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The world kept spinning, learned Akaashi Keiji on a fateful spring day.
After two years of hard work, cramping hands, early mornings and late evenings and sweat, he finally came to the realization that he was a mere speck of dust in the vast universe, not even a significant portion of a chapter in the history of mankind.
He never thought that he was important either, never gave himself more credit than he thought he deserved. But after two years on that court, two years by someone so bright’s side, he had gotten used to feeling like his efforts were worth it, like it all meant something. Now, watching Bokuto Koutarou graduate, pepper and salt hair glinting with abnormally soft despite the likely numerous hair products he used to keep it up, he felt like a spectator in a show. Keiji felt small and insignificant as he watched his upperclassmen cheer, as he watched Bokuto laugh with his parents, and his sisters, and his friends, and his clubmates, and his admirers.
Somehow, he had gotten used to shining behind him, a silent support on the court, a helping hand to keep him strong, keep him going. Because Bokuto Koutarou shone like the sun, and people clung onto him to feel any semblance of light, to attempt to see the miserable world they lived in through his perspective. And somehow, somehow, despite Keiji’s pessimism (‘realism’ he would say, as if he doesn’t think it will rain when he graduates, and the sun will shine when he dies, unlike the pleasant weather at Bokuto’s graduation), he had bathed in that light, basked in the attention Bokuto gave, because he was bright, and kind, and generous, his rays shining indifferently on everyone around him. Now, he had to swallow the hard pill that the older boy was never truly his, that he would move on to do great things and meet people who actually deserved him (unlike him, because he was too sharp, and too blunt, and too dark), and Keiji would have to learn to live in the dark again.
He knew that in some years, Bokuto would have a distant memory of his high school setter, and that although he’d remember the time fondly, he would never dwell on it (sure, he would remember his name, because Bokuto has always been too kind). Deep down, Keiji had the slight (read: overwhelming) urge to burst into tears, because in his core, he was still sixteen, still read shounen mangas in his spare time and cried when he got bad grades. Because even if he was the ‘mature’ one (What did that even mean? How does one truly rate maturity? Is it because he’s quiet? Because he’s always the one to wrangle Bokuto?), he still listened to gossip, and played videogames, and got angry when his parents were too busy to come to his games or congratulate him for his hard work at school.
Nevertheless, he didn’t let the heart clenching realization that he never truly mattered and probably never will affect him visibly, he didn’t cry. There was no point in doing so, especially at such an event, especially when his volleyball captain (Partner? Best friend? Crush?) was graduating and had such a bright smile on his face, especially when he was the one who helped him to this moment after long ‘study dates’ as Bokuto had dubbed them of pushing the older boy to focus. No, Keiji wouldn’t cry, nor would he complain, since he was the mature one, the quiet one, the silent support. He didn’t have the right to do so, he would never forgive himself if he was the reason someone as great as Bokuto Koutarou was held back, so he let his unimportant tears and complaints and confessions die painfully in the back of his throat, let it ground him.
Which is why when he saw the boy begin walking towards him, graduation gown flowing behind him like some kind of cape, smile all teeth and reminiscent of long matches and nearly impossible victories, he felt himself freeze in place. Keiji cleared his throat and nodded in recognition, motions awkward as he tried to find his usual calm.
“Congratulations, Bokuto-san, the ceremony was nice” Keiji said, expression carefully blank, and opened his mouth to tell the other boy to go away as politely as he could, cut the ties before his heart began beating painfully against his chest when Bokuto spoke up, words breathless.
“You came” he said, as if Keiji’s presence mattered, as if he didn’t have the whole and undivided attention of two older sisters, two parents and a myriad of friends and classmates and clubmates and admirers who came to see him. Clearing his throat again, feeling it indescribably dry all of the sudden “I did, you… asked me to come” he replied, pretending like that was the only reason, pretending like he didn’t want to go home to scream and cry into his pillow that his first heartbreak was so anticlimactic.
Bokuto laughed as easy as breathing, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully “I did, I couldn’t have graduated without you, Akaashi” he explained, smiling like he wasn’t actively stealing the breath from Keiji’s lungs “It was all you, Bokuto-san, you’re the one who put in the effort” Keiji said easily, ears going traitorously pink at the tips. At his words, the conversation died down for a few seconds, and Keiji tugged at his fingers awkwardly, wanting more than ever to be back at home while also wanting to gaze at Bokuto one last time (When would he see him again? Is he even going to see him again?) but the volleyball captain spoke up again, never one to leave things half finished. “Let’s go eat something together” were his words, spoken so quickly like he had been holding his breath in, like he couldn’t hold them in.
Keiji’s breath hitched, and he knew he should reject the offer, knew he should let the older boy celebrate with his family, let him enjoy the day after so much effort put into getting here, but at his core he was still a sixteen year old boy in love, and he could help giving into the selfish urge to steal him away. So, when he answered a quiet, demonstratively sighed “Alright, Bokuto-san”, and said boy lit up like his presence was a gift, Keiji stored the reaction away closely to his heart to pretend like he mattered as much to Bokuto like he mattered to him.
This led to where he was now, sitting in a ramen restaurant, knees bumping and lights dim, regretting saying yes because, what was he supposed to say now? Bokuto was going on and on about something volleyball related, about how he was excited about getting scouted, about his older sisters, and the dog he hoped to have eventually, and all Keiji could do was nod and hum interestedly, feeling like the worst person in the world for stealing Bokuto and not even giving him the attention he deserved.
It was when they got their food that Keiji finally said something “Why did you make me captain? I’m sure someone else would have been more fit for the job”, already envisioning himself going insane with the added responsibilities of being the captain of such a prestigious volleyball team, trying to lead it to victory, on top of dealing with his last year of high school. Bokuto gaped incredulously, looking like Keiji had just said something nonsensical like the grass was purple and the sun didn’t shine “HUH? You were the best option! And you already know what it’s like after being my vice-captain for a year! You’ll make a great captain Akaashi!” he exclaimed earnestly, voice loud and unforgiving, and Keiji’s eyebrows furrowed in response “Still, I’m not as good of a player as you, I doubt I’ll be even half the captain you were. I’m not as…” he trailed off, huffing lowly “Not as bright as you, I could barely even inspire you to keep working, how will I push a team forward to nationals?”.
For a moment, it was completely quiet between them, not even the sounds of the other clients and servers at the restaurant bursting the bubble they had, and Bokuto looked uncharacteristically serious.
“How could you say that?” he asked, hurt on Keiji’s behalf “You’re the glue of the team, you’re reliable and patient and never get angry at me when I get into my moods” he spoke defensively, voice rising slowly “You’re kind and even if you don’t motivate people loudly, you push them to do better silently… You’re better” he finished his rant softly, delicately, like they were something sacred. Keiji couldn’t help but scoff “In your eyes. But a setter is nothing without their spiker. What will I become when you leave? What am I without you?” he said, the words rushing out like the dam had broken, his insecurities lain bare.
And yet, Bokuto looked at him softly, with such gentleness that Keiji’s heart ached with the sweetness of it “You’re Akaashi Keiji, the starting setter of Fukurodani, and its future captain. You’re you” he replied, words kind and understanding “You don’t have to be like me, you weren’t chosen as captain because you were like me. You were chosen because you’re yourself, and I think that’s better”.
Eyes burning, Keiji looked at Bokuto as if seeing him for the first time. Was this really the boy who had cried over the existence of triangles and their formulas? The boy who asked what the point of literature was just to mourn the ending of Romeo and Juliet? But the answer was clear in front of him. Bokuto was no longer young and immature, he had outgrown high school, just like he would outgrow Keiji and move onto greater things.
Vulnerably, voice suspiciously wet, Keiji asked “Is it? How can I do this without you?” and Bokuto’s smile soothed his aches, if just for a moment “You won’t be without me Kaashi” he answered easily, voice stretching out the syllables of Keiji’s name like he was tasting it for the first time again “I’m not dying. I’ll still be here”. Keiji couldn’t help but laugh, the sound small but there “I guess you will be. Won’t you be busy at college with your new team, though? You shouldn’t let yourself fall behind just because of us” he scolded lightly, feeling a sense of normalcy when Bokuto pouted “They’ll never be as cool as you Akaaaashi, your sets are still the best” he retorted petulantly.
And somehow, the words felt like a cool relief in a scorching desert, like a breath of fresh air, and Keiji let his worries that had been weighing him down for weeks fall to the back of his mind, at least for now, so he could enjoy the rest of his lunch with Bokuto. He would probably still scream and cry into his pillow when he got home and eat an irrational amount of junk food to try to mend his broken heart, but for now, he would listen to Bokuto talk and perhaps let himself talk as well.
While he wouldn’t see Bokuto everyday anymore, that didn’t mean he was gone, didn’t mean all the memories of times spent together would disappear magically. It just meant that they were growing up, going their own ways. And maybe Bokuto was outgrowing Keiji, but for now, he hadn’t done so yet, so Keiji would bask in Bokuto’s undivided attention, and pretend like the older boy’s fond smiles and soft looks meant something (and hell, maybe they did). Because yeah, the world kept spinning, but Akaashi Keiji could ignore it for a moment.