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“Where’s Akaashi?”
“I don’t care!” Bokuto grabbed a ball from the bin, storming to the court. His team, gathered around the open doors, hadn’t actually been talking to him. But they should all know that Bokuto absolutely positively did not care about Akaashi. He could prove that by shouting across the gym.
“Did you get into a fight with him again? Just apologize already, Bokuto.”
“How do you know it’s my fault! Maybe it’s his!”
The uproarious laughter filled the room. Konoha covered his mouth. Washio looked like he was having a religious experience. Komi bent over, wiping a tear from his eye.
“No, seriously, Bokuto. Go apologize to Akaashi already. Spiking practice is better with a setter.”
“Konoha can set!”
“No, I don’t want to set.”
“Fine, then I’ll do it! And I’ll spike, too! I’ll set and spike all by myself!”
“Never mind, I’ll set.” Konoha pushed the cart. Some of his teammates slapped his back in pitiful encouragement.
“Akaashi is the one who should be apologizing to me! Besides, it’s not like I need him. Right, Akaashi?” Bokuto swiveled his head. The team also looked around in the ensuing silence.
“It’s not that hard to say you’re sorry,” Saru said. “Pretend it’s a spike and say it really quickly. Akaashi might forgive you.”
“It’s definitely not my fault! I think!” Bokuto actually couldn’t remember why Akaashi was angry. He faintly remembered being energetic yesterday, but he hadn’t destroyed anything too expensive. But Akaashi seemed particularly cold when he said he’d changed the schedule to spend the morning with Karasuno.
“You don’t even remember? Geez.”
“Hey, I didn’t do anything wrong yesterday,” Bokuto said defensively.
“Oh, really? What about when you were playing around and tore down the net? Akaashi had to go talk to the Shinzen coach.”
“Or maybe when Bokuto and Kuroo tracked in all that dirt from the garden?”
“No, no, that’s pretty common. It’s gotta be when he took Akaashi’s ice cream, right? I think Akaashi had been looking forward to it, he had that really big crease on his forehead.”
“Big as in Bokuto got stuck in his locker, or big as in Bokuto ate too much and got sick in the bathroom?”
“Big as in Bokuto accidentally locked Nekoma out of their rooms and everybody with a key had already gone home big.”
“Oh, that’s big.”
“That’s not it! Probably.” Bokuto scowled at the volleyball in his hands. “Akaashi’s used to all that! Right, Akaashi?”
“Maybe,” Komi said, holding up a finger, “it’s a lover’s spat.”
“We’re not dating!” Bokuto snapped.
“Okay, sure. But you hear about it, right? You start taking the other person for granted.” Komi stretched to his toes. “Well, not like I know anything about that. Go say sorry, Bokuto.”
“Akaashi should apologize first! Maybe.”
“It’s not about who apologizes first.” Washio stood, solemn and noble. “But you should apologize first.”
“It’s inevitable. Akaashi is really good at getting you to do what he wants.” Konoha shrugged.
“You’re wrong about that! I’m really good at getting Akaashi to do what I want!” Bokuto jabbed a thumb at his chest.
“This is definitely a lover’s spat.”
“We’re not dating!”
“Don’t be stubborn. You want Akaashi to set to you, right? He can only do that if he’s here.”
“I don’t need his setting! Akaashi, toss to me!” Bokuto triumphantly spiked Konoha’s toss successfully. It was absolutely just as good as Akaashi’s setting, and not a little too high for his liking at all.
Despite his team’s caterwauling, practice went smoothly. The morning faded away into the early afternoon heat, the grassy knoll shimmering. The hot air bore down upon them, heavy against their backs. Bokuto wiped the sweat from his face and demanded Akaashi to get him a towel. He had to trot back to the bench, digging through their bags until he found one. But he absolutely positively did not need Akaashi. When his mouth grew dry, he demanded Akaashi to get him his water bottle. He returned to the bench in search of water. But he did not need Akaashi.
“Just say sorry!”
“You’re being a big baby.”
“Your hair’s really weird.”
Bokuto would apologize, but he was at least 20% certain that it wasn’t actually his fault. As the day grew hotter and his shirt stuck to his skin, suffocating and uncomfortable, he was at least 10% certain that it wasn’t his fault. Sure, he had done irreparable damage to the school and interrupted practice for fun and games. But Akaashi was used to that. It wasn’t like he was taking Akaashi for granted, right, Akaashi?
“‘Akaashi, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot and owe Komi lots of money and I was wrong.’ How hard is that?”
“What if he’s angry forever? Did you think about that, Bokuto?”
“Do you live somewhere with a lot of static electricity? Is that what your hair’s doing?”
The managers had prepared some watermelon for them in the cafeteria, but Bokuto wanted to continue practice. He wasn’t sulking. He just really thought the wall could use some company. His teammates, caring and kind, abandoned him and left to consume their juicy treats. He didn’t need Akaashi to practice, and he definitely didn’t miss him. The heat swelled, covering him like a heavy blanket. He threw the volleyball into the air, working on his approach and spiking. Arm, elbow, hand, wrist. A little more wrist—oh, that was good. He was starting to get tired, but he would be tired on the court, too. He’d have to spike through the fatigue. The throw was off. He should bend his knees more. This one was good, too. The throw was really off and he barely managed to hit it against the wall. Any blocker could have gotten that. More running. More jumping. Arm, elbow, hand, wrist. That hit had been better than the others. He was really in the zone. The volleyballs swirled around him, hazy and blurry.
He heard shoes squeak by the doorway of the gym. Akaashi entered, holding a plastic bag.
“Good timing, Akaashi! I think my form’s really good today. Watch—”
“You idiot.”
Bokuto turned towards him, surprised, until he remembered Akaashi was actually mad at him. Akaashi stormed towards him, and Bokuto recognized the big crease on his forehead. Akaashi was definitely going to punch him, and Bokuto was 5% certain that he didn’t deserve all of it. He threw up his arms, shielding his face from Akaashi’s super fist, but Akaashi only grabbed him by the wrist.
“Come with me,” Akaashi said, pulling him. His grip must have been strong because Bokuto stumbled and crashed to his knees. Being lower to the ground felt really good. He hadn’t realized standing took so much energy. He should just let his face rest on the ground, too, and maybe throw up a little bit. Actually, now that he thought about it, vomiting sounded like a really good idea. But that would definitely cause more irreparable damage to the gym, so he clamped his hand over his mouth. He could feel Akaashi’s hand resting on his back.
When he tried to sit up, Akaashi pulled his arm over his shoulder and helped him stand. He didn’t realize Akaashi was so strong. It pleased him because a super strong setter was a super cool setter. But if Akaashi was so strong, then Akaashi should really let him sit on his back when he did push-ups. Akaashi had gravely predicted grievous bodily injuries, but Bokuto let people sit on his back all the time when he did push-ups.
He recognized the storage room even in the shadows. Akaashi dumped him on the mats like he was a particularly unloved sack of potatoes. The heat still crept upon him, but it felt cooler in the shade and the aching in his head faded. A little fan had been plugged in, humming and whirring in the corner.
“Drink.” Akaashi thrust the water bottle against his face.
“I don’t need it,” Bokuto said.
“Drink.”
“Fine.” Bokuto pulled himself up against the wall, drinking the water. It felt surprisingly good.
“Not too fast,” Akaashi said.
“I can drink how I want!”
“Not too fast.”
“Fine.”
He sipped at the water. Akaashi knelt between his legs. He slipped his fingers beneath the kneepads, pulling them down over his thighs, knees, calves. His touch was brusque, but surprisingly gentle. When he finished pulling them off, he didn’t retreat back to the edge of the mat. He sat and watched Bokuto drink, face impassive. The big crease had gone.
“You’re not mad at me anymore?” Bokuto finally asked. He sucked hard at the last of the water. Akaashi held out his hand for the empty water bottle and switched it for a full one.
“Anymore?”
“You were mad at me this morning! You—”
“Don’t raise your voice and get excited.” Akaashi dribbled some water over a towel. He folded it over neatly, and pressed it against Bokuto’s face. That felt good, too.
“You were mad,” Bokuto said.
“I wasn’t mad.”
“Yeah, you were! I mean, yeah, you were. There wasn’t a reason to change the schedule. I checked! I’m not that dumb, Akaashi.”
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, “You’re the one who was mad at me. You told me to change the schedule so you wouldn’t have to see me in the morning.”
“What?” But now that Akaashi mentioned it, that sounded familiar. He could faintly recall sitting in the cafeteria, aghast that Akaashi had taken the last of his favorite ice cream for himself. Akaashi said it wasn’t his problem, but Bokuto refused to have any other flavor. Akaashi finally told him that he could have some, but the little portion he’d given Bokuto were goopy dredges, small clumps already melting into ice cream stew. Akaashi had basically finished the entire ice cream by himself. And then Bokuto had gotten angry and told him that he didn’t want to see Akaashi in the morning, change the schedule, he was really mad and he definitely was never going to forget this personal affront, never, never ever for the rest of his whole life.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” Bokuto sipped his water. “Aren’t you supposed to still be with Karasuno?”
“You weren’t in the cafeteria. I suspected you were sulking, so I brought you some watermelon slices.” Akaashi wrinkled his nose. “I just didn’t realize you’d be this much of an idiot. I underestimate you sometimes.”
“Thanks, Akaashi.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“So can I have the watermelon?”
“You almost threw up a few minutes ago.”
“Oh, you’re right. It’s better to have it after I throw up, right? Since my stomach would be empty.”
“No.” Akaashi sighed. His body heat was warm, but Bokuto didn’t want to move away. The water from the scratchy towel dripped down his neck. The metal poles leaned against the wall, cages of volleyballs hidden in the shadows. The fan burbled in the corner, twisting its head back and forth. The gentle brush ran across his arm. Akaashi sat politely in front of him, his posture straight. He had his head bent forward, looking down at his hands in his lap. The summer cicadas chirped outside.
“Were you coming to apologize?” Bokuto asked.
“No.” The answer was fast.
“You were! You definitely were coming to apologize. The first one who apologizes is the loser, don’t you know that?” Bokuto grinned around the water bottle. Akaashi raised his head. His expression hadn’t changed, but Bokuto could tell he was annoyed. He seemed more dour than usual. Served him right. That Akaashi, doing whatever he wanted.
“Well, whatever. I’m sorry, Akaashi. It was just some dumb ice cream.” The water was beginning to feel heavy in his stomach, so he put the bottle down. Akaashi blinked once, and then twice.
“Really?” He sounded guarded.
“Yeah, really. You got there first. It was nice of you to share with me.” Bokuto shrugged. “I mean, I’m the one who was wrong, no matter how you look at it. Right, Akaashi?”
“I thought your behavior was particularly childish.” Akaashi fiddled with his fingers. “But I did intend to share some with you. I ate more than I expected.”
Bokuto laughed. Akaashi wouldn’t really change the schedule just because Bokuto was demanding it. Akaashi had worked hard on the schedule and most of the timetables had been cemented. The other captains had agreed on it, too, and disturbances would inconvenience them. Of course, Akaashi might gently alter the schedule if he himself was angry.
But for calm Akaashi, it was more likely he changed it because he felt guilty.
“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Bokuto huddled closer to him despite the heat. “But if it makes you feel better, you can say sorry, too.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Maybe we can make out.”
“If I do?”
“We can make out. We can, right, Akaashi?”
“If you don’t move too much or get too excited.” Akaashi pulled the damp towel to the mat, fingertips brushing against his forehead and the roots of his hair. He leaned forward, hand flat on the wall, holding himself up on his knees. Bokuto always liked the way Akaashi carried himself, with strength and grace. They probably wouldn’t be able to make out for too long. He would get dizzy again too fast. But he leaned forward to kiss him. Akaashi’s mouth was soft. The heat still clung around them, but the hazy warmth felt better this time. Akaashi curled his fingers behind Bokuto’s neck, gentle and kind, when he pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” Akaashi murmured against his ear.
“I’m sorry, too.”
“For what?”
“Oh. I don’t know! It’s just instinct.”
“Then don’t say it.” But Bokuto could feel Akaashi smiling against his neck.
“I think the team is catching onto us,” Bokuto said. “Maybe we should finally tell them we’re dating.”
“Do what you like.” Akaashi stroked his cheek, feeling for his temperature. “Are you feeling better?”
“I’m actually still really, really mad, Akaashi. Really mad. I’ll only forgive you if you kiss me again.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” But Akaashi smiled and leaned forward.
Bokuto really liked forgiving Akaashi.