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The world is made up of shades of white and grey. Those lucky enough to encounter a potential soulmate might get to experience flashes of color. If they’re extremely lucky and their soulmate accepts them, the world transforms as color fills in. For most people, however, the world is simply white and grey.
Akaashi is no different, but he is young. Who finds a soulmate in middle school? It’s almost unheard of, so to Akaashi, the world is white and grey, and there is no reason to expect or want otherwise. He goes about his day to day, wakes up early, goes to school, attends volleyball practice, completes homework, sleeps at a reasonable time for a reasonable length, rinse, repeat. He does what is expected, no more, no less.
All things considered, today has been no different. Practice had ended after the usual, predictable routine. The ball comes to him, he sets it, someone else spikes it, or maybe it gets blocked, over and over again. Akaashi can’t say that he has a passion for volleyball, unlike some of his teammates, but it gives him something to do after school and puts off the monotony of a quiet home with homework just a bit longer.
“Hey, Akaashi, walk home with us!” A couple of teammates come up to him, throwing their arms across his shoulder, almost knocking him over in their exuberance. This is an aberration, a change in routine, but Akaashi is nothing if not agreeable. He nods in assent and falls in step, listening to the conversation, letting their words fall around him but volunteering nothing until he’s directly asked.
“Which high school are you going to, Akaashi?”
A common question. One he should have an answer to, especially now at this stage of life. And yet, he shrugs. “I haven’t given it much thought. Maybe Fukurodani or Suzumeoka?”
“You got a recommendation to Fukurodani, didn’t ya? You should go there!” Akaashi momentarily falters; he hadn’t realized his teammates had paid enough attention to him to know about that scholarship. It had come as a surprise to him, too. He hadn’t realized anyone had paid attention to his setting ability. He was Akaashi. He was a setter. Neither fact was interesting enough for anyone to pay attention to, and yet…
“Yeah, I did,” he confirms but doesn’t elaborate. It’s not like he needs to make a decision right now, anyway. Suzumeoka has a program that has produced a couple of well known authors, but the recommendation to Fukurodani comes with a scholarship, which would benefit his parents. The scholarship is tied to volleyball, so Akaashi would be expected to keep playing throughout high school should he go there. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but how far did he actually want to go with volleyball?
There’s a gentle nudge to his shoulder and his excitable teammate shouts out a subject change. “Hey, I heard there’s some high schoolers playing volleyball at the local gym! Let’s go check it out!” Another shift, another difference in Akaashi’s routine, but he allows himself to be dragged along anyway.
He hears the game before he sees it. The squeaking of sneakers on the floor, the cheering, the shouting of the players. His teammate opens the door and Akaashi follows, stopping dead in his tracks a mere step into the gym. The outside hitter, Fukurodani’s number twelve , has jumped into the air, arm back, and slams a beautifully powerful spike into the opposite court. Number twelve shouts in celebration, running to chest bump his coach. He turns and Akaashi’s breath catches in his throat. Number twelve is wearing a black and white uniform, his hair a perfec match, but then… his eyes . Akaashi has never before seen such life, such passion, such brightness, such color … “A star,” he breathes into the air around him.
“What?” His friend shoves at his shoulder, trying to push him out of the doorway, while looking to and fro to see what caught his attention. “What are you saying, Akaashi?”
Akaashi ignores him, watching as number twelve gets back into position for the next serve.
“You’re so weird,” he hears behind him, but Akaashi doesn’t respond, entranced by number twelve’s personality and the colors now bleeding from him.
Fukurodani it is.
~~~
Over the next two years, Akaashi watches. He watches Bokuto’s plays so intently, he has a Bokuto playbook in his mind. He gradually learns how to work with, how to play with, how to guide Bokuto. He develops his own passion for volleyball, though he admits it’ll never rival Bokuto’s. He secretly learns the names of the colors that spiral out and away from his star. He watches and learns and admires, but he never says anything.
Over the next two years, Bokuto becomes one of Akaashi’s closest friends, they talk about anything and everything, volleyball related or not. For two years, they spend more time together than with anyone else, attached at the hip. For two years Akaashi enjoys the colors and yet… he can’t bring up this important topic, the significance, the fact that Bokuto could be his soulmate .
Over the next two years, Bokuto doesn’t say anything either. Bokuto, who wears his emotions on his sleeve, who tells everyone how he’s feeling, who shouts it to the skies, who is so expressive his teammates have given names to his moods, doesn’t ever say anything about seeing the colors, so Akaashi has convinced himself he can’t. He is certain that Bokuto doesn’t see the colors. He is sure that Bokuto is a potential soulmate for Akaashi, but Akaashi is not one for him.
Over the next two years, Akaashi doesn’t let himself think about it. Anytime he lets his mind linger on the fact that his star is not his actual match, he feels a knot in his stomach. Anytime his mind comes to the conclusion that Bokuto can’t reciprocate, Akaashi finds that he can’t move, he can’t think, he can’t breathe , so he shoves those feelings away. Akaashi is determined to enjoy the here and now with Bokuto. Akaashi will enjoy the time with him while he can, because it’ll come to an end before he knows it.
Two years pass.
And then…
The end is here.
Bokuto’s graduation.
Akaashi is in the crowd, supporting his third year teammates on their graduation, yet he only has eyes for one. He focuses on Bokuto for the entire ceremony, to the point where the colors have spread out far and wide from their blinding source. The ceremony ends and the volleyball team meets in the clubroom for one last party. Bokuto, his soulmate, is beaming and crying and so full of life, and Akaashi is doing everything he can to remember this moment. After today, everything will be different. His world will go back to monochrome, quiet and gray, while his star moves on to shine elsewhere.
Before he knows it, the club room has emptied of everyone but him, Konoha, and Bokuto. Konoha looks between the two of them and Akaashi can see that he seems to want to say something, before settling on a shake of his head. “It’s been fun,” he finally says, giving them a wave and walking out the door. For the last time, Bokuto and Akaashi are the last ones in the club room.
Bokuto is staring at him, and despite the last two years together, despite their closeness, Akaashi suddenly feels nervous. He shifts uncharacteristically and fights the urge to look away. He meets Bokuto eye to eye, and feels wistful. He is going to miss that golden color, the stars in his eyes.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Bokuto breaks first. He’s quiet, subdued, not the Bokuto who had so recently been the life of the party.
“Hey,” Akaashi returns, frowning when he realizes that for once all day, Bokuto is not actually smiling. “Bokuto-san?”
“You see them, too, right?” Bokuto asks suddenly, and Akaashi feels that knot in his stomach twist.
“What are you talking about, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi gives him a forced smile, glancing away from his piercing golden gaze.
Bokuto reaches out and gently grasps Akaashi’s head, turning him back so they are once again looking eye to eye. “Did you know your eyes match the sky? Of all the colors I’ve seen these last two years, that’s my favorite.”
Akaashi feels his eyes widen and the knot leaps to his throat.
Bokuto lets his hands drop and looks away. “It’s okay. I just– you were always staring so I thought–but you never said anything so maybe–” Bokuto trails off. “I had a whole speech prepared but every time I look at you, I can’t think straight.” He clenches his fist, sighs, relaxes his hand. “I thought maybe you saw them but thought we were too young to act on it or something. Adults always say we’re too young to have soulmates. But you don’t see them, do you? Or–you do see them and you don’t want to be soulmates? Am I too much?” Akaashi’s throat tightens more as he sees the signs of Bokuto’s depressive mode and he can’t get the words out, can’t stop, can’t can’t can’t—
Bokuto looks at him again and Akaashi can see the smile he forces. But it’s wrong, wrong, wrong . “Akaashi, thank you for an amazing last two years.” He’s turning now, heading for the door, and Akaashi still hasn’t found his voice but he can’t let him leave, can’t let it end here, can’t…he reaches out and grabs Bokuto’s wrist.
Bokuto stops abruptly and stares at the hand on his wrist.
“You’re dazzling,” Akaashi finally, finally chokes out.
“What?”
Akaashi takes a deep breath. “You’re dazzling, Bokuto-san. You radiate life and energy and color in a way that no one could ever match. You are a shining, shooting star, and you could have anyone,” someone better than me lingers in the air, unspoken, but Akaashi can see that Bokuto has heard what he can’t say.
Akaashi’s hand is still around Bokuto’s wrist, so he can feel his whole body stiffen. “Akaashi,” and oh, Bokuto sounds angry? Disappointed? “You are who I want. I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time you set to me. Your sets always were amazing,” Akaashi can’t help a laugh because of course it comes back to volleyball, it’s always volleyball.
Bokuto smiles wryly, which looks wrong, but he pushes forward, “I’m sure you’re probably thinking I’m a volleyball nut, but that first time you set to me, I felt myself drawn to you. And I felt a connection, and I could see how amazing you were, how well we worked together, and then I noticed your eyes–that brilliant blue and it hit me. I realized then that I would always want to be with you. Volleyball is what drew us together, and every time we hung out afterwards, I fell more in love with you.”
Bokuto relaxes and brings his other hand to cup Akaashi’s. “You say I’m dazzling, but so are you, and I am going to remind you every day. Imagine if we had said something sooner. ” A memory, unbidden, hits Akaashi. A moment from one of their last games together, when he nearly admitted to Bokuto how he felt, but allowed himself to second guess, self-doubt. How foolish he had been. “We could have been Bokuto and Akaashi, the soulmates, the true protagonists of the world.” Akaashi’s breath hitches as words he had never said aloud are suddenly out there in the open.
Bokuto draws his hand back and reaches into his pocket. “I kind of expected today to go a little differently, but I have something for you.”
Carefully, Bokuto turns Akaashi’s hand so his palm is facing up and drops something small, hard, and metal into it. Akaashi reflexively closes his hand around the cold piece of metal while finally pulling his stare down from Bokuto’s eyes to his uniform. His brow furrows when he sees the uniform perfectly intact. Everything about this moment had seemed like it lined up with one of those romance high school manga. He opens his hand and holds up the slider of a zipper. It’s a little worn, but still shines, and the golden color matches Bokuto’s eyes. He looks at Bokuto, head tilted in confusion. Did Bokuto need his jacket fixed one last time?
Bokuto starts waving his hands. “We don’t really have the uniforms you see that button tradition from you know?” He starts in a rush, finally acting more like the Bokuto that Akaashi was used to seeing. “And I thought, well, most of our big moments together had to do with volleyball and the zippers of our jackets are also close to our hearts, so, you know–” Bokuto rubs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath, composing himself. “Akaashi, I love you and I’m fairly certain you feel the same for me, even if you haven’t wanted to say it.” Akaashi’s throat is closing up again as he tries to swallow. “Will you please accept my zipper but more than that, will you accept being my soulmate?”
The words linger for only half a second before Akaashi throws his arms around Bokuto’s neck, kissing him. Bokuto’s eyes widen and then they close as both boys lose themselves to the sensation, the warmth spreading inside, outside, radiating outward. They finally pull away, the monochrome always on the edges of their vision colored in, as Akaashi meets Bokuto’s bright golden eyes, like tiny stars, and nods.