Archive of Our Own ^beta

00:00:00:00

There is nothing Akaashi despises more than those zeros. All they do is sit there, on the inside of his left wrist, black, unmoving. He wishes that instead of staying at zero they would just vanish. That way the numbers—or the lack of numbers—wouldn’t be a constant reminder that he in fact has no numbers. No constant countdown. Nothing.

He scratches at the spot. It’s unconscious on his part by now. Doesn’t even think about it. If there’s not something to occupy his hands, he drags his nails across the small expanse of skin. There’s no removing the numbers though. Believe him, he’s tried. It’s worse than tattooed there. Still, there’s no stopping him from trying.

His mother slaps his hand away as she makes dinner. She’s a whirlwind in the kitchen, everywhere at once, even in enough places to keep a sharp eye on him as he does his homework.

“It doesn’t itch, so stop that,” she snaps. “I’d know if it did.”

She has the same zeros on the inside of her wrist as well. The two of them share many things. Akaashi inherited her looks after all. This is just another to add to the list. Of course, they both got their zeros for very different reasons.

He mumbles some sort of an apology and continues his reading. He commutes to the local college. It’s cheaper that way, especially for a single mother who insists on helping out with his loans, even if just a little bit. Akaashi’s grateful, but that means he has to come home to her constant, watchful eyes each day. Though they’re often not in the same room as one another, he still feels as if those eyes are on him.

Mothers will be mothers.

She brings rice and vegetables to the table. She’s not much of a cook. Another downside to living at home. This is a frequent meal of theirs. Akaashi can’t bring himself to mind. He’ll still eat as much as he can get. She lets him study as they eat, too. Her computer rests on her other side, one hand for eating, the other for typing. Most days she works at home so if she gets to work at the table, so does Akaashi. It’s a compromise. He finds that they have to compromise on a lot of things.

“Hey,” she says, grabbing his attention, pokes his arm when he doesn’t answer right away.

Begrudgingly, he glances up. Both have food stuffing their cheeks. Their appetite being another trait they share.

“You didn’t tell me your clock started counting down again,” she continues with her mouth full.

Eyebrows narrowed, Akaashi looks down. She’s right. Odd. He shrugs and keeps eating, but his stomach plummets.

01:11:43:07

Just under two days.

*

That morning, he takes his time. He hasn’t been able to stop staring at his clock. Sometimes the seconds seem to pass in hours, other time the hours pass by in seconds. The new, constant moving keeps catching his eye. It distracts him at school and when he’s trying to do his homework. Already boring tasks, he doesn’t need the distraction. He fumbles around grabbing his things. Every time he gets a chance, he has to check the time remaining.

00:00:33:52

He stands in the shower for much too long. The water grows increasingly colder, but he stands like a statue, head braced against the white tiled wall, water running down his back, left arms cradled in front of him so he can watch the numbers count down. It’s just like last time. But it’s not. It’s completely different.

00:00:32:31

He feels like he’s going to be sick.

Shutting off the shower abruptly, he steps out and towels himself dry as quickly as he can. He has almost doubled his normal showering time. At least he doesn’t need to worry over his mother. She had to go into the office early this morning and Akaashi makes it a point not to schedule classes any time before ten.

But he’s going to miss the bus if he doesn’t hurry.

Maybe he wants to miss it. If the clock is any indicator—and it most definitely is—it’s planning to reach zero once more right at the time he’s supposed to catch the bus.

But then maybe that’s what it’s planning on happening. Whatever sick equation that decides these things is too complex for him to figure out. At a basic level, it’s like trying to decide what someone will throw in rock-paper-scissors. You could deduce that all day and it would still pan out how it’s supposed to. Some greater design. Luck.

However, the clocks are nothing close to random, so they say.

He grabs his bag and exits the house, taking the time to lock the door behind him. This is nothing like the first time.

He remembers being just as obsessed with the clock on his wrist days before it was supposed to reach zero. Nothing new there. But he had been excited, anxious and faint, but there was still a giddiness there.

Now he just has chills and nausea.

His steps echo in the stairwell as they skim over the steps, in a flurry to reach the bottom. The bus stop isn’t far away and he’s usually early, but today he’s cutting it very, very close. Perhaps too close.

There have been plenty of studies on clocks resetting. Yes, there are soulmates, but it’s possible to have more than one.

Akaashi thinks that sort of defeats the purpose of it.

It’s never happened to anyone more than twice though. Once it counts down to zero a second time, it’ll never reset again. Or no one has proved otherwise.

Not that he cares, he has to remind himself. He really doesn’t. These thoughts are buzzing in his head because that’s what should be expected. A reset is still an uncommon case, but that’s only because most soulmates are great the first time around. Perfect.

Whatever. Get it over with. Move on.

He hopes they’ll miss each other. He hopes that maybe his soulmate won’t be paying attention to the exact minute the clock hits zero. He hopes they’ll walk right past each other. He hopes the bus is unusually crowded today. That would certainly be best. Save any awkward excuses. That he’s not really looking for a relationship or his soulmate right now, or interested in getting to know one. That’s a poor excuse and it’s not like it’s up to him to decide when he’s ready.

He just hopes he doesn’t have to be cruel.

Akaashi nears the corner not knowing what to think. Does he hope that the bus has already pulled away? Or does he hope that it is late as well? He doesn’t think he could pick one or the other, just whichever separates him from this potential soulmate.

But it would be an inconvenience to miss it. He does have class after all. So Akaashi picks up his pace. He turns down the next street at a light jog and there’s the bus, already moving, picking up speed. Even if he were to sprint after it, it’ll be long gone. Slowly, his feet bring him to a stop out in the middle of the road. Oh well, let a car hit him. He plants his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees the bus stop. Unusual. The sheer convenience of it has him hesitating. Nevertheless, he really doesn’t want to miss his class so, convenient or not, high likelihood of running into his soulmate increased, he runs to catch up.

“Thanks,” he pants, showing his pass and nodding gratefully to the driver.

The scruffy man just nods and flaps his hand, telling Akaashi to get on with it. Akaashi does.

Eyes cast downward, he starts for his stairs. The upper level is his usual seat. Most riders want to get on and off, but upstairs is normally deserted. It’s where he finishes his last minute homework or it’s just a place to be quiet before a day of classes officially begins.

A hand wrapped around his bicep stops him in his tracks.

He glances up, but the bus starting up again forces both him and the other guy to grab a pole before Akaashi can take a good look. He wants to brush it off and escape to the stairs, but before he can do so, the stranger steps in front of him again. Both have recovered their balance.

“H-hey,” he says, his voice nervous but still bold and loud, causing Akaashi to flinch. “Did your clock just reach zero?” The guy goes right ahead and grabs Akaashi’s left wrist.

Immediately, he pulls his hand back, but not before the other sees the zeros once again etched into his arm. They’re a dark green color now. Almost black, but not quite. That’s something new. Must be a second countdown kind of thing.

“Sure,” Akaashi responds, nearly whispering so the other passengers do not overhear them. The last thing he needs is to cause a scene.

The guy causes a scene all on his own. He doesn’t need Akaashi’s help, not with his wild, two-toned owl-like hair and loud voice. The way he moves, gesturing wilding, nearly jumping where he stands, he seems to take up twice the amount of space his body should require. Akaashi shrinks in on himself to maintain his bubble of personal space.

“Really?” squawks the guy, eyes blown wide. He points a finger to his chest. “Me too! So you’re the one, right?” He gestures to the back of the bus while Akaashi sidles closer to the stairs. “My friend said you wouldn’t show. Said, go figure that my soulmate would show up late, but you’re here! Right on time!”

He follows Akaashi up the stairs, continuing to talk the entire way up.

“I told the bus driver to stop for you. He wasn’t going to, but then I said that I was meeting mine in a few seconds and that it could be you. Glad he stopped, huh?”

Akaashi’s starting to think that maybe missing all of his classes today would be much better than this. After trying to avoid thinking about this encounter, he has nothing to say. He was too hopeful that it wouldn’t happen at all. How stupid of him. He takes a seat and the guy leans over him, still completely fixated on him.

“So,” he drags out the word, “should we kiss?”

Heading whipping around to face him, a snort escapes him and his face immediately twists into a mixture of both surprise and disgust. “No,” he stutters out. Then coughs into a fist. Anything to clear his throat from that bombshell.

The guy seems to wilt, shoulders sagging, his face downcast. Then he straightens suddenly, his hands scrubbing at his face in frustration. “Agh! Stupid!”

Taken aback, Akaashi gently leans away.

“Sorry!” The guy removes his hands and makes up the space Akaashi had made, leaning in much closer. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what to do.”

“Then don’t do anything,” Akaashi retorts. A frown is forming on his lips.

He nods, though still looking like he doesn’t understand. “Um, okay.”

Akaashi sighs. Time to break it to him then. Better now than later. No use putting it off. “Listen,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t put much stock into the countdown debacle. I’m, uh—” What? What does he say? Anti-soulmate? That sounds too harsh. But what else is there? “—I don’t plan on partaking in the whole soulmate ritual.” A smile. Fake, but it’s the best he can muster. Then, for good measure, “Sorry.”

The guy stares at him blankly for a second. Maybe he hadn’t heard him correctly. Did he not understand? Akaashi worries. His fingers itch to scratch at the new zeros.

“So then, do you want to exchange numbers?” he asks at last.

“No—” he cuts off because what isn’t this guy getting? He glances out the window. The bus is slowing to a stop. It’s one too early, but he can most definitely walk from here. He gets to his feet. “Look, I’m not interested in a soulmate. This is my stop.” He pushes past the guy who’s staring at him like he has two heads instead of one. “It was nice meeting you,” he tosses back over his shoulder, and then goes down the steps.

Off the bus, he walks and he walks fast. The bus overtakes him and he waits, holding his breath. The guy doesn’t follow him.

This guy had come into this with such high expectations. Akaashi can’t help but to dwell on this bitterly as he walks. He’s always been decent at reading people, but this guy had been more open than a book. He can paint the picture now. He’d expected to meet someone just as enthralled by the prospect of meeting their soulmate as he was. He probably figured they’d kiss right away, or something gaudy like that. They’d get the attention of the entire bus and everyone would clap and cheer and congratulate them.

It’s not even a hard guess to make. Soulmate meetings like that happen all the time. It’s cringe-worthy. Worse that that. It makes Akaashi’s stomach turn over. If he had to suffer though a public declaration like that he think he’d just about die on the spot.

But no. He was able to escape. He was able to turn the guy down privately, if not coldly. It could’ve been worse though. So much worse. The thought sends a shiver funning down his spine. At least it’s over with. His number’s at zero and there they will stay. Forever, probably. No, definitely. He’s perfectly fine with that. Now he can spend the time focusing on his classes for the day.

At least he didn’t end up being late in the end.

*

“How did that go?” his mother asks, pointing her chopsticks at his wrist, now with its new zeros.

Seeing it, Akaashi has a satisfying feeling that nothing has changed after all. He can feel his stomach sinking, too, but he blames it on the food he forcefully swallows at his mother’s question.

“I forgot that was happening today,” she continues in an offhanded manner, but her attention is on him, not her computer. She looks at him thoughtfully, chin resting on the back of her hand while she takes another bite of food.

It’s times like these when Akaashi wishes his mother felt at least a little similar in the regards to their matching zeros. But still she stays optimistic. Perhaps it’s for his sake.

So, does he lie to her, or tell her the truth of the day’s events? It would be so easy to say that they must’ve missed each other, but she’s his mother. She’d tell a lie straight off, no matter how good his poker face is. She’s always been good at that. Too good.

At least he’s able to make his decision in a split second. She would wonder otherwise and definitely pose even more questions. There’s no debate. He can’t hide anything from her, so there’s no use in trying.

“We met on the bus,” he says with a shrug and takes a large bite of rice, like he’s not bothered.

“Well?” she prompts further. “Is this one cute? Boy or girl? Nice?”

Akaashi hates this. He plops his cheek on one of his hands. He hates when his mother gets nosey and she so rarely does. Of course she chooses the worst moments to decide to stick her nose into his business. He sighs. “A guy,” he replies shortly. Another shrug. “I wasn’t on the bus for very long so we really didn’t talk.” He leaves out how enthused the guy had been—his mother would just eat that up—and how he had been the one doing most of the talking. That is, until Akaashi had so cruelly shot him down.

His mother mirrors his position, head titled into one of her hands. “Aww, really? That sounds boring.”

“It was normal. I’m glad it’s over.”

His mother sits up straight again, shifting her attention back to her computer, still eating. She leans over with each bite so she doesn’t spill. This is enough indication that the serious part of the conversation is over. Akaashi can finally breathe in relief. Her attention is not longer solely on him.

“Did you at least exchange numbers?” she asks with her mouth full.

Akaashi shakes his head. “Didn’t get the chance,” he murmurs, knowing the excuse is lame. He scrapes the last bit of food from the bowl.

His mother hums in response as she pulls on her lower lip, food forgotten as she leans in to read an email.

At least she’s not one of those overbearing mothers that can’t wait to see their son’s clock hit zero. Akaashi stands to clear the table. She nods in thanks, but still distracted. She understands Akaashi’s stance on the topic and doesn’t push. She doesn’t care what Akaashi does, honestly. She’s said it before. As long as he’s happy and not getting into trouble, he can do what he likes.

She’s certainly a lot more carefree than he is. But Akaashi is grateful for that.

*

The rest of the weekend is filled with studying and lounging around his room, mostly sleeping. It’s nice. There’s nothing that motivates him more than a quiet weekend where he doesn’t have to leave the house, or even his room. Outside, he hears his mother coming and going, running errands or whatever else she has to do. Maybe going to work, but it doesn’t matter to Akaashi. He finishes homework assignments for the upcoming week, starts an outline for a final paper, and makes notecards to study for an exam. Even though midterms were only a few weeks ago, he feels the shadow of the ever-looming end of the semester. He’s not sure how he’ll actually survive through it, but a nice weekend like this surely helps.

It’s getting colder out and their apartment has never been good at warming up in the winter. This weekend is particularly cold. It makes Akaashi thankful that he can stay indoors. It promises that those nice warm fall days are certainly behind them.

So he wears sweaters around the house. He sits at his desk, does his work, takes a nap, gets woken up for dinner, stays up late into the night, binging a random TV show on Netflix. It’s all very simple.

He doesn’t even think about the zeros at all. Not even the guy from the bus crosses his mind.

Things are finally getting back to normal.

“You work too hard,” his mother calls, rapping her knuckles on his door.

Akaashi can’t bring himself to agree with her. After a stressful week, a week where he really shouldn’t have been all that stressed, he is finally at peace.

*

Monday comes and he’s on time. He’s so on time that he actually forgets running late on Friday. Mindlessly falling into routine has the perks of forgetting. Running on autopilot is easy.

His mother is still sleeping when he leaves. She’s just like him in that way, too. If she doesn’t have to be anywhere that day, she can sleep until noon. She’s an absolute grouch in the morning, like Akaashi, which usually means quiet breakfasts whenever their schedules align for them both to be early. That of course is why she works through dinner and into the night. Maybe if she kept herself on a working schedule like the rest of the world does, she would have a normal routine. Just like Akaashi has with school keeping it in check.

He walks—doesn’t have to run—to the bus stop, getting to enjoy the crisp morning. It’s more than crisp. The temperature really has started to drop, but it’s just the way Akaashi likes it. He gets to wear his big, dark sweaters with this oncoming weather. They’ll take the blankets down from storage. His mother will make hot chocolate and tea to warm him up when he returns home.

He can tuck his nose into the depths of his scarf when he sees the guy waiting next to the bus stop.

He can pray to any god listening that he won’t see him, won’t recognize him.

He should have really prepared for this. Meeting on the bus wouldn’t have been mere coincidence. This is the bus mostly filled with sleepy students since it stops by the university. The guy is around the right age to be a student, Akaashi guesses. Staring at his back, Akaashi hates that he hadn’t thought this through. He hates that he had made the decision to not think about the run-in on Friday. He hates that he had nearly forgotten.

Just get on the bus, he tells himself. He hasn’t seen you yet. He’s in front. He’ll get on first. Then escape to the top.

Later he can figure out a different route to school. It’ll be inconvenient, but something has to be done to avoid any potential run-ins in the future.

*

“You saw him again?”

Akaashi looks up from his food, successfully hiding the fact that his mother had startled him. “Why do you think that?” he asks flatly.

She smirks. “There are very few things that can rile you up, Keiji.”

Staring at his hands, he wonders how he could have betrayed himself. Riled up? What does that even mean? What gave him away?

“Calm down, you think too fast. It’s exhausting to keep up with you,” she teases.

That’s not true. She can keep up just fine.

Scratching his left wrist absentmindedly, he lifts his head back up to meet her eye, face as stoic as ever. And Akaashi really does have a good poker face. That’s probably the reason why he doesn’t have any friends at university. At least none that invite him to do anything outside of class. He’s perfectly sociable, when he has to be, if a bit quiet. However, beyond the classroom, his expressionless face is probably a turnoff.

Sighing, he studies his mother. Are they the only two people that can read each other? He hates to think so, but it’s probably true.

“Fine,” he relents, “yes, I saw him. It was on the bus again.”

His mother leans forward, elbows on the table, invested. “What’s he like?”

Akaashi winces at the question. “Loud.”

“Perfect!” his mother exclaims, barking off a quick laugh. “That’s exactly what my son needs.” She leans over to poke at his cheek affectionately. Scowling, Akaashi waves her hand away. “So? Did you two have a nice chat?”

“No. He didn’t see me,” Akaashi says into his rice. He doesn’t want to see any sort of expectations on his mother’s face.

“Hmm,” she hums thoughtfully, “I think you should talk to him.”

Akaashi lifts his head to make a face at her. “Eh? Why?”

She casually runs her fingers along the keys of her laptop, a smile on her lips when she looks back at him. “So you don’t want to be romantically involved. That’s fine. But you can’t deny, it’s a quick and easy way to make a friend.”

*

Akaashi Keiji is not a morning person. If he were, the maybe his life could just be a little bit simpler. This is why none of his classes are before ten o’clock in the morning. Even that is pushing it. This means, of course, that he has a few night classes, but he’d much rather work into the evening than wake up before dawn.

Obviously, that’s a slight exaggeration.

So when Akaashi wakes up on Tuesday, he’s clearly not in any mood to figure out some new route to school. He might’ve considered walking in the moment of actually running into the stranger, but now, after a cold shower thanks to his mother, there’s no way he’d sacrifice a warm bus just to be stubborn.

His mother’s door is shut so he doesn’t disturb her, however much he wants to bang on the door and thank her for taking up all of the hot water. It’s rare that they wake up at the same time. Given her choice, she’d much rather sleep in like he would. She must have some work to catch up on, Akaashi thinks tiredly as he yawns. Bothering her would take too much effort, so he lets it go. If he remembers, he’ll remind her tonight.

He bundles up for the brief walk, pulls down a beanie over his wet hair, and heads out.

The owl haired guy is in line when Akaashi nears the bus stop. His first instinct is to recoil and push himself to the back of the line, as far away as possible, but his mother’s advice lingers in his head like a bad taste he can’t seem to get rid of. Should he really talk to the guy? They have completely opposing personalities.

The bus rolls up and slows to a stop.

Maybe he doesn’t have to be the one to talk. All he really needs to do is catch the guy’s eye and Akaashi’s sure he’ll come running. He was excited enough when they first met. He’ll definitely be eager to talk again.

Setting his plan into motion, Akaashi watches the guy closely. He and his friend step onto the bus first. Though it’s still early, he’s talking animatedly while his friend with the awful bedhead nods behind a cup of coffee. Akaashi follows them with his eyes through the bus’s windows as they take their seats. They’re fairly close to the front.

Akaashi shows his bus pass before tucking it away. He sighs, bracing himself. He could still chicken out, slink away up the stares. He’s sure the guy wouldn’t see his face that way.

Instead, he juts his chin out over his scarf and walks forward. He watches the back of the bus instead of where the two sit. Despite the decision to carry out his plan, Akaashi’s still intimidated. Plus, it’s basically two against one. The odds are not in his favor. At the last second, he glances in their direction before making the turn up the stairs.

Surprisingly, the guy’s eyes lift at the same moment as Akaashi’s are sliding away.

Akaashi flinches at the chain of events he has undoubtedly just set into place. Without hesitating, he hurries up the stairs, taking them two at a time. It feels like he’s running away from a great presence behind him. He’s not even sure if the guy recognizes him. He’s not even sure he’ll follow.

But Akaashi is decent at reading people and this guy definitely seemed the typed to rationally jump into situations without a second thought as to the consequences. He didn’t seem the kind to overthink. This makes Akaashi sure that he’ll follow.

If he doesn’t—oh well. He’ll tell his mother he tried his best.

This is his best.

Sure enough, though, he hears fast, heavy steps behind him as he goes to sit down. He turns and they’re suddenly face-to-face, just like last time except with the addition of more layers against the drop in temperature.

His eyes are golden. Striking.

That’s all he can think? Shit, because he needs to be figuring exactly what to say right now.

“Hey, hey! It’s you!”

Fortunately, the guy has a big mouth and opts to speak first, never giving Akaashi the chance.

“Hey!” He greets him happily.

He wears a big smile and holds himself between the poles, effectively caging Akaashi in his seat, backed against the window, but keeping his distance. Unlike last time.

Taking a deep breath, Akaashi nods. “Yes,” he says. “Hello again.”

“I’m Bokuto!” The words burst from his lips suddenly, surprising Akaashi. At this, Bokuto looks a bit sheepish at his own outburst. “Sorry, it’s just I didn’t get the chance to tell you last time and I really wanted you to know. Bokuto Koutarou.”

Another deep breath. “It’s nice to meet you, Bokuto-san.”

“And you are?” he implores, inching forward, eyebrows arched in anticipation.

“Akaashi Keiji.”

“Akaashi! I like that name!” Bokuto points at the empty seat next to Akaashi, who nods. He quickly slides into it, almost too close for comfort. “I also didn’t get to tell you that you’re, like, really pretty.”

Feeling his face heating up, Akaashi pulls his scarf up higher. “Umm,” he hums into it, because what? What is he supposed to say to that?

Bokuto’s eyes go wide. “Oh! Did I overstep?”

Relief floods Akaashi’s stomach and he allows himself to nod. “A bit,” he admits.

Bokuto twiddles his thumbs a bit, glances out the window, then over his shoulder. He opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again. “Listen, I know what you said before—”

Akaashi holds up a hand to interrupt him. “I wouldn’t mind being friends,” he suggests quietly. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Really?” The gold in his eyes practically sparkles with how they light up. “I’d like that a lot Akaashi!”

“Not so loud, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, trying to shush him.

The other doesn’t seem to have heard. “You should totally come hang out with us today! When’s your last class?”

Akaashi shakes his head slightly. “I was thinking more of, uh, friends on the bus.” He scowls to himself at his own phrasing. “Or, what I mean is—”

“Oooh,” Bokuto says, planting a fist into his open palm, “like bus buddies!”

Cringing, he relinquishes, saying, “I guess.” That works, he supposes.

Because he definitely doesn’t want this getting out of hand. Casual friends who take the bus some mornings is good enough.

*

The next day, Akaashi has the pleasure of meeting Bokuto’s friend, the one with the bedhead. The one that sacrificed sitting alone yesterday just so Bokuto could go chat up his stubborn soulmate. He makes that clear.

“You’re lucky we’re bros, bro,” he snickers to Bokuto before turning to Akaashi. “So you’re the soulmate, right? The great love of this guy’s life?” He jerks a thumb in Bokuto’s direction.

“Uhh—”

Bokuto cuts in before Akaashi can give some lame response.

“Nah, dude. We’re just friends.” He tosses an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders in the process.

While uncomfortable under both Bokuto’s arm and the other’s scrutinizing eyes, Akaashi feels some relief from Bokuto’s answer. He allows himself to relax ever so slightly.

“Sorry for this guy’s loudness,” he says, grabbing Bokuto in a loose chokehold, pulling him apart from Akaashi. “I can hear him below. I’m Kuroo by the way.”

“Akaashi,” he responds with a short bow from where he sits. “Did you two always take the bus? I haven’t seen you before the first day I met Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto perks up at this while Kuroo slides into the seat in front of them. “We’re on the volleyball team!”

“Our season just ended, which means we can go to school at a normal hour,” Kuroo adds. “No more morning practices.”

“So we take the bus, which is great cause that’s how you meet bus buddies like Akaashi!”

Kuroo gives him a questioning look before redirecting it at Akaashi. He pays him no mind, instead deadpanning at Bokuto.

“I told you not to call it that,” he sighs.

They make small talk before the bus pulls up to the university. Akaashi learns that the two are second years, a year older than him. They absolutely love volleyball—can’t stop talking about it. One mistake Akaashi makes is letting it slip that he had played in high school.

“What?” Bokuto squawks as they three of them stand to exit the bus. “What position did you play?”

“Setter,” Akaashi replies. He guesses it’s not much of a mistake really. It’s nice to look back on those memories. He sure wouldn’t want to play now that he’s at university, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss those times, the heft of the ball in his fingers, setting the perfect toss.

“You should toss to us sometime,” Bokuto gushes, animatedly waving his arm in a spiking motion.

Pausing before they go their separate ways, Akaashi smiles and shakes his head. “I haven’t played in months,” he says. “I’d be no match for the two of you.” He gives a quick wave over his shoulder as he turns to leave. “It was nice meeting you, Kuroo-san.” He doesn’t allow Bokuto to pull him back in. He has class in five minutes.

*

“Invite him to dinner.”

It’s one of those rare occasions where both he and his mother are working at the table after dinner. She’s busy typing away at her computer while he has one of his textbooks to study. He’s not really working though. He’d lost interest—he doesn’t remember how long ago. Instead, Akaashi resorts to resting his head along him arm on the tabletop. The other arm lies parallel next to his face. Not thinking of anything in particular, he stares at the zeros printed there. He lifts his head ever so slightly when is mother speaks up. She doesn’t even pause in her typing, so she catches Akaashi completely off guard.

“What?” he asks, his voice is rough as if he’d just been sleeping. “No.”

His mother sighs, ceases her typing, and turn to look at him, elbow planted on the table. Sighing as well, he turns his head face down in his arms. He’s in trouble now.

“That poor boy,” she huffs. “He’s probably thinking about it just as much as you are.”

“I’m not—”

“More, then. You know I’m right. And I know that you’re thinking about it, too. You can’t hide things from me Akaashi. I think you should meet up with him. No better place than here, in my opinion. Nothing beats a home-cooked meal to get to know each other over. And if things go wrong, then I’ll be right here. Besides, if nothing comes of it, then at least you’ll have made a new friend. And what’s so wrong with that? Huh?”

He’d told his mother about their bus friendship; however she hadn’t really considered that making a friend. While she applauded his effort, she still chastised his social ineptness.

“I’m perfect fine with not meeting him outside the bus,” Akaashi huffs.

His mother rolls her eyes at that. “So you don’t like him then? From what I’ve gotten out of you it seems—”

“I like him well enough.” I just don’t like making friends, he continues inwardly.

“Then why won’t you let your poor mother meet the boy then?” she pouts.

Akaashi straightens in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because I don’t want her getting too attached,” he says, raising his eyebrows as if daring her to object.

She turns back to the computer screen. “Whatever you say, Keiji. It’s not every day that I get to splurge on cooking. I’m blaming you for depriving me of that chance.”

Laughing lightly, he shakes his head. “You? Splurge on cooking?”

“Yup, I’d go all out,” she says with a fervent nod.

“That sounds terrifying.”

His mother’s cooking is average at best or, more often than not, below average. If she were to go all out, she’d probably end up burning something. If Akaashi were to invite Bokuto over—and this is merely hypothetical—he’d have to hover all evening just to be sure the apartment remained un-crisped.

But she really wants to do this. It’s not often that she really—really—expresses interest in something going on in his life. Most of the time it’s conversing with her while she’s partially distracted by her computer screen. And it’s not like he’s given her ample chances to entertain classmates or friends over the past few years. The last time was certainly a while ago.

Maybe he could indulge her, just this once.

“If I agree to this,” he starts slowly, “do you promise not to get too excited?”

He hears her fingers freeze in their typing, but she doesn’t look back at him. In no time at all, they’re back at work. “Of course,” she says airily. “I’ll be a super cool mom. Promise.”

And Akaashi believes her. Her bursts of energy are thankfully brief, which means he really wouldn’t have to worry the entire night wondering if she’d embarrass him or burn the building down. The worst bit would be when she and Bokuto first meet. He thinks he just might be able to survive that. Maybe.

“Alright, how’s Friday then?”

She smiles sweetly over her shoulder. “Whatever you want, Keiji.”

There she goes, making it feel like this was his idea all along. He has to give her credit though. She succeeded. He only wishes he knew that Bokuto would contain his excitement as well as his mother. Now he has that to look forward to.

*

Now no longer being afraid of encountering Bokuto on the bus, Akaashi doesn’t have any reason to put off leaving in the morning. This means actually being on time and getting on the bus first. There’s something calming about this new development in his morning schedule. His heart no longer races during his walk and he can breathe easy. The only thing now that sets his breath erratic is when Bokuto announces his presence.

First, there’s his loud laughter that sounds as soon as he enters the bus. Next, there’s the pounding of his feet on the stairs. Then,

“Hey, hey, hey, bus buddy!”

Akaashi swears it sets his nerves on end. Even after a week of being exposed to this, the loudness still puts him on edge. He’s never met another person like Bokuto before and though he’s certainly easy to read, there’s still something about him that makes Akaashi unsure how to proceed.

“Akaashi will do,” he says as he moves his satchel so that Bokuto can slide into the seat beside him.

He feels bad again, just like every other day this week since they began taking the bus together. He almost feels like he’s leading Bokuto on. Perhaps it would’ve been best to ignore his mother’s suggestions and just moved on with his life. It probably would’ve been best for Bokuto. But despite it all, he hasn’t tried anything. That’s the saddest part of it all. Bokuto is perfectly fine just being friends.

It makes Akaashi angry. According to the clocks, he is Bokuto’s soulmate. Bokuto should be fighting for that, yet he hasn’t brought it up since their first encounter. It’s not that Akaashi wants Bokuto to make a move or anything. The thought terrifies him, but he can’t stop feeling bad about that. He feels it’s like he’s screwing up Bokuto’s chances to really find his soulmate. He’ll surely get another chance, but Akaashi decides to leave it at that. Saying nothing.

“So, Akaashi,” Bokuto starts enthusiastically, loosening the scarf around his neck, “you’ll never guess what happened to me yesterday.”

“Actually, can I ask you something first, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi interrupts, staring at his hands. He’s beginning to feel a bit like the morning he and Bokuto first met. Sick to his stomach. He hates when his nerves get to him like this. He tries squashing the feeling down.

“Sure!” he chirps, not at all bothered at being interrupted.

Akaashi still refuses to look up. This is an area where he has had very little practice. Even though he’s sure Bokuto will say yes, it’s still the asking that bothers him. Besides, whether or not Bokuto says yes is hardly the issue. It’s more along the lines that he will say yes that has Akaashi apprehensive.

Plus, now that he’s thinking about it, he’s asking Bokuto to come to his mother’s house for dinner. How embarrassing is that? Bokuto probably lives in the dorms on campus. Not unusual, but certainly not as pathetic as still living with his mother. What is this—a play-date? And his mother is to supervise. It’s just sad. It has Akaashi’s hands twisting in his lap.

Briefly, he wonders if Bokuto can see the thoughts flying through his head like his mother does, if it makes him as exhausted as it makes her. Akaashi doubts it because, when he glances up, Bokuto’s face is still open and curious. Mostly due to his quick thinking, or quick overthinking as all his anxious doubts fly through his head.

But what should he care how Bokuto thinks of him? Akaashi is not looking to pursue anything more than this friendship on the bus—and potentially dinner at his mother’s. Probably a one-time deal.

It’s because Akaashi cares too much what people think of him.

A terrible habit really. He wonders if his mother shares it like so many other of their traits. He doesn’t think much more of it. He cuts any train of thought off and opens his mouth before the silent seconds can stretch out too far before him.

What will happen will happen, he tells himself for the first time.

“I was wondering if you’d like to come have dinner with my mother and me this Friday,” he says in a rush of breath. The words are aimed down at his hands so he wonders if Bokuto even heard. When he glances up, the other is beaming at him. Akaashi sighs, defeated. He’s at Bokuto’s mercy now. If only he’d say no.

“I’d love to!”

“Bokuto-san, please, not so loud.”

“I’d love to have dinner with you,” Bokuto repeats in an overly loud whisper.

Akaashi bites his lip at the acceptance. “Just to be clear, my mother will also be there.” His face twists as he forces the next sentence out of his mouth. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“Of course not, Akaashi. Do you think she’ll like me?” Bokuto asks. He’s smiling, excited.

It pains Akaashi to think he might be getting his hopes up. “I don’t see why that would matter,” he answers flatly, not showing even a hint of his worries.

“I’ll still do my best so that she does,” Bokuto says with a salute.

Akaashi doesn’t really get why his mother’s approval would mean so much to a guy he’s only known for a week. That’s what makes this whole soulmate business so weird. Put two strangers together coincidentally when they’re clocks hit zero and suddenly they’re acting as if they’ve known each other for ages, ready to agree to just about anything. That’s what Akaashi sees at least and he sees that in the way Bokuto acts as well. Of course, he is an excitable person by nature, but that’s not the point.

“I’ll meet you at the bus stop at six on Friday,” he moves on to say, not allowing Bokuto’s enthusiasm affect him.

“Sounds great,” Bokuto says with a playful jab of his elbow into Akaashi’s arm. “So, does your mother like flowers?”

*

No, Akaashi’s mother does not like flowers. At least, not receiving them as a gift. She thinks they’re sappy and therefore belong to the romantics, along with rom-coms, Nicholas Sparks, and anything pink. Not that there’s anything wrong with those things, she’ll insist. She just hates all that fluff.

But when Bokuto shows up with two chocolate bars and a big grin, she practically melts.

If there’s anything she adores most, it’s chocolate.

The big hug she gives Bokuto is due to that, all because Akaashi had the foresight to share his wisdom with Bokuto. He’d really wanted to make a good first impression on his mother for some reason. He wouldn’t leave Akaashi alone about it. And it’s not like Akaashi wants his mother to dislike Bokuto. Honestly, now that he thinks about it, they are quite similar. He sees that now, since they’re still chattering on in the doorway long after he and Bokuto had removed their shoes and jackets. Despite being quiet, his mother is very much more sociable than he is.

Sighing, Akaashi leaves them to it. He goes to the kitchen to set water on to boil. Tonight’s menu is pasta, something his mother knew she couldn’t mess up enough to completely ruin dinner.

He lights the burner and hears Bokuto’s loud laughter traveling down the hallway as they leave the door. The sound echoes weirdly in the apartment. Akaashi and his mother live quietly. They don’t make much noise. Usually at dinner, if his mother isn’t investigating his life, the only sounds are the clicking of her typing and a turn of a page in his textbook from time-to-time. This loudness is very different for them and it fills the walls close to bursting. It fills Akaashi’s chest in a strange way as well, though he’s not quite sure why. Or if he likes it or not. Honestly, it could be either a nice warmth blossoming or suffocation. He’s just not so sure of the suffocating part. He’s definitely warm. Maybe he should step away from the stove.

“Oh! Keiji, let me do that,” his mother says when she sees him in the kitchen. “Leave the cooking to me.” She aims a big confident smile as she clutches a wooden spoon in both hands.

Akaashi backs away, an eyebrow raised skeptically. “If you say so.”

She reaches over to salt the water.

“You know, you’re not supposed to salt it before it comes to a boil.”

“Keiji,” she reprimands, waving the spoon in his direction. “No backseat cooking. You and Bokuto-kun go and do something else. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

Bokuto chuckles at the exchange. “Thank you very much for cooking,” he says in his boisterous voice and bowing slightly.

Akaashi’s slightly impressed with his manners. “Don’t burn anything,” he teases his mother with a straight face.

“I know you’re joking, but if I didn’t know you any better, your sarcasm would totally go over my head,” she shoots back at him.

Akaashi scowls at his mother’s response, but before he can retort, Bokuto pipes up.

“I know! Me too!” he exclaims. “Sometimes it takes me a minute to figure out he’s joking!”

“Mother,” Akaashi mutters under his breath, turning his scowl from one to the other.

“Oh, right,” she says with a sly smile he knows can’t be trusted. “We mustn’t continue, Bokuto-kun. My poor son is much too sensitive for such talk.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes. “Okay, we’re leaving,” he says, knowing this is just his mother poking fun and her way of getting them out of the kitchen. Bokuto has surely brought out a dangerous side to her. He didn’t agree to this just so he could be ganged up on. He’ll have to be careful if they are ever in the same room again after tonight.

He pulls Bokuto out of the room before he can ask a second time if there’s anything he can do to help out with. The last thing Akaashi needs is giving them more bonding time. This is exactly what he didn’t want to happen. If his mother gets attached then he doubts he’d be able to keep his friendship with Bokuto strictly to the bus. After all, this dinner thing is most definitely a one-time deal.

“Come on,” he grumbles, still tugging Bokuto along, “let’s just go to my room.”

It’s a mess. He hadn’t thought to clean it, though he should’ve. Books are everywhere and there’s one particular stack on the corner of his desk that leans precariously. His laptop is open on his bed surrounded by two open library books and his statistics’ homework is still out with his calculator and papers strewn everywhere. He grimaces, taking it all in.

“Sorry for the mess,” he sighs, closing his laptop and stacking the books on top. He moves them to his already cluttered desk in order to make room for Bokuto. “You can sit anywhere.”

Unabashed, Bokuto crawls to sit right in his unmade bed. “The mess is no problem,” he says, smiling as always. “You should see my room. This is spotless compared to that.”

Akaashi offers a small smile in return as he takes a seat at his desk, turning the chair to face Bokuto. “Thanks for coming by the way. You really made my mother’s night. She’s been looking forward to this all week.”

“Your chocolate tip worked out perfectly, Akaashi! I think she actually likes me!” Bokuto gushes, fists clenched in certain victory.

“Of course she likes you. Why wouldn’t she?”

Shrugging, Bokuto pulls his knees up to his chest. “You just can’t ever be sure, you know?”

“You’re a likeable person, Bokuto-san. I’m sure you make friends wherever you go,” Akaashi says straight out.

Bokuto’s eyes widen slightly and his face reddens. He rubs his nose sheepishly. “Ah man, Akaashi. That’s high praise coming from you.”

Cocking his head to the side, Akaashi tries to decipher Bokuto’s reaction. He hadn’t really been praising him. He was just being honest. Bokuto is a likeable person. He’s outgoing, funny, kind—sure he’s loud and a bit of an oddball, but no one’s perfect. Akaashi shrugs.

“So we should totally have dinner at my place next Friday,” Bokuto rushes onward to say, eyes lighting up. “What do ya say, Akaashi?”

Akaashi stares at Bokuto, unsure how to answer. This isn’t supposed to be a repeating thing. It’s not going to be.

“I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about that, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says quietly. “I don’t think this should carry on any further.”

Bokuto’s lips pinch in a concerned way as he tilts his head, looking like some kind of lost puppy. “So, no dinner?”

It’s hard to maintain eye contact with those golden eyes. They’re too bright and they just make Akaashi feel like an awful person even more. So, instead, he stares down at his fingers where he pulls at them anxiously. “Well, the bus thing, too.”

“No more bus buddies?”

“I do wish you’d stop calling it that,” Akaashi says, cringing once again at the name. A sigh escapes his lips in a whoosh. “Here’s the thing, Bokuto-san. If you want your clock to reset, you shouldn’t hang out with me anymore. It’s best if you move on.”

“Huh? Why would I want my clock to reset?”

Akaashi glances up to see Bokuto staring down at his own set of zeros. His eyebrows are drawn together in a troubled fashion. He looks up to find Akaashi watching him and his eyes immediately dart to Akaashi’s left arm, looking for his. Akaashi reaches for his sweater to make sure it’s effectively pulled over his wrist, hiding the zeros from sight.

He looks away again. “So you can find a new soulmate. Why else?” he murmurs under his breath.

But then a loud explosion of laughter completely erases any tension that has been building up in the small room. Akaashi finds Bokuto’s face again to see not a wrinkle of worry then, only that warm smile that never seems to vanish for very long. Despite his own feelings, Akaashi feels the warm seep underneath his skin. He doesn’t want it to, but it feels nice.

“But I’m happy with the one I’ve got!” Bokuto says, leaning forward on his hands, gazing at Akaashi happily.

But I don’t want a soulmate. But I’ve been an awful friend. I’ve been downright mean to you. I haven’t given you a single implication that I even like you.

But, other than the bus, I don’t want anything to do with you.

How are you happy with that?

Even if you have a second chance, why do you still pick me?

The questions line up behind his lips, but all he can do is stare dumbfounded back at Bokuto, his mouth slightly parted. The questions slide out silently because Akaashi has no voice to form them into audible phrases. They go unanswered.

He can’t even pluck up the courage to voice his doubts. There’s no time. Almost as soon as Bokuto speaks, his mother is calling them to come eat. And Akaashi follows Bokuto out of his room. And he still doesn’t understand.

*

Akaashi offers to walk Bokuto back to the bus stop. It’s not far and, besides, Bokuto doesn’t turn him down. Their conversation in Akaashi’s room has done nothing to dampen his spirits.

Bundling up against the cold, he thanks Akaashi’s mother over and over again for dinner. The pasta had been a bit overcooked in Akaashi’s opinion, but Bokuto only sang praises. He said it’s because he’s an even worse cook and he’s been living off of instant ramen for about a month now.

And so what does his mother do?

She extends an invitation that he is welcomed for dinner whenever he’d like.

Once more, Bokuto is incredibly grateful at the offer, but he also adds, “Whenever Akaashi wants, I’ll definitely be back.”

Does he realize the thoughtfulness that goes into his words?

Akaashi wants to doubt this, but he can’t help but to think that Bokuto is respecting his boundaries. It turns his stomach sour. As they walk and snow falls around them, melting on the sidewalk, Akaashi kicks himself for being such a terrible person.

“I noticed at dinner,” Bokuto starts suddenly, oddly quiet. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to disturb the peace around them. Fresh snowfall always brings a certain hush to its surroundings. Consciously or not, Akaashi’s sure it affects Bokuto as well. “Your zeros are a different color. Green, right?”

Akaashi’s head whips to his right to stare at Bokuto in surprise. Had he left his sleeve rolled up? He’s not used to others outside of his mother being in his apartment. He must’ve forgotten. Stupid.

“Why’s that?” Bokuto asks, head cocked in curiosity.

“I’ve had a reset,” Akaashi admits, straining any emotion from his voice.

Bokuto openly gawks at him, stopping right in the middle of the sidewalk. Akaashi keeps walking, hoping he’ll get over it and follow quickly. He does, but only because he doesn’t want to fall too far behind.

“What happened?” he asks eagerly in a breathless whisper.

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Akaashi stares straight ahead, hoping Bokuto won’t pry.

But it’s Bokuto. There’s no point in hoping. Of course he’s going to push.

“Ahh, Akaashi, you can’t just leave me hanging like that,” he whines loudly, any peace the falling snow had brought is broken.

They’ve reached the bus stop. Akaashi turns to look at Bokuto, eyebrows slightly drawn in irritation. “Here we are,” he announces. “You can get home from here, yeah?”

Sullenly, Bokuto nods. With a curt nod in return, Akaashi goes to head back. A hand reaches out to grab his arm, similarly to how they met. He forces himself not to sigh too audibly. Locking it behind his lips, it streams out his nose in wisps into the frozen air. He looks back over his shoulder.

Bokuto’s eyes are worried, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “I didn’t upset you, did I?” he asks. “I didn’t mean to be so forward. I just can’t help it!”

Akaashi sighs again, this time relenting. “Do you want to exchange phone numbers, Bokuto-san?”

*

Akaashi has never been one for texting. If he doesn’t have anything to say in person, why would he want to message anyone? More so, no one really has anything to say to him, especially when they only receive his short, one word replies.

Over the next few weeks, Akaashi watches his and Bokuto’s friendship blossom from common bus-goers to constant text messaging. It’s a new kind of relationship for Akaashi and he’s a bit unsure how to tackle it. After the first day of worrying over Bokuto’s “Hey, hey, heyyy~” messages, Akaashi comes to a conclusion.

He is not going to let himself overthink this.

From there on, it becomes a Bokuto dominated conversation. Most times he texts Akaashi about some random thing that happened to him that day, or he says he’s studying and starts rattling off strange facts that don’t really interest Akaashi at all. If anything, Akaashi learns how much he hates the constant vibration of his phone. He glares at it when he’s studying and it suddenly goes off in ten quick buzzes. At the table, he mother raises her eyebrows at the constant distraction over dinner. Not that they were talking, but she looks up several times from her computer. Whenever he meets her gaze, he can’t quite tell what she’s thinking. He has to admit though, she looks somewhat impressed at her son being sociable. He smirks at her and tucks the phone between his thigh and the chair where it’s vibrations are muffled.

After that first day, he starts leaving his phone on silent.

Sometimes he gives Bokuto a reply. Usually, it’s only when the moment strikes. Like when Bokuto told him he was having ramen again that night. Akaashi warned him he should get some real food into his system. And Bokuto had asked, “Does this mean you’re inviting me over to dinner again?” Akaashi had told him no and that had been the end of that conversation.

There is definitely something that Akaashi likes about having a discussion with someone with absolutely no pressure to take part. Bokuto doesn’t seem to mind at all that he’s completely silent on his end and it doesn’t stop the constant flow of messages from his.

However, it’s the weekend before finals that Akaashi gets a text that does require an answer.

“Come over to study?”

*

He says yes because he makes the mistake of consulting his mother with the question. After that, he had no choice but to accept. It only takes a second after that message is sent for Bokuto to send along his address, which isn’t too far from bus stop, and directions.

So Saturday evening, Akaashi finds himself getting into his coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck. His mother comes to see him off.

“Be safe,” she says, leaning against the wall while he tugs his shoes on. “We’re supposed to get some snow tonight.”

“Really?” Akaashi asks and tilts his head up to look at her. “We haven’t had a lot of snow in years.”

She smiles as he straightens. “That’s why I’m tell you to be safe out there. Don’t slip or anything.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about me.”

There are a few flurries flying all around him and Akaashi starts off toward the bus stop, from there he can take the right road to Bokuto’s apartment. It turns out he doesn’t live in the dorms, but off campus like other upperclassmen. Akaashi wonders how much snow they’ll get. The snow itself isn’t too uncommon, but it hardly ever sticks. He’s sure, no matter how much snow they’ll get tonight, it’ll probably melt by next week.

Approaching the stop, he finds Bokuto standing there, waving cheerfully at him. He offers his own small wave in return.

“You didn’t have to come out into the cold,” Akaashi says as he nears him, hugging himself against the cold. “You told me where you live, remember? I could’ve found it.” He smirks.

“I wanted to make sure you made it okay, so I came to meet you,” Bokuto says with one of his warm smiles. For a second, it makes Akaashi forget about the snow around him and how it’s gradually picking up speed. His smirk grows into its own slight smile.

“Well, thank you, Bokuto-san. I’m sorry you had to come out into the cold.”

Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, Bokuto pulls Akaashi along down the sidewalk. “It’s no worry at all!”

Akaashi raises his brow at this. “Really? Because you’re still wearing gym shorts and your jacket’s not even zipped.” Not to mention the socks and sandals, though Akaashi’s not even going to point those out.

“Uh—” Bokuto’s eyes go wide as he takes in his appearance “—Akaashi! I didn’t even notice! But don’t worry! I’m naturally warm-blooded.”

Bokuto directs them down another street and Akaashi realizes he still has yet to release his shoulders. He doesn’t mind that much because he’s right. Bokuto is very warm, despite his lack of clothing.

“If you insist, Bokuto-san.”

A few blocks from the bus stop, there are apartment buildings. They’re practically filled with students from university. Bokuto says that half of the volleyball team lives here, too. He lives with Kuroo to split the rent.

“Of course he’s off cramming at the library tonight,” he explains, but his face squishes together as he contemplates this. “He’s probably off with Kenma though. Hopefully he gets some studying done. We have a big exam on Monday.”

“Yeah, me too,” Akaashi says as they slip off their shoes inside the door.

The apartment is small inside, showing it’s perfectly in the price range of loan-ridden students. The stove takes a while to light and when it does, it nearly burns Bokuto’s eyebrows off. Of course, that might be his fault, not the stove’s. The floorboards creak awfully and the furniture crammed inside looks at least secondhand, if not third.

“Sorry it’s not that great,” Bokuto says over his shoulder while he puts the kettle on to boil.

Akaashi is too busy looking around. There’s a small bookcase that he’s looking through. “No, it’s perfect,” he says. “Makes me want to move out and find my own place,” he continues in a thoughtful murmur. Maybe next year, he thinks. He could pick up a job on campus. Maybe….

Maybe. He’ll have to think about it.

In the mean time, the book titles catch his attention. “Science?” he asks, turning to find Bokuto coming over with two mugs.

“Ah, that’s Kuroo. He’s the science nerd.” Bokuto offers one of the mugs. “Tea? You’re the cold one after all.”

Akaashi chuckles lightly and accepts. It’s nice and burning hot between his fingers. He takes a sip. Still a bit weak, but it warms him up. Perhaps not as much as the smile Bokuto aims at him. “Thank you very much.” He gets to his feet beside Bokuto. “So, shall we start studying?”

*

He gets a text somewhere around ten. Setting down the notecards he was going over with Bokuto, Akaashi takes out his phone. “Excuse me,” he says, staring down at the message from his mother. “Apparently the snow has gotten worse outside.” He stands to look out the window while Bokuto stares up at him where he sits on the floor in the middle of his bedroom.

It’s white outside; he can hardly make out the road. Looks like a proper winter storm. How perfect, he thinks dryly.

“Huh? It is?” He grins lazily. “Awesome!”

Akaashi turns back with a shrug. “Not really. My mother’s asking me to stay put. Do you mind if I stay here for the night?” His fingers twine together at the idea spoken aloud. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it home in the storm.”

“Sure!” Bokuto hoots, clearly pleased by the prospect. “You’d probably freeze out there. Wouldn’t want that.”

Still unsure what to do with his hands he clasps them tighter. “Uh, thank you.” He picks up the notecards. “So back to reviewing your vocab?”

Bokuto shakes his head, laying down completely on his floor to stretch. He groans as he does. “We’ve been doing this since you got here. Can we take a break?” he asks, batting his eyes up at Akaashi.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Yes!” He scrambles to his feet. “We should watch a movie!” he exclaims, leaning in close.

Akaashi holds himself in place, not backing away. “If you want, Bokuto-san.”

A half an hour later finds the two curled up in the couch, one on either end with their feet tangled in the middle and a blanket spread across them both. Akaashi is in one of Bokuto’s spare sweatpants and a hoody. Bokuto had insisted even though Akaashi had said he’d be perfectly fine sleeping in his clothes.

Neither of them are really sure what’s going on in the movie. Akaashi had lost track early on when Bokuto had started throwing popcorn at him. He’s sure a few pieces are still wedged between the couch cushions now. After the attack, he’s not too keen to start picking them out. He’s far too comfortable to move anyway.

“Akaashi.”

He glances over to find Bokuto shifting to face more. “Hm?”

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it before, but will you tell me about your zeros?” His voice is oddly quiet, but Akaashi still hears him perfectly well over the low buzz of the television.

It’s silly. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t tell Bokuto—or anyone for that matter, but only his mother knows. Still, it’s very personal to him. But if he would tell anyone, it’d probably be Bokuto. Right now, while he’s warm and sleepy and his guard is down, it’d be the perfect time to tell it.

“It’s nothing special,” he admits self-consciously. “The first time my clock hit zero, I was a first year in high school, except his was already at zero. You see, it never started. But mine reached zero when I met him.”

“Not a coincidence?” Bokuto asks, leaning forward on his knees.

Akaashi shakes his head. “No, we were the only two in the room,” he says slowly, dropping his gaze.

“Well?” Bokuto prompts, but with a careful kind of curiosity only Bokuto can pull off. “What happened?”

“About a month before graduation, his clock started,” Akaashi sighs, propping his elbow up on the arm of the couch and planting his cheek in his hand. “Just like my father’s did when I was six. And I told him it would be stupid to not go for it. He agreed.” He shrugs, still with his lowered gaze. “And that was that.”

They sit without talking, just the television going as the movie comes to an end. Akaashi doesn’t expect Bokuto to say anything. He just dropped a lot of information on him all at once. They remain like that until the movie credits start to roll. He takes a deep breath and gets to his feet. He doesn’t want to think about Konoha right now. He knows he’s happy. He gets a text from him every once in a while. Not that he replies, but it’s always nice to know that he and Kai are doing well.

Maybe ‘nice’ isn’t the right word for it.

“I think it’s time for bed,” he says before Bokuto can properly organize his thoughts. He’s staring at the television screen, but he can’t be that completely invested in the credits.

At the sound of his voice, Bokuto snaps back to attention. “Oh,” he says dumbly, mouth hanging open. “Yeah, uh, wow it’s late.” He turns off the television, plunging them into darkness.

Surprised, Akaashi freezes in place, not knowing the apartment well enough to find his way in the dark.

Bokuto finds him, grabs his hand. Then he’s pulling Akaashi into his chest. It’s a quick hug, but it still leaves Akaashi stiff as a board, not enough time to react. By the time he’s released, Akaashi’s eyes have adjusted and Bokuto pulls him toward his room.

“You can have the bed,” Bokuto says, turning on the light, nearly blinding the both of them. “Ah!” He raises a hand to shield his eyes.

Akaashi squints as well. “You don’t have to do that, Bokuto-san. I’m the one causing you inconvenience. Let me take the floor.”

But Bokuto presses a blanket into his hands and strips the bed of its duvet. He spreads that across the floor. “It’ll be great!” he says with a wide grin. “Just like a sleepover!”

“That leaves you without any blankets though,” Akaashi says. He stares down at the one in his hands. “If you get cold, you have to tell me.”

Bokuto shrugs, nonchalant. “I’m the warm-blooded one, remember?” he says with a wink. With that, he plops himself onto the floor and rolls the end of the duvet up to make a pillow. He turns to his back and tucks his arms behind his head. “Will you get the lights?”

“Sure,” Akaashi says, nodding. “Good night, Bokuto-san. Thank you again.”

He flips of the light and Bokuto sighs happily. “Absolutely,” he says and Akaashi hears him rustling around as he gets into bed.

He tucks the blanket around him and slowly rests his head on Bokuto’s pillow. It’s an odd thing to be in another’s bed. For one, it smells like Bokuto. He breathes shallowly for a moment before he nestles in deeper, breathing in and out as he tries to relax. It smells nice and his body heat spreads to the bed quickly. After cramming his brain full with all the studying, he could fall asleep in a second.

And he does.

*

Akaashi finds himself facing a dilemma. Bokuto. He sticks in his brain and travels to his dreams. He’s still there when Akaashi wakes a few hours later. What is he going to do with him? It’s been a little over a month, but it’s been nearly six months of accepting his zeros. Is Bokuto really going to change all of that?

If anyone could, Akaashi thinks it might just be Bokuto.

Maybe that’s why his clock reset in the first place.

Akaashi rolls over onto his other side with a huff. What to do? There’s really only one answer, he thinks, but before he can ponder that thought further, he’s shaken fully awake.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto’s loud whisper fills the room.

“Yes, Bokuto-san?” he mutters sleepily.

He looks a bit sheepish. “I, uh—I think the heat cut off.” He points at the bed. “Would you mind?”

Akaashi sees that he has the duvet picked up off the floor. Come to think of it, his nose is exceptionally cold. He’s even more tired than earlier because he nods and pushes himself closer to the wall. While Bokuto tosses the big cover over them, Akaashi spreads out the blanket he’s using, sharing the other half.

“Good night,” he mumbles again and turns his back.

Bokuto curls up against him, one arm tucked over his side. If Akaashi were more awake, he’d surely protest. He can feel Bokuto’s own cold nose against the back of his neck.

“Mmm, now you’re the warm one, Akaashi,” Bokuto sighs.

“Mmph,” Akaashi grunts in response, already falling back asleep. This feels nice and warm and safe, the complete opposite of what he had feared that day on the bus.

Along with his good poker face, Akashi thinks he might know when to make a bet. Coincidences can’t keep following him. It is very unlikely that Bokuto’s clock will reset on him. Besides, it’s Bokuto. If this is what he wants—if this is what the both of them want—then they should have it. Whatever the equation, soulmate or not, maybe he does like Bokuto.

The soulmate thing might just be something to reaffirm that notion.

*

Bokuto wakes first in the morning, being an early riser. He plunges the tip of his cold nose right under Akaashi’s ear, jerking him awake as well, suddenly and unceremoniously, limbs flailing.

“Ah, Bokuto-san!” he gasps, eyes finding that grinning face beside him.

“Morning, Akaashi!” he hoots, leaning on his elbow.

Akaashi rubs his eyes roughly. “What time is it?” The light that filters in from the window is weak. He’s rarely up at this hour on a Sunday, maybe not even on a weekday. After all, Akaashi is absolutely not a morning person.

“Just past eight,” Bokuto says after peering over his shoulder to look at his phone on the side table.

“Hmm, that’s early.” Akaashi flops back down on his back, arms over his face.

Bokuto pushes himself to the edge of the bed. “So,” he drawls out, “breakfast then?”

Akaashi looks up at him. “Bokuto-san, can I talk to you for a moment?”

He scoots back a bit, looking at Akaashi with raised eyebrows. “You’re strangely this serious, Akaashi,” he jokes with a teasing smile, “but sure. I’m all ears.”

Snorting airily, Akaashi sits up and adjust Bokuto’s hoody that had tangled around his neck in his sleep. This is the moment, if he doesn’t tell Bokuto now, he probably never will. Time to make up for how awfully he’d turned him down on the bus. He takes a deep breath to ground himself, hands fisting the duvet under them.

“I’ve reconsidered what I told you when we met,” he says, starting off shakily. “I apologize for my rudeness back then.”

Bokuto’s eyes are wide and his head slowly tilts to the side.

Akaashi smiles down at his hands, which are the only things betraying his anxiety. “I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you, Bokuto-san.”

“Really?” he squawks, but Akaashi ignores him and keeps going, finally looking up to meet those surprised golden eyes.

“If you’re up for it, I’d be willing to try that soulmate thing out.”

“I—yeah! Yeah, Akaashi!” He ploughs into Akaashi, knocking him back into the bed in a hug. He stares down at him with a great smile that Akaashi wants to memorize forever. “Let’s do it, that soulmate thing.”

Akaashi laughs as their noses bump.

“Does that mean we can kiss now?”

Reaching up, Akaashi runs his fingers through Bokuto’s limp, not yet styled hair. A month ago, he had cringed away from that question. Oh well. At least here there are no awkward onlookers. There’s no audience as Akaashi finally finds his soulmate. He nods.

Bokuto smiles, tilting his head at just the right angle. He runs the tips of his fingers along Akaashi’s jaw. Their noses bump once more, before Bokuto closes the inch of distance between them.

Despite his cold nose, his lips are warm. Everything about him is, sparking a fire in Akaashi’s chest. He smiles against the kiss and Bokuto pulls away, resting their foreheads together.

“Still sure?” Bokuto asked.

Akaashi rolls his eyes, tightening the grip he has in Bokuto’s hair. He pulls his head closer again for another kiss, which has laughter bubbling up and out of Bokuto against Akaashi’s lips.

“Sooo,” he hums, pulling away a second time, “breakfast? I make really good pancakes.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook.”

“Well, I can’t, but Kuroo says my pancakes are great.”

“If you say so, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto grins and steals another kiss before he abandons the bed’s warmth to run into the kitchen, Akaashi close behind. For once, his zeros don’t itch and he thinks that maybe there could start to be something reassuring about them.

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