cold, and Bokuto’s parents keep their house at a freakishly low temperature. Keiji sinks into the sheets, nose scrunching up, and tries not to think about his day. He fails, obviously, and Bokuto turns over to look at him, smiling. 

“What’s up?” Bokuto asks lightly, as if he didn’t know Keiji was going crazy in his own head, which he definitely did know, because Bokuto notices a lot of things.

“Nothing.” 

“What can I do to help?” 

‘What can I do to help?’, Not ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ or anything of that variation. Bokuto is asking him, not offering, what he can do to help Keiji feel better. Does Bokuto even realize the words he chooses to say are somehow always right? Better? Keiji wants to cry. 

“You shouldn’t have skipped practice for me, Bokuto,” He blurts out, feeling insecurity rise up within him again. He’s fixating on the fact that Bokuto never skips practice, and by skipping practice that meant the team missed their ace player as well as their captain, and, well, is he really that important for Bokuto to do that to them? “You love volleyball.”

“Why not?” Bokuto looks genuinely confused, but after a second, his face falls in understanding, and he shakes his head. “No. I’d choose you everytime, Akaashi.”

The offhanded, almost casual way Bokuto says it is absolute insane behavior. Keiji's heart nearly leaps out of his throat and it's like the words themselves punch a gasp out of him and he can’t help the way he doubles over, giving his hips the thousand yard stare, only snapping out of it when hears a rejected whimper coming from Bokuto. Oh, his poor darling.

Still…

“Bokuto-san!” He cries out, swatting at his shoulder, “You can’t just–! What are you even saying?!” He’s lying, he has to be. There’s no way Keiji, with his weird tics and quiet, weird personality, is the most important thing to the Bokuto. It almost makes him angry how wrong he is, because the most important thing to Bokuto has been and will always be volleyball. It’s his calling in life, his passion, his destiny. Not…Him!

Bokuto lets out a breathy chuckle. “I can miss a day of practice, Keiji! it doesn’t matter to me at all, because I love volleyball, but…” He stops himself, and Keiji can see, even in the dark, that his cheeks are red. He doesn’t have to say anything. 

Keiji feels like he’s been thrown into ice water. Did he just…? Does he mean …? It's too much for his brain to process. He wheezes, burying his face into the pillows. “You…Don’t look at me like that!”  

What is going on? Is this really happening right now? This is his absolute dream come true, but at the same time everything feels scary, but oh my god , this is his dream come true. He’s never felt so nervous in his whole life, the anticipation of knowing what might come next is killing him. He’s impatient and scared for something that may happen in the next 3 seconds. 

Bokuto says nothing, but he grins brilliantly and entagles their legs together before rolling over and facing Keiji, “Like what? Like I'm in love with you?” 

With that, Keiji’s life changes. 

“Oh my god.” He sobs, and the series of hiccup tics he lets out is nothing short of mortifying. “You’re lying to me. You just feel bad for me, because i’m talking about how bad i feel and you–”

‘Hey, uh-uh, no, none of that,” Bokuto grabs his hands, kissing them all over, making Keiji’s hands tingle.  “Don’t be mean to yourself anymore, ok? Not by yourself, not in front of me, not ever. That hurts me too, you know! And by the way, it's not a lie.” Bokuto presses his palms against Keiji’s cheeks and squishes them together. “I know ‘cause I’ve felt like this for a long time now, it’s not just an ‘in the moment’ thing.”

Keiji distantly feels tears roll down his face, but he can’t bring himself to care about hiding them. This is just way too much for one day. It's been too emotional, too exhausting, and now Bokuto decides to drop this on him? Honestly, it does seem like perfect timing, Keiji can’t blame him, but he also has no time or energy to process his emotions, he just knows he feels devestatingly relieved, and so, so in love. 

He acts on instinct instead, letting out a desperate noise and leaning in to press his nose into the crook of Bokuto’s neck, wrapping his arms around him and bringing himself closer, as close as he can, to the very core of Bokuto. Bokuto wastes no time wrapping his arms around Keiji’s waist, and it still isn’t close enough . Keiji wants to melt into him, as weird as it sounds, feel his every breath and heartbeat as one being. He needs Bokuto closer. Now. 

“You mean it? You really love me?” Akaashi whimpers. His voice cracks, he must sound as desperate as he feels, because Bokuto sucks in a breath. 

Then Bokuto is flipping him over and laying on top of him and, yes, there. The pressure, the feel of their chests together…Keiji wraps his arms around Bokuto’s neck and stretches slightly, tryng to get every inch of his exposed skin on Bokuto. Now, now he feels close to him. 

“Keiji,” Bokuto murmurs into his ear, the slight puff of hot air makes Keiji shiver, “I can’t fake my feelings. You know this better than anyone.”

Keiji needs to kiss him. 

Now.

He pushes Bokuto away, mania coursing through his veins. He feels almost unhinged, and Bokuto looks shocked for only a second before Keiji braces both hands on Bokuto’s cheeks and brings him down to crash their lips together. He is burning, he feels like the sun, fiery rays burning every inch of his skin, bubbling and bursting, and he thinks he can taste blood, but Bokuto feels so comforting and warm and heavy and right on top of him. It’s not even a sexual thing, his weight on top of Keiji is soothing, but knowing it’s Bokuto, his crush and probably love of his life, gives him a rush of emotions to complex for him to deal with right now, and with a swell of shame in his chest he realizes his tears are falling into their lips as they desperately move against eachother, and he can taste saltiness of them on their tongues which, wow, when did they enter the picture? He licks gently into Bokuto’s mouth, and smiles at the fact that he is responding with just as much gusto. Keiji was so desperate, he didn’t even think about the slim chance of rejection when he made the move to kiss him, but clearly, he didn’t have to worry about it at all, because here they are, lips moving against one another like it's what they were meant to do since the beginning.

Keiji pulls back with a gasp that he’s never heard come out of his mouth, and though he has always struggled with eye contact, he looks up and locks eyes with Bokuto, who's staring just as intensely. His pupils are blown, and Keiji’s brain works quickly to start creating dumb poetic lines like, ‘Beauty like a solar eclipse’, and ‘eyes really are the gateway to the soul’, because Keiji thinks he can finally see him, all of Bokuto, in those golden eyes of his. Just like he’s always wanted to. 

“Keiji,” Bokuto breathes out. 

Keiji’s hands move on their own, trailing from his cheeks to his hair, running through before his fingers trail back down to his jaw line and up to place themselves back onto Bokuto’s flushed cheeks. His breath hitches, probably because against the warmth of his cheeks, Keiji’s hands feel uncomfortably icy. He leaves it there for a second, and can almost feel his hand thaw out as he brushes his thumb against the line of his high cheekbones. “Koutarou.” 

Koutarou’s lips turn into a sort of downward smile, something so affectionate, his eyes shimmering with emotion, and Keiji falls in love over and over again. He feels so giddy, so full of love and affection and raw desire, and Koutarou is right here, loving him too–

“Hey hey hey,” He blurts out. 

Keiji really, really wants to die.

He doesn’t know how it’s possible, but all the blood leaves his face and rushes into it at the same time.

What. The. Fuck. He is mortified, burning with it, buried deep in his gut replacing all the love built up for Koutarou that was just starting to settle in there. His hand leaves Koutarou’s cheek and goes to cover his mouth as he stares at a Koutarou in horror.  “Oh no. No. Oh my god, no.”

He ruined it. He ruined it. It's not fair! And out of all his tics, it had to be that one. Why, why? They were having such a nice, book worthy, romantic moment! They were–

His thoughts are muted abruptly by the sound of Koutarou letting out a strange, high pitched snicker, eye shut in what seems to be happiness, almost, and he lowers all his weight down onto Keiji’s stomach and clings onto him. He buries his face into Keiji’s neck and shakes his head. “Your tics just imitated me!”

“I,” Keiji sputters out. ‘Apologize,’ he wants to say, but Koutarou wouldn’t like that, and he wants to try. Just for him. “I-I can’t believe they did that.”

He still feels embarrassed, but the way Koutarou is clinging onto him and giggling into his neck makes him feel so safe and accepted, for the first time in a very, very long time, Keiji finds himself laughing alongside Koutarou at his tics. He feels so light as he says, “I swear they do it on purpose, they know.” 

“They like me!“

“It’s…They're not a dog, Bokuto-san!” Keiji groans, and Koutarou nips at his neck gently, making him shiver.

“Don’t call me that, Keiji.” He pouts into his jaw line, and Keiji can help but indulge in the vibrations of Bokuto’s deep voice buzzing against his neck, warm and comforting, every bit of Koutarou as the real thing.

“Koutarou,” Keiji says. 

“Again.”

“Mmm…Koutarou,” Keiji sighs, drunk in love, into the air as Koutarou continues to nuzzle and nose at his neck. He presses a kiss near Keiji’s jaw, then lifts himself by his arms and smiles at Keiji. He looks so handsome like this, Keiji can hardly believe he’s here, alive, in the right time and moment in history to have the privilege of being underneath Koutarou like this.

“Again!” 

“Now you’re just being greedy.” 

“Would it be greedy to ask for another kiss?”

Keiji’s heart leaps in his chest, and he cards his hands through Koutarou’s hair before gently guiding him down and connecting their lips together.

—

“Hey Akaashi! You’re back!” Konaha waves Keiji over and shoots him a toothy grin as he enters the club gym behind Koutarou, 2 days after “The Incident”. 

Though he can already feel his cheeks warm up at the mention of his rather quick and… loud exit, he waves back to Konoha in what he hopes is good-naturedly and gives him an anxious smile. “Hello, Konoha-san. Yes, sorry, i…” He trails off awkwardly. 

There's nothing to be said about his little fit the other day. He’s sure by this point, they all knew what happened. He took another day off of volleyball yesterday at Koutarou’s orders, promising him that he would, in fact, “Do all that self care shit”, and make sure to get enough sleep so he can get his head back into the game. Keiji wanted to argue, but ultimately, his stubborn streak wore off, disintegrated by the embarrassment he felt the day before, and he willingly agreed to Koutarou’s terms. Now that he’s back, he’s struggling to find the confidence to bring up anything to his teammates. 

Konoha waves him off, and Komi joins him, grinning.  “Don’t worry about it, man! We’re happy to see you. Are you okay now?” 

Suddenly, a sense of urgency flooded Keiji’s chest. The team is looking at him, not very discreetly, and he realizes he’s sick of hiding. He’s sick of constantly faking and hiding and pushing back all his tics. How easy it would be to just explain everything. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so embarrassed all the time. If they understood, he wouldn’t have to have another incident. Would it still be incredibly revealing? Yes. 

But…Better that than how he's been hiding and pushing back his entire life. Koutarou is right, it's a part of him he can’t change. 

“Yes, I had a tic attack. It was due to my Tourettes Syndrome, that's why I blurted out ‘Don’t look at me’ and… all of that. I didn’t actually mean it,” Keiji explains. He can feel his face twisting in discomfort, but he doesn’t stop. “I realized I never explained it to you guys. It’s neurological, and basically my brain misfires signals sometimes. If i hold it back too much then they build up and, yeah…” he trails off. 

What is this? His heart is hammering against his chest. He feels small and strange and out of place, but no one is looking at him tauntingly, and no one is looking at him in sympathy either. He catches Koutarou’s eyes and he almost looks proud. For the first time in forever, speaking on his condition is making him feel satisfied.

He bows slightly. “I hope you will all forgive me for not being truthful.”

There's no awkward silence, like Keiji was dreading, rather he opens his eyes to genuine smiles, to nods and sounds of understanding, casual and lighthearted. They all seem to be fine with it. 

Sarukui walks up to him and slaps a hand on his back, shocking Keiji out of his bow. “Ah, stand up straight, Akaashi! It’s all good. We understand!”

“Yeah,” Komi says, lifting a fist up and smiling a Keiji, he’s got a sort of understanding look in his eyes Keiji can’t read until he says, “My brain’s also fucked up dude, i get it. I have epilepsy and all that.”

“You-You do?” Keiji stammers, surprised. There’s someone else on this team with a neurological issue? Someone who can understand what he goes through? Though he feels seen, however, Keiji feels a twinge of sympathy. Tourette’s is nowhere near as difficult as epilepsy is.

“Oh wait, that's right, you do,” Koutarou gasps. “I completely forgot about that!” 

“ How? I had a seizure that one time in first year, remember? When I woke up, you were crying like a baby, it was hilarious. I thought it traumatized you for life,” Komi snickers, and Koutarou’s face glows with that lovely shade of red Keiji is obsessed with.

“Oh, right,” Koutarou mumbles, and the gym fills with laughter, Keiji can’t help but let out a tiny snicker of his own. His boyfriend is just too cute.

The moment ends, and everyone fans out throughout the gym. Keiji watches them go. He would move along with them, but somehow he finds himself glued to where he stands, observing the self-satifsifed feeling in his chest. 

This is...good, right? Him talking about his disorder and being open about it? He remembers as a child he would see the Tourette's Tohoku Association put out news articles and videos of brave kids talking about their condition with an open heart. He would feel a lot less alone, seeing kids his age and even adults talk about how their tics affected them, and how happy they were to be able to spread awareness and information about their disability. Did they feel like this after, too? Confused and vulnerable, but satisfied, like people are going to judge them a lot less now that they know more about it? 

He’s snapped out of his trance when he feels a heavy hand lay on his shoulder, and he looks up to meet Bokuto’s knowing, yellow eyes. He should feel heavily exposed under Bokuto’s stare, but for some reason, he doesn’t feel that familiar panic. He feels understood .

“You okay?” Bokuto grins down at him, caressing his shoulder with his thumb. 

Keiji presses his lips together, before he feels himself grin, and twitch his head to the side. 

“Yes. I’m fine,” he says. There’s buzzing in his skin and pressure in his back, but he really means it this time.