Flowers became a love language between Bokuto and Akaashi, somehow.
To pull back the strings of time to when it started means to draw all the way back to Bokuto Koutarou’s third year, his last Summer Camp.
Over at the horizon of the hill where the players (mostly Karasuno) ran up and down for every loss, there Akaashi had stayed, watching as the last rays of sun sputtered out.
A little moment of peace as one would say. Although as most things, they don’t quite last forever.
“Akaashi look at this!” Footsteps thud along the incline of the hill and Akaashi doesn’t need to raise his head to know who it is.
He looks up all the same.
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, the faintest sigh passing him by, “perhaps you should look at yourself first?”
For a moment, Akaashi watches as Bokuto swerves around like a dog chasing after it’s tail. Laughter spills from Bokuto’s lips not long after and punctures the air, the confidence sauntering into hesitance.
Whatever front Bokuto had attempted to put up was futile in the face of Akaashi Keiji, literally. There’s dirt everywhere, stuck onto every portion of Bokuto’s clothes, reaching to his arms and legs.
“Okay, I’ll admit…maybe I didn’t think this one through,” Bokuto says as his hair animatedly sags for a brief moment only to spike up again in the next.
To this day, Akaashi doesn’t quite know how it happens. It just does.
Accepting Bokuto’s defeat, Akaashi stands up and pulls the towel from his neck. He pats it on Bokuto’s arms to dust some chunks off, careful not too knock Bokuto’s hands, for there’s something being held so closed and kept within them. Akaashi can only bear witness to its mystery.
“And I take it, this was all for a good reason?”
“Exactly, see Akaashi, the end does justify the means!”
The amount of nonchalance in Akaashi’s movements as he continues to brush of portions of dirt were enough to conceal whatever silent war was raging in his mind. Of instances, and of cliches and of many many stories where,
“That’s debatable.” Akaashi counters.
“Then, I’ll debate against your debate!” Bokuto announces, the brightest grin on his face. There can only be so many instances where Bokuto and Akaashi are in synch with each other. Even then when they weren’t, Akaashi had always needed someone to balance his constant sense of practicality and allow it to descend into something nonsensical, pluck away that part of him that was always so logical and morph it into something fun.
For what is life without being able to enjoy it?
And for all of Bokuto’s ridiculousness right now, covered in dirt and looking like a hopeless mess, Akaashi smiles.
“I wouldn’t hold back,” the smile spreads a little more, fondness blossoming in the summer. “So, what is it that you wanted to show me Bokuto-san?”
“Oh, right! Here Akaashi look, look, look. Look at this!”
For someone who’s hands Akaashi has known so well for creating the most thunderous booms across a stadium when sending a mere volleyball down to the ground, this time those hands craddled. It feels gentle. He sees why.
Hues of blue and pink sprout out as Bokuto lowers his fingers one after the other until finally, Akaashi saw being held with utmost care, were flowers. A flurry of blue and pink flowers unfolded before him.
“They’re hydrangea flowers.” Bokuto says with a smile full of glee. “Are you looking Akaashi?”
If Akaashi’s silence and soft breathes as he peers down at the sight before him isn’t enough proof of his own mesmerized state, then he doesn’t quite know what must be spilled or what proof is there for his heart to give.
He’s still learning what it means to open it after all.
“I am Bokuto-san,” Akaashi whispers. “They’re lovely.”
“They really are!” Bokuto exclaims. “I found them over there, just up ahead near those pile of rocks.”
“I remember seeing you bringing Hinata and Lev over to a pile of flowers yesterday,” Akaashi says.
“Tsuki seemed to like the ones I showed him as well!”
“Shoved, Bokuto-san. You shoved flowers on Tsukishima’s face.”
“Well, how else was he going to witness them in all their glory Akaashi?!”
Akaashi allows that conversation to settle, peering down at the flowers once more before looking up. “I don’t remember you being so enthusiastic about flowers before Bokuto-san.”
“I’ve always loved flowers! I just-how do I say this? Hmmm…” Bokuto swings himself a bit to the side in contemplation. “I guess I find it pretty cool when there’s more to something.”
“You mean, when you associate things with other meanings?”
“That!” Bokuto sends a pointing gesture at Akaashi. “It’s like learning that a super duper difficult word has two definitions. As for these…”
Now, here’s something that Akaashi Keiji knows about Bokuto Koutarou: that he has other interests outside of volleyball. That not every conversation they’ve had has been solely on the sport, he’s been on the receiving end of Bokuto’s many interests and listens to them with careful appreciation.
Now here’s something Akaashi Keiji doesn’t know about Bokuto Koutarou: that he can talk about something without yelling every three seconds.
There’s a lilt in Bokuto’s voice that leaves Akaashi stunned at the mere gentleness. The usual sharpness in his gaze, a far cry from it as it mellowed into something fond as he looked down at the flowers. And for a moment, for a second, Akaashi wonders what it would be like to have Bokuto look at him in that very same manner.
“…did you know that flowers have a language to them Akaashi?” Bokuto prods.
Akaashi offers a nod, “I’m aware of it, how each flower represents an emotion or virtue.”
“It also sends out a message!” Bokuto chimes in.
One moment the flowers are still under Bokuto’s careful hold, the next moment they’re practically shoved in front of Akaashi’s face.
“Here,” Bokuto says with the brightest smile on his face. “They’re for you actually.”
Akaashi is left at the mercy of his own frozen state. He looks down at the flowers being presented before him, then at Bokuto who, Akaashi fears his eyes are deceiving him surely, are tinted with the slightest pinkish red along his cheeks.
“I mean-they’ve always been for you!” Any ounce of composure Bokuto has had was diminished by the way his arms moved about. “I just didn’t give them to you immediately cause I thought I should find other flowers cause you deserve better but I mean they’re pretty but um-!”
Gestures, words, and actions have always been difficult for Akaashi to receive, any attempt at reciprocation resulted in short circuiting. He thinks this is the hardest of them all.
“Thank you Bokuto-san,” Slowly, Akaashi takes the hydrangea flowers from Bokuto’s hold. It effectively calms whatever worry Bokuto has down in one fell swoop.
“I’ll- I’ll make sure to take care of them.” Akaashi says as he fixes some of the petals before bringing it close. It smells of something new and sweet.
“Oh!” Bokuto has always been good at retaliation when it comes to volleyball, but not in conversations it seems. “Of course! Don’t sweat it, I’m sure you’ll do amazing at taking care of them cause you’re THE Akaashi and you’ve always been attentive of things…”
Then there’s that smile. That rare smile that’s nothing like those grins Bokuto has, for it’s something more intimate. More personal.
“You’ve always been attentive of me.”
If Akaashi looks at Bokuto for much longer, he swears he sees the sun, he sees hope and he sees every little good thing the world has to offer all in the form of a single human being.
“So! Consider it payback for all of it!” The gentlesness in Bokuto’s voice disappears, but the color in his cheeks is far from doing so.
Akaashi thinks that flowers don’t particularly equal to the hours he’s spent giving Bokuto tosses, or chasing after him in the rain with an umbrella, or plucking a solution to pick him up from one of his dejected modes, but he’ll take it. He’ll take it wholeheartedly.
He’ll gladly take anything from Bokuto Koutarou.
And if this is what Bokuto gives to Akaashi in return, he wonders if he has, somewhere in this point of time, in fact opened his heart. Or perhaps it’s been pried open unexpectedly, all it took was a enigma to shake his world around.
What he’s sure of in the very least is the smile forming on his lips as he gives a simple and soft, “thank you Bokuto-san.”
Fortunately enough the flowers stay alive by the time that Fukurodani arrive back at the campus and all of their members safely arrive back in their home.
Akaashi is careful with the hydrangeas Bokuto has given to him, placing it inside of a vase and letting them rest.
He sits down on his desk, not doing anything in particular save for mindlessly tapping on the surface to form some incoherent beat.
“ …did you know that flowers have a language to them Akaashi?”
“I’m aware of it, how each flower represents an emotion or virtue.”
“It also sends out a message!”
There is a loud thumping ringing along the walls however it’s no longer from Akaashi’s mindless tapping along the desk, it comes from the tapping of his keyboard.
Akaashi looks towards the vace, taking note of the color of the hydrangeas. Pink and blue. He notes it as he swiftly types on the keyboard: hydrangea meaning.
The first thing that appears is an image of four different hydrangea colors, below it are meanings, words that said flowers wish to convey.
Under the blue hydrangea it reads: “apology, gratitude, understanding.”
Under the pink hydrangea it reads: “true feelings, sincere emotions…”
Akaashi pauses on the last word,
Somewhere on a calendar, a phone screen even, the date would read “April 5″
Somewhere Bokuto paces around his room, looking at his phone, wondering if the message got across.
Somewhere Akaashi is already planning, thinking of booking his way straight to the nearest flower shop as he types on the keyboard:
“flowers that represent love” Flowers that say “I love you.”
Akaashi thinks, no he’s sure, he knows what it means to open his heart now.
And it all starts on April 5.
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