Archive of Our Own

"Ah, yeah, I do, Akaashi-san. Why?"

"Could you take a look at some drawings of jumping forms for me? I feel like you would be able to point out any flaws in the accuracy better than I would, Bokuto-san," Akaashi said, holding out a thick sketchbook filled with drawings full of all-too-familiar images.

"Sure!" Eagerly, Bokuto did as Akaashi asked. It wasn't like being on the court and physically playing, but it still sent a thrill through his bones. The forms were all infinitely familiar to him - after all, he had done them so many times that the memory of those movements were soaked into the very core of his body. He knew it all by heart.

"Wow . . . Amazing." Akaashi had leaned a bit over the edge of his bed, his eyes slightly widened. "Are the drawings that close to reality, Bokuto-san?"

"Yep! I'd say that you're the amazing one, Akaashi-san, it's incredible as to how you managed to capture even the smallest details," Bokuto beamed, looking up at Akaashi with a toothy grin. "It's really, really amazing how you did it!"

"Just Akaashi is fine, Bokuto-san. And I wasn't the artist, I'm merely the editor. But I'll pass on your praise. Are you a professional volleyball player, Bokuto-san?"

"Yeah! I play for the MSBY Black Jackals in the V.League's Division 1 and the National Men's Team," Bokuto boasted smugly. Usually, he wasn't one to boast, but when it came to volleyball, all bets were off.

"They're a powerful team . . . I guess it makes sense. It's really like volleyball is a part of you, Bokuto-san," Akaashi marvelled, looking through the pages that Bokuto had scribbled on in his own messy handwriting, a stark contrast to Akaashi's neat, clean penmanship. 

"Well, honestly, volleyball is my whole life. Without it, I don't know if I'd be able to really live, you know?" Bokuto explained, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry, I-"

"I think I get it," Akaashi said, his voice small, his gaze wistful, even. "I think I get what you mean by that."

Bokuto stared at him, not admiring him or how beautiful was, but trying to figure out the look on his face. The look was full of longing, sure, but also bitter and even . . . resentful. Not at others, but at himself . . .

What's going on in your life? What . . . What did volleyball do to you?

"Akaashi, do you play volleyball too?"

"In the past, yes. But I haven't been able to for a few years now," Akaashi admitted with surprising candor, his blue eyes lifting up towards him. A clear sky, just a cloudless blue, open and just . . . honest. "I mean, I want to. I just . . . I just can’t, if it makes sense?" Akaashi confessed, fiddling with his fingers in a way that was infinitely familiar, but he couldn't quite place his finger on why it was . . .

"Hey, Tsum-Tsum, why'd you always fiddle with your fingers like that?"

Atsumu looked up, confused, before understanding settled in. "Oh, this? It's a setter thing - I'm just warming up my fingers so that I can set the ball better, ya know?"

Akaashi used to be a setter? Bokuto thought, looking up from Akaashi's fingers to his face. He couldn't quite decipher the multitude of feelings there - they were too messy and all over the place.

"Akaashi, then . . . then if I asked you to play a game with me, would you say yes?"

"A game . . . of volleyball?" Akaashi repeated hesitantly, gripping the blanket that had been covering his legs tightly. Uncertainty clouded the once clear skies, and his long lashes cast long black shadows across them.

"Yeah . . . maybe . . . well, I guess I just want to see if maybe, I could help . . . see if you know, I could, um, argh! I'm sorry, Akaashi, I-" Bokuto immediately started to panic. He'd fucked up really badly, didn't he? He shouldn't have said that, it was so stupidly insensitive. He should've-

"I'll play with you, Bokuto-san."

"Wait, really?" Bokuto stared at Akaashi, his mouth agape.

"Mhm. My discharge is within a few days after yours. If you can, I'd like to have the game a while after, Bokuto-san," Akaashi said softly, doing that setter thing with his fingers again. The shadow across his eyes lightened slightly, and the fog clouding the blue skies cleared up a bit.

"That's great! Um, I'll, ah, um, how-"

"Well, for starters, I think it would help if we exchanged contact information, Bokuto-san," Akaashi suggested dryly, raising a brow. "That would be a good first move, don't you think?"

"Oh, right," Bokuto said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I got too carried away with thinking. Sorry about that."

"It's not a problem, Bokuto-san. Your number, please?"

"So . . . Bokuto Kotaro, huh?"

"What about him, Yamaka-san?" Akaashi's face stayed as unwaveringly calm as ever, though his whole body was infinitely more relaxed around her. Even though his voice was touched with an almost mocking kind of sarcasm, it was clear how comfortable and familiar the two were with each other.

"I was listening in. You're playing with a pro player, huh?"

"I'm fairly sure that it's quite unprofessional for a nurse to eavesdrop on their patients like you did, Yamaka-san," Akaashi retorted easily, calmly flipping over to the next page of his notes.

"Everyone knows that you're the exception when it comes to me, so there's no point in trying to play the 'you aren't being professional' card," Yamaka Mika fired back, her tone equally as dry and mockingly sarcastic. They were alone in the ward, with Bokuto having been carted away for an appointment.

"And how I wish that wasn't the case," he said. Those words were utterly insincere, and they both knew that. Neither of them would've wished that the bond between them didn't exist - they both valued it far too much.

"Shut up. Anyway, I don't know if it's fully confirmed yet, but I've heard that the doctors might be able to confirm a diagnosis for your . . . well, your condition, within two months," Yamaka said, undoing the hair tie on her unraveling bun.

Immediately, they both sobered. Akaashi's . . . condition was one of the things they tended to always stray away from. It was an unavoidable topic, they both knew that, since they were in a hospital and all, but they always tried to talk about other things instead. It wasn't like Akaashi hated the fact that he had this medical condition - he'd long accepted that fact, and maybe, he could even say that he had made peace with it. But still. It wasn't pleasant, to discuss it.

"That's . . . good to hear," he said in a strained voice. "Do . . . Do my parents know?"

Yamaka looked over at him, tying off her hair tie neatly. "Do you want them to know from you, me or the hospital?"

"Eventually, they'll still know, right? So what difference does it make?"

"A lot, Akaashi. More than you can ever imagine. So? Your answer?"

Akaashi sighed, setting away the stack of notes and looking up at Yamaka. "Let the hospital do it. We both know that if we do it, we're bound to miss out at least something."

Yamaka laughed slightly, but it was devoid of any humour. "That's true." She looked away for a moment, then brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "So you're really going to play with Bokuto Kotaro after you're discharged?"

"I am. He . . . is a wing spiker, right?"

"Yeah. Outside hitter, if we're going into the specifics. He's from the 'monster generation' - was one of the top five high school aces in the country for his generation. Was ranked four, I think. He might've flipped flopped around with three, but I'm not too sure. Basically, in simpler terms, he's a fucking monster, and so is his regular setter in the Black Jackals."

"The current starting setter for the Black Jackals . . . Miya Atsumu, right? Myaa-sam's twin brother . . . right?"

"Yeah. The Miya Brothers were really famous through junior and high school. Miya Atsumu, if I'm right, was pretty much one of the best high school setters in the whole country. And another setter that Bokuto-san would've played regularly with in the National Team, Kageyama Tobio from the Schweiden Adlers, is as much of a monster. That beast's a certified genius, I swear to God," Yamaka said, typing out something on her phone. "You know what? Just watch their match against Argentina."

Akaashi accepted her phone, which was opened to a YouTube video of the match between Japan and Argentina at the Olympics. Immediately, he spotted Bokuto's distinctive, up sweeping black and silver hair, his bright gold eyes, and most of all, the smile like pure sunlight. He wore the black and red uniform of the National Team, his name emblazoned in large letters on his back, his chest puffed out proudly to further show off the number '4' there. He had his arms slung around the shoulders of a shorter player with bright orange hair, a smile that equalled Bokuto's own in sheer brightness and the number '9' on his jersey. 'Hinata' was the name written on the back.

"That match was wild. Honestly, all the sets were so fucking tight, it's ridiculous. I'm not going to spoil, but the winner, well, they won, but barely. And you won't believe how high the score went in the final set," Yamaka commented, leaning over to peer down at the screen. "But it was still an epic game from both sides. It was amazing."

That statement . . . it was certainly true. Akaashi was utterly mesmerized, his eyes never once leaving the game. The plays really were amazing. The libero, the setter, everyone. And Bokuto, he . . .

Akaashi's lips parted slightly, and his eyes widened. Yamaka smiled slightly and secretly to herself as she watched the oceans in them sparkle, reflecting Bokuto's sunlight that was lighting them up.

The absolute confidence and pride of being an ace, it's still embedded deep into him, it's soaked into his very being, even though he's no longer - no, he still is an ace. That itself . . . that itself is very clear.

Bokuto's form was utterly perfect. Akaashi had never seen one so . . . so beautiful. The setter - the aforementioned Kageyama Tobio from the Schweiden Adlers - gave Bokuto an equally beautiful toss, and the spike . . .

Argentina had sent three massive blockers to stop Bokuto, but his spike . . . it completely destroyed that tall, tall wall, and with that, Japan took back the set.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Yamaka muttered. "All the plays in that game."

"They really are," Akaashi agreed, eyes still widened, lips still parted. "Bokuto-san . . ."

"Play the game with him. You're a skillful setter, Akaashi. And then . . ." Yamaka's smile widened even further. "Experience it. See just how beautiful his plays are in person."

Set for Bokuto-san . . . and see his plays in person . . .

"Do you really think that my skills will be able to bring that out of Bokuto-san, Yamaka-san?"

"I know that you can." Yamaka smiled - real and genuine, not one of the sarcastic ones they always exchanged during their banter. Akaashi's lips curled up slightly, and he turned off the video.

Just as he raised his hand to pass her back her phone, he felt it. Their eyes met, and Yamaka instantly knew what was going on. But by then, Akaashi had already lost consciousness.

"Oi, oi, oi, Akaashi! Fuck, not this again . . ." Yamaka muttered. Akaashi's eyes were flitting open and closed rapidly, and his body fell into her arms. She'd dealt with patients having seizures before - Akaashi included - yet whenever she saw him having one, it felt more dramatic than it actually was.

"Hey, you'll be fine, just . . ." Yamaka bit her lip in frustration as she settled his limp body upright. Three seconds. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen.

Twenty.

Twenty seconds - that was how long Akaashi's seizure lasted. Not even half a minute, and yet, it felt like it had lasted an eternity. She breathed out deeply and turned him over to his side. A droplet of sweat rolled down the side of his face, and he was breathing heavily. His half-open eyes were dark, and his face was flushed slightly. Her lips tightened into a straight line, and she wiped the sweat from his face.

"Hey," Yamaka said in a quiet voice, placing a stabilizing hand on his shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

His glazed over eyes - dark midnight now - met hers. He was still breathing heavily, but he nodded. He reached out his hand weakly, and wrote something on her skin.

I hear you.

"Okay . . ." Yamaka breathed out in relief, holding his hand. "Okay . . . do you remember where you are? Do you remember who you are?"

He nodded again, writing more things onto her skin. His breathing had started to stabilise, and the midnight darkness was slowly lightening to a midday blue. 

I'm at the hospital. My name is Akaashi Keiji. You're Yamaka Mika.

Her lips curled up into a relieved half-smile, and she let out a breath of laughter. "That's good, that's good . . ."

Though the sky in his eyes were starting to lighten to their normal colour, they still had curls of midnight around the edges. His skin still held that red flush, but somehow, he still looked abnormally pale. He took in a deep breath, and leaned his head on her shoulder. She messaged his back lightly, while he continued to take in heavy breaths.

"You better now?" Yamaka asked when he pulled away, leaning back against the pillows, the red receding from his face and his eyes returned to their normal colour.

"Yeah," he breathed out, placing a hand over his heart, his voice still shaky and hoarse. "Yeah, I'm better now."

"Geez, that's the what? Sixth?"

"Seventh," he corrected, wiping away the sweat on his brow. "Yamaka-san, a towel, please. The feeling of the sweat is utterly disgusting."

"Your face is equally disgusting," Yamaka quipped, but gave him a clean cloth anyway. "You sure you're feeling better?"

"Yeah." Akaashi gave her a small smile, but something still wasn't right. 

"I'm fine."

"You'll be discharged in the morning, right, Bokuto-san?"

"Huh? Yeah, I will be!" Bokuto exclaimed, grinning brightly. 

"That's good, Bokuto-san. I've seen just how restless you've been getting with not being able to play," Akaashi commented, arranging the pillows behind him. He hadn't let anyone besides Yamaka and the needed medical staff know about the seizure he had suffered earlier, and he certainly wasn't going to tell Bokuto Kotaro.

"Ah, yeah . . . I really want to go back to the court. I just . . . I just don't like having to stay still for so long, you know? It's just . . . it just feels wrong," Bokuto explained, scratching the back of his head - something he seemed to do pretty often. "I mean, like . . . yeah."

Akaashi hummed lightly, nodding. "Well, good night, Bokuto-san. See you in the morning?"

"Yeah," Bokuto replied, reaching out to turn off the light. "See you in the morning."

As the light flickered off, Bokuto thought he saw a tiny smile on Akaashi's lips, and his face flushed red. Even after Akaashi had turned away, pulling his blanket over his body, his breathing eventually slowing to a point that indicated he was asleep, Bokuto still wasn't. He was still thinking about it, that small little smile, whether he had imagined it or not. He was sure he hadn't - it looked too beautiful, too real, to have just been a figment of his imagination. If there was any singular person in the world that could embody the beauty of spring so perfectly, it would definitely be Akaashi Keiji.

Akaashi's smile . . . is beautiful, Bokuto thought, immediately blushing a bright red as he fully registered that thought. He lay down on the bed, trying to sleep, but he couldn't. All he could think about was that smile, how beautiful it was, and whether he had imagined it or it was real. It had to be, but he could be wrong. It could really just be his imagination, but . . .

He really is beautiful, Bokuto admitted, a silly looking smile on his lips. He brought up his blanket to his face, giggling stupidly to himself. He was being ridiculous - utterly, totally ridiculous, yet he was still smiling.

Just as he was about to go to fall asleep, the rustle of cloth from beside him could be heard. Immediately, that caught Bokuto's attention. Sleepily and with a yawn, Bokuto looked over at Akaashi, rubbing at his eyes.

"Akaashi? What's . . . What's going on?"

"Bokuto-san . . ." Akaashi's eyes met his, and even in the darkness, they were glowing. But not in a good way - their blue skies were full of pain, and he was breathing far too heavily. His hand reached out, towards Bokuto, and he grabbed it. Bokuto tightened his hold, even as he was overwhelmed with confusion.

"Please don't leave me. . ."

The moment those last words left his lips, Akaashi fell over, into Bokuto's arms. His eyelids had fluttered down, sealing away the skies and the oceans in them. And when Bokuto's trembling fingers reached up to feel for a pulse, there was none. 

Immediately, his heart dropped, and he slammed his hand down on the button to call the emergency medics. 

No, no, no, this can't be happening . . . this can't be happening! Bokuto's breathing grew rapidly, and he was panicking like mad. Surely there had to be a mistake - surely this wasn't happening. But when he reached up to feel for a pulse, the result was the same.

Akaashi . . . had no pulse.

"Yamaka-san! Anyone! Please! Please . . ." His voice broke at the end, as he held Akaashi's limp body in his arms. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he held Akaashi even tighter.

The paramedics burst in, and immediately, Bokuto was pulled away from Akaashi, their hands forcibly broken apart. He was brought to the other end of the ward, while the nurses that surrounded Akaashi's bed blocked Bokuto's view of him. He could see them leaning over him, working on giving him back his pulse, but -

Bokuto was frozen with shock, standing utterly still in the ward before collapsing onto a bed. He still couldn't fully process and take in what he had seen, what he had just felt. Akaashi, his body without a pulse, not a single breath leaving his lips . . . His body falling abruptly into his arms, his pain filled eyes . . . His hand reaching out, holding on to Bokuto's own like they were a lifeline.

"Please don't leave me . . ."

"Bokuto-san."

Bokuto's head snapped up, and his eyes managed to focus on a woman dressed in a nurse's uniform. Yamaka - Yamaka Mika. The nurse - the nurse who had been looking after him during his stay in the hospital. He let his vision clear, let himself see clearly, into familiar brown eyes, gentle but firm. Even so, they were still shaking, and the hand she had placed on his shoulder was trembling.

"Calm down. This hospital is the best you can get in Japan. Akaashi will be fine," Yamaka said, giving a brave smile that was still uneasy and frankly, quite obviously fake.

"Why say that if you aren't feeling it too?" Bokuto snapped angrily, before instantly regretting his words. "I'm sorry, I-"

"You're right. I'm not feeling like he'll be fine at all," Yamaka admitted with startling candor, even smiling slightly. When their eyes met, her brown ones were full of open honesty and frankness, any filter completely removed. That wasn't Nurse Yamaka - that was just Yamaka Mika.

"I'm worried - like, really, really worried. I'm afraid too - afraid that the worst will happen," Yamaka confessed, tightening her hands into fists, dropping that too calm exterior. Her lower lip was trembling, and her eyes were staring to glaze over with tears. "I . . . I don't want to lose my best friend, you know?"

Best friend. ". . . I get you. If it was my bro in Akaashi's position, I'd panic too." He balled his hands into tight fists, his nails digging so deeply into his palms he felt like he would draw out blood. Usually, he would be worried about that, but now, he couldn't care less about that. Akaashi . . . Akaashi was in a seriously terrible condition. He didn't even have a pulse, he wasn't even breathing!

And yet . . . 

And yet!

"Yamaka-san, is Akaashi really going to be fine? He . . . He wasn't breathing. He didn't have a pulse, he woke and collapsed out of no where, he-"

"Shit," Yamaka breathed, not caring that she had sworn in front of a patient, not that Bokuto would've cared. After all, he was an adult. "What else?"

"I don't think there's anything else." He frowned, looking up with worry, his anxiety rising yet again. What if he hadn't . . . "Why? Did I . . ."

"No, it's just . . . I think I have an idea of what Akaashi suffered from just now, but I don't want to say just yet. Honestly, I know that the chances aren't that high, but I want to be wrong," Yamaka said, gritting her teeth, her brows furrowing. "Fuck, why . . .? And just after that too . . ."

"What's 'that'?" Bokuto inquired, his heart sinking even further. He so desperately wanted Akaashi to be perfectly fine, but now, that seemed more like a far-fetched fantasy than a tangible reality. And that, especially with the knowledge that even if he stayed as optimistic as he possibly could reality wouldn't bend to his will, was the worst thing ever.

"Of course he hasn't told anyone else," Yamaka muttered, a humourless, broken laugh accompanying her words. Her brown bangs cloaked her face in shadows as she let her head drop down, before letting it rise again. When she looked up again, the look in her eyes was impossible to describe, but he knew with absolute certainty that what she was going to say wasn't going to be good news. "Akaashi . . . he . . . he had a seizure a while ago. His condition . . . well, it's been getting worse. And now, well, you saw what happened."

A seizure. Bokuto wasn't that well versed on such things or in the medical field in general, but it already sounded bad. And to top it off, Akaashi's health had been getting progressively worse and worse, with the final touch being . . . being that.

Akaashi not breathing, his body completely devoid of a pulse. His body lying limp in Bokuto's arms, his eyes closed. Their hands linked, and possibly the last words Akaashi would ever say to him.

"Please don't leave me . . ."

"I'm afraid, Bokuto-san," Yamaka admitted, tears spilling down her cheeks. When she looked at him, her eyes were glassy, and full of fear, of terror. "I'm ridiculously scared for Akaashi. At this point, I'm afraid that the worst case scenario might actually happen."

Bokuto didn't need Yamaka to verbally say what the 'worst case scenario' was out loud. He already knew what it was. The thought of it happening to Akaashi . . . Bokuto had only known him for maybe two days or so, but if the worst case scenario happened to Akaashi, he knew that he'd never be able to recover from it.

And neither would she be able to.

"You should try to rest, Bokuto-san. You'll need your energy for tomorrow, alright? I'll keep you updated on Akaashi's condition." Yamaka smiled - at least, she tried to - but it quickly faded. "I . . . I'm sorry. I know it's going to be hard for you to sleep after what you saw, and it's unreasonable for me to ask you to do so, but please?"

"I'll try to." Bokuto buried his face into the pillows, covering his whole body with the blankets. He still couldn't get the image out of his head - of Akaashi unconscious in his arms, not breathing and without a pulse. He couldn't stop thinking about it - about what would've happened if he hadn't managed to call the emergency paramedics for Akaashi. He . . . He might've died. Akaashi could've died right next to him, and . . . and . . .

It would've been his fault. It would've been his fault. If he hasn't been awake, if he had been dead asleep like he usually would be, if he . . .

A muffled sob left his lips, and tears stained the pillows. His whole body shook beneath the covers, and before long, he was crying.

"Bokuto-san . . ." He felt Yamaka place a hand on his shoulder lightly. Her fingers were still shaking, and her quiet voice was unsteady. "You know . . . you know that nothing that happened was your fault, right?"

"But what if I hadn't been awake when Akaashi reached out for me? What if I hadn't called the emergency paramedics in time? What if I-" 

"Bokuto-san. Calm down."

The covers were ripped off, and Bokuto realized with a start that he had been hyperventilating. He lifted his face out of the pillows, and sat up properly. Yamaka gave him a firm look, not giving him any room to argue with her or protest.

"Bokuto-san. What happened just now, it wasn't anybody's fault, so stop trying to say that it's yours. If anything, you saved him by being awake and calling the emergency medics so quickly. If he really had suffered what I think he had, he most likely would've died if not for you. Get it?" She said, staring him down, her eyes intense like he’d never seen them. Even though she was absolutely tiny as compared to him, in that moment, he couldn't help but think that Yamaka Mika was a giant and he was a dwarf.

"It wasn't anybody's fault, so stop trying to say that it's yours."

"If anything, you saved him."

I . . . saved Akaashi?

". . . I just want Akaashi to be fine," he said in a small voice, not caring that more tears had started to form and roll down his cheeks.

"So do I, Bokuto-san." A crystalline droplet started to well up, the little salty tear threatening to slip out of the confines of her eyes.

"So do I."

And it fell, the grey stain on the white sheets appearing blood red in the light.

When Akaashi woke up, the first thing he saw was the overly bright lights of a hospital ward's ceiling.

"You're awake!"

A swarm of doctors surrounded him - all somewhat familiar faces. He frowned, trying to blink away the blinding lights that were blazing straight into his eyes. He somewhat recalled something happening last night . . .

"Lights, dim them! And get Yamaka over here, he'll take the news better from her!" Someone yelled. That voice, too, was also somewhat familiar.

Yamaka . . . Akaashi couldn't find his voice. He vaguely remembered what had happened - he remembered feeling strange, then waking up. He remembered calling out to Bokuto, then saying something to him. Taking his hand, and then . . .

Damn, he couldn't remember . . .

Yamaka - Yamaka would be able to tell him. And Bokuto . . . had he been discharged already? Akaashi hoped so - he didn't want Bokuto to see him in his current state.

He let out a slight breath of relief as the lights dimmed, and the doctors cleared out. He almost smiled when he caught sight of Yamaka's familiar brown eyes and blunt bangs. It was good to see her.

"Ya . . . Yamaka-san," he breathed out, finally managing to find his voice again. She gave him a small smile, before taking a seat next to him.

"You look like shit, you know," Yamaka deadpanned, raising a brow.

"It's good to see you too," he deadpanned back, returning that dry sarcasm. If he could muster one, he would have smiled.

"Yeah, yeah. How are you feeling right now? Any stupider than usual?"

"For the record, I remember getting higher grades than you. And no, I feel like shit, but other than that, well, I guess overall, I'm fine?" Akaashi said, fiddling with his fingers.

"That's good. Also, no, I'm fairly sure I scored better than your dumb ass did," Yamaka fired back.

". . . Irrelevant."

"Ha! So you do admit that I got better grades than you did!" Yamaka grinned, all while Akaashi could just roll his eyes.

"Whatever. Let's just get back onto topic, Yamaka-san."

"Still got higher grades than you did." She laughed, then sobered. "Do you have an idea of what happened to you last night?"

". . . I remember that I felt really breathless. I tried to continue to sleep, but eventually it got too much. I remember that after that, I reached out for Bokuto-san . . . I remember that I started to feel dizzy, so I grabbed onto Bokuto-san's hand to try to support myself. I think I said something to him, then I felt myself fall forward and lose consciousness . . ." Akaashi frowned, doing that thing with his fingers yet again. Bokuto . . . 

"Shit . . . Akaashi, how bad do you think it was?"

"Very, honestly."

Yamaka sighed, and her eyes were as hard as steel. "Akaashi, do you have an idea of how bad what happened to you last night was?"

He raised a brow. "Try me, Yamaka-san."

She sighed yet again. "Akaashi. You . . . You went into cardiac arrest. If Bokuto-san hadn't been awake at that time, you . . . you might've died, Akaashi."

You might've died. Those words, those three words, they kept echoing on and on in his head. Last night, he had been so close to death, and if not for Bokuto, he wouldn't be here right now. He had nearly died, and yet!

"Is Bokuto-san alright?"

She raised a brow. "I just told you that you almost died, and your first thought after that's about Bokuto-san?"

"I - just answer my question please, Yamaka-san."

"Geez, you're really dumb. But yeah, Bokuto-san, well, for the most part, he's been doing, well, alright," Yamaka said, scratching the back of her neck. "I've been keeping him updated on your condition. You know, you really scared him with that. Honestly, if I had to put it into words, I think he still is to some extent. He's also been extremely worried for you, you know. It's almost cute how he's been fretting over you."

For some reason, well, Akaashi felt the tips of his ears burn red at that. It felt . . . well, to be honest, he didn't know how exactly he should feel about it. But all he knew was that one of those emotions he was feeling right now - or was sensation more fitting a word? - was that he was extremely touched.

". . . Oh."

She laughed again, though there was a heaviness in her eyes. "He said that he's coming back to see you at eight, give or take. And Udai-san said that he's managed to secure two hours for visiting you. He said that he's going to bring over your usual from Myaa-sam's place. Both of them know that you've had to be transferred to a more intensive care ward, but I'll leave the choice of telling them about the full details of what happened or not to you." 

"And . . . my parents?" He asked hesitantly, refusing to look up from his hands.

There was a long silence between the two, neither of them knowing how to answer it not as nurse and patient, but as a friend to another friend. Akaashi's parents . . . well, they weren't terrible parents - in fact, they loved their son more than anything - but the fact that every time the hospital called them, it only served to give them even worse news about Akaashi's health, made it all to easy for him and Yamaka both to feel extreme difficulty when it came to Mr and Mrs Akaashi. Akaashi, especially, seemed to drift further and further away from his parents every time his health acted up. Yamaka knew that he still loved them - how could he not? - but the problem was the massive guilt he felt for his condition. They both hated it - hated calling his parents just to have to give them bad news.

Yamaka swallowed, looking down at her hands. "Well . . . your father said that he's coming over, and your mother's trying to get a flight back to Japan."

They're coming over, huh . . . Akaashi leaned his head back against the bed frame, closing his eyes. He didn't want them to - he would rather not have to see the despair on their faces when they inevitably learnt about his worsening illness. 

And the fact that I was inches away from death last night . . . how am I supposed to tell my parents that? It's out of the question to leave that out, but then again, wouldn't it be better to do that? Either way, I'd be hurting them, but if I leave out the fact that I almost died, it might-

"There you go again."

Instantly, the sound of Yamaka's voice snapped him out of his train of thoughts. She raised a brow, snapping her fingers in his face. "Honestly, if you weren't in this shitty condition, I would've added a slap too."

"That would be adding injury to insult," Akaashi retorted, placing a hand over his eyes, peeking at her through parted fingers.

"It's the other way around, idiot."

"You're the idiot here."

"Back at you." Yamaka sighed, and she pried off his hand from over his eyes. "There's no need to overthink everything. Just say it as it is, and just don't think about the consequences. Just let the truth out, alright?"

"Even if it's ugly?"

"Better an ugly truth than a beautiful lie." Yamaka gave him a small but reassuring smile. "Just do whatever you think is the best, okay?"

"I'll try."

"Keiji!" 

Both Akaashi and Yamaka flinched when they heard the voice. The door opened, and Akaashi Kyosuke entered. He had clearly came over in a rush - his hair was messed up by the wind, and his clothes were uncoordinated and visibly chosen at random. 

"Father," Akaashi said softly, looking away. "I didn't know you would be coming so soon."

"Keiji . . ." Kyosuke had a worried look on his face, which only served to make Akaashi feel all the more guilty. "How . . . How are you feeling right now?"

". . . Alright," Akaashi replied simply, folding his hands over his lap, still not meeting his father's eyes. That had been their relationship for a while now - Akaashi's parents reaching out to him and him choosing to stay distant and out of reach. He wanted to have a closer bond with them - he really did. But the guilt of always being in the hospital but never getting better, having his health consistently decline, never having good news to give them . . . "I've . . . been feeling alright."

"Nothing else? Do you feel uncomfortable? Dizzy? Breathless? Anything else?" His father continued, as persistent as ever.

"I'm fine, Father. I really am," Akaashi insisted. If he could, he would've given him a smile, just to further convince his father, but he really couldn't find it within himself to produce one.

"Just say it as it is . . ." Sorry, Yamaka-san, but I don't think I'll be able to do that . . . yet.

"Keiji . . ." His father's face was full of sadness, and that only served to make him feel even worse about himself. It'd been years since he'd seen anything beyond sadness and despair on his parents' faces, and it was all his fault. And as the years went by, it only got worse together with him and his health.

God, would there ever be a time where he wouldn't cause trouble with his family by being so sick?

"I'm fine. You don't have to worry, Father." Akaashi wasn't going to tell him about his cardiac arrest, or his seizures. One day, he would. Just . . . Just not now. He wasn't ready for it yet.

"Keiji . . . you're in the ICU ward now. You've gone up from a regular one to here. I don't think it can be considered as 'fine'," Kyosuke pressed on, his expression pained. "Please, at least, be a little honest with me?"

"Be a little honest"? Father, I don't think you'd want that, Akaashi thought bitterly, fiddling with his fingers. I don't want to have to subject you to the truth just yet. But . . . 

"Better an ugly truth than a beautiful lie."

But that, I can do, Yamaka-san.

"I . . . I can't, not yet," he admitted. Be a little honest . . . very well, I'll do that for you, Father, just in another way. "I . . . I need time, Father. Can you give me that?"

His father's eyes filled with so much pain, it almost made Akaashi want to tell him the truth. At the same time, though, understanding also lit up within them. "I understand. Whenever you're ready, tell me, okay? Take your time, and go at your own pace."

"I . . . I'll try to do so, Father." Akaashi cast a quick glance to his side, only to see that sometime during his conversation, Yamaka had left the room. No doubt it was to give them some privacy. He knew she had good intentions only, but he wished she had stayed. He didn't want to be left all by himself, especially not with his father.

Please don't leave me . . .

Ah . . . That was what I told Bokuto-san before I passed out.

He almost laughed. How ironic.

"Oh, you're here to see Akaashi Keiji?"

"Yes, is he free right now?"

"One moment, sir. Your name, please?"

"Udai Tenma."

"Just a moment, Udai-san. Please take a seat in the meantime."

Udai Tenma did as the nurse had asked, settling down on the dark blue seat. In his left hand, he held a bag filled with food from Onigiri Miya, his other clutching a notebook. He took in a deep breath, brushing invisible flecks of dust off his pants, unruly black hair falling into shadowed eyes.

Calm down, he thought to himself, his nails digging so deeply into the flesh of his palms that he was shocked he didn't draw out any blood. Calm down, Tenma. Keiji-kun is going to be fine. You don't have to worry.

Akaashi losing consciousness abruptly, his head hitting the floor, blood colouring the once white floor red . . .

'You don't have to worry', my ass!

"Udai-san? Akaashi-san has granted his approval for your visit."

"Ah, thank you!" Udai breathed out in relief, picking both himself and his items, following the nurse into Akaashi's ward.

This time, Akaashi had a whole ward just for himself, as compared to the albeit also empty except for him ward with four beds he had been in previously. There was more equipment too, lining all the walls save for the window. Akaashi himself was seated on the bed, still in those hideous white hospital clothes, hooked onto more machines. He was much paler too, and looked considerably weaker.

For a moment, that image flickered. The hair became longer and more disheveled, those eyes darkened to a grey nearing black. That carefully cultivated mask cracked into a bright but still gradually fragmenting smile. A hand with tubes and wires trailing after it lifted up, giving him a slight wave.

"Nii-chan!"

He shook off that image in his head, and Akaashi Keiji returned. The cool, ever-shifting blue eyes, the face that was still put-together and perfectly maintained.

You're here to visit Akaashi Keiji. Not . . . him.

"Udai-san," he greeted softly. His voice had always been soft, but now, it sounded even weaker - too delicate, too fragile. It did nothing to lessen the worry taking over Udai.

"Keiji-kun . . . how are you?"

"Alright. I've finished doing the editing for the drafts, Udai-san," Akaashi reported formally, managing to bring out the notes and drafts from the table beside him. "I have them with me right now. Would you like to take a look at it?"

"Keiji-kun, the drafts aren't the important right now. You are, as well as your health," Udai sighed, taking a seat beside his bedside.

Akaashi had always been a diligent, hard-working person who was highly dedicated to his job, something which Udai had always admired in him, but now, it was just becoming detrimental. Udai wanted nothing more than for him to care for himself a bit more, but no matter what happened to him, Akaashi kept throwing his own self care further and further down his list of priorities. It was especially frustrating, seeing someone he cared about do that. Akaashi wasn't just his editor, Akaashi was a friend too.

"But, Udai-san, the deadline for the next chapter is not too quite far away, right?"

"I've already told the company that the chapter will be delayed. Anyway, here. I've got you some food from Onigiri Miya."

Akaashi's eyes lit up in the way they only did when he saw onigiri, more specifically, the ones from Onigiri Miya. Udai couldn't blame him - they were utterly delicious.

"Thank you, Udai-san."

"No problem, Keiji-kun." Udai smiled slightly. "How was your day?"

Slow but safe - it was the best way to approach the matter that Udai could think of. Akaashi would definitely give an answer, most likely a generic one, but it was better to let him have the choice to talk about what he had gone through or not. That way, he was less likely to accidentally make Akaashi talk about sensitive topics. Besides, today was supposed to be the day Akaashi was meant to be originally discharged, had everything went to to plan. It would definitely make things harder for Akaashi, especially for his mental state.

". . . Good, I think. It . . . It could have been better, but I . . . I will not complain," Akaashi said, cradling an onigiri in his hands. His blue eyes had always held little emotion, but strangely enough, now, there was something that resembled . . . happiness in there.

Strange . . .

"Keiji-kun, did something good happen today? You seem . . . you seem quite happy," Udai noted, cocking his head to the side. It was rare to see his editor be this expressive with his emotions.

It immediately made Akaashi freeze up the way he always did when he was caught extremely off guard. His whole body tensed up, but after a moment, he relaxed again.

"You're right, Udai-san, something good happened," Akaashi confessed, the windows of his eyes opening a little wider, a little more of his inner light shining through those ocean tinted lenses. "A friend visited rather unexpectedly, but it was still a welcome visit."

"Oh? Am I allowed to hear more about it?"

"Of course, Udai-san. His name is Bokuto Kotaro-"

"-and is a member of the MSBY Black Jackals in the V.League's Division 1, was one of the top five high school aces, is on the National Men's Team, participated in the Olympics, an all-rounder," Udai finished, eyes practically sparkling. He'd heard of Bokuto Kotaro before - in fact, that man was probably one of the most used references Udai looked to when drawing. "I wasn't aware that you're friends with him."

"We only met slightly more than a week ago since we both shared a ward, Udai-san, but I think we clicked quite quickly," Akaashi explained. It might've been a trick of the light, but Udai swore the tips of his ears were red, even as his mask stayed perfectly still, his face like the unbroken surface of a mysterious ocean. "Bokuto-san has a very friendly and bright personality, and he's a very likeable person."

Just like he was . . .

Wrong person, Tenma . . .

"That's good to hear. It's obvious that you enjoyed his company tremendously, Keiji-kun," Udai said with a bemused smile, grabbing another onigiri. Despite how closed off and reserved he seemed, there were just those moments where Keiji was all too easy to read.

"I . . . It isn't like that, Udai-san, I . . ." Akaashi's ears flushed red yet again, this time in a deeper shade of it. Like sunset.

"I get it, Keiji-kun. It's nice to see that you've gained a friend. It feels nice, doesn't it?" 

Akaashi stilled for a moment, his hands that held his half eaten onigiri falling down to settle on his lap, and his head tilted down slightly. Instantly, Udai started to panic - had he said something he shouldn't have? Did he accidentally cross forbidden borders? Did he-

Then, Akaashi looked up, and on his lips was a . . . smile. A true, genuine smile, however small it was. Udai was utterly stunned. He had known Akaashi for quite some time now, yet never once had he seen Akaashi smile so frankly, so honestly, before. Maybe once or twice, hidden behind his hands, but never once like this.

"You're right, Udai-san. It feels even better than I would've thought it would."

"Akaashi!"

That voice was now the thing Akaashi always looked forward to the most every single day. Without fail, Bokuto would always find a way to see him, be it in person, by calls, or by texts. He always managed to make Akaashi's day brighter and in private, he could smile.

"Bokuto-san," he said in greeting. "I wasn't expecting you today."

The request had come in extremely abruptly, and Akaashi had barely managed to give his approval for the visit before Bokuto had burst in. He was still in sport clothing with his black and gold MSBY Black Jackals jacket thrown over, and his bag hung from his shoulder. His hair was down - something which stunned Akaashi. He was so used to seeing him with his hair up, it was startling to see it down. It wasn't that it made Bokuto look ugly - rather, it made him look even better, if that was possible.

"I'm sorry, Akaashi! I just . . ." Bokuto panted slightly, and smiled brightly. "It's just . . . I had a practice match at another place outside of the usual gym the Black Jackals usually use, and I was originally going to video call you, but . . . the shortcut I took happened to lead me to pass by the hospital, so . . ." He grinned so beautifully, and Akaashi's heart was filled with an inexplicable feeling that made him . . . well, it could even be something like happiness. 

"You didn't have to, Bokuto-san, but I appreciate it." Sometimes, Bokuto was just too good to him.

"It's fine! Besides, I always look forward to seeing you anyway." Bokuto giggled lightly. "How should I say it? I guess . . . I guess you're like volleyball in my life. Something I just always gravitate towards, if that makes sense?"

Something I just always gravitate towards . . . Akaashi reached out, and tentatively, took Bokuto's hands in his own. They were so warm, like what sunlight would feel like. "But right now, the season's about to begin again, isn't it? Surely you'll be extremely busy preparing for your upcoming games."

"So?" Bokuto shrugged nonchalantly, squeezing his hand in response. The smile he gave was different - it was far more gentle, more tender. It was so impossibly soft, and even loving, that it almost made Akaashi's heart break into half. "It doesn't matter. I'll always make time for those important to me, and you're one of them. I'll always find ways to see you, alright?"

"Bokuto-san . . ." Without warning, a tear slipped down Akaashi's cheek. He didn't even try to wipe it away, his eyes just stayed fixated on Bokuto. As expected, the volleyball player went into a panic, reaching forward to wipe away his tears. He leaned forward, his warm hand holding Akaashi's face with a heartbreakingly delicate touch, his other gently flicking the little droplets away. His face held so much soft concern that Akaashi felt like his heart would break for a second time.

"Akaashi?"

"I . . . I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry in front of you. I . . ." His voice choked up as his tears continued to flow uncontrollably. 

Without warning, Bokuto hugged him, letting him cry on his shoulder. He was much larger than Akaashi was, and his hold, while gentle, was fully protective. One hand was intertwined with Akaashi's, while the other stroked his back reassuringly.

"You can cry on my shoulder for as long as you need," Bokuto said softly, his voice still so tender. His touch had a comforting, calming presence on Akaashi, and he gave their intertwined hands a gentle squeeze. In his arms, Akaashi had never felt safer. He was warm, like what sunlight in spring would feel like.

"Bokuto-san . . ." Akaashi's other arm reached out to pull Bokuto closer to himself. "Thank you."

He heard Bokuto laugh softly and hold him even more tenderly. "It's alright, Akaashi. I'll always be here for you."

From where his face rested in the crook of Bokuto's neck, Akaashi's lips curved up into a genuine smile.

"Careful, Keiji."

Akaashi held on to his mother's hand as he stepped out of the car. He could still walk steadily, but his parents had insisted, just for his safety. His heart clenched as he did it. After his cardiac arrest, the doctors had pushed off giving him a diagnosis to reassess their notes with their newer data. Honestly, not knowing what was causing him to be the way he was was getting infuriating.

While Kyosuke went to open the door, Akaashi Tsuyuri was still fussing over her son. She was a tall woman, and despite her strong, defined features, there was a delicate kind of worry in her face whenever she looked at her son. She held on him tightly, as if she was afraid that if she didn't, he would be blown away by the wuthering day. 

"Keiji, how are you feeling? If you ever feel strange, tell me, alright? Don't hide it."

"I know, Mother. I will," Akaashi replied dutifully but robotically, letting his mother guide him forward. Udai had mailed him all the drafts that needed to be edited, after much asking and poking at. Akaashi understood that Udai was concerned about his health, but he could still do his work.

His mother guided him to the stairs, and he gripped the railings attached to the walls firmly as he made his way up to his bedroom, which doubled as his workspace. There, the drafts Udai had sent were already unpacked and neatly arranged into piles, placed beside his work table. A hand still on the handrails fitted in his room, Akaashi sat down and began to work.

After a while, his phone began to ring. His eyes flickered over to the screen, expecting it to be Udai or Yamaka, before widening slightly in surprised when he saw that it was Bokuto. He immediately picked up the call, confused but not unhappy about it.

"Bokuto-san . . . I wasn’t expecting a call at this hour. Is everything alright? Do you need something from me?"

"I'm alright, Akaashi, I just wanted to talk with you! Did I call at a bad time? I mean, I can call back at another time if I did . . ." Bokuto's voice trailed off sheepishly, and Akaashi just knew that he was scratching the back of his neck.

"You called at a good time, Bokuto-san. I'll always be glad to hear your voice." To himself, just for his own eyes, Akaashi smiled - truly and genuinely. During the past few months, Bokuto, despite how busy he surely was as a professional athlete, had always made time to see him, to talk to him, and just . . . just be there for him. Bokuto . . . Bokuto truly was a ray of light in his life.

"I - I - oh. Oh, um, well, I, I, uh, well, I'll also always be glad to hear your voice too, Akaashi!" A clearly flustered Bokuto stuttered back in reply. He was probably blushing as red as a tomato, and the mental sight of it almost made Akaashi want to laugh. "I, um, oh God, I don't know how to reply to that, it's . . ."

"It's alright, Bokuto-san. What are you doing right now?"

"I'm actually at home right now! I got back an hour ago, and I'm having my dinner now. What about you, Akaashi?"

"I'm also at home. I was just wrapping up on editing a manga draft."

"Ohhh! Actually, now that I think about it, I don't know who you're working with. I . . . I mean like, is that classified information? Can I-?"

Another small smile made Akaashi's lips lift up. "It's fine, Bokuto-san. I work for Udai Tenma - we've been working together for a few years now. He's known for his series Zombie Knight Zom'bish, which actually finished at the start of the year. Right now, we're in the process of creating drafts for another manga."

"Wait wait wait, Udai Tenma?"

"Yes . . . what is it, Bokuto-san? Do you know Udai-san too?"

"No, it's just that, I'm pretty sure Hinata - my teammate - has said that a player named Udai Tenma was the person who inspired him to play volleyball - the original Little Giant!" Bokuto exclaimed enthusiastically, before breaking into bright laughter. "Who would've thought!"

"It's quite the crazy coincidence. I was aware that Udai-san had a history with volleyball, but I didn't think he would've left quite the large impression." Akaashi had looked up the MSBY Black Jackals and the National Men's Volleyball Team quite a lot after meeting Bokuto. Hinata Shoyo had caught his attention quite a lot, from his insane plays to his bright smile which rivaled Bokuto's own. To think that Udai had been the person who inspired a monster like that . . . it was frankly quite unbelievable, but he knew that Bokuto wouldn't lie about such a thing.

"Oh boy, Hinata's gonna freak out once I tell him! He's gonna totally loose it!" Bokuto's infectious laughter echoed throughout Akaashi's body, and his smile widened.

"Bokuto-san, you probably shouldn't overwhelm Hinata-senshu like that. After all, I believe that the Black Jackals will still need him for the rest of the season," he deadpanned dryly, raising a brow.

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by some incredulous splutters, before Bokuto laughed again. Akaashi had already heard that sound so many times, over and over again, but whenever he heard it, the same warm feeling would spread through his chest. Every single time, it was always the same reaction. The warmth, the fuzzy feeling like he was floating in the clouds. His ears burned furiously with a bright red, and he almost let himself laugh together with Bokuto.

"A-Akaashi! I can't . . . oh my God, I can't believe . . . pfft!" Bokuto wheezed. Akaashi could hear him slap something, a table, probably. Bokuto continued for a few more moments, until there was a yelp and a loud crash.

"Bokuto-san!" Akaashi exclaimed, kicking back his chair as he stood up. "Bokuto-san, are you alright? Did you hit your head? Are you injured in any way? Should I call the hospital?"

He was breathing far too heavily. All he could think of was how he'd been in a similar situation - falling over abruptly, bleeding out. He knew he was probably overthinking it, that Bokuto probably wasn't in the same situation that he was probably just lightly bruised, but-

"Akaashi, I'm fine," Bokuto said, his voice heartbreakingly gentle and soft. With a start, as he collapsed on his bed, Akaashi realized that he was crying. His breath hitched, and he absently reached up to wipe away the tears. "I'm sorry, Akaashi. I'm sorry for scaring you. I'm sorry."

"No . . . No, it's my fault, Bokuto-san. I . . . I should be the one apologising. I overreacted. I'm sorry for acting like that," Akaashi breathed, placing a hand over his heart. "I'm sorry, Bokuto-san."

"Akaashi . . . Akaashi, do you want me to come over? I'm free right now."

"It's alright, Bokuto-san. I don't want to trouble you any further."

"Akaashi . . . then, can we video call?"

Akaashi bit his lip, hesitating for a moment, then relented. He wouldn't mind seeing Bokuto. And find, he'd admit that he also wanted to make sure that he was completely fine.

"Of course, Bokuto-san."

Usually, pulling devices out from the cable would be an easy task. But now, he had to edge his phone out slowly and carefully from the cable. His arms were paper thin, with hardly any strength left in them. He couldn't just jerk it out like he used to be able to.

"Akaashi?"

"I'm here." Akaashi flicked the screen on, and Bokuto's face appeared. He was dressed in casual attire - an oversized black hoodie and matching pants, with the words 'MSBY' and their mascot emblazoned on the front in gold. His hair was down - something which still startled Akaashi. Sure, he had seen him with his hair down before, but it wasn't any less shocking. Bokuto Kotaro was already a very handsome man, but when he left his hair down, that was further amplified.

He was fairly sure his ears were red.

"Akaashi!" Immediately, Bokuto brightened, his lips splitting into that beautiful smile. God, Akaashi had seen that smile so many times, but still, it was stunning every single time.

"Bokuto-san." Before he could stop it, the corners of his own lips tilted up into the very smallest of smiles. "How are you?"

Bokuto didn't respond - his face had a look of utter shock and awe, his skin slowly heating up to a bright red. Akaashi's face quickly became one of confusion. Why was he blushing? Neither of them had said or done anything that would warrant such a reaction, so . . .?

"Bokuto-san?"

"Um, ah, yeah, Akaashi?" Bokuto said, hiding his face behind his hands. Akaashi frowned, when Bokuto's hands covered both his smile and his shining golden eyes. Clouds had came in, blocking out the brilliant light of the burning sun.

"Bokuto-san, don't do that, please."

"Um . . . don't do what?"

"Hide your face. Your smile."

"My . . . My face? My smile? Why?"

"Because you're beautiful, Bokuto-san. Especially when you smile," Akaashi admitted with all the honesty and sincerity he had in him, even smiling without holding back, the smile only Bokuto could draw out of him. He'd never smiled like that before in a long, long time - the last time he had done so, was when had his last victory in a volleyball game. He didn't think that he would be able to smile in that way after being forced to give up playing the sport he had - still did, honestly - loved more than anything, but here was Bokuto, making him do that. "It'd be a shame to hide it."

"Beautiful . . . you think that I'm beautiful?" Bokuto stuttered, his face growing redder and redder. He looked like a tomato. A handsome tomato. Cute.

"I do, Bokuto-san."

"I . . . I . . ." Bokuto removed his hands from his face, and the clouds moved away to reveal the bright, fiery sun. The warm light that caressed his face so gently, embraced him so protectively . . . "Akaashi, you know what?"

"Yes, Bokuto-san?"

"I think that you're beautiful too." This time, Bokuto's smile was cheeky, but no less sincere or truthful. It took Akaashi's breath away. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met."

"Akaashi!"

Yamaka slammed open his bedroom door dramatically. He only raised a brow at her, setting down the draft he had been reviewing calmly. He was already used to her doing such things. "What are you doing here at this time of the day, Yamaka-san?"

"Get dressed, Akaashi, we're going out."

"Sorry to destroy your dreams, Yamaka-san, but if you mean it as a date, I'll have to say no. There's no way I'll ever agree to do such a thing with you," Akaashi said in the most dry, deadpan voice he had in his arsenal, resuming his review of the draft Udai had sent him.

She just rolled her eyes. She was dressed up - she had swapped out her nurse's garb for a more casual look, and she had left her hair loose. Clearly, she wasn't going to let him say no. "You know I don't mean it like that, idiot. We're going to the match between the MSBY Black Jackals and the Tachibana Red Falcons. I already got the tickets and I dressed up for this, so you can't say no."

"I figured as much. I'll need fifteen minutes," Akaashi sighed with equal drama, pulling himself out of his bed and going to grab a change of clothes. Yamaka was watching his every movement carefully, especially his legs. He couldn’t blame her - his leg muscles were pretty weak, and they were only getting worse. After the most recent fainting spells he had had, Yamaka wasn’t going to take any chances.

"Don’t take too long," she called, and he raised a hand in a 'yeah, yeah, whatever'.

Akaashi closed the bathroom door carefully behind him. He didn’t lock it - he never did. After he had once had a fainting spell in the bathroom, he always made sure to leave the door unlocked in case something like that ever happened again.

My appearance is changing again . . . my face looks skinnier, and my facial bones are becoming more pronounced. Akaashi sighed, touching his face. He was losing weight yet again. He always tended to do so after leaving the hospital, but it was still a jarring sight to see every time it happened.

Another sigh left his lips as he took off his nightclothes. It wasn’t just his face - it was his body too. He’d always been careful to maintain as active of a lifestyle as he possibly could, so he’d always stayed quite fit. Now, he was more bones than anything, and his skin had paled so much he looked like a skeleton, all things considered. He trailed his fingers over his shoulders, wincing the moment they travelled past his shoulder blades and to his back.

The jagged, raw skin. The marks that never fully healed. The uneven, scarred flesh. Akaashi immediately turned around, facing his back to the mirror and his eyes towards the door. Even so, his hands continued to linger on the scars on his back, tracing them. His gaze flickered down, them upwards, towards the reflection of his back and the horrendous beauty they held.

"Akaashi?" Yamaka's concerned voice called from beyond the door. "Akaashi, are you okay in there?"

"I am," he responded evenly, taking in a steady breath. "Just a minute."

He quickly pulled on the clothes, cleaning up his appearance. At least when he went to see Bokuto play, he wouldn't look terrible. It was strange, though. Usually, he only ever took care to dress up so nicely when he was forced to by Yamaka or his parents or he just had to. None of that had happened, and yet . . . 

For Bokuto-san, he thought, smoothing down his clothes before opening the bathroom door.

"You don't look okay," she said, tapping his forehead, a substitute for a flick, a frown on her face. "You look worse than usual, especially with that expression."

"Let's just go, Yamaka-san, we wouldn't like to be late, would we?" He deadpanned dryly, grabbing his bag that was already packed with things he needed for a trip outside. His every step was carefully taken, and Yamaka was watching every single one of them with her hawk's eyes.

As they made their way downstairs, Akaashi held on to both the railings and his hands tightly. His legs were the weakest part of his body, and the reason he couldn't play volleyball anymore. He could still walk, sure, but he had to be very careful about it, and most of the time, he needed some kind of support to keep himself standing steadily for extended periods of time.

"Your parents said that they'll be out for most of the day, and that we'll have to get our own lunch. They asked if you want to eat dinner at home or not though," Yamaka said, picking at her nails. "They said if you want to eat your dinner outside, they'll wire in more money for you."

Out for most of the day. As expected. They always were, with how busy they were, being world-class lawyers who specialized in high profile cases. He knew that his parents always tried to take either local or nearby cases for his sake, especially after his health problems showed themselves, but it wasn't always possible. If he was going to be frank, he preferred it that way. He just couldn't bring himself to face his parents, with the constant bad news he kept bringing them. He did miss them and wanted to have a closer relationship with them like he had in his childhood, but his guilt outweighed his wish and his longing. "It's alright. I'll eat at home."

Alone, as always. He had asked Yamaka and Udai to eat dinner with him on occasions, but mostly, he ate by himself. He didn't fully enjoy having to have his dinner in complete silence in an empty house, but at least he had time to himself.

". . . You sure?"

"I am." He gently opened the door, and standing outside by his white car, was Udai Tenma. Akaashi's eyebrows raised in surprise, while Yamaka smiled slightly.

"Udai-san? What are you doing here?"

Udai looked up, and grinned. "Yamaka-san said that we should bring you to the Black Jackals and Red Falcons match happening today, and you've been working non-stop for the past few weeks, so I decided that it would be a good break for you. Besides, I think that you would enjoy seeing Bokuto-senshu play in an actual game."

. . . Why do I feel irritated because he got it all right? Am I that easy to read? Akaashi thought. Surely not. He wasn’t that kind of person, as far as he knew.

Udai just laughed again. "You’re probably frustrated that I read you so easily, right, Keiji-kun?"

And again! Seeing whatever expression he was making, Yamaka snickered, and Akaashi instantly knew that he was just proving Udai's point. He gave her a withering look, purposefully ignoring Udai laughing lightly in the background. "Udai-san, Yamaka-san, we shouldn't delay. We wouldn't want to be late for the game, would we?"

"Still salty," Yamaka laughed, shutting the door behind her. Akaashi rolled his eyes, taking the back seat as he always did.

"Please drive, Udai-san," Akaashi deadpanned, purposefully making his voice louder in a childish attempt to drown out Yamaka. Udai laughed good-naturedly, already used to their banter at this point, and did as Akaashi had asked.

The ride was, for the most part, unremarkable. They exchanged good-natured quips as always, and Udai just laughed whenever Akaashi and Yamaka took one dry, sarcastic and faux mocking jab at each other after the another. Deep down, Akaashi wanted to smile, to laugh. He enjoyed this greatly - enjoyed having friends he could joke around with, play around with, and honestly, with whom he could act as if he didn't have a mysterious illness that might very well kill him at any given second. He loved it, in fact. More than anything else, he wanted this to continue for as long as possible.

It was an impossible dream, but . . . he wanted it to go on forever. He didn't want it to ever end. A spring that lasted an eternity.

"We're here. Yamaka-san, Keiji-kun, you can go find the seats first. I'll go see if I can get some food from Onigiri Miya before the game starts," Udai informed them. "Don't worry, Keiji-kun, I'll get your usual, if they still have it."

"Thank you, Udai-san," they both chimed, before heading towards the spectator stands. Yamaka guided the way, tugging Akaashi through the throngs of people. He held on to her hand for dear life, finally letting himself breathe out a sigh of relief when they finally found their seats.

"Bokuto-san’s part of the starting lineup, right?" Yamaka said, crossing her arms over her chest. She had taken out her glasses, and was squinting at the court. She didn’t have the best eyesight, something Akaashi would always snicker and attribute it to her constantly staying up late and crying over silly rom-coms in pitch black darkness. He had joined her just once on her movie nights, and had immediately sworn that he would never make that mistake ever again.

"Yeah, he is." Even among all the chaos and the people on the court, Akaashi immediately spotted Bokuto. He was talking to two other players - Sakusa Kiyoomi, number 15, and Miya Atsumu, number 13. On his back, the number 12 was displayed proudly, and he was shining. Miya Atsumu said said something which made Bokuto laugh and Sakusa threw them both exasperated looks. Even though they were so far away, separated by such a large distance, Akaashi found himself wanting to laugh along with him. "He's one of their wing spikers - their outside hitter."

Yamaka raised an eyebrow, then leaned back even further into her seat. "Their outside hitter, huh . . ." The look in her eyes was undescribable, and her fingers were shaking.

"Yamaka-san-"

"Keiji-kun! Yamaka-san! I managed to secure some onigiri for us!"

Immediately, the moment she saw him, Yamaka reverted back to her usual self, with her smiles and dry, sarcastic words. "Thanks, hope Akaashi's order ran out."

"Too bad for you, maybe in another life," Akaashi retorted calmly without looking at her, thanking Udai for bringing him the onigiri he loved. Yamaka whacked his arm lightly, and Udai just chuckled at them both.

"The game's starting, you both, you can argue later," Udai said, and just as the last word left his mouth, the introductions began. Immediately, Akaashi's full attention was captured by the court.

"Number 12, Bokuto Kotaro."

Bokuto's smile was as bright as ever as he showed off victory signs to the crowds. He was laughing too, and his every step was full of energy. His teammates all greeted him with equal energy, even Sakusa, who honestly seemed to be permanently exasperated with his team. For a moment, Akaashi was almost blinded by the light, his breath stolen, all because of one Bokuto Kotaro.

He's so beautiful, Akaashi thought, his eyes, every bit of him, fully fixated on Bokuto Kotaro.

The first serve went to Bokuto, and Akaashi found himself cheering along with the rest of the crowd, something he never did. The ball went up, Bokuto’s hand slammed into it, and it was a clean, no-touch ace from Bokuto.

"A no-touch ace! Bokuto Kotaro scores the first point of the match for the MSBY Black Jackals!"

"Wow, a no-touch ace right from the start!" Udai marvelled, leaning forward slightly. "Bokuto-senshu really is amazing."

"Yeah," Akaashi agreed, completely mesmerized by Bokuto. There really was no taking his eyes off him. He just shone too brightly for that. "He is."

Yamaka's eyes travelled to her side, towards Akaashi. The moment she caught sight of the smile starting to form on his thin lips, the reflection of the pure light in the deep oceans of his eyes, the shine in them, her own lips started to give way to a smile. So it's starting, then, with you and Bokuto-san . . . She almost laughed, before her expression became more serious. I hope you have better luck than I did. Though . . . She leaned forward, her eyes flitting between Bokuto and Akaashi. I think you already do, Keiji.

The game continued, in the Black Jackals' favour, though the Tachibana Red Falcons put up a fearsome fight. Eventually, they closed in on the final set, the deciding fifth, with two victorious sets to each team's name. 

Win, Bokuto-san, Black Jackals, win, Akaashi thought, clenching his hands into tight fists. Win this game . . .

"Wow . . . I don't think I've seen a match in the V.League so close in years," Udai chuckled, biting his fingernails. "I don't know which team will win at this point."

"Yeah . . . it's impossible to see where the final set will go," Akaashi agreed, resting his chin on his palm.

"Well, I can definitely see it going beyond twenty points. It's definitely going to be a really tight one," Yamaks commented, narrowing her eyes, chewing almost angrily on her onigiri.

And she was right. Every point, every single play, every single rally, every single set, everything, really . . . everything was so tight. Everything was executed so carefully, so meticulously. Until . . .

It's 23 to 24 now. Akaashi's eyes widened, and he breathed in deeply. It was now or never. One side needed to desperately score that final point while holding down their opponent so prevent a deuce. If that final point didn't come now, the final set would go up to the thirties.

The ball was set, flying high in the air, as if it was on slow motion. That's a beautiful toss, but who's going to spike it? Akaashi thought, before his eyes widened.

Bokuto-san?

From the back row, Bokuto lept up. His form, his approach, everything was pure perfection. Even at the end of the match, when any other player in his position would be crumbling, he was still so beautiful. With the light shining down at the perfect angle, his perfect form, it really looked like he had wings. It really looked like . . . he was flying.

Beautiful.

Three blockers - three blockers had risen up, forming a high, high wall. Just like in the match between Japan and Argentina at the 2021 Olympics. The blockers were all absolutely massive, and yet . . .

The ball slammed straight through the block, absolutely destroying the wall, and the MSBY Black Jackals won the match.

"That . . . That last spike from Bokuto-san . . . it was amazing," Akaashi marveled, his eyes wide. He couldn't find any other word to describe it - that last spike was just simply so amazing. Bokuto . . . he really flew for that one moment in time. It was simply mesmerising.

"Definitely was, it was just pure, true beauty." Yamaka smirked, leaning forward. "Actually, in fact . . ." 

"I don't trust that look, not one bit. What did you do, Yamaka-san?" Akaashi asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. She had definitely been up to something, and his instincts were telling him that she had somehow involved Bokuto in it. "You got Bokuto-san mixed up in whatever nonsense you've concocted, haven't you, Yamaka-san?"

She just shrugged, leaning back, sipping the drink Udai had gotten her. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."

"Yamaka-san, please don't get Bokuto-senshu or Keiji-kun in trouble," Udai deadpanned, not that he was being very helpful. In fact . . . 

"Udai-san, are you also involved in whatever Yamaka-san has come up with?"

"Ah . . . well, I can neither confirm nor deny that, Keiji-kun."

Both Udai-san and Yamaka-san, dragging Bokuto-san into whatever bullshit they've come up with . . . this isn't going to end well. He sighed, giving them both a look. Why are they both so childish?

"Udai-san, I'm disappointed in you. I can't believe you let yourself be pulled into Yamaka-san's shenanigans."

"Pftt, he's the one that suggested it, I was just the one to execute the plan."

". . . It really was a mistake to let you two be friends."

"Your loss I guess," Yamaka shrugged, sticking out her tongue at him. "Anyway, I told Bokuto-san to meet us by one of the side gates." She snickered, giving him a totally shit-eating look. "I called him, and he was already excited, but he was pretty much over the moon when I mentioned that you'd be coming. It's kinda cute, really."

"Kindly shut up, Yamaka-san." His ears were red, and Udai and Yamaka, those jerks, they knew. There was no way they were going to let him live through that one. "You're both terrible people."

"And you're even worse. Come on, get your stuff, Akaashi, we're meeting Bokuto-san at gate 3-E." Yamaka tugged him to his feet, all while Udai helped pack their things up.

"Anyway, Bokuto-senshu mentioned that he would like to have lunch at Onigiri Miya," Udai said, brushing the dust off the seats. He stretched his limbs, yawning a bit. "Ah, I think I sat down for too long. Let's go, shall we?"

Sometimes, I feel older than both of you. Akaashi sighed, but let himself be dragged along. He wouldn't trade all this, his friendship with Udai and Yamaka, for anything in the world.

"Bokuto-san!"

At the sound of hearing his name being called, Bokuto immediately perked up. He was already shining so bright, after getting that insane winning shot, but he seemed even brighter after catching sight of the trio.

More specifically, after catching sight of Akaashi Keiji. 

"Oooh, Yamaka-san! Udai-san! Akaaaashiii! Over here!"

"Bokuto-san." There was fondness in Akaashi's voice. Both Yamaka and Udai caught it, as well as the hint of a smile that was starting to creep up his face. Behind his back, they exchanged a knowing look. It was probably going to work.

"Akaashi! I wasn't sure if you were going to come!" Happily, Bokuto wrapped Akaashi in a hug, and he returned it. 

"Well, Yamaka-san absolutely insisted and left me with no other choice. Besides, I wanted to see you play in person," Akaashi replied, his voice muffled and so soft that only Bokuto would've been able to hear it. From where his face was hidden and buried in the crook of Bokuto's neck, he smiled. 

"Geez, you two, no PDA, please," Yamaka drawled, raising a brow, a hand on her hip. "Anyway, Bokuto-san, you mentioned that you wanted to catch lunch at Onigiri Miya with Akaashi?"

"Yeah! If it’s possible?" He asked, a hopeful gleam in his golden eyes. It was impossible to say no to him, not when he had that look on his face.

"Of course, Bokuto-san . . . I was planning on getting lunch after the game anyway. And I'll always be down for food at Onigiri Miya," Akaashi replied, his face feeling strangely warm as Bokuto kept his arm securely around his shoulders.

"Wish we could come, but . . . we have other things that we need to see to. And honestly, I don't want to have to third-wheel with you both. No offence, Bokuto-san," Yamaka said, raising an eyebrow, that shit-eating grin of hers making an appearance. "Besides, I think you two would like to have some time together."

"What-" Akaashi’s face flushed a bright red, and he became even more acutely aware of Bokuto’s arm that was wrapped around him. "Yamaka-san!"

"Is . . . Is it really okay, Yamaka-san, Udai-san?" Bokuto asked with widened, almost disbelieving eyes.

"Of course. Keiji-kun? What do you say?"

"Oh . .  . of course, Bokuto-san. I’d love to have lunch with you." Akaashi meant it - he enjoyed spending time with Bokuto more than he thought he would. Though, he was still nervous about the fact that Yamaka and Udai wasn’t tagging along. Most of the time, he would be with either one of them, since they would know exactly what to do if his health acted up. Bokuto . . . Akaashi didn’t want to scare him again if his health did in fact act out during their lunch date.

Wait. Date?

Yamaka had that shit-eating grin on her face again. God, that girl . . . "Well, we’ll leave you to it, then. Udai-san, shall we go?"

And Udai too . . . "Of course, Yamaka-san."

Both of them . . . I'm not surprised about Yamaka-san, but Udai-san? I thought you were more mature than that.

Yamaka and Udai quickly left, all while Akaashi just sighed. Those two, honestly . . . "Sometimes, those two, really . . ."

"But they're good friends." Bokuto stood beside him, a tentative hand on his shoulder, a smile on his face. 

Akaashi stared at them, their retreating figures growing ever smaller, until he could no longer see them. A ghost of a smile touched his face. "Certainly. And you are too, Bokuto-san."

"Oh . . . thank you." Bokuto blushed, and he really looked like a very handsome tomato, with a dash of adorable. "You're . . . You're a good friend too, Akaashi."

"Then, can I hold your hand, Bokuto? Though I'm still able to walk on my own, I think I would prefer to hold your hand for support, just in case. May I?"

Bokuto's eyes widened, and his blush deepened. "Oh . . . of course, Akaashi." He linked their hands together, firm but still softly tender. "If you prefer, we could take a cab instead of walking . . ."

"It's fine." Akaashi looked down, at his legs. "I want to make use of my legs for as long as they can still support me. I hope you'll understand."

"Oh . . . all right. I'm sorry, if I offended you-"

"There's nothing to apologise for, Bokuto-san. Let's go?" Akaashi gave him a small smile.

Bokuto looked stunned for a moment, before returning the smile and giving his hand a squeeze. "Yeah, let's go."

Miya Osamu gave them a private spot at the top of the building which the restaurant was located.

It was a beautiful spot that offered a scenic view of the city, and it was just them two too. The atmosphere could even be described as being romantic. It really did feel like a date, though Akaashi would never admit that to Yamaka. It would just inflate her head even further.

"That was a terrific match, Bokuto-san," Akaashi said, taking a bite of his onigiri. Delicious, as expected of Miya Osamu. "Your last spike, that winning shot, especially. It was spectacular."

"Really? Honestly, it was more nerve-wrecking, especially in the last set. I was really scared that I was going to get blocked and we would continue that deuce in that last shot, so . . . I just put all my power into it," Bokuto admitted somewhat sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I just wanted to win, honestly. I thought . . . I thought that if I managed to get that winning point, I’d look really cool, and I can brag about it to you, Akaashi . . ." Bokuto’s face burned red. "I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to attend the game or not, but still, I wanted to, well, I just . . ."

"Well, you definitely looked extremely cool on the court, Bokuto-san," Akaashi replied, taking another bite. "I’m amazed."

"I think your presence helped, even if I wasn’t aware that you were there. The whole game, I felt that I could do anything." Bokuto smiled cheerfully, leaning forward. 

Up close, Akaashi could see that there were darker flecks in his luminous eyes, and that there was a faint, sparse splatter of barely visible freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, like flowers speckling the spring fields with little dots of colour. It was . . . it was such a cute little thing about him. Across his arms too, though they were much lighter there. Without thinking, Akaashi reached out and booped his nose. "You have freckles . . . it’s cute."

"Oh . . . oh." Bokuto chuckled slightly, and leaned in to his touch. "I got them during . . . high school, I think? I tended to practice my serves a lot outside in the sun."

Serves . . . Akaashi had done that once too. He’d even been able to master a jump serve. Then just as he wanted to try a jump floater . . . "Bokuto-san, you have a hybrid, right? A jump serve with a floater’s spin and unpredictability?"

"Yup! Tsum-Tsum helped me to perfect it. It was a nightmare during the beginning, but . . . eventually, I got the hang of it after a lot of practice!" Bokuto explained, leaning back. "Though, it’s still not very accurate. I’ll need to work on that."

"It’s still a good serve though," he said wistfully, resting his cheek on his palm. "I’ve always wanted to be able to hit a serve like that, the best I could do was a jump serve. I even wanted to try a jump floater."

But my illness took over, and my legs became too weak for me to continue jumping and playing volleyball . . . even setting the ball, I couldn’t do it . . . volleyball, the one thing I loved - love, I still love it. So quickly, it was all taken away from me in an instant. I had to say goodbye so suddenly. Even editing Udai-san’s volleyball manga, it still isn’t the same as actually being on the court . . .

Bokuto’s eyes started to well up with emotion, and he grabbed Akaashi’s hands, his own so much warmer than Akaashi’s own cold ones. "Akaashi?"

"I’m . . . I’m sorry, I was just thinking about volleyball, the last time I played before I couldn’t . . ." His voice trailed off, and he looked down at their intertwined hands instead.

"Akaashi . . . could you . . . tell me more? I . . . I want to know more about you, if you’d let me," Bokuto said carefully, setting aside their food. 

He huffed softly. "Well, there isn’t much, honestly. I started playing volleyball when I was . . . five, I think? I played until I was fifteen, when my leg muscles became too weak to allow me to continue playing. Afterwards, it was just a blur of medical appointments, being hospitalised, going through school, graduating. I suppose before meeting you, the most eventful thing that happened was being assigned to work with Udai-san. There’s nothing else, really." 

"Akaashi . . . you must’ve been in so much pain in those years," Bokuto muttered, holding his hands even tighter. "It must've been a terrifying experience for you."

"Maybe in the beginning, it was," he admitted softly, squeezing his hand back. "But eventually, I learned to just . . . suppress my feelings, I suppose. It’s easier that way for me. It doesn’t hurt that much, I guess. Or feel scared as much. I was never the emotional kind of person anyway, so it wasn’t a big shift for me."

How can you feel so deeply about everything and for everyone, Bokuto-san? Akaashi thought as he gazed into the other’s eyes. They were so open to the rest of the world, so unfiltered, so unguarded.

Honest, true, bright. 

"I want to be there for you. If it’s possible, I want to help you in whatever way I can," Bokuto said, his hands so warm around Akaashi’s own. "If you’ll let me?"

"Why?" He asked, staring straight ahead at him. "Why . . .? Why me?"

"Because you’ve become so important to me, so quickly, and I can’t stand the thought of you having to be in pain, in fear, all by yourself." There it was again, that gentle look, the tenderness in his eyes. The one that made Akaashi’s heart melt, break into a thousand pieces, yet mended it at the same time. The kind of look that could almost be described as looking like one of pure, true love.

"Alright," he conceded softly. "Besides . . . I’ll admit it, you’re extremely important to me too, Bokuto-san."

Akaashi ended up spending the rest of his day at Bokuto’s apartment.

It was a nice place, and cozy, too. It was quite an expensive apartment, but Bokuto had managed to actually make it feel like a true, genuine home. Warm, quaint, welcoming. It suited Bokuto well, and it was an accurate representation of what kind of person Bokuto Kotaro was.

"Make yourself comfortable, Akaashi, I’ll go prepare some tea for you!" Bokuto called, quickly vanishing into the well decorated, modern looking kitchen.

Akaashi's eyes travelled around the apartment as he settled down on the large, soft couch, delicately placing his bag on the carpeted floor. The apartment had a large window that took over a whole wall, giving a panoramic view of the city. There were many awards, medals and photos lining the walls - medals from numerous volleyball related competitions, awards, framed, personal photographs.

Akaashi's own home paled in comparison. While a beautiful, luxurious and spacious place, it felt artificial and nothing at all like Bokuto's home, especially with all the railings that lined the walls that served as painful reminders of the state his health was in. Even his own room was rather empty - just his bed, his bathroom, his closet, his workspace, a few personal belongings.

"Akaashi, I hope you like red tea, it’s all I’ve got right now," Bokuto announced, entering the living room, carrying a tray with a teapot and two cups on it. He settled down beside Akaashi, immediately warming his cold body up with his warmth. 

"It's good," Akaashi muttered as he took a sip, curling up closer to Bokuto, to catch more of his fiery warmth in his icy cold hands. He pulled his legs closer to his body, resting his chin on the top of his knees. "Can we watch a movie?"

"Sure. Let's see what I have . . ." Bokuto reached forward to grab his collection of movie discs. "Hm . . . what about . . . I Want To Eat Your Pancreas? It’s good, and-"

"Please, not that one, none . . . none of those that involve sick girls, please," Akaashi snapped, his hands reaching out weakly to smack the disc away. It clattered onto the floor, the carpet muffling the sound. "I . . . I’m sorry. It’s just . . . I can’t . . ."

Bokuto Kotaro, you idiot! Why did you suggest that movie when it would probably be the kind that Akaashi wouldn’t want to watch? You’re an idiot, Bokuto Kotaro! A fucking idiot! Bokuto cursed internally at himself, as Akaashi shrunk into himself. The sick girl died in the movie - even a child could tell that Akaashi, someone who was in a similar situation as the girl, would never want to see something like that. "Akaashi, I . . ."

"I’m sorry . . . it’s not the fact that they die that affects me. It’s just . . . I just hate how they make it so . . . I just fucking hate how they depict sick people in those stupid movies!" Akaashi’s eyes became furious - blue flames. "It’s like . . . it’s like all we exist for is just to make others live their life to the fullest while . . . while just reducing us to what? Symbols? It’s like . . . it’s like we aren’t even human to them! And you know what I hate the most? The expectation that we’re supposed to always be happy and cheerful about the fact that we’re going to die! Why can’t I be unhappy? Sad that I have to die so soon? Depressed about it? Just . . . why? And it’s always made to look romantic, especially when the sick girl dies . . . do you know how fucking patronising it is? How fucking insulting it is?"

Tears streamed down his face, and he grabbed the front of Bokuto’s shirt. "So many people . . . they left me because I wasn’t like those sick girls they saw in those movies. Because I’m not cheerful. Perpetually happy. Strong. Because I’m not always positive. Because I don’t want to risk my safety just to go on those insane adventures the sick girls always go on in those movies. Because I’m scared that I’ll die from it. I hate that I’m sick like this, and I want nothing but to never have it in my life, and yet when I tried to look for answers in the media, all it tells me is that it’s beautiful and romantic to die from it! I fucking hate it all!" 

Akaashi collapsed into tears, burying his face in Bokuto’s chest. "I just want to be allowed to be sad, be depressed . . . I want to be able to feel weak, feel whatever I want without being judged . . . and . . . why? Why must I always have to smile and say that I’m not afraid, when death is the thing I’m the most terrified of? Why?"

Hesitantly, Bokuto reached out, and hugged him tightly. "Well . . . I know that I won’t be able to fully understand all of your experiences, but I think . . . I can understand a little bit." Perpetually happy and always cheerful . . . Those words were what most people always described him as. Even when he had really been unhappy, upset, and just anything other than positive, it had always been dismissed as just him seeking attention, or nothing serious. And when the people around him realised that those feelings were genuine, they would get upset, say that he was bringing the mood down.

And after they were done spitting out those harsh words, they would leave.

"I’ll stay," Bokuto muttered, holding him even closer. "Besides, I’ve already promised you that you can always cry on my shoulder whenever you want, and I’m never going to break to break that promise."

Akaashi pulled away slightly, his eyes of blue flames rimmed in deep crimson. "Bokuto-san . . ."

"Kotaro," he said, wiping away his tears. "You can just call me Kotaro." Not pity - it wasn’t pity he felt. Just . . . understanding. Never pity - Akaashi wouldn’t like that. No one would, honestly.

The blue flames widened for a moment, and a small laugh escaped his pale lips. "Then I suppose you can call me Keiji, Kotaro."

Despite everything, Bokuto found himself laughing too. "Well then, if you ever fall, I promise, I’ll be there to catch you, Akaashi Keiji."

"And same here, Bokuto Kotaro."

In that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, their hearts synchronised, all the stars aligned, it felt . . . it felt safe.

It felt like home.

"Boku - Kotaro?" Akaashi's voice was small, and he had a smile on his lips, but there was uncertainty, fear, there too. Terror, even. All across his face, his expression was raw, open, hiding nothing, letting Bokuto see everything, every emotion, every minute detail. "There's something I want to tell you."

"Hm?" Bokuto's face was open too, raw, just as Akaashi's was. Their truest forms - no barriers, no walls, just two souls, with nothing between them, nothing separating them.

"I love you, Bokuto Kotaro." Honest, matter-of-fact, and straight to the point. With no filter, just saying it as is, like the fact it was.

For a long minute, Bokuto stared at him in shock, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Like Akaashi was speaking some foreign language, rubbish. Like he couldn't understand a single word.

"Keiji?" Bokuto's voice was awestruck, and he reached up, his hand resting shakily on Akaashi's cheek.

"Yes?" 

"Can I kiss you?"

Akaashi's own hands reached up, to hold Bokuto's face. A huff of laughter escaped him. "Of course, Kotaro."

The kiss was soft, warm, gentle. Full of sweetness, and love. Just love in its purest form, that kind of love you'd only find with the one, your soulmate, your other half, the one you would never be complete without.

Akaashi pulled away first, however reluctantly, a smile on his lips - the most genuine he'd ever produced. He was happy - happier than he could ever imagine. The kind of happy he'd always wanted to be.

"I love you too, Akaashi Keiji."

Akaashi woke up feeling safe and secure.

He was curled up in a foetal position, his head resting on Bokuto’s chest, held protectively yet gently in his hold. Warm. It was warm, and it really felt like he was home. Here, with Bokuto.

"Kotaro?" Akaashi muttered softly, pulling himself up into a slightly sitting position. 

Bokuto's eyelids fluttered, and a slit of his golden eyes shone through. A sleepy smile made its way to his lips. "Good . . . morning, Keiji," he muttered, brushing the hair out of his eyes, his voice a low, sleepy whisper.

"I have work today. Don’t you have practice too?"

Bokuto pouted. ". . . I do, but I want to spend the day with you . . ."

Akaashi smiled slightly as he brushed a hand over Bokuto’s cheek. "Bokuto Kotaro, is that your way of asking me out on a date?"

His cheeks burned. ". . . You can’t prove anything."

Akaashi’s smile widened. "Come on now, Kotaro. This weekend, I can spend it with you if you’re free. Is that alright?"

Bokuto laughed, reaching up to brush away the bits of hair that were obstructing Akaashi’s eyes. "Of course."

Akaashi truly wished that they could’ve stayed like that, in each other’s arms, having the whole day to themselves, but they both had work, other responsibilities they needed to fulfill. As he reluctantly got out of the bed to prepare himself, Akaashi’s ears flushed red as he remembered the confessions, the kiss. They’d just cuddled and watched Studio Ghibli movies in Bokuto’s bed before they both fell asleep sometime during Ocean Waves. It was wholesome and all, but . . .

Akaashi Keiji, don’t you dare, don’t you dare start thinking like that.

"Keiji?" Again, that red flush returned. There was just something about the way that his name rolled off so smoothly off Bokuto’s tongue, the tenderness with which he said it. "What do you want for breakfast? I’ve got . . . um, eggs, bread, bacon, some vegetables for a salad . . ."

This feels . . . it feels so domestic. Akaashi allowed himself a smile as he walked to the kitchen, a hand on the walls to support himself. "I’ll just have some eggs and bread. Toasted, please."

"Of course." Bokuto’s smile was soft, tender, as he gently guided Akaashi to the chair. "With sauce?"

"Hm . . . yes, but not too much, I think." Akaashi’s smile was equally loving as he watched Bokuto. He was happy, content. He’s so deeply, so hopelessly in love with Bokuto Kotaro, so much more than he would’ve thought was possible. It was a beautiful feeling, the most beautiful in the world. It had to be. The feeling of being so in love with someone, it was so beautiful. 

"Keiji? What’s on your mind?" Bokuto asked, head tilted to the side, golden eyes both confused and concerned.

"Nothing much," he muttered back, reaching out to hold Bokuto’s face. "I’m just thinking . . . that it’s such a beautiful feeling. To be in love. To love you."

Bokuto blinked, mouth open, face reddening, flushing a deep crimson, before he broke into a smile and leaned into his touch. "Loving you, Akaashi Keiji, is equally beautiful too."

"Keiji, you look so much happier than I’ve ever seen you."

Akaashi flinched, before meeting his mother’s eyes. "Oh . . . do I?" His voice was quiet, subdued, and he sat in the back seat curled into himself, his hands lying folded on his lap. He was wearing one of Bokuto’s large, oversized hoodies - one with his comforting scent, his own way of coping as he was forced to the hospital to finally receive his diagnosis.

"Of course. You’re glowing, and you’re smiling more. Especially after you return from those long trips you always take." Tsuyuri smiled kindly at him, brushing away the stray strands of hair in his eyes. He scrunched up his face, but let his mother do it. "You’re happy. Are you in love?"

He looked away, fiddling with his fingers. He had been feeling so much happier - more than he had ever felt in his life. With Bokuto, he really was so happy, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever laughed or smiled so much at once. Bokuto Kotaro really was someone else. He was such a beam of light. ". . . Was it obvious?"

"So you really are!" His mother had a delighted smile on her face, and he spotted a similar one on his father’s face too. He hadn’t seen them so happy in so long. It’s only ever been worry, fear, pain. To finally see them smile genuinely for once . . .

"It’s such a lovely thing, isn’t it, to be in love with someone? The bliss it brings?" His mother hugged him tightly, and Akaashi let her, when he would’ve pushed her away any other time, however politely. 

Akaashi thought of Bokuto - everything, his smile, his bright personality. The way he could always make him feel so at ease, so happy, the way he was just so good to him, with his hugs and kisses and laughter. His sincerity, his honesty. The passion in his eyes, the love.

And just . . . him.

"Yeah, it is." And it was warm - to have his mother hug him like that with such delight, instead of those pitiful ones. It was a nice change, and he liked it - very, very much. Was that what it felt like, to have a relationship with his parents that wasn’t strained with pain and suffering and guilt? One where they were so comfortable with each other, without there being invisible walls keeping them apart, without a progressively worsening illness keeping a distance between them. 

Maybe, in another life, we could live as a normal family - just the three of us, without any kind of disease keeping us apart, have a normal life like other families . . . Hesitantly, Akaashi reached out, and returned his mother’s hug, smiling slightly. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever done such a thing, even before his illness had first struck. Maybe when he was a baby, he had done it before, but he wasn’t sure if he had ever willingly done a thing like that. 

"Mother, Father, do you think that we can have lunch together today?" Akaashi asked timidly, hesitantly looking up at his mother.

"Of course, Keiji. Where do you want to go?" His father asked, the small mirror reflecting a smile.

"Could we . . . eat at home? Have a home cooked lunch?" He smiled, hesitantly but truthfully. "I’ve . . . I’ve missed being able to eat meals cooked by you, mother. Could we have that today?" And eating like a family . . .

Right there and then, Akaashi Tsuyuri burst into tears, and before her son had a chance to react, she brought him in for another hug. His father laughed, and Akaashi scrunched his eyebrows slightly in confusion. "Mother? Father?"

"Keiji, of course! I . . . I’m sorry, Keiji, for hardly being around in your life and always using my job as an excuse. Really . . . I’ve missed spending time with you, Keiji!" His mother sobbed, hugging him tightly. "Of course, of course, of course, we’ll spend time together as a family, I’m so sorry that I’ve constantly left you alone by yourself."

"It’s alright," Akaashi muttered, hugging her tightly. "You and father are here now, it’s all that matters." There’s no point in lingering on the past. And besides . . . He smiled tightly. "It’s my fault too. I was equally distant too, I kept you away. I should apologise to you and father too."

We’ll make up for lost time, and . . . we can start to be a real family again.

"You sure you really want to go in by yourself?" Yamaka frowned, a concerned expression on her face, arms crossed over her chest.

"I’ll be fine," he replied dismissively, waving a hand at her to shake her off. "I can handle it by myself. You don’t have to worry about me."

Yamaka narrowed her eyes and unfolded her arms. "Liar. You’re panicking right now, aren’t you?"

He didn’t even dare to meet her eyes. ". . . Maybe."

She sighed, pushing away a stray strand of hair away from her face. "Should I call Bokuto-san, at least? Or Udai-san, even?"

He shook his head weakly. "There’s no need to. Udai-san has to meet his deadlines, and Kotaro already knows that I’m here. I’ve already informed him in advance. But thanks for the thoughtfulness, Yamaka-san. I’m surprised that you had that in your black heart."

"Shut up, will you?" Yamaka fired back, as smooth and quick as ever. Then, her eyes narrowed. "Hold on a sec . . . hold on a fucking second. Akaashi Keiji, when the hell did you start calling Bokuto-san by name?"

. . . Oops. Right. He hadn’t told her yet. ". . . Ah. I forgot to tell you."

She sighed yet again, and gave him a look. "You and Bokuto-san finally got your acts together and confessed, right?"

"Must you say it like that? But yes, we confessed. More specifically, I did. I confessed in the heat of the moment, and then he did too. And then we . . ." Akaashi’s face burned a bright red as he remembered what had followed. It was such an innocent thing, they’d just kissed before watching Ghibli movies and sleeping, but . . . God, I’m so in love with him.

Bokuto Kotaro . . . the most important yet unexpected gift God had granted him, the man who had changed his life so drastically yet in the best way possible. His friend, his light, the one he loves. How is it possible to love someone this much?

Yamaka laughed softly, and pulled him into a soft hug. "Well, congrats. You deserve to have that happiness, Keiji."

You rarely ever call me by my given name . . . Akaashi smiled gently into her shoulder as he hugged her back with equal softness. It was so rare, that they actually went into first name territory, and it made it all the more special, more genuine. I’m really glad that I have you as my friend, Yamaka Mika. He patted her on her back. "Thank you, Mika."

Yamaka pulled away, that genuine smile still on her face. "Well, I’ll be waiting outside, alright? Once you’re out, you’re gonna tell me everything that led up to the confession."

"Of course." Akaashi still smiled, for the friend he so treasured, who had seen him through so much of his worst times, almost all of his many stays at the hospital. Thank you for being my friend. "Just wait a while for me."

And also, so that we don’t have to talk about what I’m going to be diagnosed with . . .

It was just him running away - and they both knew it. More than anyone else, Akaashi knew how cowardly he was, how afraid he was of talking about the bad things, how scared he was of having to face the harsh reality he was living in. He knew that he had to stop running away one day, that he had to face the ugly truth one day, instead of the beautiful lie he so wanted to believe, but he still couldn’t turn around to do so, find that courage for it.

One day, I’ll do it. Just . . . just not today.

"Please have a seat, Akaashi-san." The doctor was a kindly old man with a gentle smile, but there was something too sweet, too sugary about it.

"I’ll be direct, Akaashi-san. You have a genetic disease called Friedreich’s Ataxia, and right now, you have also developed hypertrophic cardiomyopathy and arrhythmia. Due to that, you are at a very high chance of suffering an early death form heart failure brought on by your cardiomyopathy." The doctor looked at him sympathetically - and that was it. His eyes widened, and his fisted hands tightened, his skin turned white. His heart began to beat even faster, and his blood crashed down like a devastating wave.

His lips parted like he was going to say something, but instead, he just rushed out of the doctor’s office.

"Akaashi-san? Akaashi-san! Please come back! We-" Akaashi didn’t listen - he just raced down the hospital hallways, the hallways he wished he wasn’t so familiar with. Anywhere - anywhere but the doctor’s office.

"I’ll talk to him, Miyazono-san." That soft voice - was that Yamaka’s? He didn’t know, he didn’t know, he didn’t know - 

Where even am I? Akaashi sunk down on his knees, all alone in a dark room. Mother. Father. Yamaka-san . . .

An early death . . . He couldn’t believe it. I’d never thought that would be it . . . I figured I was most likely just going to hear that I’m just going to be left with much weakened muscles, maybe even have to be in a wheelchair, but never this . . . He buried his face in his hands. And just when I thought everything was starting to look up for me . . .

"Karma’s a bitch."

The door opened, and he looked up into Yamaka’s mildly amused eyes. "Were you internal monologing?"

"You have no proof I was," he muttered, his voice flat. He wanted to cry, but at the very same time, he just wanted to hide from the rest of the world.

"I can tell that you were." Yamaka sat down in front of him. "And you want to cry, don’t you? Go on, you big crybaby."

"I’m not-" His actions betrayed his words, as the dam that held the oceans in his eyes broke and his tears overflowed. Yamaka sighed. Akaashi loved to act all cold and tough, like he wasn’t that affected by the fact that his health was progressively deteriorating, but it had a bigger impact on him than he would let anybody know, though honestly, he was so easy to read. His distant nature, the way he seemed to always keep everyone at arm’s length, how tightly he kept his emotions restrained.

"Come on, you really are a big crybaby." She laughed slightly, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. His shoulders curved in, and he pulled his knees up to his face, hugging himself.

"Oh, shut up," Akaashi muttered, his voice breaking as he desperately tried to stop the flood of tears that was spilling out to no avail. "I’m not . . . I’m not . . ."

"Tell me about the time you confessed to Bokuto-san, then," Yamaka said. Running away like cowards from the problem - they always did that, but now, it was for the better, because frankly, they were two massive cowards when faced with the truth at their cores. At least, it would be better for him to talk about something happier than to talk about whatever had gone down in the doctor’s office. "Would that be better?"

"Yeah . . ." Akaashi hiccupped, and his face was flushed, his eyes reddened, swollen, from his tears. "Yeah, it would be . . ."

Because Kotaro makes me happy . . .

The ride home . . . in the simplest way possible, it was quiet. Akaashi, Tsuyuri and Kyosuke were all trapped in their own worlds, none of them saying a word to each other. Akaashi was curled into himself, his face turned away from his parents, buried in Bokuto’s hoodie. His eyes were still red and puffy from his tears, his voice hoarse. It felt like the wall between him and his parents that he had started to break down was starting to build itself back up again.

I’m dying . . . Just when he had finally managed to start to mend his relationship with his parents. Just when he had found love in Bokuto. Just when everything was starting to look up for him . . .

From a hopeful spring marching towards a new beginning, to a bleak winter tumbling down and down into a dead end.

Why must it be one that’ll cut my life short? Sure, it wasn’t like the doctor had said it would leave him with only a few more months to live or anything like that - after Yamaka had managed to get him back to the doctor’s office, he’d been assured that FA patients could still live full lives. But then he’d followed that up by saying for his case, it might kill him much earlier through heart failure.

But there’s still hope, there’s still light. There’s still a chance for me. There’s a surgery that has a chance at getting rid of whatever’s wrong with my heart . . . He took in a deep breath, and buried his face deeper in the hood. It still had Bokuto’s scent, a warm, gentle scent that made him feel more comfortable. There’s hope, there’s hope, there’s hope for me. I can still live a long, long life. He took in another deep breath, and looked up. It’s alright, it’s alright. I can get through this. I  can get through this. I can get through this.

I can . . .

He could still go on for a long, long time.

He could still go on . . .

He could still . . .

"Um . . . mother, father, I’m sorry for my outburst at the hospital. I should’ve listened to the doctor’s full explanation instead of losing control and running away like that," he admitted awkwardly, fiddling with his fingers as he turned around to look at his parents. "I’m . . . I’m sorry for my embarrassing behaviour."

Tsuyuri blinked, and she mustered a smile. "Don’t be. It was . . . it was a very intense moment, especially for you, Keiji. It was expected that you would lose control of your emotions during such a time, and if I’m going to be honest, I know that if I were to find myself in a position like yours, I would’ve reacted similarly."

"Besides, at least, I’m glad that you still went back," Kyosuke laughed, obviously trying to keep the mood light. "And there’s a cure!"

"Not fully curable," Tsuyuri corrected him. "But enough that Keiji can live with a high quality of life."

And that’s enough for me, being able to live as full a life as possible with Kotaro, Mika, Udai-san, mother, father . . . Akaashi wanted to smile. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. I can still be happy and live.

I’ll make it happen . . . 

He feel asleep on his mother’s shoulder with a smile on his face, one that stayed . . . 

. . . Even as he arrived home, in his room, wrapped in his blankets and with Bokuto on the other end of the phone.

"It’s treatable. In fact, there’s medication for my cardiomyopathy that can get rid of the symptoms of it and the obstruction in my heart. I’ll still have it, but I’ll be fine." Akaashi pulled the blankets tighter around himself. Usually, he wasn’t that susceptible to the cold, but recently, he’d been feeling the cold more and more. "Though, it still has it risks, but then again, every surgery does."

He tried to keep his voice as light as possible, but it was hard to do so. He’d like to believe that, but it wasn’t the most faithful. He was at an extremely high risk of dying before he hit 40 from cardiac failure, and he’d been told that he would most likely not respond to the medication and would need to undergo an open heart surgery to try to relieve that threat. Even so, his cardiomyopathy was very likely to progress to end-stage very quickly, which would almost guarantee him a very sudden death in the near future. 

There’s hope, Akaashi Keiji, hope, hope, hope. It isn’t over yet, be strong. Akaashi leaned back into his bed, already feeling sleepy. "That’s great! Keiji, I’m so happy for you!" A smile was clearly stamped on Bokuto’s voice, and he couldn’t stop his own little laugh. Then, his voice quieted. "But . . . there’s still some other factors to it, isn’t there, Keiji?"

Akaashi’s breath caught in his throat, and a burst of energy spread through him. His eyes widened slightly, his lips parted, and he released the trapped breath. "To be entirely honest? The doctor said that the medication would most likely not work, and I would have to undergo an open heart surgery. Also . . . Also I’m at a much higher risk of dying suddenly with how many fainting episodes I’ve had and how my cardiomyopathy symptoms are on the more severe side."

He blurted it all out in one breath, and he sunk even deeper into his bed, tears starting to pool in his eyes. "It’s . . . It’s harder than I thought it would be, Kotaro . . . I thought that I’d able to handle it, but . . . but I can’t handle it, I can’t . . . I just can’t accept the fact that I might be dead before I’m 40!" Tears flowed uncontrollably, and he curled into himself. "I’m afraid . . . of having to leave everyone I love when things are looking better for me . . . I just found love in you, and I was starting to mend my relationship with my parents . . . I just . . ."

"Keiji . . ." Bokuto sounded like he was completely at a loss for what to say. "I don’t know . . . I . . ."

A sudden, unexplainable dose of anger - a baseless anger at Bokuto even though all he was doing was being a good significant other to him, giving him the sincerity, the honesty, the kindness, the understanding, that Akaashi loved him for - burst through him, through the tears and the hopelessness he tried desperately to mask beneath an increasingly fragile wall of strength, of hope, of cheerfulness he wished he could truly feel. And that anger, the unhappiness, the pain, everything that had been building up for so long within him, burst out.

"Of course you don’t! How would someone like you, an able-bodied athlete, know what I would be going through? You don’t have to live with an illness that can kill you at any moment hanging over you, you don’t have to live with the fact that you aren’t going to be able to live as long as your friends and loved ones, you didn’t have to live with an illness that’s been haunting you throughout practically your whole life, you don’t have to live with the fact that it’s taken away just about everything you treasure! You wouldn’t know anything!"

A heavy moment of silence hung between them. Akaashi was breathing heavily, his body shaking with each and every breath he took, and a flood of tears flowed down his red face. His fingers shook, trembling as they tried to hold on to his phone.

Then, it struck him, what he had said. All those ugly words, everything, to Bokuto, who didn’t deserve it. Bokuto, who had been nothing but endlessly loving and supportive, giving him all the love he had in him and being there when Akaashi needed him. He was being such an ungrateful person, and even though he knew his words had truth in them . . . 

"Keiji . . . I think . . . I think we should spend a little time apart. Let you have time to yourself, you know? So that you can sort out your feelings." And Bokuto hung up.

His quiet voice had been filled with so much hurt, and could even be described as indignant. As the line died, the phone slipped out of his fingers, the fall cushioned by the thick blankets wrapped around his body. Dark spots splattered across the white sheets, as his tears finally fell down. Then, he buried his face in his hands, and cried the hardest he’d ever cried in his life.

I fucked up.

A soft, gentle knock sounded on his door, and his father’s voice flitted through the thick wood. "Keiji? Can I come in?"

If I tell him, he’s probably going to blame me for ruining my relationship with Kotaro. And he wouldn’t even be wrong either. He sniffled, and wiped away the tears from his face. "Of-Of course." His voice was a hoarse croak, weak and defeated, like a fallen warrior. 

The door opened quietly, and his father peeked in. "I heard . . . I heard your outburst."

Immediately, guilt and shame took over, and he shrunk into himself. "I’m . . . I’m sorry-"

"It shouldn’t be me you’re apologising to. It should be the nice man on the other end of the line." His father’s voice was firm, commanding. He only ever used that when Akaashi had really, really screwed up, which was . . . rare. It only served to make the guilt, the shame, inflate in his heart.

"I . . . I know. I’m in the wrong here."

His father’s eyes softened, and he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "You’re stressed out, aren’t you? From the diagnosis, all the years of illness, of hospitalisation, the years of turmoil. You’ve always been quiet and reserved, Keiji, but I’d be lying if I say I didn’t see any hint of anger, resentment, in you. But that’s my fault too - if I’d been a good father, then maybe I could’ve helped relieve it."

"It wasn’t just you, Father," he muttered, his voice just barely above a whisper, fiddling with his fingers, the tears on his face starting to dry. "I didn’t communicate properly with you or Mother either. I was . . . I was distant and cold, and I always kept everything to myself. I was part of the problem too."

His father had an almost stunned look on his face, before breaking into a light burst of laughter. "We’re . . . we’re quite a mess of a family, aren’t we?"

Yeah . . . He looked down, at his phone, which still had Bokuto’s name scrawled across the otherwise pitch black screen in bright white characters, like what Bokuto himself was - his light in the darkness, and the sword of guilt dug even deeper into his heart. I’m a massive problem, aren’t I? First with how’d I screwed over things with Kotaro, and now even my father sees me as the main cause as to why our family’s so messy . . . His fingers tightened on the thick blankets he had buried himself within. "I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry for everything."

Bokuto realised something critical about Akaashi Keiji that afternoon.

For all his stoicism and carefully constructed persona, he was someone with an intensely deep capacity for feeling. He’d already known that - just not the full extent of it.

It had always been building up, and it was only just then that everything had came spilling out. No - not everything. Part of it. There was no chance that was everything which had been boiling within Akaashi for all those years he had to live with his illness. Since his early adolescent years, he’d mentioned once. But those emotions - the raw anger, the resentment, yet together with the hopelessness, the despair, the pain, the loneliness . . .

He’s already shown me a silver of that part of him before. That day, when we had our first kiss. When he let out some of that loneliness, that isolation, those unrealistic expectations, the hatred for movies that make dying from sickness so romantic, the feeling like he’s supposed to be someone he’s not, so many complicated things that only someone who’s experienced a life like his would be able to begin understanding . . . Bokuto looked up at the ceiling. Maybe there are some things I could also relate to, some things I could stay faithfully by his side to help him out of . . . but not everything. I know that there’s truth in his words, and yet . . .!

He felt incredibly, uncontrollably, hurt by those words. He’d never been that fragile, but it had always been a different thing when it came to people he loved and cared for. Why when his sister would scold him harshly, he would feel sulky for days, even if he had deserved it. Why he would feel down in the blink of an eye not when he made a mistake in his play not primarily because his own pride was hurt, but because it was negatively affecting the team he so cared for, especially when he had became captain. Sure, to others, it looked like he’d grown out of it after seeing that his ‘emo mode’ as the guys of Fukurodani had dubbed it as also had a bad effect on his team, but that wasn’t the complete truth - he just knew how to suppress it until he was all alone to let it all out. And with Akaashi Keiji . . .

He glanced over at his phone. Was telling him . . . was telling him that we should have some time apart a good thing? What if . . . I just end up making things so much worse for us both? Especially for Keiji?

He just gazed blankly up at the ceiling, a hand thrown over his forehead. Akaashi could feel everything so deeply, from love and passion, to all those darker emotions he had shown Bokuto a tiny glimpse of. Bokuto loved him for it - but now, that quality was more terrifying than anything. Bokuto knew what it felt like to be so tormented by your inner demons so much that you just felt like ending it all, forever. He’d almost done it before in the past. He wouldn’t say he had truly, fully gotten over it, but at least, he’d managed to find happiness too suppress those feelings. But would Akaashi be able to find that spark all by himself too, like he had? 

He’s not alone, he has Yamaka-san, Udai-san, his parents . . . He’s known them for so much longer than me, surely . . . But that was just wishful thinking, wasn’t it? Akaashi, he . . .

"Yamaka-san and Udai-san would know," he muttered to himself, picking his phone back up. He probably shouldn’t call Udai - the man was most likely too busy with his job as a popular manga artist, though Yamaka would mostly likely respond. It would be safer to call her instead.

The sound of the phone dialing reverberated throughout his apartment as he curled up on his couch. Finally, after a long moment, she responded. 

"Bokuto-san? Is everything alright? Did something happen?"

He swallowed, taking in a deep breath. "Well . . . I guess. We had a . . . I guess it could be considered as an argument. Or a falling out?"

". . . Oh." She cursed softly beneath her breath, too softly for him to understand. "Well, shit. What exactly happened?"

"We were talking on the phone . . . Keiji talked about his diagnosis, then about his feelings about it and the ramifications it would have, and then . . . he yelled at me. About how I wouldn’t know anything he was going through." He sunk into his couch. "Well . . . that’s the simplest way I can put it."

"Fuck . . . I should’ve seen something like this happening . . . Akaashi was already not in the best mental state at the hospital, and . .  . shit, shit, shit, ah goddamnit! Bokuto-san, what did you respond with?"

Suddenly, fear rushed through him, like the waves of a tsunami. Fear for Akaashi, what he might do. That he himself had made a really, really big mistake with how he’d responded. "I . . . told him that we should take some time apart, so that he could focus on his own feelings . . ." A cold feeling washed over him. "Was . . . Was that the wrong thing for me to say, Yamaka-san?"

"I honestly don’t know, Bokuto-san. I’ve never had to see Akaashi would react to those kind of words, because honestly, it’s the first time he’s ever had someone like you in his life. At least, as far as I know, but he wouldn’t hide it if he’d had any past relationships like the one he has with you from me. I don’t know . . . I hope that he’s not going to take the negative path . . . but he’s such a fucking pessimistic little shit, he’s definitely going to go there . . ." She muttered more curses, and against all odds, Bokuto laughed, a small, quiet sound, a tiny smile making his lips curl up.

"What’s so funny?" Yamaka asked, and she was most likely raising a confused brow too. 

"Nothing, it’s just that . . . I’m surprised by how much you swear." It was a dumb thing to laugh about, but honestly? Right now, he just needed some kind of lightness to balance out the heaviness on his shoulders. "And, I’ll admit it, I need something to . . . I just-"

"Something to laugh about so that you can run away from reality?" Yamaka deadpanned, and Bokuto almost lost his voice at how accurate it was. Then, she, too, laughed, a broken sound. "I can say I know that feeling. I’ve done it too many times to count. It’s easier that way, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, but what if I do it now and it ends up just . . . just being the worst mistake I make? And because I chose to run away, something bad happens to Keiji? I  can’t . . ." His voice cracked, and his lip quivered. "I don’t want any more bad things to happen to him."

"Who does, Bokuto-san?" She snorted, before sobering immediately. "I’ll see if I can check in on him. I’ll try to get his parents in on it too, if I can. I’ll fill you in later, alright?"

"Yeah," he sniffed, pulling his legs closer to his body. "Thanks, Yamaka-san, for everything. And . . . I’m so-"

"Don’t start, Bokuto-san. There’s nothing to apologise for. And if you really want to do it, save for after we’ve confirmed that Akaashi’s fine. Until then, let’s just focus on ensuring that Akaashi is alright."

Bokuto retreated even further into himself. "I will. I just want . . . I just want Keiji to be okay . . ."

"So do I, Bokuto-san. I swear, I’ll make sure he doesn’t end up trying to do anything reckless."

He nodded, and the moment she hung up, all he wanted to do was to just cry his heart out. He was still hurt by Akaashi’s words, but he still loved him beyond belief. He didn’t want him to have to be in a bad place, and if it happened because of him . . . But at the same time, I couldn’t just take that in complete silence . . . Even so, should I have said it differently? I’d promised him that I would always be there for him, and that he could always cry on my shoulder, but now . . . but now . . .

His whole body deflated. Keiji . . . please. Please be okay . . .

"I’m fine." That was what Akaashi Keiji told everyone around him, but truth to be told, he wasn’t.

Not completely, anyway. But he wondered if his parents could pick that out even if he smiled. Why? Frankly, he didn’t know why. But he just wanted to see if that was possible. If his parents could tell a truth from a lie in his expressions like Yamaka, Udai, Bokuto could. Was that his own pathetic way of trying to make himself feel better? Some kind of way of getting acknowledged, seen by his parents? By the very people whom he had pushed away first and in turn started all their family’s problems?

Not a fucking chance, Akaashi Keiji. If they can’t tell the lie from the truth, then it’s your own fault. Did you really forget who was the one who brushed them off throughout all those years? It was you.

You, you, you. If they can’t read you, it’s your fucking fault, Akaashi Keiji.

His father smiled, obviously relieved. "That’s great. Well then, what about dinner? What would you like?"

Look at how quickly he moved on from you. Who’d want to linger on a problem like you?

He wanted that voice to just shut up, but at the same time, he couldn’t. He was a coward who always ran away from the truth, but this one wasn’t one he could. He could see it with his own eyes, the truth he couldn’t deny. But maybe that was a good thing. The sooner he saw it, then maybe, the quicker he could stop burdening the people all around him, especially the parents whose love and support he didn’t deserve at all.

"I’ll have whatever you get."

A quick smile, a nod of affirmation, and his father left the room, closing the door behind him. Instantly, his smile dropped, and his fingers reached up, to his back, the scars there. The harsh, uneven ridges against his otherwise normally smooth skin, the wounds that never really healed properly.

The ones he inflicted on himself.

Again, again, again . . .

Hesitantly, Akaashi pulled himself to his feet. His legs shook, but he could still walk to his bathroom with minimal support. He shut the door, and reached up for the uppermost cabinet, the one he hadn’t touched in years, and the singular box within. The cold case that couldn’t even gather dust with how tightly he had sealed it away. Then . . .

The singular blade of icy metal.

It looked like it was simply a razor meant for shaving, a typical thing for males his age to have, but that wasn’t the purpose this particular blade had served. Sure, it cut, but not to shave. Rather, it had cut away at skin, drawn blood, and created those scars on his back. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t do it ever again, but now . . . wouldn’t it be better . . . if he just left right now? Cut deep enough, so that he wouldn’t be a problem anymore? Get rid of the burden on all those around him? His parents, who gave him everything when he deserved nothing? Udai, who was so kind when he shouldn’t have that privilege? Yamaka, who was always there for him when she should just stop letting him weigh her down?

And Bokuto Kotaro, who was just too good for someone like him . . .

It’d be better for everyone.

Just as he picked it up, his fingers trembled, and the blade clattered out of his grip, hitting the sink with metallic clang. His eyes widened, and when he tried to pick it up, it slipped away yet again. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get a firm grip on it. It just kept slipping away, as if the universe wanted to tell him something.

Don’t go yet, Akaashi Keiji.

He stared at the fallen blade, lodged in the sink, then at his own trembling fingers, at his own reflection. His pale, bony body, his far too prominent bones, the dark shadows beneath his eyes. How almost colourless his face was. How he could see each and every bone in his body with startling clarity. And . . .

His hands reaching for the sink, a sudden surge of strength rushing through him as he pulled it out. The flash of red as the blade found his arms, the blood pounding in the veins barely protected by paper thin skin. The floor rushing up to embrace him as his legs gave out. The sound of a thud as his head collided with the tiles. A heavy metallic smell as blood pooled.

And then darkness, as he lost consciousness.