˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
"Jus' wanna be close t'you," Akaashi mumbles, pushing his face into Bokuto's chest, his burning skin that Kōtarō can feel as he carries his...friend to the bedroom is driving him insane. How could he let him get sick? He should've dried his hair better, should've given him some vitamins earlier, or...something.
"I'm right here, Keiji, okay? Gonna put you to bed now and I'll be back with some medicine." Bokuto is scared. He's never cared for a sick person before, and now this person, his person has such a high temperature and he's shaking and he's groaning in pain and Bokuto doesn't know what to do.
Keiji curls into the mattress the moment Bokuto places him on the bed, keeps shivering even though he has three blankets and a cover on top of him.
Bokuto doesn't know if Keiji will stay awake to take his medicine, but he goes into the kitchen to grab it either way, thinking that if needed, he'll just wake him up for a moment.
Fuck, this is Bokuto's worst nightmare.
˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
Tap-tap-tap-tap. The only noise to be heard in the apartment is the one Bokuto's foot makes when repeatedly hitting the floor in impatience. If it were up to him, Kōtarō wouldn't even think to leave Keiji's side, but when he spoke to his mom, she told him to stay in the living room and just check up on him from time to time.
The wait is at the least traumatic. The love of his life is burning up on the other side of the apartment and Bokuto's supposed to stay away, doing nothing?
The moment the thirty-minute alarm rings, Bokuto springs up from his seat, silencing it and running to the bedroom. He cracks the door open first, just to let the sliver of light in and sneak a glance. He doesn't want to wake Akaashi up, but there's no way he can stay outside for much longer.
Thankfully, a weak groan is heard, and Bokuto can step into the room without fear of disturbing Akaashi.
"Hey sleepyhead." He whispers. "It's almost noon. I've been awake for a bit, been checking up on you every now and then. How you feeling?" Another groan comes from his friend, pulling a soft giggle out of Bokuto. "Yeah, I figured. I'll save the I-told-you-so's for when you're healthy. C'mon, get up now."
Kōtarō grabs Akaashi's waist softly, pulling him to his chest, the heart beneath it fluttering at the contact. But the brain, hah, the brain is too busy worrying to let the heart enjoy the moment. Kōtarō rearranges the pillows to stay up against the headboard, and swiftly places Akaashi to sit up with them. The groan slipping from Akaashi's lips digs another crack across his soul and Bokuto huffs a breath to somehow relieve his anguish.
"Is it okay if I change you out of these clothes?" Bokuto asks with a shaky voice, the very back of his head making it very difficult to stay calm. Akaashi's health is the priority right now, but there's a small, whispered voice reshaping the situation inside Bokuto's thoughts, telling him that he is undressing Akaashi.
It's nothing sexual, nor is there anything sinister behind the motions of taking the sweaty sweatpants and hoodie off of Keiji, it's—it is the fact that Bokuto is taking care of him right now. He is the shoulder Akaashi is leaning on, the person who witnesses how vulnerable and soft he's being because of his sickness. Bokuto feels so fucking lucky to be in this position, another moment he's gifted from his love's precious life.
But the happiness does not last long—a moan of pain, raspy and ruined shoots out of Keiji the moment Bokuto drops the dirty clothes on the floor. Fuck, fuck! He's cold and he's in pain.
Kōtarō's heart starts pounding against his breastbone, his legs growing weak and almost folding in panic. He fumbles with the fresh clothes, hurrying to put them on Keiji's shaking body.
"I know, baby, I know. I'm sorry, but I need to get you in some clean clothes, okay?" Bokuto rushes out, voice cracking in most words, unable to keep calm as his person aches before him. "It'll only take a second, okay?" And in less than a minute, Bokuto has dressed him up, and he sighs out in relief the moment Akaashi melts on the bed. "Can you handle standing for a bit so I can lay down new sheets for you?"
Akaashi shakes his head with a frown, and Bokuto slaps himself in the head mentally, for suggesting something so stupid. "Okay, okay. I'm going to lay you down now okay?" After a low hum, Bokuto softly drags Akaashi down, covering him up with all the blankets and heavy cover, patting his sides to make it safe and snug.
He stays there for a bit, staring at Akaashi's form. "I am so in love with you." Bokuto whispers. But the room remains silent, save from the soft snores from the sleeping beauty.
˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
This time, Kōtarō doesn't walk to the living room, but stays just on the other side of the barely open door. He tried to sit on the couch, but every time he checked his phone, the numbers on the screen would remain unchanged, mocking him and driving him further insane.
Soft, painful to hear sobs echo inside, and Kōtarō is up on his feet and crossing his bedroom to his bed the moment he catches up on the sound. He is next to Akaashi in an instant, turning his body to face him, frowning at the wet face before him. The way Akaashi clings on him, Bokuto feels his heart crash and burn on impact.
"'M g'na get you sick," Akaashi mumbles, crying harder after.
"I don't care, I don't give a fuck." Bokuto says with conviction, rubbing his one arm up and down Keiji's back, tightening his hold with the other. "Please don't cry. I don't care if you get me sick. I wish I could take the sickness from you and put it on me, I swear, I swear." And Akaashi shakes his head but pulls Bokuto closer, and Bokuto needs nothing else to jump on the bed and hug him entirely, pulling him as close as he can, hoping the pain will just magically transfer to his own body.
It does not take much more time for Keiji to fall asleep again, tears staining his handsome face. Bokuto does not follow him into heavy slumber, staying awake, his eyes on the man in his arms, making sure he is okay.
˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
The empty apartment is Kōtarō's personal hell.
There's food on the table and a letter he reads again and again, trying to soothe the ache in his heart.
Akaashi had to go home eventually, of course, but his absence leaves Bokuto completely ruined.
He cannot keep being his friend. There is no world where Bokuto can keep himself sane if he does not have Akaashi in his arms, kissing the top of his head, letting him cry, or ramble, or laugh at a funny scene on TV. He wants all of his moments, the good ones, the bad and difficult, the moments Akaashi wants to stay alone; Bokuto wants to be the one Akaashi comes back to after.
Not as his friend. Not anymore. There's no fiber in Bokuto's being that can handle to hide the love for that man for any second more.
Tomorrow. He will go find Akaashi, and he will confess.
˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
Bokuto wakes up with a start, feeling as if he's slept too much, shuffling around to look for his phone. Usually, it's somewhere tangled in the sheets, or under his pillow. Akaashi hates that. Every time Bokuto answers his call on the second beep because he had the device under his head, Akaashi had started off the conversation listing everything bad that could happen because of it; something to do with radiation, or whatever.
But, to be fair, those morning calls are exactly why Bokuto keeps his phone under his pillow.
Some nights even, he turns off the alarm completely, just to oversleep and have Akaashi call him to wake him up.
Today, there's no call, no alarm and, apparently, no phone.
Bokuto looks everywhere; on the bed, under it, in his closets somewhere in between folded shirts, the bathroom, under the couch cushions, the fridge. His phone is absolutely nowhere to be seen. It's a headache, really, thinking of replacing it, and Bokuto falls face first on the floor of his living room when he realizes he's lost all of Akaashi's pictures.
At least he has his polaroids.
The time is, late, Bokuto guesses, and he's definitely missed weight-lifting training, a fact he can't wait to get yelled at for later at practice. Right now, he doesn't care. His whole body is locked up, fear of something much bigger than rejection wrapping up his spine and rendering him almost useless to do anything but lay on the floor and think.
What if he doesn't love me the way I love him?
Nothing's changed about me. Do I even deserve his love?
Who cares about deserving...I will take it either way if he gives it to me.
The anticipation is too much for Bokuto, and his contradicting thoughts are no help to his frantic feelings. He must do something now and, save for showing up at Akaashi's workplace (which, admittedly, doesn't sound like a bad idea to him) Bokuto figures that if he can't speak to Akaashi at the moment, he can at least get everything ready.
The ideas flowing in, one quickly after the other, sprouting new, more extravagant ideas, are enough motivation to get Bokuto off the floor, into his training clothes while packing other fresh, clean and sharp-looking ones, and out the door in less than an hour, with a small smile playing at his lips.
First stop is, of course, the flowershop. The one close to Akaashi's apartment which he's a regular customer at. The choice is instant and made with zero hesitation. One hundred anemone blue flowers. They're just like Keiji's eyes. A few extra thousand yen and the order will be expedited so that the flowers will be at the apartment this afternoon.
Next stop is the sakaya that Akaashi eyes every time they walk past it together, too expensive to go in himself and too timid the man to accept Bokuto's offers for his treat. But Bokuto knows, and the choice in there is also made quickly, with no hesitation. It's a sweet, smooth-tasting wine, light in its flavor and burning just enough to enjoy completely. Two bottles will do.
Final stop, the konbini just under Keiji's apartment, that hosts his favorite late-night snack of famichiki and onigiri. Bokuto gets a bunch, thinking Keiji will return from work famished and tired and he'll need the extra food.
At the registry, Bokuto catches from the corner of his eye, a grey, round stuffed owl. Its eyes are too big, yellow with a black slit, the two stitched lines make its mouth look like it's smiling.
This night is supposed to be just for Akaashi, solely focused on him, and everything Bokuto feels for him.
But the idea that Bokuto can give him something that looks just like him...the thought of Akaashi having a little piece of him in his home...Bokuto grabs the plush animal in an instant.
In a stroke of luck, Bokuto meets the men delivering the flowers right outside Akaashi's apartment building, and they all go inside together. Bokuto lets the men do their job with minimal instructions, while he gets busy putting everything else he bought on the table near the entrance.
Bokuto bows low as the flower men leave, and after checking everything is placed perfectly, he leaves for practice.
He's jittery, entirely lost in his own thoughts and unable to focus on the actual court. He apologized to his coach for being absent from weight-lifting training, but other than that, his mind is still at the apartment. In the end, he excuses himself before practice is completed, saying he is not feeling well, saying he needs to go home.
At Akaashi's apartment, he takes a shower and puts on the button-up shirt, pants and nice shoes. He sprays himself with cologne and grabs the stuffed owl he got, standing next to the table of food and drinks.
His heart is hammering against his breastbone, breath short and impatient.
Bokuto has never felt this way before. Never, not before any game, any friendly date with Akaashi, never. Time moves agonizingly slow, each minute feeling like a whole year, the sky darkening more and more with every glance Bokuto shoots from the window next to the living room behind him.
Once he hears a key plugging into the lock, Bokuto's nerves explode within him.
Akaashi appears, looking beaten down, chest heaving and face frowning. Then, he looks up, and—
Bokuto's in his apartment. What is Bokuto doing in his apartment?
"B—Bokuto?" Akaashi stammers out.
"What, what are you doing here?" Akaashi's voice is barely audible, words soft and hesitant. His eyes seem to catch the scene behind the large man standing before him. It's almost as if he's looking in the mirror, seeing the dark blue color of his eyes in what seem like a hundred flowers spread around his living room.
Then, Akaashi's stare moves to his kitchen table. There's—his favorite wine. His favorite late-night snack. And to Bokuto's hands, he sees a small, adorable grey owl, and in a blink, Akaashi almost sees Bokuto replaced on its face.
Akaashi is numb. Can't think. Can't speak. He just exists, looking at the yellow-eyed man. Waiting.
"So, uhm..." Bokuto struggles to remove the ball of anxiety lodged in his throat. In a desperate attempt to get his feelings in a row, he looks out the window, searching for something to give him the strength, the final push he needs. Silver white crosses his vision, as the clouds move across the night sky. Bokuto swallows.
"The moon is beautiful, isn't it, Akaashi?" Shame crawls up his chest at his cowardice, failing to see the redness creeping up on Keiji's face. "No, no this is wrong," he says, hanging his head low. Then, in a second, he's looking straight into the gunmetal blue of Keiji's teary eyes. "I love you. I am so in love with you—have been so in love with you, for years. I can't see my life without you in it. I want it all. Your tears, your laughs, your sickness and your tired, post-work sulkiness. I want to wake up every morning with you in my arms, fall asleep with your drool on my shoulder. I want to travel the world with you, want to watch you watch me play, want to hear your voice as it cheers me on. I want to bring you lunch at work and scare off your endless fans. I want to be silent with you, try not to speak over the movie you wanted to watch. I want your touch and your whispers...and if you want me to have nothing of that, just let me have you, the way you want me to. Just you."
The plush owl in is squeezed under Bokuto's tight-gripping fingers, and there's no air coming in or out his lungs as he watches Akaashi, who's frozen in place. Then, Bokuto sees a single tear fall on his cheek, and another, and another and the owl drops on the floor as Bokuto rushes to Akaashi. "Why...why are you crying?" He asks, softly.
Their faces are so close to each other, with Bokuto leaning down to watch as Akaashi unravels before him, their breaths mingling, dancing.
With shaky fingers, Akaashi grabs Bokuto's palms and brings them up to cover the sides of his face, leaning into the touch. "I—I am so in love with you." He chokes out. "Bokuto—I've loved you since high school, and, and I want it all, everything you just said. I want to be by your side forever, for every win and every loss, I want to be the person you come to. I just—I just want to be near you, to hold you and, just, love you through every day, for—for the rest of my life."
Neither of them breathe. Neither of them; until, "'kaashi?" Bokuto calls, timid and low, almost in a whisper.
And Akaashi nods, feverently.
And Bokuto leans in, and he captures Akaashi's lips slowly, deeply, showing him exactly, with every pull, with every soft bite, every tug of his hair, just how much he loves him. And they stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, telling one another sweet I love you's, giggling and drawing their bodies closer and closer, for ages. They spend all night, making up for lost time, for every day they didn't spend like that. Until morning comes and finds them in bed, snoring easily, in a small corner of the bed, under the covers, together.
˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˙⋆✮ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
author's note: THE ENDDDD!!!!! THIS IS IT, i hope i did bokuaka justice...this is my first fic (def not the last) and it might've been short but i loved it. bokuaka is #1 in my heart ALWAYSSSS but next fic will be about another one of my very loved ships,,,BUT i will write three short epilogues about them, in different, random, domestic, fluff-filled moments after they got into their relationship.
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!! SEE YOU VERY SOON!!!
p.s.: do yall like angst?