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The first time Bokuto realized that something was different was his first training camp in high school. His teammates had smuggled in magazines of an adult nature and they were being spread around, while everyone pointed out the different features on the models that they found attractive. Inevitably, heated disagreements or boisterous approvals would ring out. Bokuto shook his head or laughed at appropriate moments, managing to avoid being directly involved in the conversation around him, but eventually a magazine was thrown at him.
“What about you Bo? Whatcha think about her?” One of the third years laughed, pointing at the model in the center of the page.
“Very pretty,” Bokuto told him, nodding, and quickly passed the magazine along to someone else. No one pressed him on it, for which he was relieved. He hadn’t been lying, not exactly. The model had been very pretty, but he couldn’t say he thought she was attractive. But as the discussions flowed around him, he realized that he wasn’t seeing the models in the same way as everyone else. Then the conversation made a gradual turn to jerking off fantasies and Bokuto reached a breaking point, needing to escape. “Bathroom!” he announced abruptly, standing and leaving the room in a hurry, ignoring the whoops and hollers behind him. He inwardly groaned, knowing that he had definitely given off the wrong impression, but it was too late now.
Bokuto did a lot of soul searching after that training camp, and came to the idea that he was probably gay. The women in those magazines didn’t turn him on, so guys probably did. But a few internet searches in the dark of night left him feeling much the same. Yes, they were aesthetically pleasing, but he couldn’t see himself fantasizing about any of them. Since he was feeling the same way about everyone, he decided that he was actually bisexual or pansexual but at the end of the day, the label didn’t matter. He wanted to focus on volleyball, not dating, so he pushed away his confused emotions to figure out another time.
During Bokuto’s second year, he met Akaashi Keiji. A first year on the volleyball team, and the best setter Bokuto had ever seen or worked with. Akaashi was nice to be around and would do extra practice with him and was a great conversationalist. Bokuto found himself seeking out Akaashi during any bit of free time that he had. Before long, he wanted to be around Akaashi more than anyone else.
By this time, his teammates had moved on from talking about fantasies and magazines to actually dating and fooling around with girls (and sometimes even boys). The locker room talk shifted from reviewing game plays and highlights to sharing their latest conquests and romantic encounters. Bokuto, who was usually the loudest and most outgoing on the team, would find himself falling silent and staying out of these conversations. He had nothing to contribute and it seemed like everyone else had this whole romance thing figured out. He didn’t feel like he could speak up and say, “Hey, do you guys really think about sex all of the time?” Because it sure seemed like they did, but Bokuto hadn’t given it a single passing thought once he was outside of the locker room conversations.
Despite his unusual reticence when these topics came about, others would try to pull Bokuto into the conversation. “You probably get confessions all the time!” “How many girls gave you chocolate for Valentine’s Day this year?” “I heard that Akiko has a crush on you! Give her a chance!” Even when the topics weren’t sexual in nature, any discussion of Bokuto and romance made him uncomfortable. Thankfully, he never had to say anything because Akaashi would always speak up. “Who cares how many confessions he gets?” “How many chocolates did you receive?” “Akiko has a new crush every week.” Bokuto found himself thankful for and relying on Akaashi to always know the right thing to say to get him out of these situations.
His second year came to an end and his third year saw Bokuto becoming captain with Akaashi as his vice-captain. It was unusual for a second year to be vice-captain, but Bokuto was thrilled when he found out he’d be partnering with Akaashi. By this point, they were spending more time with each other than anyone else. Akaashi had become his best friend, and Bokuto looked forward to hanging out with him. Their extra practices would turn into late evening walks home, eating snacks, and laughing about their day. Bokuto found himself waking up even earlier every day so that he could meet Akaashi to walk together for their morning practices. They would eat lunch together, and Bokuto almost cried the first time Akaashi handed him a homemade bento. “I made too much for myself, Bokuto-san, and thought maybe you’d like some, too.” After that, Akaashi made him a homemade bento every Friday, which Bokuto looked forward to almost as much as their extra practices together.
The year passed by in a flash and before he knew it, volleyball was over. Their season had ended, unfortunately, without a title or big win. Bokuto was disappointed, of course, but he knew that he and his team had given a hundred and twenty percent. They had gone in to give it their all and they had succeeded, even if it wasn’t enough. Bokuto had no regrets with how things went, but he couldn’t help being sad over the fact that he was leaving. He would be graduating and he would no longer get to see his Akaashi every day. He’s not even sure when he began mentally thinking of Akaashi as his , but he was. Akaashi was his setter, his vice-captain, his best friend, and Bokuto was finally starting to wonder if there was maybe a bit more to these feelings. If maybe these were the types of feelings others talked about in the locker room.
It was one of the last few days of the school year and Bokuto and Akaashi had walked after school to a park and were sitting on a bench, talking about anything and everything, watching the sun’s rays shift across the ground. They fell into an easy, companionable silence. Bokuto looked sideways at Akaashi, who was watching a bird hopping on the ground nearby, fingers fiddling. Bokuto recognized that this was his calm fiddling, not one born of anxiety. He stared at his hands and suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to reach out and hold them, but he stopped himself. Would Akaashi even want that? Would he be okay with it? What if he thought it was weird or made him uncomfortable? Bokuto shifted as a sudden tension entered their silence.
Akaashi turned to meet his gaze, fingers stilling. “Are you finally ready to stop running from this?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Stop running from what?” Bokuto asked, laughing weakly. He wanted to turn away from his piercing gaze but forced himself to keep eye contact.
Akaashi leveled his stare at Bokuto and reached out, hovering his hand over Bokuto’s. Bokuto looked down at it warily. It was so much smaller than his own. “I know I’m not the only one who feels it. I like you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said matter of factly and Bokuto felt his world begin to tilt. “And I think you like me.”
Bokuto stared at Akaashi’s hands, longing to meet him where he was and take hold of it, but something made him want to hold back. “I…I think I might like you,” he agreed. He swallowed and turned his palm up, but still didn’t hold Akaashi’s hand. “But I don’t know if I like you in the same way you like me.”
Akaashi laid his hand down on his open palm and Bokuto gently closed his hand around it, enjoying the warmth, imagining it spreading throughout his body. “Maybe, maybe not. But I would like to give it a try.”
“I think I’d like to give it a try, too,” Bokuto agreed, smiling. Akaashi returned the smile and they fell back into a comfortable silence, sitting on the bench, holding hands in the dying rays of the sun, their future ahead of them.