Chapter Text
It seemed that the longer Akaashi was alive, the more he came to hate the sound of his alarm in the morning. It didn’t matter if it was 07:00 or 10:00, he hated that infernal chiming all the same. This morning was no exception. Had it gotten louder since the last time it went off? It always felt like it.
Without lifting his face from his pillow, Akaashi reached out and found his phone on the side table. He didn’t even have to look at the screen anymore to turn it off.
It was a full minute before he could muster the energy to roll onto his side, groaning quietly at the effort involved. His muscles were stiff, and his neck gave a protesting crack when he stretched it. It felt like it took him an eternity to finally crack open his eyes.
And when he did, he was startled to see two golden eyes staring back at him.
All these years with Bokuto, and the intensity of his stare always managed to catch Akaashi off guard.
“Good morning,” Akaashi murmured. His voice rasped from a night of disuse.
Bokuto’s mouth lifted into a muted smile. “Morning!”
Akaashi squinted against the harsh morning light peering through the window, trying to get a better look at the man across from him. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah!” Bokuto said a little too loudly, his head bobbing quickly.
As Akaashi’s eyes adjusted to the light, he took a closer inspection of Bokuto, mentally running through his checklist. The older man wasn’t flicking his gaze, wasn’t rocking, wasn’t tapping his fingers against the mattress restlessly. It didn’t seem as though he was upset. In fact, he looked both well rested and as though he’d been up for a while. He’d even shaved already. But there was still something off about his expression. The gears were turning behind his eyes.
“You’re thinking about something,” Akaashi noted. He shifted up onto an elbow, still staring blearily at Bokuto.
Bokuto pursed his lips. Akaashi could see him thinking over his words. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Not bad though.”
“Well, that’s fine, but… You’re alright?” Akaashi asked.
“Yeah, ‘m good,” Bokuto nodded again, this time fervently enough to shake the bed. “You want coffee, yeah? And breakfast?”
“Sure,” Akaashi replied.
Bokuto was on his feet immediately. He threw on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers and headed for the door. But a few paces from it, he froze. Akaashi almost asked him what was wrong, but then Bokuto was quicker. He’d turned around, crossed back to the bed, and leaned down to press his lips to Akaashi’s before the younger man could even open his mouth.
Akaashi’s lips parted in surprised, and Bokuto took it as permission to flick his tongue against Akaashi’s. Though Akaashi hadn’t expected it, the kiss was certainly not unwelcome. He lifted a hand to Bokuto’s cheek, thumb rolling against his cheekbone. Bokuto tipped his head unconsciously into the contact, humming quietly in response. Oh, Akaashi loved that.
Bokuto pulled back wordlessly, far too soon for Akaashi’s liking. And then, before Akaashi could even blink, he was gone, thundering out of the room and down the hall. Akaashi could hear him in the kitchen clanging a pan around, smacking a spatula against the bottom. A smile quirked at his lips. It was Bokuto’s favorite method of getting him out of bed in the mornings.
And when Akaashi’s stomach gave a particularly loud growl, almost like it was responding to the sound, he knew it would work this morning too.
With another groan purely for dramatic effect, Akaashi stumbled out of bed. His legs carried him to the bathroom where he started his morning routine—washing his face, brushing his teeth, trying and failing to smooth his mess of hair down. By the time he made his way into the kitchen, he at least looked he hadn’t crawled out of a ten year sleep.
A mug of coffee was waiting for him the second he crossed over the threshold, and he took it gratefully. “Just the way I like it,” he hummed as he took a sip.
Bokuto looked over his shoulder at Akaashi as he assembled their breakfast, his face screwed up in a grimace. “So gross,” he said, shaking his head.
Akaashi just smiled in response and took another drink.
They ate breakfast together at the table as they did every morning, knees knocking teasingly while they watched the morning news. Akaashi continued to shoot furtive glances at Bokuto, who looked distracted now. But there was still no tension, no restless rocking or fidgeting hands. Nothing seemed to be wrong. And yet he was staring past the television, obviously deep in thought.
Akaashi wasn’t necessarily worried, considering Bokuto wasn’t on edge. But it certainly was unusual for him to be so quiet. Generally by now, Akaashi had heard all about what Bokuto would be doing today, or they’d gotten into a thought provoking discussion about something they’d seen on the news.
Slowly, Akaashi reached out and threaded his fingers through Bokuto’s on the table. The older man didn’t startle, but rather looked over at Akaashi almost lazily.
“You’re sure you’re alright?” Akaashi asked again.
Bokuto’s mouth lifted into a smile, that one that was just a little higher on the left than the right. It was enough to make Akaashi’s concern ebb completely.
“Always worryin’ about me,” Bokuto said, a touch of affection in his voice.
“As if you don’t fuss over me,” Akaashi scoffed, nudging the now empty bowl in front of him for emphasis.
“Guess I must love you, huh?” Bokuto murmured. A knowing grin had replaced his smile.
Akaashi leaned forward, lips ghosting against Bokuto’s. It wasn’t a kiss, more teasing contact than anything. Even without kissing him, Akaashi could practically taste the sugar from Bokuto’s coffee. His lips were tugging up into a grin that matched the older man’s. “I guess you must,” Akaashi murmured.
“Aw, come on, Akaash,” Bokuto groaned.
Now Akaashi was laughing. “I love you too,” he said, sealing the words with another kiss.
As Bokuto cleared away the breakfast dishes, Akaashi retreated back into the bedroom to get dressed. His suit was hanging on the back of the door, clean and ironed and ready to wear. Akaashi couldn’t help but crack another smile. He definitely hadn’t put that there, and he certainly hadn’t used an iron in almost 10 years. How early had Bokuto gotten up to do that, he wondered.
After getting dressed—and struggling with his tie as he did every morning, eventually just leaving it undone and draping over his shoulders—Akaashi returned to the living room. Bokuto wasn’t there, and he wasn’t in the kitchen either. But the door to the spare room was open, and Akaashi crossed the living room, stepped inside, and peered around curiously.
Over their years together, they had figured out that sometimes, Bokuto just needed to be alone. Akaashi had never taken it personally. It was a feeling he could understand. With a few minor adjustments, the spare room had been turned into a haven for Bokuto to spend some time by himself. When the door was closed, Akaashi knew Bokuto was inside, and he knew Bokuto needed to be alone. That was the rule.
But today, the door was open. And as always, the first thing Akaashi was greeted with was the portrait Kuroo painted of him on the far wall. It was Bokuto’s most prized possession, and much as Akaashi had tried to deny it to himself, he was actually a bit pleased that Bokuto still loved it after all these years.
But that picture wasn’t the only here. There were smaller ones in frames scattered throughout the room. In a simple black frame on the adjacent wall was a picture of the two of them at another one of Kuroo’s art shows—one where Bokuto had managed to play without the room dividers shielding him from view.
Another on a table near the rack of weights in the corner was in a frame with seashells glued around the edge; the two of them were on the beach near the house they’d rented for a vacation last summer. They were sweaty, wet, and sunburned from a day spent in the water and lounging in the sand. Even though Bokuto was afraid of the ocean, he’d insisted he wanted to go. The smile on his face was proof enough that he’d enjoyed himself.
Near the keyboard Bokuto kept in here for playing at night was a framed article someone had written after attending Bokuto’s most recent show. He’d stuck around for a brief interview afterward—just a few minutes, nothing anyone else would have found noteworthy. But it was Bokuto’s first interview.
The pictures helped Bokuto when he was feeling particularly down on himself. He could look at them—see the two of them at the art show, remember their week at the beach, read his interview—and realize just how much he could do on his own now.
He’d learned how to bring himself back to reality without anyone’s help.
Next to the table where the article sat, Bokuto was perched at the keyboard. He was playing something Akaashi couldn’t hear thanks to those expensive headphones he was wearing. But whatever he was playing, he was completely lost in it.
Akaashi leaned against the doorframe, just watching Bokuto play. So much time had passed since he first watched Bokuto play. And still, it seemed like he was finding new things to admire about the older man. Today, it was the way his hair fell lank around his head, the way it swayed as gracefully as he did every time he moved up and down the keyboard.
And then Bokuto stopped suddenly, hands freezing in the middle of the song. His fingers were still pressed against the keys. An abrupt shake of his head knocked the headphones askew.
“Not quite right?” Akaashi asked.
“No,” Bokuto huffed, sliding off the headphones and setting them on top of the keyboard. “It’s almost there though. Just this one part feels… Not enough.”
“Can I hear it sometime?”
Bokuto spun around and cracked another smile. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Real soon.”
“I can’t wait,” Akaashi replied.
“You think you’ll ever learn to tie your ties?” Bokuto teased, already rising off the bench and drawing up to Akaashi.
Akaashi grinned up at Bokuto. “But why?” he asked. “You’re so good at it. With you around, I never plan on tying one again.”
“That’s why you moved in with me, huh?” Bokuto laughed.
He flipped Akaashi’s collar and tied the tie with ease. Akaashi watched his deft fingers work. There were still tiny scars and tough patches of skin from where he used to tear them apart. But it had been so long since he’d lifted his hand to his lips, even longer since he tore at the fingers with his teeth.
Akaashi couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
“Aaaaaand done,” Bokuto announced, letting the perfect Windsor knot fall against Akaashi’s chest.
“Thank you,” Akaashi said. His fingers moved on their own to admire Bokuto’s handiwork.
“Can’t have the boss looking like a hobo,” Bokuto noted.
Akaashi attempted to shoot Bokuto a glare, though it very quickly melted back into a smile. “I’m not the boss,” he said.
“You’re a boss,” Bokuto countered.
“I’m an audit manager, I interview new clients and make sure people stay organized. I can’t even fire them,” Akaashi scoffed.
“Is that like a career goal?” Bokuto asked. “Become a partner so you can fire people?”
There he was, teasing Akaashi again. The younger man could tell by his Cheshire cat-like grin.
“Maybe,” Akaashi replied coolly. “You know me. Power hungry.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bokuto laughed.
“What are you doing today?” Akaashi asked, smoothing down his clothes unthinkingly.
“A meeting with the people at the recording studio,” Bokuto said.
Akaashi couldn’t fight his expression of surprise as it crawled across his face. “That hasn’t happened in a while,” he noted. “What’s it for?”
“Just, um… Just for some songs.”
Akaashi’s eyes narrowed. Bokuto never had been able to lie to him. But a glance down at his watch showed him that if he pressed the issue further, he’d be late. “I have to go. But tonight when you come by, will you tell me how it went?” he asked.
Bokuto was smiling once more. “You got it,” he replied.
The firm was buzzing with activity. Busy season was officially in full swing, and the paperwork was starting to filter in. This would be Akaashi’s first season as a senior audit manager. His time as a general audit manager had been brief—only one season, in fact—and it had mostly involved dealing with another nightmare client. This one had made the first year with Mizuha look like a walk in the park. He’d finished the season feeling like a dead man, but the partners had been so impressed, they’d promoted him almost immediately.
Now he had a scenic overlook of the business district in his own office—an office that was currently filled with the boxes of paperwork that needed to be distributed to each team. He had been doing his best to organize them, but after sifting through a box of invoices for the Kitahara Life Support Clinic for what he was sure was the third time, he decided to roll up his sleeves and just start calling people in to pick up their boxes as he went through them.
For a while, it was a constant stream of team seniors filing in and out, coming back for more boxes almost as soon as they’d left. But slowly, Akaashi’s office began to clear. He was digging through a particularly disorganized box of P&R expenditures when there was a knock on his open door.
“I sincerely hope this is the last time you’ll drag me in here,” the bored voice at the door drawled.
Akaashi didn’t even need to look up from the box to know who it was. “What’s wrong? Not enjoying our little visits? I find them particularly riveting,” Akaashi noted, flipping through the box full of board minutes for another bank.
“Oh sure. About as riveting as watching paint dry. Or listening to Konoha complain about the weather.”
Akaashi put the lid back on the box of paperwork and slapped a post-it note on it, scrawling a name across the top. “I always did think he’d make a better weatherman than an accountant. Or maybe working the ticket window at a racetrack with all that betting.”
“You know, we can’t all hide away in our offices wasting the day away. Some of us have actual work to be doing.”
Akaashi looked up, a brow rising in a silent question.
At the door, Tsukishima crossed his arms defensively. “Or at least we would have work to do if you could get your act together,” he added.
“Your aggression only goes to prove that you miss my constant presence in your life,” Akaashi countered, the small grin he wore never faltering. “Absence does make the heart grow fonder, doesn’t it?”
“My fondness for you was generally limited to the bets I won at your expense,” Tsukishima replied.
“See? You do miss me.”
Tsukishima cracked a smile, and Akaashi was sure he heard a distinct snort of laughter. He shuffled back to his desk to grab the box with Tsukishima’s name on it when there was a second voice from the doorway.
“A-Akaashi-san? You called?”
Over five years with the company, and Yamaguchi was still tremulous as ever. He was fidgeting with the bottom of his tie and shuffling from foot to foot, like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.
Though maybe that was because of the intense way Tsukishima was staring at him.
“Yes, I’ve got paperwork for you,” Akaashi broke the awkward tension. “Oikawa-san organized them all alphabetically, and… There’s also a note.”
Yamaguchi’s face paled. The hands fidgeting with his tie dropped to his sides. “W… What did it say?” he rasped.
Akaashi picked up the paper that had been sitting on top of the files when he opened the box. “’Dashi-kun,’” he read. “’I hope you’ll come for a site visit again soon. Last year’s was just so revealing. Perhaps this time we’ll get to know each other even better.’ And then there’s another one of those weird faces. I think it might be suggestive in nature.”
Before he had even looked up from the paper, there was another snort. Tsukishima seemed to be trying to hide his laughter behind his hand. Yamaguchi looked like he was going to crawl out of his skin, through the office, and out the door.
“Clearly I’ve missed something crucial,” Akaashi noted.
“It… I didn’t… It wasn’t…” Yamaguchi blubbered.
“He walked in on Oikawa-san’s assistant bending Oikawa-san over the desk last year,” Tsukishima cut in.
“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi cried.
“Ah, that happened to me too,” Akaashi noted.
“Wait… R-really?” Yamaguchi asked. “With… With Oikawa-san?”
“Every year I worked on Mizuha I saw a little more,” Akaashi replied. “So you’re not alone. Though it might be wise not to wander the halls there on your own this year. I have a suspicion he made a few of those encounters happen.”
“That’s… That’s good to know,” Yamaguchi nodded fervently.
“He pulled an Akaashi-san, didn’t he?” Tsukishima asked Akaashi, his voice still quaking with laughter.
Akaashi tried to control his eyebrows, which were headed up his forehead to disappear behind his hairline. “He pulled a what?” he retorted.
“You know, an Akaashi-san,” Tsukishima repeated. “Where you walk in on other people in compromising positions.”
“Oh my god,” Akaashi groaned, shaking his head abruptly. “I could have gone the rest of my life without having to remember that.”
“You sure stuck around long enough!” Tsukishima was laughing again. “Seemed like you were enjoying the view at the time.”
Yamaguchi hadn’t spoken, but was looking back and forth between Akaashi and Tsukishima like he was watching a tennis match. He seemed genuinely confused. “What… What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Wait,” Akaashi snapped. “You never—“
“Oh, well, remember those long nights we used to spend at the office? During your first season here?” Tsukishima said, his voice shaking as he tried to stifle his laughter. “Well, Akaashi-san may have been present on one of those occasions.”
Akaashi watched as Yamaguchi’s expression melted from confusion to terror to unbridled horror. A hand flew up to cover his mouth, then dropped back down as he gaped like a fish at Akaashi. “No,” he managed to squeak.
“Oh my god,” Akaashi murmured.
“Oh my god!” Yamaguchi cried.
He was moved to action immediately, flying out of Akaashi’s office and thundering down the hall as fast as he could. Akaashi could hear his footsteps long after they probably should’ve faded away.
Tsukishima was doubled over, holding his stomach as he laughed.
“Was that really the proper way to break the news to him?” Akaashi asked, glaring at the blond in his doorway.
“Believe me, he would’ve reacted the same if I’d told him in private,” Tsukishima managed through his tears of mirth.
“Why does he even put up with you?” Akaashi murmured as he shook his head.
Tsukishima straightened up and managed to still his shoulders enough to shrug them. “I’ve been asking myself that for years,” he replied. “Never quite came up with an answer.”
“You might want to find him before he decides you’re not worth the effort,” Akaashi noted.
Tsukishima snorted again, and he was laughing by the time Akaashi hefted both his and Yamaguchi’s boxes into his waiting arms. He made it to the door before Akaashi remembered something.
“You never did… Anything… On my desk, did you?” he asked abruptly.
Tsukishima stopped, turned his head to peer over his shoulder at Akaashi. His grin almost stretched across his entire face. “No,” he said. “Just Konoha’s.”
Akaashi had never heard Tsukishima laugh so much as he headed down the hall, the cackle of laughter growing quieter as he returned to the main office. Akaashi wondered if maybe that laughter might herald the end of the world.
Or maybe he really had changed a bit over the years.
Whatever the reason, Akaashi didn’t get time to figure it out. His phone was vibrating on his desk, and he opened the email he’d received to find a simple message from Kenma.
>>[Kenma]: We have a table, whenever you’re ready.
Checking the time, he saw it was late enough in the morning to take his lunch. It was a nice day out, so he left his jacket on the back of his chair as he headed out of his office and toward the elevator.
The walk to the restaurant was fairly short—they’d chosen a place not too far from his building for convenience. Kenma liked it for the wifi. Hinata liked being able to sit outside when it was nice. Terushima said the “ambiance” was pleasant. And Kuroo claimed he’d never had better salted mackerel in his entire life.
Once a month, the managed to get together here for lunch and catch up, telling each other about their lives. They hadn’t missed one lunch in all the years since Akaashi had moved out.
Even at the end of October, it was still warm enough to eat outside. Akaashi saw the bright head of orange hair as he approached, though Kuroo was the first to see him.
“Late again!” Kuroo chided with a dismissive shake of his head as Akaashi approached. “You know, ‘Kaash, we’re not here to keep to your personal timetable.”
“We can’t all live such leisurely lives,” Akaashi bit back.
“Oi! I am gainfully employed!” Kuroo exclaimed. “Speaking of which, gotta ask Bo when he wants to collab again. I’ve got a new portrait series in the works, and my manager’s pestering me to get it done so Bo can see it. You know, I think he might actually like Bokuto more than he likes me.”
“Most people do,” Kenma mumbled, still tapping furiously at his phone.
“Bokuto-san’s just so cool!” Hinata cried.
“He’s the sweetest person alive,” Terushima added. “And those arms. God, I could write sonnets about them.
“Wow, I see how it is,” Kuroo scoffed, crossing his arms defensively.
Akaashi took a seat in the empty chair next to Kuroo. He picked up the menu and skimmed the pages, not really reading anything. There was never any point to actually reading it; he always knew what he was going to order. Still, he did it every time while the hum of conversation continued around him.
But today, there was something odd. The air around him was curiously silent. He glanced up from the menu to see three pairs of eyes on him—Kenma’s were still on his phone. “Yes?” he murmured, the word tilted up in a question.
Kenma, the only one who wasn’t staring, was the first to speak. “How is Koutarou?” he asked.
“He seemed to be a bit nervous this morning,” Akaashi replied, folding up the menu and setting it back down in front of him.
Kuroo’s entire body seemed to stiffen in his seat. “Yeah? Why?” he asked.
“He told me he had a meeting with the people at the recording studio,” Akaashi said, opening his napkin up and laying it across his lap. “Neglected to tell me what it was for, which was strange. Not that he can’t have secrets. He just never does. He likes to tell me everything.”
“Well, maybe it’s just really important,” Kuroo said. This was shortly followed by a thump, a grunt, and a shout of, “Ow! Fuck! Seriously?”
The other patrons of the restaurant shot their table furtive glances. But Akaashi wasn’t looking at them. He was more interested in Kuroo, who was now rubbing his ribs gingerly, and Terushima, who was doing his best to look innocent. He smiled across the table at Akaashi, ignoring the furrow of the younger man’s brow.
“You know, I still remember the first time I met Koutarou,” Terushima noted.
Akaashi’s brows only came together even more as he glared at Terushima. “You’re deflecting. Badly.”
“It kinda feels like yesterday, right?” Terushima seemed to be asking the table as a whole, acting as though Akaashi hadn’t even spoken.
“Remember when he helped me find Tomoe?” Hinata asked, leaning forward excitedly.
Kuroo snorted. “Which time?”
“Hmm, I guess the first time,” Hinata hummed, completely missing the jibe. “But the other times were also really great! And Bokuto-san taught me how to get Tomoe to like me too! I just have to lay really, really, really still, and he crawls up on top of me now!”
“That seriously feels like forever ago,” Kuroo said almost wistfully. “Like I know it was. But like, somehow it also doesn’t feel that far back? You know? It sort of feels like I caught you two making out in the lobby yesterday, and not actually years ago.”
“Um, why did I never hear about this?” Terushima asked, raising a hand for emphasis and looking like he’d been mortally offended.
“We didn’t do a lot of chatting about our days back then,” Kuroo replied. “Mostly just fighting and fucking.”
At that precise moment, the waitress approached their table to take their order. She caught the tail end of Kuroo’s comment and pulled a face of disgust. Terushima couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter.
“She’s gonna spit in my food, isn’t she?” Kuroo murmured after she’d taken their orders and retreated back into the safety of the restaurant.
“Maybe she’ll just get the cook to sprinkle some pubes in it,” Terushima said.
“Jesus,” Kuroo groaned. “We can’t eat here anymore.”
Terushima ignored his complaining boyfriend and looked over at Akaashi once more. “I remember the first time I met you too, Keiji,” he said with a grin.
“When you thought I would ever choose to date Kuroo-san? Of my own volition?” Akaashi asked.
“To be fair, he did lie to me,” Terushima countered.
“That’s true,” Akaashi conceded. “He seems to enjoy ruffling feathers.”
“Kenma, what’s your favorite memory of The Good Old Days(TM)?” Kuroo asked, a desperate attempt to deviate away from the current conversation.
“Did you just verbally trademark something?” Akaashi asked with an expression of disgust to rival the waitress’s.
“Unimportant.”
Kenma had put his phone down a while ago, but was still looking very intently at his plate. His lips were pursed—the only indication that he had actually heard Kuroo and was coming up with a response. “I think,” he started, “it was probably… The Hamster Dance.”
“For the love of god!” Kuroo cried. His hands flew to his hair, fingers threading through the mess of black with the intensity of a man having a traumatic flashback. “I was tortured with that song for years. Years! Why did I even put up with it!?”
“Because he in turn had to put up with the creak of bedsprings and banging of walls for the entirety of your neighborly relationship,” Kenma replied coolly.
“C’mon, Ken, are you ever gonna take my side?” Kuroo practically whined.
“No.”
“You know,” Terushima said idly, twirling his napkin through his fingertips. “I’ve been so curious all these years, and I’ve never asked. Why is there such animosity between the two of you?”
To Terushima’s great surprise, Kenma’s face contorted into a deep scowl. It was such a rarity to see Kenma so expressive, and even more so to see him actually angry. He wore a look of profound distaste, borderline disgust as he glared across the table at Kuroo. “He knows what he did,” Kenma said simply.
“Oh my god, seriously? We are nearing an entire decade since that, and you’re still holding onto it?” Kuroo asked exasperatedly.
“I will never let go of that,” Kenma retorted.
“Okay, now I have to know,” Terushima said, leaning over the table expectantly.
“He knows what he did,” Kenma repeated.
“Christ, Kenma. I did my penance! I bought you a new phone, I paid for the damages at that club, I even went and cleared things up with those drag queens!” Kuroo exclaimed.
“You did that to get one of their phone numbers,” Kenma retorted.
“She was hot!”
“I still can’t believe you went to an actual club,” Akaashi cut in.
“It was decidedly not by choice,” Kenma said.
Next to him, Hinata was trying to hide his obvious laughter. “The whole thing was kind of funny though.”
“Only once Kuroo realized he’d gone through all that effort for nothing,” Kenma murmured.
“I have missed something so crucial and so exciting,” Terushima groaned.
“They never would tell me what happened either,” Akaashi told him. “It was before my time. Though I’ve drawn conclusions.”
“I’m drawing them too,” Terushima said. “But I want to know more!”
There was more light arguing around the table as Kenma continued to dodge to questions while Kuroo only gave vague, question-inducing responses. Their table was by far the rowdiest on the patio, and they continued to earn stares and glares from everyone around them.
But Akaashi didn’t mind. He settled his elbow on the table, propping his chin up in his palm. His eyes followed the conversation, volleying from person to person, occasionally popping in with his own commentary.
Sometimes during their lunches together, Akaashi was hit with a wave of nostalgia. Of course he loved Bokuto, and he’d never for a moment regretted moving in with him. But he did miss this sometimes. He missed Kenma’s quiet snark interspersed with his gentle nurturing. He missed Hinata’s wild outbursts and his unrelenting sunny disposition. He missed Terushima’s alternating teasing and kindness. And though he definitely didn’t miss being kept up at night listening to Kuroo’s sexual exploits, he did miss the older man dropping in on him, making himself comfortable on Akaashi’s couch, extending the hand of friendship despite Akaashi’s resistance.
Things had changed so much over the past few years. They’d all moved on with their lives, gotten busier, let some things go by the wayside. But even now, all these years later, they were still able to pick back up like this. Like nothing had really changed.
“Oh!” Terushima exclaimed, pulling Akaashi from his reverie. “I already asked Koutarou and he said you didn’t have plans. We’re going out to the yakiniku place he loves tomorrow.”
“And when we’re done, we’re watching that new action movie that came out last week,” Kuroo added.
Akaashi’s brows came together. “You mean the one you and Bokuto-san watched last weekend?”
“Yup, and we’re watching it again tomorrow,” Kuroo replied. “First time was for plot, second time for details. And the third will be for continuity errors. That’ll be Sunday. You’ll be coming over for that one too.”
“I don’t have a choice in the matter, do I?” Akaashi asked.
“Nope,” Kuroo said.
Akaashi couldn’t help but crack a smile. Maybe things really hadn’t changed that much.
By the time 21:00 rolled around, Akaashi was already in the elevator heading down to the lobby. It was a little earlier than he and Bokuto used to meet. But over the past few years, Bokuto had gotten more comfortable with coming to the office earlier. In fact, he’d been coming around 20:00 for a few months now. But with busy season starting up, he’d have to come in a bit later.
When Akaashi told him that a few weeks ago, Bokuto had just nodded, smiled, and asked Akaashi what he wanted for dinner that night.
He remembered a time when Bokuto would’ve needed days to adjust to such a drastic change in schedule. That felt like such a long time ago.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing the warm light of the lobby. Akaashi stepped out and took in a deep breath. It smelled like fresh polish and made his head feel light. Far ahead of him, the same severe, eyebrowless guard was at his post, a book propped up on the podium in front of him.
Akaashi was surprised when the guard lifted his gaze from his book and peered across the lobby toward the elevators. And he was even more surprised when that stern mouth pulled into the smallest of smiles.
First Tsukishima, now this. Maybe the world really was ending today.
Akaashi managed to return the smile with one of his own before heading off to the left toward the little hidden alcove. The lobby had been redone last year, but this one area had stayed exactly the same, from the old lamps on the walls to the fading plush chairs. As Akaashi rounded the corner, his steps halted.
The scene before him was like a moment stuck out of time. The little alcove was dimmer than the rest of the lobby from the lamps that hung along the walls. And still, it was like Akaashi was looking at the room in Technicolor. Bokuto had on the same thing he’d worn all those years ago, the first time Akaashi had ever seen him—a plain black t-shirt, khaki shorts, and flip flops. He was sitting at the piano, his fingers tracing over the keys without pressing into them. Each time his head tilted to look up or down the keyboard, Akaashi was granted another view of his face from a different angle. There was just something so fascinating about him, about his face—his sharp jaw and prominent brow and intense eyes.
He was beautiful.
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said quietly.
Bokuto snapped his head back, his gaze falling on Akaashi. There was that smile again, the one that had always made Akaashi smile even on his darkest days—the one that made him smile now.
“How was your day?” Bokuto asked, spinning around on the bench to face Akaashi.
Akaashi took his usual seat in the flattened armchair. There was no doubt in his mind that it bore his imprint now. “It was fine,” he replied. “Lunch with Kuroo-san and the others was entertaining as usual.”
“We’re gonna go out with them tomorrow, yeah?” Bokuto asked.
“Of course.”
“Cool, cause he told me this morning we’re definitely gonna watch that movie again.”
Akaashi suddenly remembered their conversation from this morning too. “How was your meeting?” he asked, abruptly changing the course of the conversation.
“Oh…” Bokuto’s smile faltered, and Akaashi didn’t miss the twitch of his fingers against his thighs. “Um, it… It was good… We actually, um… We did a recording.”
Akaashi’s eyebrow rose in question. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, soon as I told them about it, they wanted to hear it, and they loved it,” Bokuto nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Akaashi asked. It was so strange for Bokuto to be withholding about something like that.
The man in question rocked forward once, then back. His lips had parted, but he didn’t speak right away. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Akaashi followed its path with his eyes.
“You know it was five years ago today that I met you?” Bokuto asked suddenly, his eyes snapping up from the ground to meet Akaashi’s gaze.
It wasn’t the abrupt change in topic that made Akaashi’s eyes widen. “Five years today?” he repeated.
“Yeah,” Bokuto nodded vigorously. “I mean, we haven’t celebrated it before. This was just the first time you saw me playing here. But it won’t be our anniversary until the end of March.”
“You mean the beginning of April?” Akaashi corrected.
He knew that would make Bokuto chuckle. It always did. They’d spent their last four anniversaries arguing teasingly about when they’d officially gotten together—whether it was the night of that first concert or the day after. And every year, they just decided to celebrate both days.
“Well whatever day it was,” Bokuto conceded, “we met five years ago. Right here,” Bokuto noted, gesturing toward the piano bench behind him. “So… I, um… I did something for you.”
“Bokuto-san, you didn’t have to do anything for me,“ Akaashi murmured.
“I know,” Bokuto said. “But… I wanted to.”
“What is it?” Akaashi asked.
“It’s… A song.”
Akaashi was taken aback. “For me?”
“Yeah,” Bokuto nodded animatedly. “But it’s not like the other ones I wrote for you. It’s different, its… I took all the things that I ever felt when I was with you, and I put them together in a song. It’s… It’s what I was getting recorded at the studio today.”
Akaashi’s eyes had widened noticeably. Of course Bokuto had written him a song before—more than he could count over the last five years. But they were nothing like this. Already, his chest felt tight. “Can I hear it?” he asked, his voice quieter than before.
“Yeah,” Bokuto said again, but this time, he was smiling.
Bokuto turned back toward the keys and took a deep, steadying breath. His head rolled back on his neck, and he stretched his arms out in front of him before setting his fingers against the keys. Akaashi could actually feel that shift now, the one that Bokuto experienced before he began to play. It almost seemed like Akaashi was shifting too. He didn’t realize he’d leaned forward in his seat, curled his fingers around the fabric of his pants.
The first chord made his heart lurch. It was subdued, almost quiet. But Bokuto wasn’t playing it quietly. Somehow, Akaashi could feel the uncertainty in the melody. This was how Bokuto had felt the minute he’d laid eyes on Akaashi—nervous, restrained, afraid to truly show himself.
But as the melody continued, he could feel the uncertainty ebbing. It was replaced with something akin to curiosity—a light, playful staccato that Akaashi could feel seeping into his skin. These were the moments Bokuto spent getting to know Akaashi, their nights together in this little corner of the universe, forgetting about everyone and everything else and focusing only on each other.
There was a brief lapse in the whimsical melody though, something a little more discordant. Akaashi didn’t even need to think about what this was. He remembered this moment clearly—Bokuto’s first breakdown. Akaashi had asked about his performance, the one he’d seen advertised on the train to work. It was the first time Bokuto had let Akaashi touch him. It was the first time Akaashi had wanted to touch him. His heart had broken for Bokuto that day.
But that moment passed quickly enough, and then it was back to the whimsy and lightness. Akaashi could almost see the moments before his eyes—the little shared conversations, the coat, their fingers twining together for the first time, the visit to Bokuto’s apartment. There were little trills where Bokuto was clearly happier than ever—getting pictures of Kenma’s cats and the first time he and Akaashi hugged.
And then, another dip. The song seemed to tremble, to vibrate through the air. It was the musical embodiment of Bokuto’s nerves as he walked onto the stage. Akaashi was suddenly hit with the intensity of Bokuto’s golden eyes as they glanced right to where his seat had been in the audience. And in that moment, the song steadied. There was no more uncertainty.
The song paused, a fermata that seemed to stretch on forever. The heavy silence permeated the room. And then suddenly it was like a burst of color before Akaashi’s eyes. The song exploded into a chorus of pure, unbridled joy.
With a press of Bokuto’s fingertips, it was like Akaashi was feeling their first kiss all over again.
The song continued to swell, slowly growing in intensity with each passing measure. Akaashi recognized bits and pieces for the other people Bokuto had met along the way—cool, quiet tones for Kuroo; bright pops of higher notes for Hinata; a slow, mellow sound for Kenma; Terushima’s bouncy major chords. They were all the people Akaashi had brought into his life, the ones Bokuto had met because of him.
But somehow, even without knowing much about music, Akaashi could always feel the song drawing back to him.
He heard their first date, the first time they ever fooled around, the first time Akaashi spent the night, their first time together, the art show, the day they decided to move in together. All those moments were tinged with undertones of anxiety, somehow conveying all the times Bokuto had been a little afraid to take the next step, but doing it anyway.
Akaashi could feel the love in every note.
And then, the inevitable hitch, the break in the pleasant yet tremulous melody to something more melancholy. Akaashi’s chest tightened painfully. It was dark and cold, worse than Akaashi had ever been able to imagine. He wanted to push the image of Bokuto hunched in a ball on the kitchen floor from his mind. But it was only for a moment. And then the darkness began to clear. The chords shifted from minor to major, and a minute later, the bouncing melody was back in full swing.
And it only continued to get brighter, somehow gaining momentum like a train lurching downhill. There were more firsts—the first time they went on a trip together, the first time Bokuto took the train, the first time he met Akaashi’s sister, the first interview he managed to stick around for. Akaashi could feel his breath quickening with the tempo, and every extension of the melody made it stall.
All this time, it felt as though Akaashi hadn’t blinked. He couldn’t look away. Bokuto’s arms stretched as he reached for a different register, the muscles in his back shifting beneath his shirt. He was rocking with the impetus of the song, completely lost in the music as his entire body surged forward, fingers digging into the keys. Akaashi couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t have to. He knew the intensity it would hold.
He could feel the end coming. Years of listening to Bokuto’s songs had instilled in him a sense for the music. And it was swelling to something he couldn’t quite place. Was it today? Was it his nerves over recording the song? Of playing it for Akaashi? No, it was something more.
And then came the last quavering notes, so abruptly hushed compared to the rest of the song. They sounded like Bokuto was plucking them from the very strings of the piano themselves. Akaashi couldn’t place this either. If he thought hard enough, it sounded almost like… A question?
Akaashi’s eyes were dry and burning. His lungs were on fire from the breath he was holding. He was practically out of his seat already. And yet, he couldn’t move. Not when Bokuto was still frozen, fingers hovering over the keys as the last echo of sound echoed off the walls of the tiny alcove.
And then, with a loud sigh, Bokuto’s shoulders relaxed, and Akaashi finally drew in a loud, rattling breath. He blinked rapidly to try and ease the burning.
Slowly, Bokuto rose to his feet. But he didn’t turn around, didn’t look at Akaashi. “So,” he murmured. “Was it okay?”
“It was perfect,” Akaashi replied.
“You say that every time…”
“Because it always is,” Akaashi countered. “But that was… I’ve never heard anything so beautiful.”
“It’s cause it was about you,” Bokuto noted. “About the way you make me feel. About falling in love with you… Being in love with you.”
“Listening to the way you fell in love with me… It felt so different from the way I fell,” Akaashi said.
Finally, Bokuto turned around. He looked curious. “Really?” he asked. “Like… What about it?”
“You fell in love with me slowly,” Akaashi said. “It was like you were climbing up an easy hill. It was so… effortless. But for me… It was like a brick. I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until I’d already fallen.”
“Like a brick, huh?” Bokuto murmured.
Akaashi couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe not so violent. But more like a surprise, I suppose.”
“Well… How ‘bout another one?”
“Another one? Another what?” Akaashi asked.
Wordlessly, Bokuto reached his hand into his pocket. And when he pulled it back out, there was a small black box resting against his palm.
Akaashi was on his feet so fast, his head started to spin. But he didn’t care. In fact, he barely noticed. “What is that?” he breathed.
“Um… Well, it’s for you,” Bokuto murmured. Slowly, he crossed the room toward Akaashi, tentative step after tentative step until he was standing right in front of the younger man.
“You didn’t answer me,” Akaashi said. He was struggling to keep his voice from trembling. “What is it?”
With a steady hand, Bokuto flipped the box open. Inside, resting against the plump satin bottom, was a plain silver ring. Akaashi’s lips parted. He wasn’t sure if he’d wanted to speak or was desperate to get more air in his lungs. But neither of those things happened, and he was left gaping uselessly.
“So, um…” Bokuto began, his voice slow but sure. “I know that this is against the rules… Not my rules, like the real rules… We won’t be able to do it for real or anything… But I love you. And I want to show you how much, ‘cause I know I’m not always good at it. But… But I like the person I am when I’m with you. And I don’t think I’ve ever liked the person I am before. I like seeing myself the way you see me. I don't feel like I'm broken... I just feel like me… And I like it. So… Do you think maybe… We could stay together forever?”
Akaashi could feel a surge of warmth flooding through his body, crawling down his spine and surging through his limbs. Never in his life had he been as sure of an answer as he was now. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t overthink. He just said the words.
“Yes… I want to be with you forever.”
The smile that broke over Bokuto’s face seemed to light up the room more than the dim lamps ever could. It was the brightest Akaashi had ever seen. It was almost blinding, almost too much—like staring into the sun. It made his heart ache.
He never wanted to look away.
Bokuto reached out, grabbed Akaashi’s hand, and slid the ring onto the fourth finger. Akaashi had never worn a ring before. He wasn’t sure how they were supposed to fit. But to him, this one felt perfect.
“I played the song for Kuroo and Terushima, and for Kenma and Hinata too,” Bokuto said. “Kuroo cried.”
Akaashi laughed, a quiet sound that felt so loud in their tiny corner. “Bokuto-san… You’re just… You’re perfect.”
Bokuto let his fingers twine around Akaashi’s, holding them tight. He leaned forward, and Akaashi moved to meet him in the middle. They were so close, only centimeters apart…
But a sound nearby made them both freeze.
There were people watching them, hovering near the entrance of the alcove. Akaashi recognized two faces—one curious, one smirking. Of course Yamaguchi and Tsukishima would be watching this unfold. It only felt cosmically right.
There were others too, all of them watching closely. It made sense that they were all still there. It was only 21:30. Other businesses in the building had their employees stay this late sometimes.
And of course, Bokuto’s song would draw a crowd.
“Hey, hey, Akaash?”
Akaashi didn’t realize he was staring at the crowd until Bokuto retrieved his attention. For the first time that night, Bokuto actually looked nervous. “I… I know it’s usually against the rules to kiss in front of people we don’t know, but… But I really want to kiss you right now.”
Akaashi could feel Bokuto’s breath against his lips. The heat from his body was warming Akaashi to his bones. “I think we can break the rules this once, Bokuto-san.”
Their lips slotted together in a perfect kiss, one that surged fire through Akaashi’s blood and made him see stars. He lost himself, intoxicated by Bokuto’s smell, the feel of his lips, the taste… This was beyond fireworks. This was something more, something that made his chest ache. Something that he never wanted to forget.
Akaashi could hear some of the people near the entryway, mumbling behind their hands and talking quietly. A few of them sounded disdainful, others approving. Someone even wolf whistled. Akaashi didn’t care about any of them. He just pressed a little deeper into the kiss.
He would break the rules sometimes for Bokuto. Because Bokuto was worth it.