āThereās a first time for everything,ā Kuroo had told him.Ā āYouāre eighteen. Itās time to let your gay out a bit.ā Alright, maybe he was right, but Bokuto still wasnāt prepared for all of - this. The name of the club had flashed in front of his eyes for just a moment, high above the long line of people trying to get in. Kuroo had pushed at his shoulders, fumbled with both of their IDs, and then they were in.
The crowd is a trembling ocean of lights and skin blinking from beneath dark clothes. Bokuto canāt recognise any faces, canāt even see exactly whatās going on along the walls, where the bar is, but Kurooās hand is at his elbow.Ā āYou wanted to dance, right?ā -Ā āYeah,ā Bokuto shouts back, because itās loud and the song that comes on goes straight to his blood, roars through his bones.Ā āIāll just go and - youāll find me again, yeah?āĀ
Kuroo just grins and claps his shoulder. Thereās no way heād ever let Bokuto out of eyesight. Fuck, Bokuto thinks as he moves, pushing himself through the people standing around, to the dancefloor where the lights dance in so many colours that he just has to open his eyes wider, drinking them in. Heās wanted this for so long, to go out and be himself, like this, to feel the rhythm and just be.
Then, itās easy. He finds space somewhere, fits himself into the waves of other humans, and the beat floods him. Everything is all at once. The music is thunder with twitching lightning as the melody, and Bokuto puts his hands over his head, neck bare, feet following some pulse he didnāt know he could feel.Ā
The boy appears during the third song. Heās wearing all black, his hairās a mess of sweat and lights pouring colour over his neck, and Bokuto canāt see his face. The lasers flitting around only throw tiny spots of red and blue, itās anonymous and united, and so Bokuto moves. The boy, no, theyāre all not teenagers and yet, he curves his body into a shivering wave, head fallen back, his skin gleaming almost white. Bokuto swallows. He shouldnāt, itās just someone he doesnāt know, but that man moves like heās been born to slither his way into Bokutoās head, hypnotizing and utterly gorgeous -Ā
A hand grazes his arm. Bokutoās eyes whip forward. The man is facing him, and just now the lights have dimmed, so his expression is impossible to read. Anything after that is a blur in Bokutoās head. He remembers that his hands find slender shoulders, thumb brushing against collarbones, that his thigh pushes against hips that roll softly into his motion. Songs pass by, music drowning into his bones, skin burning where the other man shows him a new dimension of what dancing is, and Bokutoās fingers grasp at a shirt, naked skin over thin hipbones.
It could have been hours, or years. The music goes quiet, light flickering through the room - and Bokuto blinks. The crowd has dissolved. Almost nobody is left. Itās almost silent, then, and from the corner of his eyes he finds Kuroo, leaning at the bar, mouth agape.Ā
The man stands before him. Bokutoās hands are on his hips, and that face, he would recognise that anywhere.Ā
The smile on Akaashiās lips is tiny, trembling.Ā āIs that the moment where you pull back and say that you didnāt mean it like that?ā
Heās gorgeous, God, heās incredible, Bokuto thinks and lifts Akaashiās fingers to his lips in an impulse.Ā āNo, I just - you were so - I didnāt know you could move like that.ā His mouth brushes Akaashiās knuckles.Ā āWe should do that again.ā
Akaashiās smiles softens.Ā āWe should,ā he says, and then he winks at Kuroo whoās still speechless and looking like he tries to comprehend all of this.Ā āBut somewhere more private, where I can look at you, and you can see me.ā
theartofmadeline
stormborns
blakekathryn
dailybridgerton
tangentwithtanner
titsay
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
