Work Text:
Where was he? Where was he? Where was he?
Where was Akaashi?
Bokuto paced around the locker room. He turned on his phone and was greeted with no new notifications. Again. The last text from Akaashi had been three hours ago, Akaashi telling him that he was on his way to the train station. It had been radio silence since. Bokuto ignored his unseen quadruple-text to Akaashi. And ignored his impulse to send a fifth.
He looked up at the clock on the wall and gripped the phone tighter. There were only fifteen more minutes until team introductions started. It took two and a half hours by Shinkansen to get to Osaka, then another twenty minutes to get to Osaka-jo Hall, if Akaashi timed it right. He knew Akaashi could make it before the match started. But what if something happened and Bokuto didn’t know?
Muffled fan chatter and bass-heavy pop music came from the direction of the arena. Soon enough, they’d be cheering his name as he took the court as a starter in his first ever D1 match.
But none of that mattered if Akaashi couldn’t see it!
“Dude. You need to simmer the fuck down.” Bokuto felt a hand on his shoulder. “Boyfriend not coming?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Bokuto mumbled, the only phrase in Bokuto’s vocabulary he could mumble. It was a phrase repeated to Atsumu so many times that it had become a mantra. Atsumu scoffed, which Bokuto chose to ignore. “Akaashi should be here by now, but I haven’t heard from him. What if he missed the train, or got sick? Or –.”
“Bokkun. Remember what I said when you joined the team?” Atsumu’s grip tightened as he leaned forward to snoop at Bokuto’s message history. “Damn lover boy,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I said: get all mopey on me and I’m not gonna toss to you, and I’ll get Coach to swap you out.” Atsumu threatened.
He and Atsumu clicked like peas in a pod during training camp and pre-season, but Bokuto knew by now that Atsumu got jittery over the things he couldn’t control. And Bokuto couldn’t blame Atsumu, he didn’t see any of Bokuto’s college growth.
Atsumu had only met Bokuto twice before he had been scouted by MSBY, including one match during Bokuto’s senior year Inter High. Inarizaki had won. Bokuto had gotten wound up over too many missed spikes. Akaashi decided to not toss to him, which made his funk worse. Inarizaki was too strong for the rest of their team to overcome without Bokuto being in top shape. It was a shame, even years later.
After that match, Atsumu told him two things. One: Ojiro Aran, someone still on Bokuto’s aces-to-beat bucket list, would always be better. Luckily, he could fix that today. Two: That Bokuto was a ‘scrub.’ Akaashi spent days assuaging Bokuto at the time, but the memory only made him laugh now.
His years of intentional hard work in college had mellowed out his old mercurial nature. Bokuto wasn’t the guy Atsumu knew in high school! He was far, far better!
But even with his growth, there was still something about Akaashi that tripped him up. Akaashi not following up with him made him nervous. He could power through it on the court, but he still didn’t like it.
“I’ll be fine, Tsum-Tsum,” Bokuto forced a smile that he hoped looked genuine. “Promise.” He meant it.
Atsumu grinned back. “Good. I’ll make sure you have a great first game. Promise.” Bokuto knew that Atsumu meant it.
--
If there was one thing years of being a setter had taught Akaashi, it was the importance of being punctual and having an awareness of everything around you. On-court awareness was key to being able to know where to move to meet a dug ball, and what spiker to set to. He prided himself on exemplifying these traits in all aspects of his life.
However, his Weekly Shounen Vai internship had successfully beat that impulse out of him for anything that wasn’t magazine pages.
After tapping his train-pass on the turnstile three times before it finally granted him entry, he rushed down the concourse to catch the last Shinkansen that would take him to Osaka before the MSBY vs. Red Falcons match started.
He felt foolish. He should have paid attention to the time. He should have worked later than eleven last night to get caught up. He shouldn’t have talked to Udai in the break room. He shouldn’t have stolen a fifteen-minute nap under his desk after getting so little sleep the past week. None of this was more important than Bokuto’s debut on the D1 scene!
Sure, no one had known until this morning that he was added to the starting lineup, but Akaashi should have prepared for this. He knew it was a matter of time. He hadn’t even prepped an emergency overnight bag; he was stuck in his suit and tie for the foreseeable future.
As he settled down in his seat, he tapped a quick message to Bokuto that he was on his way. Then his phone died.
He dug through his bag; he didn’t pack a charger.
Of course.
Akaashi rubbed his face, hoping the pressure would make the dark circles under his eyes go away. He was exhausted and wanted to spend the ride taking a nap. But he didn’t have an alarm without his phone. Last time, he fell asleep en route to Osaka and woke up all the way in Okayama. That time, his train was the day before the match. He couldn’t risk that again today.
He pulled out a manilla work folder, filled to the brim with draft storyboards and notes. He stifled a yawn and began to pour over the pages he needed to edit. At least this could keep him awake.
--
“And welcoming our beloved rookie, starting in his first game, Outside Hitter Number Twelve, Bokuto Koutarou!”
“Hey, hey, hey!”
Akaashi clapped as loud as he could as he pushed around the people in his row to reach his seat. He knew he should be nicer; he was in the Players’ complimentary ticket section with the other player-invited VIPs, but he didn’t care. Bokuto was here on the court! Finally! The brightest star among all the constellations in the sky was close enough for his light to reach the world. Akaashi didn’t mind sharing, he was simply lucky enough to have his telescope pointed at the right spot from the start.
He sat down and breathed a sigh of relief. He had made it before the match had started! The crowd’s excitement grew for the first set to begin after warmups. The buzz of the energy around him reinvigorated him with a second wind.
“Are you here for Bokuto-senshuu?” Akaashi looked down at the child sitting next to him. The boy looked like he was eight, but Akaashi was bad at guessing kids’ ages. He really needed to understand children better if he was on a shounen manga track.
The kid was staring at the #12 plastered on Akaashi’s shirt he'd thrown on over his button-up. Akaashi always kept Bokuto’s jersey in his backpack, he never knew when he would need to unexpectedly change into it. It came in handy today.
“Yes,” Akaashi replied, pride flooding his chest. “Do you also like Bokuto-san?”
“Eh. My Papa’s the Captain, so he’s the best.” The boy shrugged. “Plus, that guy has never played before, how am I supposed to know?”
Akaashi huffed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “He’s played twice, thank you very much. Bokuto-san was brought in to finish the final set of last week’s away game against the Adlers. And before that in the second and third set of the Rockets game.”
Meian’s kid stared at Akaashi. “Sounds like he stinks if he keeps getting benched.”
Benched! Bokuto was never benched. The first time he was brought on while a starting wing spiker dealt with a bloody nose, and the other match Bokuto was trusted to finish. Akaashi was professionally obligated to like children, but he disliked this child.
Akaashi didn’t grace the comment with a response. He instead decided to turn his attention to Bokuto.
Even from the bleachers he could see Bokuto perfectly. Bokuto kept looking across the arena, eyes darting across the stands as the crowd cheered. His eyes were wide. Awe and wonder as he took in this historic occasion, being nervous would be normal.
“He looks lost.” The kid said. “Is the pressure gonna make him crack?”
Akaashi tapped his finger against his thigh. He sighed. Forget professionalism, Bokuto would be sad if Akaashi hated a child, but he almost didn’t care. “Just watch.” Akaashi said. A smirk dimpled his cheek. It was a mainstay feature whenever he thought about Bokuto playing or finding an opportunity to prove someone wrong about Bokuto. Or both, like today. “You’ll be a fan by the end of the game.”
Volleyball instincts had to be hereditary, because Akaashi had to begrudgingly admit the kid's assessment of Bokuto was not wrong. Akaashi could tell just by the way Bokuto spun the ball during warmups that he was only performing at ninety percent. This may have been his fifth season not playing with Bokuto – officially three more than he spent at Bokuto’s side – but he never forgot how Bokuto’s peak performance looked. He knew Bokuto had more in him to reach one hundred percent, and then more.
But nerves alone never held Bokuto back. What was holding him back?
Bokuto was fourth in the rotation to serve. He had been functional, fine, in the first three rallies. After a stuffed spike, Akaashi was nervous about Bokuto’s upcoming serve. It was his first as a starter in his pro career! An awful one might break him, ruining him for the rest of the match.
Before the start of the next rally, Miya wandered over to Bokuto and tapped him on the shoulder. Was he trying to hype Bokuto up? Akaashi knew they were friends, but also knew the setter had a reputation for putting his foot in his mouth at the expense of everyone else. After a brief exchange, Miya pointed directly at Akaashi.
If only he had brought a camera to capture progression of emotion on Bokuto’s face in crystal clear detail! It shifted from confusion, to surprise, to unadulterated joy. Maybe it was the arena lights, but stars sparkled in Bokuto’s eyes. He beamed and waved at Akaashi, hopping in the air to make sure he was seen, despite no one blocking their sight path.
It was adorable. Akaashi wanted Bokuto to greet him that way forever.
Akaashi coughed, pushing away the thought. He needed to wait until after his internship and college graduation before he could have those thoughts. He raised a hand to acknowledge Bokuto. But he couldn’t help the smile on his face.
Each step towards the serving line added a percent to Bokuto’s spirit. His grip on the ball was strong. He was fully present, back, and ready to prove what he could do.
The serve wasn’t fancy, but it didn’t have to be. A service ace for Bokuto’s first serve would have been too much to expect from anyone. Instead, it was powerful enough that it kept the libero on their toes, resulting in a sub-optimal bump. But what came after was more important: after he managed to block a nasty Ojiro spike, Bokuto was immediately ready to jump back into the air. Ready for Miya’s toss. Once the ball was in his palm, there was nothing the other side could do to stop him.
The crowd’s roar was deafening as Bokuto landed back on the ground. Point for MSBY! Bokuto took it all in with a deep breath. He then pointed both arms like he was holding a bow and grinned. Cocked in the bow was an arrow directed straight at Akaashi. It was as if Bokuto was telling him he did that for Akaashi.
Akaashi was stunned speechless; Bokuto never ceased to surprise him.
The gesture was replayed on the Jumbotron with a superimposed shooting star graphic as the crowd cheered again. Akaashi flushed, thankful it was focused just on Bokuto, and that no one appeared to notice it was something made just for Akaashi.
But given how wild the crowd was reacting… maybe Bokuto needed to incorporate this more often into an earned point routine. He’d have to tell Bokuto later.
The boy next to him whistled. “Okay, he’s kinda cool. I see why you love him.”
Akaashi didn’t have the energy to refute that claim when all his essence was fixated on Bokuto Koutarou. The entire world was about to understand how cool Bokuto was, the whole world was about to love him. It was about damn time.
--
“Captain! Please, please!!” Bokuto begged, bowing at a flat ninety degrees angle. “Can Akaashi ride the bus back to the dorms? He came all this way just for us!”
After the match, Bokuto learned about the tragic phone battery issue and told Akaashi to meet them at the back of the arena. He’d figure out a way for them to get back to the dorms together. Win in hand, the rest of the team was filing on the charter bus in high spirits. The only ones left outside were some coaching staff, Bokuto and Akaashi, Meian and Atsumu.
He didn’t want Akaashi out of his sight. Atsumu was going to tease him later about Akaashi, but Bokuto didn’t care about later. He wanted Akaashi with him now.
Meian crossed his arms. “No one else’s family, including my own, takes the bus back. You know we’ve got no seats left.”
Atsumu nudged Bokuto and waggled his eyebrows. He could hear Atsumu purr in his ear, ‘Family, huh?’ without the guy saying a word. But he was glad Atsumu was wise enough to not say anything in front of Akaashi. The last thing he wanted was for Akaashi to get embarrassed about misconceptions. No matter how true Bokuto wished they were.
“Technically,” Atsumu butted in, an arm snaking around Bokuto’s shoulders, “There is one extra seat. You know Coach is gonna stay late to catch up with the Falcon’s Coach like he always does. C’mon Captain, Bokkun deserves it after today.”
Meian glared at Atsumu. Atsumu always found a way to weasel out an exception, and this time it was one that benefitted Bokuto. He was grateful, if Meian took the bait.
“Fine. But just this once.” Meian sighed. “You too, Atsumu. No more letting your twin treat us like a taxi.”
Atsumu and Bokuto saluted Meian then high-fived each other. Meian shook his head as he stepped onto the bus, “C’mon then.”
“Come on, Akaashi!” Bokuto grabbed Akaashi’s wrist and dragged him up the steps towards the back of the bus.
--
Bokuto didn’t like the back row of the bus. It was too quiet, not enough people to talk to. The back console separated you from the other side, you didn’t have a row behind you to mess with, and the row in front of you normally comprised of the post-game snoozers.
But with Akaashi, it was perfect. They were secluded and no one was going to bother them. And even better, there was an outlet back here so Akaashi could use the charger Bokuto stole from Atsumu to charge his phone.
But also, with no one behind them, Bokuto could turn the phone screen brightness up all the way to show Akaashi replay clips of the match that were already uploaded online.
He was so excited! He needed to know everything Akaashi thought from the match. Every single play, every single spike, every single point.
He popped an earbud in one ear and handed Akaashi the other, the cord dangling between them. No AirPods for Bokuto, he’d lost too many and was desperate to keep a phone with a headphone jack for as long as he could. The intimacy with Akaashi was an added bonus.
He held the phone between them, making sure Akaashi could see. Despite the headphones allowing them to hear the commentators, Bokuto couldn’t help but narrate the match himself.
“Look!” Bokuto pointed excitedly at the screen as they replayed his first serve. “They think I’m a shooting star! How’d they get the picture added on top? The court isn’t a greenscreen like the movies.”
Akaashi hummed. “About that, Bokuto-san –,”
Bokuto didn’t hear Akaashi, there was so much happening on the replay! “Oh! Look at my block! Hah! Stuffed again, Aran.” He was thrilled he could cross Aran off his list. Ushijima Wakatoshi would be next.
“Wasn’t I great, Akaashi?” he asked after a particularly nasty line shot, leaning his head on Akaashi’s shoulder and batting his eyelashes. He knew he was fishing, but he couldn’t help it.
Akaashi chuckled. “You were spectacular, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi was watching the footage, but Bokuto couldn’t help but get lost in the way Akaashi tend to fixate on what he deemed important. And in this case, Akaashi thought he was important.
A few more minutes passed with Bokuto pointing out any new moves, a good block or a rally where he excelled, but Akaashi was getting more and more quiet with his praise. Bokuto knew he was good in the third set, thank you, but he wanted to hear Akaashi say it! He valued Akaashi’s input more than anyone else’s. He pouted and nestled his head deeper into Akaashi’s shoulder to try to send a message. Akaashi still refused to say anything. Before Bokuto could whine, he felt Akaashi’s head plop on top of his.
Akaashi started softly snoring, Bokuto could only chuckle. He could live without a compliment, if Akaashi stayed just like this. Bokuto turned off the video. Akaashi worked too much, he deserved the rest.
--
A sleepy Akaashi was a heavy Akaashi, despite the fact Bokuto could squat over one hundred kilos. Bokuto persisted despite the challenge, pulling Akaashi up the stairs to his dorm room.
“Bed, now.” Bokuto said as he pulled Akaashi out of his suit jacket and handed him a spare pair of clothes. This wasn’t the first time Akaashi needed emergency clothes, he kept some stashed just in case.
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi mumbled, nearly dropping the clothes as he stumbled towards the bathroom. He was too tired to stand, it was adorable. “I want to stay up. I’ve missed you.”
Oh, Akaashi was beyond adorable. He was perfect.
“We could watch another one of your matches,” Akaashi yawned as he returned out of the bathroom. Bokuto admired how his own shirt fit Akaashi, it was nearly two sizes too large. Bokuto had worn out the neck hole after he had haphazardly pulled his shirt off too many times, but on Akaashi it showed off his elegant collar bone, and almost his entire shoulder.
He tamped down that thought for later. Months later.
“Nope!” Bokuto sang. He unmade the comforter and beckoned Akaashi to lay down. “You’ve clearly been awake too long, Star Editor Intern. We’ll see each other tomorrow.”
Akaashi laid down. He was clearly tired, Akaashi hadn’t even brought up he was sitting on Bokuto’s bed instead of the normal guest futon.
“Promise?” Akaashi yawned again.
“Promise.”
Akaashi smiled. He murmured, “I’d like that,” and fell asleep instantly. No covers over him or anything, Bokuto was impressed. He had forgotten his glasses were still on his face, too. Bokuto only knew how obtrusive glasses could be from sunglasses. The way they sat on the bridge of his nose made him hyper-aware of their existence, like a endless itch he couldn’t scratch. He had no idea how someone could just fall asleep wearing them. Akaashi had to be uncomfortable.
He gently raised the glasses from Akaashi’s face before folding them on the bedside table. Akaashi sighed, his bangs falling over his face. For a single second, Bokuto hesitated before brushing the soft hair out of the way, tucking a curl behind Akaashi’s ear. He began pulling the blankets over Akaashi when he heard Akaashi try to say something.
Bokuto strained closer. Akaashi was a master of words, so anything Akaashi thought was worth saying was important to hear.
“Koutarou,” Akaashi murmured.
Bokuto whipped his head and his eyes widened in surprise. Akaashi had never called him by his given name before. He wanted Akaashi to say it again. And again. But Akaashi was still asleep.
Akaashi was smiling and seemed like he had more to say.
“I love you, Koutarou.”
Oh!
His stress from earlier that day seemed trivial now. He had let not getting a text from Akaashi - the worry of if Akaashi would be there for him, if Akaashi would want to be there for him – impact his performance on the court. But there was no reason to ever worry: Akaashi loved him.
He was never going to worry about it ever again. With this, he could reach 120%, no, 150% of his true potential. Akaashi loved him!
He wanted to wake Akaashi now! This type of declaration deserved a response in kind. Instantly, his original plans to wait for Akaashi’s college graduation were destroyed. But a new joy entered in its place. Akaashi loved him! He loved Akaashi! Bokuto had promised they’d see each other tomorrow. He could wait; tomorrow, there would be love.
--
It was warm under the blankets. Akaashi nestled deeper within their depths with a smile. He had slept pretty well and felt like he had actually gotten some REM sleep. It’d been a long time since he had woken up feeling this well rested.
He normally didn’t sleep this well on the cheap futon, maybe Bokuto had bought a new one? New sheets? No, he realized as he grabbed the comforter, the thick fabric perfect for the unpredictable late-fall weather. Akaashi wasn’t sleeping on the guest futon, he was on Bokuto’s bed.
Akaashi sighed, that boy was too kind to him. Too kind to everyone. But especially Akaashi. He really needed to think about himself and his own sleep hygiene, he was a pro athlete now! Even a single night of bad sleep could put him in a bad spot for weeks, ruining all his other hard work.
He wanted to find Bokuto to scold him. Pulling off the covers, he turned and then jumped.
Bokuto was there, sitting on the floor resting his chin on the bed. He was staring at Akaashi with wide eyes full of wonder. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. Without glasses, the blur that was Bokuto Koutarou could have been doing anything. But Akaashi was confident he was happy.
How long had Bokuto been sitting there? Was he watching Akaashi sleep? Did he normally do this?
Akaashi was flattered.
Before he could push down that emotion, Bokuto asked, “’Kaashi, did you mean it?”
“Did I mean what?” Akaashi grabbed his glasses and began wiping the lenses on his, no Bokuto’s, shirt. When did Bokuto give him these clothes? He must have really been tired last night.
Bokuto continued to peer up at him. Akaashi could sense his signature grin, he didn’t need to see it to know it.
“You told me that you loved me.”
He did what? He froze and dropped his glasses on the bed. After a hard reset, Akaashi pulled the comforter over his head and hid. His glasses bounced toward the floor, forgotten to the outside world.
Akaashi needed to get on the next train. Immediately. Goodbye MSBY, goodbye Osaka, goodbye Bokuto. He was leaving for good. Forever. He wanted to die from embarrassment.
“Akaashi!” Bokuto said, jumping on the bed enough to shake the mattress. Then, Bokuto was hugging him through the comforter. Akaashi flushed from the indignity. “C’mon,” Bokuto whined, “Tell me what’s wrong!”
Despite the whine, Akaashi could tell Bokuto was stifling a giggle. He was laughing at Akaashi. Death wasn’t enough, he needed to reincarnate and seek a life of solitude on a remote mountaintop.
“I’m leaving forever. Have a nice life, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi lamented, struggling to get out of Bokuto’s grasp. Bokuto refused, grabbing on tighter.
“Nope,” Bokuto said, as if that was enough to make Akaashi stay. Maybe it was.
Akaashi refused to think about how he was in Bokuto’s arms, and refused to think about how it would feel if they didn’t have a thick comforter between them.
“Don’t you wanna know how I feel?” Bokuto asked.
Yes, desperately. There was nothing Akaashi wanted more.
“No.”
“Akaashi!” Bokuto pleaded.
Akaashi poked his head out from under the covers. Bokuto unwrapped himself to put Akaashi’s glasses on him. He had made sure they weren’t damaged, such a simple intentional act that warmed Akaashi’s heart. He really did love Bokuto.
Oh, right. He loved Bokuto, and he needed to leave. Now.
Before Akaashi could make an escape, Bokuto was back on him like a leech. They were laying side by side facing each other. Bokuto was right there, so close. Holding him. Putting his glasses on him. Akaashi’s vision wavered; he was overwhelmed.
“Don’t you want to know?” Bokuto asked once more. He glowed, a star that the morning light couldn’t dull.
Akaashi nodded.
Bokuto grinned at him, the smile that Akaashi saw the day Bokuto asked told him his sets were the best, and the one he sought out every day after.
Bokuto inched up to Akaashi’s ear. He could feel the smile grow larger.
“I love you, too.”
Akaashi shoved his head back under the covers. There was no way it was that simple.
“Keiji!” Bokuto laughed. The way Bokuto said his name was so easy, like he was always meant to say it.
Instead of hugging Akaashi tighter, Bokuto jumped to stand on the bed and dragged the covers off him. Lying prone, Bokuto rotated Akaashi as easily as he’d flip a pancake. Akaashi felt exposed. He tucked his knees into his chest to hide whatever of himself he could. He felt vulnerable under Bokuto’s gaze.
Bokuto was a star, he was the universe. Akaashi was a mere outer-galaxy dwarf planet that could only bask in the remnants of the sun’s light. He wasn’t meant to be close.
“Keiji.” Bokuto said, softer.
Akaashi scrunched his eyes closed.
“Keiji.” Bokuto said once more. “Keiji, look at me.” The sun’s gravitational pull couldn’t be ignored forever. He should have known yesterday, when Bokuto shot a beam right through his heart, a point dedicated to him and only him.
Akaashi opened his eyes. Bokuto, like always, was there.
“What’s wrong.” Bokuto said, not asked.
“I’m embarrassed.”
“Because you love me?” Bokuto raised an eyebrow, amused.
“No!” Akaashi shouted impulsively. Of course not, Bokuto was the easiest person to love. The only person that could make love easy. “I didn’t get to do it on my own terms.”
Bokuto hummed. He dropped onto the mattress and began nuzzling his cheek against Akaashi’s face. “I couldn’t either! I was going to wait until you graduated, y’know. But, if you’re beat up about it, then do it now on your own terms.”
Akaashi recoiled, “But I haven’t even brushed my teeth.”
“I have, so hurry up.” Bokuto winked.
Akaashi felt lame as he walked over to the sink and grabbed a toothbrush. But if he was going to do this properly, he needed to do this properly.
He’d have to think later how he knew there would be a second toothbrush already here for him. He had clothes, he had toiletries, he had everything already here. Coming to visit Bokuto was easy. Bokuto was one of the solid things in his life that allowed Akaashi to not think too hard and just be. And Bokuto loved him back.
Bokuto bumped their hips together to get mirror space and grabbed his toothbrush.
“If you’re here, might as well do this again!”
This made perfect sense to Akaashi. They were doing this properly, together.
After no morning breath remained to ruin Akaashi’s perfect vision of a confession, Akaashi moved them back to sit on the bed. He didn’t know where to put his hands. Holding Bokuto’s hands didn’t feel like enough, when he knew Bokuto’s answer to any question Akaashi was willing ask about love. He decided to wrap both of his arms around Bokuto’s neck.
“Koutarou.”
Bokuto’s breath hitched, his eyes widened. Akaashi was pleased that Bokuto could be surprised, even if he knew the answer, too.
“You love me.” Akaashi said. It was a statement, not a question. It was marvelous.
Bokuto’s hands found their way around Akaashi’s waist, removing all the space between them.
“And you love me.”
Bokuto leaned in for a kiss, Akaashi meeting him halfway. Akaashi had read that a first kiss could be awkward. That they could make you wish you were hugging instead, that lips weren’t supposed to lay like that against each other. But there was no awkwardness here, as Akaashi leaned into Bokuto’s gravity. The kiss was slow, easy, exactly as it should be. Exactly as Bokuto made Akaashi feel.
Life could throw curveballs, and rest could be difficult to come by when work was known to pile up stacks and stacks high. But if Bokuto was here, loving him, everything else would be easy.
“It’s a promise then. We love each other. Right, Keiji?”
Akaashi beamed, his smile a match point in dedication to the man before him.
“Right.” He meant it.