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The sweet aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the air as Bokuto Koutarou pushed open the door to his bakery, Owlet's Nest, a beloved establishment in the heart of the bustling neighborhood. The bakery had been his passion project ever since he graduated from university, his dream of spreading joy through pastries and bread transforming into a successful small business over the years. The walls were painted a warm cream color, decorated with whimsical paintings of owls perched on tree branches. A chalkboard menu hung behind the counter, listing daily specials in Bokuto’s bubbly handwriting, complete with little doodles.
Bokuto himself was as warm and inviting as his bakery. His silver hair, streaked with hints of tawny brown, was tied back in a loose ponytail that bounced as he moved. He wore his favorite apron, embroidered with tiny owls, over a soft yellow shirt and jeans. His energy was infectious, his boisterous laugh a familiar sound to regular customers who came not just for the pastries but also for the vibrant personality behind the counter.
The day started like any other until Bokuto noticed something new across the street. A quaint little shop with a sign that read Verdant Dreams had opened its doors. The florist’s shop was adorned with cascading greenery and pots of vibrant blooms, a stark but delightful contrast to the stone-gray storefronts lining the street.
Curiosity piqued, Bokuto grabbed a basket of freshly baked croissants—his signature recipe—and stepped outside. The air was crisp with the scent of flowers and possibility. He crossed the street, the basket swinging at his side, and peeked through the open door of the flower shop.
Inside, the shop was serene and elegant, its walls lined with wooden shelves that held everything from tiny succulents in ceramic pots to grand bouquets in glass vases. At the center stood a young man with dark, shoulder-length hair and a calm demeanor that seemed to blend perfectly with his surroundings. He wore a simple but stylish green apron over his button-up shirt, his fingers deftly arranging a bouquet of lilies and roses.
“Hey there!” Bokuto called out, his voice bright and uncontainable. “Welcome to the neighborhood!”
Akaashi looked up, startled for a moment before a small, polite smile graced his face. “Thank you. Are you from the bakery across the street?”
“That’s me! Bokuto Koutarou, at your service.” He held up the basket. “Brought you a little something to say hello. Freshly baked croissants, still warm.”
Akaashi set down the bouquet and walked over, his movements graceful and deliberate. He accepted the basket with both hands, his smile growing a touch warmer. “That’s very kind of you. I’m Akaashi Keiji. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s mine!” Bokuto grinned. “Your shop looks amazing. I love flowers—well, I love anything bright and cheerful, really.”
Akaashi chuckled softly. “Then you’ve come to the right place. I just opened this week, so I’m still getting everything in order.”
“You’re off to a great start!” Bokuto gestured around. “This place feels like springtime.”
“That’s the idea,” Akaashi replied. “Flowers are meant to bring a bit of beauty and hope into people’s lives.”
“That’s exactly how I feel about baking!” Bokuto exclaimed. “We’re kindred spirits!”
Akaashi tilted his head, intrigued by Bokuto’s exuberance. “I suppose we are.”
Bokuto spent the next few minutes exploring the shop, peppering Akaashi with questions about the different flowers and their meanings. Akaashi answered each one with quiet patience, his voice steady and soothing. By the time Bokuto left, he was clutching a small bouquet of sunflowers that Akaashi had insisted on giving him in return for the croissants.
As Bokuto returned to his bakery, he felt a spark of excitement. The neighborhood had gained not just a new shop but someone who seemed every bit as passionate about their craft as he was. For Bokuto, this was the start of something beautiful.
The next few days settled into a quiet rhythm, though Bokuto couldn’t help but notice a certain pattern emerging across the street. Every morning, just as he unlocked the doors to Owlet's Nest at the crack of dawn, Akaashi would also arrive at Verdant Dreams. The florist’s day seemed to begin as early as his own, though Bokuto had to admit that Akaashi’s mornings looked much more peaceful compared to his bustling kitchen.
A small truck would pull up in front of the flower shop, loaded with crates of fresh blooms. Akaashi, along with another guy Bokuto learned was named Konoha, would step out into the cool morning air to unload the delivery. Bokuto admired how smoothly they worked, lifting the crates with practiced ease and arranging the flowers inside the shop. The air outside smelled of dew, fresh flowers, and Bokuto’s rising bread—a combination he found oddly perfect.
One morning, Bokuto was leaning against the counter of his bakery, sipping his coffee as he watched the scene unfold. Akaashi’s dark hair caught the faint golden rays of the rising sun, and even from across the street, Bokuto could see the faint concentration on his face as he inspected each bundle of flowers. His apron hung neatly around his waist, and his movements were calm and deliberate.
Bokuto couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly Akaashi seemed to fit into the serene atmosphere of his shop. Even in the early hours of the day, with faint traces of sleep still clinging to his own mind, Bokuto found Akaashi beautiful—graceful, even.
It was in one of these moments of absent-minded staring that Akaashi turned his head and caught Bokuto looking. Bokuto froze, coffee mug halfway to his lips, as Akaashi’s dark eyes met his. For a second, Bokuto panicked, unsure whether to pretend he hadn’t been watching or just wave it off. But before he could decide, Akaashi lifted a hand and waved, his expression soft and warm, almost shy.
A grin broke across Bokuto’s face, and he raised his coffee cup in response, shouting across the quiet street. “Good morning, Akaashi! You’re up bright and early again, huh?”
Akaashi’s small wave turned into a faint chuckle, though Bokuto couldn’t hear it over the distance. Instead, he watched as Akaashi nodded, his smile lingering for a moment before he turned back to Konoha and their delivery.
Bokuto stood there a moment longer, sipping his coffee and shaking his head at himself. “Get it together, Koutarou,” he muttered under his breath, though his grin didn’t fade. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but there was something about Akaashi that had him completely enchanted.
The evening breeze was crisp as Bokuto stepped outside his bakery, the warm scents of lingering pastries clinging to his clothes. He glanced across the street just in time to see Akaashi locking up Verdant Dreams. Without a second thought, he turned to his cashier and said, “Hold the fort for a sec—I’ll be right back!”
The cashier barely had time to respond before Bokuto jogged across the road, calling out, “Akaashi! Hey, Akaashi!”
Akaashi turned, keys in hand, a flicker of surprise softening into amusement as Bokuto approached. “Bokuto-san,” he greeted, his tone calm but warm. “What’s got you running over here?”
“You, obviously!” Bokuto replied with a grin. “You looked like you needed saving.”
“Saving?” Akaashi echoed, a brow arching in mild curiosity.
“Yup! From going home without dessert, a tragedy I simply cannot allow.” Bokuto folded his arms dramatically. “So, you’re coming to my bakery.”
Akaashi blinked at him, his expression an even mix of bewilderment and amusement. “Do I get a say in this?”
“Nope,” Bokuto said cheerfully. “Think of it as a rescue mission. You’ve been working all day—at least let me treat you to something nice.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll just keep standing here until you say yes. Might even start shouting ‘Akaashi hates dessert!’ across the street.”
Akaashi’s lips twitched, and a small laugh escaped him. “Persistent, aren’t you?”
“Relentless,” Bokuto corrected, flashing a grin. “C’mon, you know you want to.”
After a moment of measured silence, Akaashi sighed, though the slight smile on his face betrayed him. “Fine. Lead the way, hero.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Bokuto said, spinning on his heel. “You won’t regret this, Akaashi. I promise.”
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Inside Owlet’s Nest, Bokuto guided Akaashi to a cozy corner table by the window. “Alright, sit here. Best spot in the house,” he said, pulling the chair out with exaggerated chivalry. “For our special guest.”
“Special guest?” Akaashi asked, sitting down. “Is this how you treat all your customers?”
“Nah, just the ridiculously good-looking ones,” Bokuto said with a wink before darting back to the counter.
Akaashi chuckled softly, resting his elbows on the table as he watched Bokuto return with a steaming mug of coffee. “Okay, here’s the deal,” Bokuto said, setting the cup down. “You tell me what you want, and I’ll make sure it’s the best thing you’ve ever had.”
“Surprise me,” Akaashi replied, taking a sip of the coffee. “I trust you.”
Bokuto scratched the back of his neck, his grin turning sheepish. “Uh, so, funny thing… Our best-seller is sold out. Sorry about that.”
Akaashi tilted his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Then what was all that about ‘the best thing I’ve ever had?’”
“Hey, hey, everything here is amazing,” Bokuto defended, leaning forward slightly. “But if I had to pick my favorite... Oh, I got it! Sit tight.”
Moments later, Bokuto returned with a flaky, golden kouign-amann on a plate. He set it down with a proud flourish. “Here it is. Not as famous as the croissants, but it’s the secret gem of the menu. Like me—underrated but absolutely irresistible.”
Akaashi’s gaze lifted from the pastry to Bokuto, one brow raised. “Irresistible, huh?”
Bokuto grinned. “Try it and tell me I’m wrong.”
Akaashi took a deliberate bite, the layers crisp and buttery, melting into sweetness on his tongue. He hummed softly, his expression lightening. “It’s excellent.”
“See? I told you!” Bokuto said, positively glowing under the compliment. “Everything here is made with love, y’know.”
Akaashi’s chuckle was soft, his gaze flicking up to meet Bokuto’s. “Is that so?”
“Absolutely. I mean, you’re sitting here enjoying my love right now.” Bokuto wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“That’s one way to phrase it,” Akaashi replied, a small laugh escaping him. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”
“Nope,” Bokuto said, leaning his elbows on the table. “Life’s too short to hold back, especially with someone as cool as you.”
The faintest hint of pink dusted Akaashi’s cheeks, though his calm demeanor didn’t falter. “And you’re quite shameless, aren’t you?”
“Only when it’s worth it,” Bokuto shot back, his grin unwavering.
They continued to chat, Bokuto tossing out cheeky comments that earned more quiet laughter from Akaashi, whose guarded demeanor seemed to soften with every passing moment. By the end of the evening, Bokuto decided this was his best idea yet—not just because Akaashi enjoyed the pastry, but because he got to see Akaashi smile up close.
As the conversation between Bokuto and Akaashi continued, the bakery’s staff exchanged knowing glances from behind the counter. One of the bakers nudged the cashier with a smirk, whispering, “Our boss has it bad, huh?”
The cashier snorted softly, trying not to be too obvious as they both watched Bokuto animatedly talking to Akaashi at the corner table. “Oh, we’re definitely not letting him live this down tomorrow.”
Meanwhile, Bokuto was blissfully unaware of his staff’s silent teasing. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, hanging onto every word Akaashi said. “So, Akaashi, tell me more about you. What’d you study? What got you into flowers?”
Akaashi rested his chin on his hand, taking a moment to answer. “I studied environmental sciences in university. Always had a fascination with plants, ecosystems, and the like. It’s calming.”
“That checks out,” Bokuto said with a grin. “You give off super calm vibes. Like, the opposite of me.”
Akaashi chuckled softly. “Yes, I’ve noticed.”
Bokuto laughed along before asking, “Okay, but what about before that? Like, back in high school. Were you always this cool and collected?”
Akaashi hesitated briefly, a flicker of nostalgia crossing his features. “I don’t know about ‘cool,’ but I was… involved. I played volleyball. I was the setter for my team.”
“No way!” Bokuto exclaimed, his voice rising enough to make Akaashi glance around, though he didn’t seem annoyed. “A setter? That’s awesome! I used to play volleyball too. I was a spiker!”
Akaashi tilted his head, clearly interested. “Were you good?”
“Was I good?” Bokuto leaned back dramatically, his hand pressed to his chest.
“Was I good? Akaashi, I was the best! Nobody could touch my spikes! I had this one play in high school—my back-row attack—legendary. The other team couldn’t even see it coming!”
Akaashi’s lips quirked into an amused smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “I think I would’ve liked to see that. Spikers tend to have a lot of energy—like you, apparently.”
“Damn right,” Bokuto said, his grin widening. “Setters are the backbone, though. I’ve always said that. No great spiker’s anything without a setter to toss the perfect ball.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Akaashi replied, his tone light, though there was a faint flush creeping onto his cheeks.
“It is a compliment!” Bokuto insisted. “Setters are the best. And—okay, hear me out—you’re totally built like a setter. You’ve got this precision thing going on. I bet your tosses were perfect.”
“Sometimes,” Akaashi admitted with a soft chuckle. “Though I doubt I was as animated as you seem to have been.”
“Hey, what can I say? I live for the game—and for good conversation,” Bokuto said, shooting him a cheeky wink. “And right now, I’m definitely winning this one.”
Akaashi shook his head, a small laugh escaping him. “You’re relentless.”
“And you like it,” Bokuto quipped, earning a raised eyebrow and another chuckle from Akaashi.
As the night deepened, Bokuto couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of satisfaction. Not just from the laughter or the connection they were building, but from the way Akaashi’s normally composed demeanor softened ever so slightly under the glow of their conversation. Meanwhile, the staff behind the counter were already whispering plans to tease their lovestruck boss mercilessly the next morning.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Bokuto found himself seeking out Akaashi more and more with each passing day. Whether it was a quick chat before the bakery opened, a wave from across the street, or an excuse to pop over to Verdant Dreams, Bokuto couldn’t help but gravitate toward the florist. Akaashi didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, Bokuto often caught a soft smile or a quiet laugh that made it all worth it.
That evening, sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. Bokuto had just finished wiping down the last table in his bakery when he glanced across the road at Verdant Dreams. Through the large glass window, he could see Akaashi still working, his head bowed over an arrangement of pristine white roses and sprigs of eucalyptus.
Something about Akaashi’s quiet dedication tugged at Bokuto. Without a second thought, he tossed his cleaning rag to one of his employees. “I’ll be back in a bit!” he called, ignoring the knowing grin he received in return.
Crossing the street, Bokuto pushed open the flower shop’s door, the bell above jingling softly. Akaashi, startled, looked up from his work. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms flecked with bits of greenery, and his usually pristine hair was slightly mussed, likely from running his fingers through it in thought.
“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi’s voice held a note of surprise. “What are you doing here? Isn’t your bakery closed by now?”
“Sure is,” Bokuto replied with a grin, strolling further inside. “But I couldn’t just sit around knowing you were still working. Thought I’d check in, see if you needed anything—or, y’know, someone to keep you company.”
Akaashi regarded him for a moment, his expression softening. “I appreciate the thought, but you didn’t have to do that.”
“Didn’t have to,” Bokuto said, leaning casually against the counter, “but I wanted to.” His gaze flicked to the arrangement Akaashi was working on. “Wow, that’s beautiful. Wedding order?”
“Yes,” Akaashi said, returning his focus to the flowers. “It’s a larger order than usual, so I need to make sure everything is perfect before the delivery tomorrow morning.”
Bokuto whistled low, watching Akaashi’s hands move with careful precision. “Man, I don’t know how you do it. That’s some serious skill.”
“It’s just practice,” Akaashi replied modestly, though a faint blush dusted his cheeks. “And patience.”
“Well, you’ve got me beat on the patience part,” Bokuto admitted with a laugh. He perched himself on a nearby stool, his eyes never leaving Akaashi. “Mind if I hang out? Promise I won’t touch anything.”
Akaashi sighed softly, though there was a small, amused smile on his face. “As long as you don’t get in the way.”
“Me? Get in the way?” Bokuto gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “I’m here for moral support! And maybe to offer unsolicited compliments about how amazing you are.”
Akaashi chuckled under his breath, his hands steady as he arranged the flowers. “Unsolicited, indeed.”
“Hey, but they’re true!” Bokuto said, leaning forward. “Seriously, you’re incredible at this. I mean, look at that arrangement! It’s like… poetry, but with flowers.”
Akaashi’s hands paused briefly, his gaze flicking to Bokuto. “Poetry with flowers?”
“Yeah,” Bokuto said, scratching the back of his neck. “You know, like… it says something. You look at it, and it just… speaks to you. Am I making any sense?”
Akaashi’s lips quirked upward, a quiet laugh escaping him. “You’re making some sense. Thank you.”
The quiet hum of the shop settled between them as Akaashi continued his work, and Bokuto found himself content just to watch. The way Akaashi moved—graceful, deliberate—was mesmerizing.
“So,” Bokuto said after a moment, breaking the silence, “what happens if a flower doesn’t cooperate? Like, you’re trying to make it fit, and it’s just being a total rebel.”
Akaashi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Then I adjust. There’s no point forcing something to fit where it doesn’t belong.”
“Wow,” Bokuto said, pretending to be awestruck. “That was deep. Do you always drop wisdom bombs like that?”
“It wasn’t that profound,” Akaashi replied, but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed his amusement.
“Sure it was,” Bokuto countered, grinning. “Man, you’re full of surprises.”
As the evening wore on, Bokuto stayed true to his word, offering steady chatter to fill the quiet space. He shared stories of his early days running the bakery, the mishaps with burned pastries and the time he accidentally set off the fire alarm. Akaashi, to Bokuto’s delight, laughed at all the right moments, his quiet chuckles warming the florist shop’s cool, floral-scented air.
By the time Akaashi finished the last arrangement, the hour was late, but neither seemed to mind. Bokuto stood, stretching with an exaggerated groan. “Alright, mission accomplished. Moral support delivered.”
Akaashi straightened, brushing his hands on his apron. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. I didn’t expect you to stay this long.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” Bokuto replied, then quickly added with a wink, “Or, y’know, your biggest fan.”
As they continued down the quiet street, Bokuto found himself trying to memorize the moment—the soft hum of the city, the way the streetlights flickered occasionally, and the comfortable silence that somehow felt warmer with Akaashi beside him.
After a few more minutes, Akaashi finally slowed his steps and gestured toward a familiar apartment complex. “We’re here. I live here,” he said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact.
Bokuto stopped in his tracks, staring at the building like it had just sprouted wings. “No way!” he exclaimed, his voice louder than intended. “Akaashi, you live here? This is my apartment!”
Akaashi turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Huh? Really?”
“Really!” Bokuto gestured wildly toward the entrance. “I’ve been living here for years! How have we not run into each other before?”
Akaashi gave a small shrug, his lips tilting upward in mild amusement. “It’s a large building.”
“Okay, fair,” Bokuto conceded, his excitement bubbling over as they stepped inside. “But now I have to know—what floor do you live on?”
“The fourth floor,” Akaashi answered, glancing at Bokuto curiously.
Bokuto slapped a hand to his forehead, his expression dramatic as ever. “That explains everything! I’m on the second floor! No wonder we’ve never bumped into each other. I mean, that’s like—what? Two whole floors between us!”
Akaashi let out a quiet chuckle, clearly entertained by Bokuto’s antics. “Yes, Bokuto-san. That’s how floors work.”
“Man, this is so wild,” Bokuto muttered as they walked into the lobby. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his earlier confidence giving way to a sudden, nervous energy. As they reached the elevator, Bokuto glanced sideways at Akaashi, his cheeks warming. “Hey, uh… Akaashi?”
“Yes?” Akaashi turned to him, his calm demeanor unchanging.
Bokuto hesitated for a split second, then blurted out, “Can I get your number?”
Akaashi blinked, clearly surprised. Bokuto scrambled to add, “I mean, y’know, in case you need anything! Like sugar or, uh, flour! Or if you get locked out or something. I’m right downstairs, after all.”
Akaashi regarded him for a moment, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles. “Alright, Bokuto.”
“Really? Awesome!” Bokuto pulled out his phone so fast he nearly dropped it. He handed it over to Akaashi, who took it with an amused shake of his head.
After typing in his number, Akaashi handed the phone back. “There you go. Don’t misuse it.”
“Me? Misuse it?” Bokuto pressed a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “I’d never!”
Akaashi huffed a small laugh and stepped into the elevator. “Goodnight, Bokuto. Try not to stay up all night planning how to bother me tomorrow.”
Bokuto grinned, waving as the doors began to close. “No promises, Akaashi! Sweet dreams!”
As the elevator ascended, Bokuto stood in the lobby, staring down at the newly saved contact in his phone. A giddy smile spread across his face as he whispered, “Fourth floor, huh? Guess I’ll be taking the stairs more often.”
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Bokuto paced back and forth in his living room, glancing at the clock every few seconds. The dining table was set, the food was ready to go, and everything looked… perfect. Or at least, he hoped it did. He straightened the collar of his button-down shirt for what felt like the hundredth time, tugging at the sleeves nervously.
“Relax, Bokuto,” he muttered to himself. “It’s just dinner. With Akaashi. In your apartment. Alone.”
The knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. He practically leapt toward it, taking a deep breath before pulling it open.
“Hey, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi greeted, holding up a bottle of wine with a small, polite smile.
“Hey!” Bokuto grinned, his voice a little louder than he intended. He stepped aside to let Akaashi in, and then his brain short-circuited.
Akaashi was wearing joggers. Just plain, soft-looking joggers paired with a loose sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He looked effortlessly comfortable, cozy even. And somehow, that made him even more attractive.
Bokuto glanced down at his own outfit—a neatly pressed button-down tucked into dark jeans, his sleeves rolled up in what he thought was a suave way. Now, he just felt ridiculous.
“You… look nice,” Akaashi said, his tone casual but sincere. He slipped off his shoes and placed the wine on the counter.
“Uh, thanks!” Bokuto replied, scratching the back of his neck, his grin faltering for a second as his gaze flickered to Akaashi’s relaxed attire. “You too! I mean, you look really, uh…” He hesitated, his face heating up as his brain scrambled for a word that wouldn’t make him sound ridiculous.
Akaashi raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently.
“Cuddly,” Bokuto finally blurted, the word escaping before he could stop it. The moment it left his mouth, his face turned a deep shade of red.
Akaashi blinked, then let out a quiet chuckle. “Cuddly?”
“I-I didn’t mean it like that!” Bokuto stammered, flailing his hands. “I mean, not in a bad way! You look great! It’s just—compared to me…” He trailed off, tugging at the collar of his button-down with an awkward laugh. “I look like I’m about to go on a fancy date or something.”
Akaashi’s eyes flickered over Bokuto’s neatly pressed outfit, his expression calm but faintly amused. “You do look… well-prepared,” he said, his lips curling into a slight smile.
That only made Bokuto’s face burn hotter. “I—I just wanted to look nice for dinner, okay? It’s not a date! Not that it couldn’t be a date, but that’s not—ugh!” He buried his face in his hands, groaning softly.
Akaashi’s soft laughter broke through Bokuto’s mortification. “Relax, Bokuto-san,” he said, his tone gentle. “You look fine. More than fine, actually. But I appreciate the effort.”
Peeking out from behind his hands, Bokuto felt his chest tighten at Akaashi’s words. “You really think so?”
“I do,” Akaashi replied simply, standing up to place the wine bottle on the counter. “Now, let’s eat before the food gets cold.”
Bokuto nodded dumbly, his cheeks still warm as he shuffled toward the table. Despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t help the grin creeping back onto his face. Akaashi thought he looked more than fine. That alone was enough to make his night.
“This smells amazing. Did you make everything yourself?”
“Of course!” Bokuto said, eager to shift the focus. “Only the best for you, Akaashi!”
The compliment earned him a slight quirk of Akaashi’s lips, and Bokuto’s heart soared.
Dinner passed in a blur of easy conversation and laughter, Akaashi’s calm demeanor balancing Bokuto’s boundless energy. By the time the food was gone and the wine bottle half-empty, Bokuto found himself leaning back in his chair, watching Akaashi with a warm, almost dopey smile.
“Do I have something on my face?” Akaashi asked, tilting his head curiously.
“What? No!” Bokuto blurted, sitting up straight. “I was just… thinking about how glad I am you’re here. That’s all.”
Akaashi’s expression softened, and for a moment, Bokuto thought he saw a faint pink tint on his cheeks. “Thank you for inviting me. It’s been a while since I’ve had such a nice evening.”
Bokuto beamed, standing up abruptly. “Well, it’s not over yet! We’ve got a movie to watch, remember?”
“Right,” Akaashi said, following him to the couch.
As they settled in, Bokuto kept sneaking glances at Akaashi. The way he curled up comfortably, the way the soft light from the screen illuminated his face—it was almost too much.
Bokuto had always been a little… intense. It was part of his charm, part of what made him who he was. But tonight, after a couple of glasses of wine, he found his usual exuberance replaced with a quiet, simmering heat that made his thoughts muddled and his actions more daring.
He was sitting extremely close to Akaashi, their shoulders brushing every time Bokuto shifted on the couch. His leg was just inches from Akaashi’s, and the warmth of the space between them seemed to amplify his awareness of the smaller details—the faint scent of Akaashi’s cologne, the way his shirt sleeves were rolled just so, the soft curl of his hair that fell messily across his forehead.
The movie was playing on the screen, but Bokuto couldn’t bring himself to look at it. His gaze was fixed on Akaashi, studying him in a way that felt both natural and entirely dangerous. Akaashi’s profile was so graceful, his features sharp but soft in the dim light. Bokuto’s eyes traced the lines of his jaw, the way his lips moved slightly when he took a breath. Everything about him was magnetic, like he was drawing Bokuto in without even trying.
It wasn’t the first time Bokuto had found himself lost in Akaashi’s presence, but tonight, with the wine loosening his normally restrained impulses, he couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel to be closer. To have Akaashi in his arms, to kiss him. He wanted to pull him in, make Akaashi his. But he didn’t dare—yet—as his mind swam in a cloud of wine and admiration.
He didn’t even realize how long he’d been staring until Akaashi shifted in his seat, turning his head to look at him with a curious, amused expression.
“How long are you going to keep staring at me, Bokuto-san?”
Bokuto froze, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn’t expected to get caught, and the sudden attention made his chest tighten with embarrassment. His face went hot, his eyes wide as his brain scrambled for words. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, the confusion on his face matching the panic brewing inside him.
“I—I wasn’t staring,” he blurted out, his voice too high-pitched for his liking. “I mean, I was, but not—y’know, not in a creepy way! I wasn’t—well, maybe I was—I don’t know what I’m saying!”
His words tripped over one another in a rush, his cheeks burning redder with every passing second. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. He was trying to play it off, trying to make the awkwardness seem like no big deal, but inside, his thoughts were racing.
Akaashi’s eyes softened, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leaned back into the couch, watching Bokuto flounder with an almost fond amusement. “It’s alright, Bokuto,” he said, his voice light but soothing. “I didn’t say you were staring in a bad way. Just… in a way that’s very obvious.”
Bokuto could feel his face growing hotter by the second. Obvious? Really? He wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed by getting caught or if he was just embarrassed by how badly he was stumbling over everything right now.
“I—I didn’t mean to—" He ran a hand through his hair, his usual confidence slipping away. "I just… I mean, you’re really nice to look at, okay? I—um—well, that sounded weird, didn’t it?" His voice trailed off, feeling stupid. Why can’t I stop myself from saying dumb things?
Akaashi’s expression remained calm, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he found this entire situation amusing, even endearing in its own way. He gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that made Bokuto’s heart race for an entirely different reason.
“It’s fine, Bokuto,” Akaashi said, his tone still warm. “I don’t mind.”
Bokuto didn’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t mind? He found himself wanting to respond, but the words got stuck in his throat, his mind too occupied with the feeling of Akaashi so close to him and the undeniable attraction that only seemed to grow with every passing second.
There was a heavy silence between them, but unlike the earlier tension, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like something was shifting, something unspoken but understood. And as Bokuto stole another glance at Akaashi, his heart thudded harder in his chest, the desire to take that next step growing stronger than ever.
Before Bokuto could process another thought, before he could even figure out what to say next, Akaashi did something unexpected—something that made all the racing thoughts in Bokuto's mind come to a screeching halt.
Akaashi leaned in. It was slow at first, deliberate, and Bokuto’s wide eyes were glued to Akaashi’s face, the distance between them closing too quickly for him to process. He wanted to move, to do something, but his body froze in place, too stunned by the sudden turn of events.
And then, just as Bokuto’s brain screamed for him to react, Akaashi’s lips brushed softly against his, a gentle but undeniable press that sent an electric shock straight through Bokuto’s chest.
The kiss was brief, a fleeting moment that left Bokuto breathless. His heart hammered in his chest, the warmth of Akaashi’s touch lingering on his lips as he blinked in shock. His mind couldn’t make sense of it. Did that just happen?
Akaashi pulled back, his expression calm as always, though there was something in the way he looked at Bokuto that made his heart race even faster.
Bokuto, still stunned, could only manage a dazed blink. “Did—Did you just—?”
Akaashi smirked lightly, the cool demeanor not masking the subtle playfulness in his gaze. “What? You didn’t expect that?”
“No, I—” Bokuto stammered, words failing him completely. He could feel the heat rising to his face as he reached up, brushing his fingers over his lips as if trying to confirm that it had actually happened. “I—I didn’t think you—”
Akaashi chuckled softly, the sound like music to Bokuto’s ears, before he leaned in again, just a little closer this time, until Bokuto could feel the warmth of his breath against his cheek. “You’re kind of adorable when you’re shocked, Bokuto-san.”
Before Bokuto could recover his wits, Akaashi’s lips brushed against his again, this time a little firmer, a little longer, and Bokuto’s entire body seemed to melt under the soft pressure. His hands trembled, unsure whether to wrap around Akaashi or pull away. But the moment Akaashi kissed him again, something in Bokuto’s chest clicked, a wave of warmth spreading through him, and suddenly, he didn’t want to pull away.
His heart was hammering in his chest as he kissed back, slow at first, but gaining confidence the longer they stayed pressed together. This was real. Akaashi was kissing him. Akaashi wants this.
And when the kiss finally broke, both of them breathing a little heavier, Bokuto could only smile, wide and unabashed.
“So, uh… does this mean I get to call this a date now?” he asked, still in a dazed bliss, his hands finding Akaashi’s.
Akaashi just raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a knowing smile.
Bokuto's heart was still pounding in his chest, the aftershock of the kiss sending ripples of warmth through his body. He was caught in a haze of emotions—elation, excitement, and a deep, burning desire to feel Akaashi’s lips on his again. He wanted more. He didn’t know how to stop himself, and honestly, he didn’t want to.
"Please," Bokuto murmured, his voice low, a little husky from the rush of emotions. He reached out, tugging gently at Akaashi’s sleeve with a shy but persistent pull. His fingers curled around the fabric, and his gaze flickered up to Akaashi’s eyes. “Please, can we call this a date?”
Akaashi raised an eyebrow, his usual composed expression still there, but there was a glimmer of something softer, something teasing, in his gaze. “You want this to be a date, Bokuto-san?”
Bokuto nodded quickly, his face flushing red. He wasn’t usually the type to get shy, but right now, with Akaashi so close, he felt like he was standing on the edge of something huge, something important. "Yeah, I do," he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “I want this to be a date. A real one."
He bit his lip, a nervous, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Please?”
Akaashi watched him for a moment, silent, before he let out a soft, amused sigh. He leaned in a little closer, his breath warm on Bokuto’s face. The space between them felt so small, so intimate now, and Bokuto’s breath caught in his throat.
And then, in the same gentle, effortless way he had kissed him before, Akaashi pressed his lips against Bokuto’s once more, soft but insistent.
Bokuto’s heart fluttered, his hands reaching up on instinct, wanting to hold onto him, pull him closer. The kiss deepened just slightly, and Bokuto couldn’t stop himself from leaning into it, his fingers grazing Akaashi’s jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin.
When they finally pulled apart, Bokuto was breathless, his eyes wide with disbelief at the sudden turn of events.
"Okay," Akaashi said, voice low and teasing. "We can call it a date. But only if you stop pulling at my sleeve like you’re going to tug me into a kiss every five seconds.”
Bokuto’s face turned beet red, but the grin that spread across his face was impossible to hide. “I-I can’t help it,” he muttered shyly, but he was definitely not complaining.
Akaashi looked away for a moment, his cheeks tinged with a subtle pink that he quickly tried to hide by turning his head. The words hung in the air for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low and almost hesitant.
"Bokuto-san," he started, his tone quieter than usual. "You have no idea how crazy you've been driving me lately."
Bokuto blinked, confusion flickering across his face. “Crazy? In a good way?”
Akaashi hesitated for a second, his gaze shifting to the side before finally meeting Bokuto’s eyes again. His words came out in a soft, almost shy whisper.
“In every way, actually. I… I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re just—" He paused, searching for the right words. “You’re really handsome, Bokuto. And you don't even try to be. It's just... you.”
Bokuto’s heart fluttered, a warm rush spreading through his chest. He didn’t know what to say, but Akaashi wasn’t done yet. Akaashi’s eyes dropped for a moment, his fingers fidgeting slightly in his lap, as though he was grappling with his own feelings.
"And, um..." Akaashi continued, his voice steady but with a hint of vulnerability. "I've been wanting to kiss you a lot lately. Every time you blabber on about something—about anything, really—I can’t help but think of how badly I just want to kiss you. Not that I don’t like hearing you talk, you know? You’re... you’re fun to listen to."
Bokuto’s breath hitched at the sudden confession, his eyes wide as he processed what Akaashi was saying. “Wait, so… you’ve been wanting to kiss me this whole time?”
Akaashi’s gaze flickered up again, meeting Bokuto’s with a mix of fondness and shyness. "Yes, I have," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you’ve been so... energetic, and I didn't know how to tell you."
Bokuto couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face, his heart racing. “You should’ve just said something!”
Akaashi let out a small laugh, the tension easing between them. "Well, maybe I wanted to keep enjoying the way you make me feel. It’s just... you’ve always been so loud and carefree, and I never really knew how to react to it. But now, it's hard to ignore."
Bokuto leaned in, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "Well, maybe you should kiss me then."
Akaashi raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk of his own. "You really want me to, don’t you?"
Bokuto nodded eagerly, his hands reaching out, still shy, but desperate for that next step. “I do.”
Akaashi’s eyes softened for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was a small shift, but it made Bokuto’s heart race all over again. He didn’t expect what came next.
Without warning, Akaashi leaned in with more purpose this time, his lips crashing against Bokuto’s with a force that took Bokuto completely by surprise. It wasn’t the soft, tender kiss from before. This one was assertive, almost desperate, and it made Bokuto gasp. The shock of it made his body freeze for a second, but the intensity of the kiss immediately melted all his hesitation.
Akaashi’s hands gripped the sides of Bokuto’s face, holding him steady as their lips collided, demanding and urgent. The kiss was a little rougher than before, a mix of passion and something that felt almost possessive. Bokuto’s mind reeled, but the moment Akaashi’s lips pressed harder against his, something deep inside him responded, an uncontrollable desire to kiss back, to match that intensity.
He let out a breathless laugh against Akaashi’s lips, the sound a bit shaky as he finally found his bearings, his hands reaching up to wrap around Akaashi’s neck, pulling him even closer. He felt Akaashi’s body shift against his, the heat between them growing, the kiss still fierce and unrelenting. Akaashi’s lips moved with a slow hunger, his teeth grazing against Bokuto’s bottom lip, a teasing nip that made Bokuto’s breath catch in his throat.
The roughness of it all was electrifying. Bokuto’s chest was tight with excitement, his heart pounding erratically as he finally relaxed into the kiss. The world around them disappeared. All he could focus on was the way Akaashi’s lips felt against his, the taste of him, the heat that radiated between them. There was no room for hesitation, no time for second thoughts.
When Akaashi finally pulled back, the kiss breaking with a final, almost reluctant drag of lips, Bokuto was left breathless, his eyes wide, still trying to process the intensity of it. He had expected more of the gentle, teasing kisses, but this—this was something else entirely. Akaashi’s fingers lingered at his jaw, his touch still light but grounding.
Akaashi’s breath was just as uneven as Bokuto’s, but his gaze remained steady, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. "How was that?" he asked, voice low and full of intent.
Bokuto’s heart was still racing, his mind a swirl of emotions as he blinked up at Akaashi, feeling like the ground beneath him had shifted. "I—I wasn’t expecting that," he admitted, his voice breathless, still recovering from the sudden intensity.
Akaashi chuckled softly, his hand brushing over Bokuto’s cheek with a touch that was almost tender now. "I figured you’d like it." His smirk turned into something more sincere, a flicker of something warm in his eyes.
Bokuto didn’t have the words to respond right away, still caught in the aftermath of the kiss. But as Akaashi pulled back slightly, Bokuto found himself leaning in again, eager for more.
"Next time," Bokuto said, his voice low and teasing, "maybe we can try something even more intense."
Akaashi’s smirk deepened, and Bokuto knew, without a doubt, that this was only the beginning.