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Akaashi was yanked out of his thoughts by the mushroom bursting into flames.
As he reached for it with his tongs, the portable grill burped out a cloud of bright orange sparks. Tongues of flame, fanned by sudden wind, licked through the blackened grille. Some came perilously close to the remaining skewers.
Akaashi hastened to move them before another salty gust off the ocean ruined the entire batch.
The surface of the burnt mushroom was all charcoal. When Akaashi poked at it tentatively , his fingertip came back with a few black flakes at the tip—completely unsalvageable.
He set it on the platter with the other failed skewers with a sigh.
“Need any help, A-ka-a-shi?”
Akaashi turned and came nose-to-nose with a pair of eager, yellow eyes.
Bokuto’s smile didn’t waver even as the dark-haired teen jumped and nearly laid a hand on the burning grill to steady himself. He tilted his head, hands jammed into the pockets of his white zip-up that read FUKURODANI in black and yellow across the back. Currently, it was unzipped to reveal a worn blue t-shirt, hems flapping in the wind.
Bokuto tilted his head, looking uncannily like an overgrown bird. “Well?” he prompted, “Want me to barbecue?”
Akaashi shook his head. His face felt warm. “That’s alright, Bokuto-san. We can’t have you helping with your own send-off dinner.”
Bokuto pouted and old habits made Akaashi reflexively ready himself for a bout of sulking.
It didn’t come and he watched, mildly unnerved, as the dejection was quickly subsumed by a large grin.
“Need help finishing that then?” Bokuto indicated the platter of failed skewers.
“No, don’t eat that—“
There was a deep furrow between Bokuto’s eyebrows as he chewed the mushroom. “Crunchy.” His nose scrunched. “Very crunchy.”
Akaashi watched in a mixture of helplessness and disbelief as the other teen proceeded to eat the entire skewer, burnt portions and all.
“That was pretty good!” Bokuto pronounced after he finished, cheer audibly forced.
He reached for another ruined skewer of chicken but Akaashi slapped his hand away lightly.“Don’t eat that, Bokuto-san. That’s bad for you.”
“But I think it tastes fine,” protested Bokuto. He reached for the plate again.
Akaashi fixed him with an unconvinced stare and his hand withdrew sullenly.
“Just let me help you, Akaashi! I know how to grill! The coaches taught me.” Bokuto’s smile turned conspiratorial. “No one’s watching. I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Shirofuku-san’s watching us.”
Bokuto turned to where the heavy-lidded girl was lounging in a folding chair, onigiri in hand. “Yukie-chan! Stop watching!” He looked back at Akaashi, grinning. “And?”
The corners of Akaashi’s lips twitched up unwillingly. “No thank you, Bokuto-san. I got this.”
There was the bird-like head tilt again. “You sure?”
“Yes, really.”
Bokuto squinted, shoulders hunched and neck stretched forward.“You sure?”
“Really. If you keep asking,” Akaashi said, “these skewers are all going to burn.” He gestured at the grill, where he hoped the lack of pink on the chicken cubes meant they were ready to be flipped.
“Okay! Holler if you need anything, ‘Kaashi!”
And with that, Akaashi was free to turn back to his cooking. He did so, flinching away from the latest spark cloud, and carefully grasped the wider end of the bamboo skewers. When they were all rotated onto their less-burnt side—the other side had, against his best benefits, gotten slightly charred—he stopped and stared, tongs hanging at his side.
The same mental clamouring that had caused the first mushroom to burn returned. He turned to look at Bokuto, who was easy to find; just look in the loudest direction. The last barbecue they’d had, Akaashi had been preoccupied preventing certain overenthusiastic eaters from choking to death instead of helping at the grill. He’d volunteered this time because he figured it was a useful skill.
He also hadn’t anticipated the work of preparing enough skewers for an entire team and, somehow, Bokuto had picked up on it.
Clumsy as it was, Akaashi got the distinct sense that eating the burnt mushrooms—hazardous to health as they were—had been an attempt at making him feel better. It was silly, perhaps characteristic of Bokuto, but it was no isolated incident.
Something had changed in the scant two months since the Spring High. And Akaashi had no idea what to make of it. To someone used to accommodating Bokuto’s mood swings, their absence was more jarring than having to deal with them during high stakes matches.
Now, it was almost like he was now the one mothering them rather than being the one coddled by the group.
Akaashi rolled up the sleeve of his black sweatshirt to avoid soiling the hem and promptly winced when a stray drop of hot oil from the sizzling meat landed on his bare forearm.
“‘Kaashi!”
In comparison to the puzzlement at Bokuto’s newfound perceptiveness, the way Akaashi’s heart skipped a beat was a… less recent development.
Too bad Akaashi had somehow managed to procrastinate for an entire year. Now, a week from graduation, it was both too late and too awkward to say anything.
He looked up, trying not to look startled. Bokuto was back, and this time he looked forebodingly excited. Behind him, Anahori pressed his hands together and mouthed sorry.
Akaashi shook his head discreetly: it’s okay. He turned to Bokuto. “What is it, Bokuto-san?”
“I wanna show you something! It’s really cool!”
Something cool enough to make Bokuto nearly vibrate with excitement? That could range from an oddly-coloured spider to a beached whale. Akaashi turned to Anahori for elaboration.
The dirty-blond teen shrugged sheepishly. “We went walking and, well, he saw a big rock.” He pointed into the distance. “Over there.”
“A big rock,” Akaashi said flatly, suddenly doubting his previous assessment of Bokuto’s increased maturity. He turned and squinted in the specified direction, hand raised to shade his eyes from the light.
Sure enough, in the distance, a rock loomed over the beach as it gradated from smooth pebbles to grey-ish sand. Only, it wasn’t just big—it was enormous, and pale orange sunlight reflected from its white planes in a way that only accentuated the darkness of its shadow.
It was an undeniably novel sight, but Akaashi really couldn’t leave the barbecue. He had to make sure the first-years were doing okay, and the skewers surely weren’t going to cook themselves.
He returned his attention to the figure in front of him, all eager puppy eyes and barely-contained energy. “Bokuto-san—“
“Akaashi, let’s go! I wanna check it it out!”
Akaashi backed out of the way of his swipe, heart skipping another beat. “Why don’t you get Sarukui-san to go with you?” He sidestepped another grab at his elbow. “I’m sure he’d be interested in a walk given how—“
Akaashi’s back hit something warm and solid and he whirled around, apology already on the tip of his tongue. “I’m so sorry—“
He cut off as Shirofuku winked up at him and plucked the tongs primly out of his slackened grip. Almost immediately, a hand clamped around Akaashi’s wrist and began tugging him down the grassy hill.
“Have fun!” she called cheekily as Akaashi finally relented and allowed himself to be dragged towards the gravel-lined walkway.
When they passed Konoha, the blond teen paused in the middle of setting out plates—wait, wasn’t that supposed to be Onaga’s job?—to raise an eyebrow at Akaashi.
Need rescuing? his expression asked.
Akaashi gave a tiny shake of his head. However, Bokuto dragged him away before he could ask after the absent first-year. He watched over his shoulder as Konoha went back to setting the plates and bickering good-naturedly the other members.
The footpath was lined with gravel, which crunched under Akaashi’s soles as he stepped off of the grass. Though he slowed his steps, Bokuto didn’t relinquish his grip and Akaashi fell into step beside him, praying that the previous almost-jog excused the redness in his cheeks.
“Bokuto-san?”
Bokuto hummed and glanced over. “Yeah?”
Getting a full breath was suddenly difficult. “Can you let go of me now?” Akaashi raised his arm, Bokuto’s hand still tight around his wrist.
“Oh, sure. If you want.” He released Akaashi.
The dark-haired boy brought his hand to his chest and rubbed the faint red marks left by Bokuto’s overenthusiastic grip. He bit his lip and tried not to feel disappointed.
Akaashi didn’t realize he’d stopped walking until Bokuto was standing in front of him again, expression inquisitive.
“Akaashi? You good?”
Akaashi shook his head and smiled. The way it stretched his face felt forced and unnatural, especially in the face of Bokuto’s genuine concern. “I’m good, thank you.”
Bokuto scrunched his nose and squinted. Then, he crouched for a moment and sprung back up with something in his hands. “Here, hold these.”
Akaashi reached out instinctively and it only occurred to him a second later that Bokuto was now barefoot. The dark-haired boy looked down at the pair of beaten sandals in his hand, confused.
Surely, it was painful to walk on gravel? “Bokuto-san?”
“Watch this!” Bokuto swung onto the railing and nearly cut a full five years from Akaashi’s lifespan when he teetered.
The dark-haired teen had to suppress the immediate urge to yank him down, something that was aided by the knowledge that whatever fall Bokuto would have would be straight onto hard gravel. There was nothing between Bokuto and the ocean and he was still somehow grinning down at Akaashi, the back of his head illuminated by the setting sun as he turned to look at his companion’s horrified expression.
“Get down,” said Akaashi, hands out as if to stabilize Bokuto.
“No—pe!” The p was popped petulantly.
“Bokuto-san, please get down. You’re going to fall.”
“Am not!”
“You are. Please get down.” Akaashi looked over his shoulder just in time to catch an alarmingly dark puff of smoke rising from the campsite they’d just left. He imagined the panicked figures of their teammates crowded around an impromptu fire and was immediately guilty.
He turned to Bokuto. “I don’t think there’d be anyone to pull you out of the ocean if you fall in.”
Still balanced precariously on the railing, the other teen threw back his head and laughed, wind catching at the tails of his white zip-up. “But you’re here, ‘Kaashi!”
“I’m going back to help with barbecue,” Akaashi said, and felt immediately guilty when Bokuto’s grin fell.
He hopped down from the railing and landed lightly, jacket fanning behind him. He straightened from his crouch and reached again. This time, he grabbed Akaashi’s sleeves instead of his wrists without invading their intervening body of space.
“Why”?
Akaashi averted his eyes when the curious gaze grew uncomfortably intense. “I don’t think the first-years know how to operate the grills yet. I need to go back and teach them.”
“Wasn’t Yukie-chan doing the grilling when we left?”
Bokuto tilted his head. “She must have handed it off then.”
“Yes, so I should go back.”
The taller teen remained unmoved. “Yukie-chan is good at teaching.”
“Yes, but she’s a third-year.” Akaashi tried to withdraw his arms, but the fingers pinching the black cotton of his sweater remained firm. “She shouldn’t have to grill at their own send-off party.” He tried again and this time, Bokuto released him.
Akaashi’s arms fell back to his sides, strangely heavy.
“Sorry, Bokuto-san. I’m sure one of the other third years would be interested in going with you.”
Wheels crunched behind Akaashi and his hand flew instinctively to Bokuto’s elbow to herd him closer to the metal railing. It came as a surprise, then, when he found himself the one being herded instead by a similarly placed hand, sidestepping so that the cyclist could pass on their left in a gust that ruffled their hems.
The fleeting contact, a patch of warm pressure, sent a jolt down Akaashi’s arm. He watched as the bicycle receded into the distance, then turned to find Bokuto looking at him again..
“Do you think the rock is cool?” Bokuto asked, dropped hand shoved in his pocket. So close to the ocean, the salt-laden wind was strong enough to dislodge strands of gelled hair that fell into his eyes.
Akaashi’s heart felt as fluttery as the material of his sweatshirt, which flapped against his stomach in the sudden gust. “I guess—“
“Then let’s go.” A smile broke over Bokuto’s face. “Let’s go see the rock, ‘Kaashi.”
“But Shirofuku-san—“
“—will be just fine.” Bokuto glanced in the direction of the water and it looked almost as if he was considering the application of tact. “I asked her to take over because you looked so worried. We’re also celebrating you becoming captain too, y’know? You were supposed to enjoy this too.”
What? A wave of chagrin washed over Akaashi. Was it that obvious?
“Oh,” he said weakly. “I see.”
It must have been, if even Bokuto had noticed it. Somehow, the infantile candidness had grown in complexity. Become layered with something unfamiliar underneath.
Whenever it showed itself, the change jarred Akaashi in its amorphousness and indeterminacy. The resulting disconcertion buzzed in his mind like crackling static so that Bokuto’s sage nod registered only distantly.
“So you needed a break, and the rock is interesting, so we’re going to see the rock.” The words were spoken with a kind of self-assured non-logic.
“… Thank you?”
The statement came out more like a question than intended and Akaashi realized that, somewhere in the conversation, they had started walking again. His steps fell into stride with Bokuto’s, and the distant chatter of the Fukurodani team faded into the noise of ocean waves and seagulls. Even the throngs of joggers and families thinned and became further in between—it seemed that they were drawing away from the frequented portions of the beach.
The isolation felt like a blanket in Akaashi’s head, smothering the tumultuous noise inside into near-silence. Beside him, Bokuto had hopped back onto the railing. His steps were as careless and bouncy as usual, completely heedless of the fact that he was on a two-inch wide strip of rounded metal instead of flat ground, arms flung out to either side for balance. Miraculously, he only wobbled twice.
Both times, Akaashi’s hand closed immediately around the fabric of Bokuto’s sweatpants.
“Please get down,” he said flatly after the second heart-stopping moment of flailing and almost plunging onto the grey-green silhouettes of submerged waves.
“I’m perfectly fine!”
Fingers still twisted in white cotton, Akaashi craned his neck to give Bokuto his best deadpan stare.
“No, no! See?” Bokuto made some complex gesture, presumedly to demonstrate his fine-ness, and promptly knocked himself off balance.
Akaashi tightened his grip and waited for the wobbling to stop. When it did, his expression was withering.
Bokuto wilted. “Fine, fine ‘Kaashi. You’re no fun.”
“Neither is falling on rocks,” Akaashi reminded him.
He helped Bokuto down, an endeavour that almost ended in him being knocked over by an enthusiastic dive, and waited as the other teen stepped back into his sandals.
A few more minutes of walking and the gravel turned into shifting sand as the path took them on a gently sloping path to the beach. The railing went from metal to wood, wind-worn and split in places from constant exposure to salt.
Akaashi knew the question before Bokuto started fidgeting. The dark-haired boy eyed the topmost slat: it looked about wide enough to walk on.
“Bokuto-san—“
“Do you want to try walking on the railing, ‘Kaashi?”
What? Akaashi blinked. “What?”
Of the two of them, Bokuto was closer to the railing. He stopped and slapped a hand on the wood. The impact was a resounding thunk, the sound solid enough to assure stability of the structure. “Walking on the railing. Want to give it a try?”
“I…” Akaashi eyed the railing cautiously
But… why not?
Akaashi didn’t know if it was bravado or the contagious spontaneity of being around Bokuto, but he found himself slipping off his sandals and placing them in a waiting hand. He placed a bare foot on the smooth wood and hoisted himself up.
The railing wasn’t as high as the one Bokuto had walked and, if Akaashi fell, he would hit soft green grass instead of sea, but the view was somehow vastly more expansive than what Akaashi could see if he’d remained on the ground. The gravel path stretched out in front of him in a thin line flanked by overgrown grass. To his right, the ocean roared in a sheet of greyish blue.
Akaashi turned to look over his shoulder at the distant metal railing—how much had Bokuto been able to see?
He looked down to find Bokuto looking up at him.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Bokuto asked cheerfully.
Akaashi nodded, mute.
It was nice.
A warm hand settled on Akaashi’s hip, the arm connecting to it wrapped around the back of his thighs to steady him if he fell.
When he felt the contact, Akaashi almost did just that.
He tried to keep his voice level. ”There’s no need for that, Bokuto-san. This isn’t a big fall.”
For once, Bokuto was the one looking up at Akaashi. He smiled. “But we can’t have you falling either, can we?”
Akaashi nodded mutely because his tongue had tied itself up in knots. He took one step, then the other, and they were back to walking again.
Bokuto’s voice broke the silence. “Whatcha thinking so hard about, Akaashi?”
Akaashi’s shoulders jumped. “Huh?”
“I said, whatcha thinking so hard about? You burnt a mushroom.”
The end of the railing was in sight. “I… was just thinking about the third years—and you—leaving.”
Bokuto blinked. “That’s all? That’s something you’ve always known was going to happen, ‘Kaashi.” He looked up, frowning. “What are you so worried about?”
Akaashi took a deep breath. “We’re going to have to replace almost a third of our players, and not just starters. The managers too, we have an applicant, but one might not be enough. Our starting lineup is going to change a lot and our new ace, he’s…” He trailed off under the new intensity in Bokuto’s yellow stare.
“You think too much, ‘Kaashi.” Bokuto tilted his head. “And I bet that that wasn’t all of your worries either.” He slowed, forcing Akaashi to take smaller steps as well even as they approached the beach. “You were probably also thinking how are we ever going to measure up, right? You’re worried that the team is going to get worse with you as captain and choosing the wrong starters and not teaching the new first years properly when they arrive.”
“That…”
“And you’re worried about being left behind with all of these decisions and don’t know what to do.”
Yes. “No.”
Bokuto chuckled. “You’re a horrible liar.”
Akaashi frowned. “But I’m not lying, Bokuto-san.”
“Sure, ‘Kaashi.” And the slight barb behind the words reminded Akaashi that the current Bokuto was not the clueless one who’d led them to the Spring High. They were separated by the span of mere months, yet the difference was near unreconcilable.
He stewed in that realization until they were close enough to the white rock that it towered over their heads.
“Woah, it’s huge!” Bokuto took off for the rock. He stopped in front of it and slapped his palms onto the surface, which at such proximity was covered in patches of pale green lichen. “Think I can climb this, ‘Kaashi?”
Akaashi surveyed the rock. Its windworn surface, though craggy, didn’t look like it had any crevices large enough to serve as footholds or handholds.
He opened his mouth to say so, but Bokuto had already vanished. The other teen reappeared moments later on the other side of the rock, yellow eyes dancing with excitement and hands roving over the rough surface.
Evidently, he was still looking for a way to scale the rock.
Akaashi approached the rock and leaned against it, He closed his eyes and inhaled, relishing the quiet. Somehow, the clamour that had plagued him at the barbecue had drained away, leaving a stillness that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
How had Bokuto known this would help? Had he, or was this just a whim? Akaashi didn’t know.
The whooping stopped and he reopened his eyes. Akaashi watched with bemusement as, instead of gravel path, Bokuto rolled up the legs of his sweatpants, slipped off his flip flops again, and started towards the beach. He left a trail of vaguely foot-shaped indents that increased in definition where the sand was wet from the rising tides. A white-tipped wave wiped them away.
“C’mere, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto said, still walking towards the ocean.
Akaashi hesitated. “Bokuto-san?”
Bokuto turned around, saltwater lapping around his ankles. With the setting sun behind him, all of his facial features were thrown into shadow. “C’mere.” He waited patiently as Akaashi took off his sneakers and rolled up the hems of his jeans.
Akaashi stifled a gasp when he first stepped into the water; it was freezing and, with each step, his toes brushed unseen fragments of seashells. Something slimy—most likely seaweed—grazed the top of his his foot.
When Akaashi reached his side, Bokuto said, “Do you remember out match against Mujina—Mujinasa—“ He frowned. “What was it again?”
“Mujinazaka High School.”
Bokuto snapped his fingers and grinned. “Right. Mujinazaka High School. Our match against Mujinazaka High School, do you remember our conversation after the match? The one where you bawled your eyes out?”
Akaashi smiled begrudgingly. “You mean the one where I lectured you on your nonexistent pregame routine? You still haven’t changed a thing.”
Bokuto huffed. “Well I haven’t had a game since then! That doesn’t count!” He crossed his arms. “Well, anyways, I was going to ask if you remember what I said. Think about what’s fun, not what’s easy, remember?
“You didn’t say that during the conversation, Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto frowned. “I didn’t?” He waved his hand dismissively. “Bah, but I said it now, didn’t I? That’s what’s important. Don’t forget it. Isn’t the idea of being a captain fun?”
He looked at Akaashi, eyes glowing in the orange light.
Akaashi turned to the ocean, sun glitter dancing over the surface from the sun setting overhead, and thought that, maybe, it had been fun for Bokuto. He was glad it had been. To him, though, it was mostly a nerve-wracking challenge that he had to get right or—
A hand landed on his head and Akaashi squawked in indignation. “Bokuto-san!”
Bokuto’s laugh was loud and jarring. “Your head was going to explode like a barbecue! I was just snuffing out the fuse before it does.” He inhaled, eyes closed and smiling widely. “That would be horrible and lame! Just like thinking something’s scary just because it won’t be easy.”
Akaashi froze. Oh.
The realization came with a tiny plink that resounded in the silence of his mind and was metallic in its clarity.
Oh.
He wanted to scream, but it was mostly out of frustration at himself for having made the same mistake twice.
Three times, actually.
Maybe Akaashi needed to have more faith in Bokuto’s growth.
“Where do you think you’re going after this?” Akaashi asked, eyes still fixed on Bokuto.
Bokuto’s features, usually arranged in some exaggerated expression, were now relaxed. Open. Akaashi studied how it made his face softer, stray grey strands waving in front of his forehead. He fought the urge to reach out and brush them away.
Bokuto smiled and it was more of the same vulnerability. He opened his eyes and turned to Akaashi, profile lined in orange. “I’m going to keep playing volleyball, of course.” He paused. “The world will be watching me, ‘Kaashi.”
It was a declaration, but the end curled upwards like a question: right?
Akaashi smiled. “Of course.”