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Akaashi was withering, and he didn’t know what to do about it. The worst part of his situation was that no one else seemed to be noticing his slow slip into oblivion. He was fading away, slipping into darkness, and people either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Both options were equally terrifying.
His descent into depression had started when Bokuto had left for university. Everyone had been particularly caring towards him for those first few weeks, as the entire team knew that him and Bokuto had just started dating. Bokuto had left the day after their one month anniversary, and Akaashi had almost immediately gone into a depression. He couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t eat, couldn’t talk, and pretty soon people were coming over to his house every morning to drag him to school. At first no one really minded, figuring he would adjust soon enough, but he didn’t. That surprised Akaashi as well, since he had always viewed himself as someone who was at least okay at adapting to change. After all, half his time in his second year was spent figuring out Bokuto’s mood swings and adjusting to the ace’s ups and downs.
This was a change that Akaashi had been completely unprepared for, though. He found himself setting the ball to an empty space on the court, calling out Bokuto’s name. He would stare at the ball as it dropped to the ground, hopelessness filling him up. It was utterly infuriating. He’d never been this useless in his life, had always been a level-headed leader, but now he was practically the weakest link.
The first time he skipped practice, he hadn’t been able to get out of bed. He promised himself that that would be the only reason he would ever skip practice. Because he physically couldn’t go.
But, as days wore into weeks, and weeks faded into months, Akaashi found himself slowly isolating from the people around him. It wasn’t that he hated volleyball suddenly, he just couldn’t look at the court without longing hitting him like a truck. It was more painful to go to practice than it was to skip, so he justified it. Perhaps he could’ve tried harder, pushed himself more, reached out for help, but he just didn’t see the point without Bokuto. The lively ace had always been the one to cheer Akaashi up when he hit a slump, although before his slumps had gone by unnoticed for the most part. It was annoying, to put it lightly, that he was falling into bad habits he hadn’t had since middle school.
There was nothing he could do about his ongoing slump, though. He wanted to get out of bed and go to practice, wanted to continue playing volleyball, but every time he would wake up on those days it was like his body had turned to stone. He could barely sit up, let alone go to practice, where he would be running and jumping around the entire time.
His parents noticed after the first three absences. It wasn’t like Akaashi to miss multiple volleyball practices in a month, so they asked him what was going on. They both knew about his relationship with Bokuto, although the way they found out was less than ideal. They’d caught Bokuto talking about how they were gonna be the best power couple in Japan, and Akaashi laughing and asking how they could do that if Bokuto was still failing his math. If there was any doubt as to where Akaashi got his observational skills from, it was wiped away the second people met his parents. Although they would sometimes ignore information they didn’t want to be true. Still, they’d been working on that lately, and it was shown when they approached Akaashi one day after school.
“We know you’re skipping volleyball practice,” Akaashi’s mom said, not bothering to lead into it at all. His father sighed, less than happy with her approach, but nodded anyway.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Akaashi grumbled, desperately wanting to escape the situation by any means necessary. He wondered for a second how impossible it was for him to become a part of the wall. He figured he had about a 50/50 chance at the moment, given the way things were going.
“Don’t lie, Keiji,” his mom snapped, folding her arms as she glared down at her son. “Konoha came by this afternoon to ask if you were feeling alright, since apparently this is the third time you’ve skipped practice this month .”
Akaashi winced. His mom getting mad always made him nervous, whether it was directed at him or not. At the moment, though, it was both directed at him and he deserved it. He couldn’t think up a better nightmare if he tried. He wanted to feel anger towards Konoha for ratting him out to his mom, but he knew that his vice captain was probably really worried, and had considered his parents as a last minute option. It was quite plausible, considering Akaashi hadn’t checked his texts for the past week. He had been expecting to get called out, and was honestly surprised it had taken this long.
“So?” he asked, voice dripping with barley-suppressed anger. It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t angry with his mom, she was only worrying about him, like a good mother should. If he was anything it was grateful that someone was finally calling him out. But why did he sound so angry?
“So, why are you skipping?” she hissed. Akaashi looked down at the table, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t want to see the disappointment that he knew would be lingering in her eyes, no matter how much she tried to suppress it. That was what happened when you had a perfectionist for a mother. She tried not to show it, tried to be proud of him regardless of his decisions, but Akaashi could see the way her eyes had lit up when he finally joined an extracurricular. The way she smiled so widely whenever Bokuto had stayed over, or when she would meet him after a game. She loved who Akaashi was when Bokuto was around.
But Bokuto isn’t around anymore , Akaashi thought to himself, clenching his fist. And I don’t miss him. I don’t.
“Maybe I just don’t like volleyball as much as I thought I did,” Akaashi grumbled, even though that wasn’t true, that wasn’t true at all. He had no idea why he’d said that. He loved volleyball, and skipping practices was killing him. But for some reason, he felt like admitting that would kill him.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” his mother scoffed, before walking out of his room with an angry huff. His father followed her. “And you had better start attending practices young man, or there will be hell to pay for it!” she called as she stormed out. Akaashi sighed, dropping his head in his hands, and wondered what the fuck he was going to do now.
*
Akaashi had started attending practice again after his mother’s threat, but he still felt empty. His teammates could notice it in the way he played, too. Whenever he called for the ball, which was a rare occurrence now, he would set it with robotic movements, like his mind wasn’t even there, and he was going off of muscle memory alone. He was still a great player, of course, but his playing didn’t have any passion for it anymore. It was painfully obvious that his mother’s threats were the only things keeping him at practice.
The team didn’t know what to do to help him. Akaashi left the second the practice was over, and would come just in time every morning. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, and simply got ready and left. He had been appointed captain after Bokuto left, and Konoha had been helping him as vice captain. Now, though, he might as well have never been on the team.
Eventually, people stopped coming around to Akaashi’s house to ask if he was okay. They didn’t ask what was going on when he showed up late for practice for the third time that week. No one asked when the dark circles started to show up on his face, and no one checked up on him when burn marks started showing up on his skin. He claimed they were accidents when Konoha asked what had happened, but after the fifth one it was pretty clear that that wasn’t true.
The team may have stopped checking up on Akaashi, but that didn’t mean they weren’t planning to help him. He was their captain, after all, and they knew that their team was weak at the moment. When Akaashi was at his best, Fukurodani was unstoppable. But now, they were just good, and all of the players could feel the tension whenever the prelims were mentioned.
So, that was how Akaashi found himself slowly slipping away without anyone caring about him. He knew he only had himself to blame. At the end of the day, he was the one who stopped showing up to practices, he was the one who didn’t answer the door when people came to his house, he was the one who had stopped trying at practice. If the team wanted to move on without him, well, he couldn’t really blame them.
He went to practice that morning expecting it to be the same as usual. The winter had come, and it dug under his jacket, seeping into his bones, freezing him solid. Akaashi breathed gently on his hands to try and warm them up, but it didn’t take long for him to give up and succumb to the freezing cold.
When he opened the door to the club room, he kept his eyes locked on the floor. The others were already in the gym, the same as usual. Akaashi ignored the burn marks littering his forearms and thighs. He’d started with that not long after coming back to the team, needing some way to stay awake on the bus rides home. He didn’t use the lighter on the bus, only before.
The loss of his cold, wet clothes let Akaashi relax immediately. It was a weekend, so after practice he could go home and just relax, considering he had finished all his homework the night before. He was looking forward to collapsing in his bed after practice, and letting his mattress swallow up his emotions.
Akaashi wandered out of the club room, feeling lighter. Changing into his practice clothes always had that effect on him. He opened the door to the gym, sighing quietly as he did so. Everyone was already there, just as Akaashi had expected. He let his shoulders slump, the disappointment at not seeing that grey and black hair a familiar feeling to him by now. What was he expecting, for him to just be there, like that day would be different from any of the others-
“Keiji?” a voice called. Akaashi jumped at the sound, and whirled around. There was only one person on earth allowed to call him that, other than his parents, and it certainly hadn’t been either of them. No, he would recognize that voice anywhere. The voice he had missed so much it was tearing him apart, the voice he had dreamed about, the voice he’d only been able to hear in phone calls for the past few months. He thought of the way he’d missed hearing that voice in person so much that he’d started ignoring the calls.
Sure enough, golden eyes stared back at Akaashi. White hair that turned black at the roots and stuck straight up, always defying gravity. Wide shoulders and strong arms that had once wrapped Akaashi up in such sweet hugs. Lips that had once kissed Akaashi until he couldn’t remember his own name. All the memories that he had been repressing, all the hurt and anger and anguish he hadn’t let himself feel, they all came rushing back in that moment. It was like being hit by a bus, and Akaashi couldn’t help the tears that started spilling from his eye.
“Bo-Bokuto-san…” Akaashi stuttered. Bokuto’s eyes widened. Akaashi hadn’t called him Bokuto-san since before they had started dating. For him to do that now, well, the distance must have had a bigger effect on Akaashi than Bokuto had realized.
“Keiji, I-” Bokuto started, about to apologize when Akaashi cut him off by slamming their lips together, fully intent on making up for the time they’d spent apart. When Akaashi finally pulled away from Bokuto, both boys were breathless, gazing lovingly at each other. But Akaashi quickly remembered everything he’d done the past few months, and pulled away from Bokuto, trying to ignore the way that he could see the light dim in Bokuto’s eyes.
“Wha-why are you here?” Akaashi asked after a few moments of silence. He didn’t trust himself to look at Bokuto then, knowing it would crumble whatever feeble resolve he’d built up. Bokuto’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.
“I wanted to see you,” he said, like it was just that simple. Akaashi remembered the days when he had that same innocence in his voice. Many people wouldn’t believe him when he’d tell them about how he was a really energetic kid, but it was the truth. When he was little, sitting still hadn’t been an option. That was the entire reason he’d taken up volleyball. He needed something to channel his energy into, because his parents and teachers were starting to notice, and they weren’t happy about it. He still remembered those first few lectures from his mother about how he would get nowhere in life by bouncing off the walls and avoiding work.
And so, Akaashi had persevered. He had studied like crazy, worked himself to the bone, saved his energy for the court. He’d ignored the part of him that longed to just relax and goof off sometimes, and instead poured his heart and soul into his schoolwork. Eventually, that part of him had died off. Sometimes he wondered if he would have been happier if it had stuck around, but thoughts like that would get him nowhere.
“But,” Akaashi started, before realizing he didn’t know what he was going to say. The only thing he could really think of was asking Bokuto what the hell he was thinking, but he didn’t want it to sound too harsh. “But why?”
“Because I love you, Akaashi,” Bokuto said, like it was obvious, like he couldn’t believe that Akaashi needed to hear those words because they were just so obvious. But, to Akaashi, those words had always been odd and foreign. He could never wrap his head around the fact that Bokuto was actually in love with him, and half expected Boktuo to take those words back at any given moment. He never did, though.
Akaashi felt himself tear up, finally shedding the tears that he’d been ignoring for the past few months. Bokuto’s eyes widened as he saw the tears drip down Akaashi’s face slowly. He pulled Akaashi into another hug, squeezing him tightly against his chest as Akaashi finally succumbed to the pain that had been building in him for so long. He let himself break down in Bokuto’s arms, and as Bokuto stroked his boyfriend’s hair gently, he cursed himself at allowing Akaashi to be so sad without him noticing.
“I’m sorry, Keji,” Bokuto muttered into his boyfriend’s hair as he gently stroked his back, his hand moving in smooth circles. Akaashi pulled back, his eyebrows furrowed. Bokuto had to resist the urge to poke the crease it made, but couldn’t help the way the corners of his mouth twitched. Akaashi always looked adorable like that.
“What are you sorry for?” Akaashi asked, genuine confusion in his voice.
“I shouldn’t have stayed away so long,” Bokuto frowned, eyes scanning over Akaashi.
“It’s alright,” Akaashi sighed. “We’re together again. That’s all that matters.”
He meant it, too, his body feeling lighter with Bokuto around, and he knew that he would be okay.