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Akaashi felt butterflies whenever Bokuto was around. He admired the other and wished so badly to be held by his arms; but the boy already has a girlfriend.
The first time he cried for him, stars fell instead of tears, they made a twinkling sound, like in one of those instrumental lullabys. Akaashi held out his hand, watching countless stars fall into his palm, then overflowing onto his lap. It didn’t hurt his eyes, and he didn’t know why.
When he had calmed down, he clutched the remaining stars in his hand and kept them there. He walked out, into the backyard, where his mother was tending to the flowers. “Mother?” She stopped and looked up at him. “Yes, Keiji?” Akaashi shuffled his feet, unsure if the stars were normal. “Mother, what does it mean when you cry stars?”
His mother stood up abruptly, a worried expression on her face, she grabbed his shoulders gently. “Where? Who?” Akaashi held out his hand, opening it and showcasing stars of all colors; soft and gentle on the eyes, contrasting on his skin. “I...was crying earlier and the stars fell out of my eyes.” His mother’s face softened, “Keiji, is there...anyone you like?” Akaashi hesitated, not because he liked a boy, no, his mother already knew. He hesitated, because he was unsure why it seemed like a bad thing for the stars to fall instead of tears. “I—there’s this boy in the volleyball team, and he’s the ace, and I just... really, really, like him...” His mother looked at him with a small frown, “And? Does...he have a partner already?”
Akaashi nodded, feeling the tears, or well, stars building up. His mother hugged him close, stars falling onto her shoulder and the ground. It seemed to click in Akaashi’s mind for what the stars stood for.
Five months later, the world around him started becoming dull; Color-wise. The bag he would carry around school, became a dull blue. His tie, once stripped with light blue and the standard blue around, became mixed, the difference between the two were almost impossible to distinguish for Akaashi.
The once bright grass on the side of grey sidewalks, became an ugly, murky green. His house, turned into a maroon instead of a bright red. Everything, every color he once enjoyed, became dull and boring.
Bokuto’s hair, well, it was already devoid of color, but Akaashi loved it anyway. His eyes, instead of a golden yellow, was now a dark, mustard-y shade.
Akaashi would sit, and watch, as Bokuto’s girlfriend and him would flirt and be loving with each other. Although envious, Akaashi tried to tolerate it. She would visit during practice, matches, training camps, she went everywhere he did. Akaashi was starting to feel like she was a third-wheel...even though he was the real one.
He didn’t really have a reason to absolutely hate her, she was so nice. She even genuinely liked Bokuto. Akaashi felt like a jerk. She would even be nice to him, she would invite Akaashi with them whenever they would hang out, so that he would feel included. Akaashi really wanted to say no, but it wasn’t her fault, wasn’t her fault Bokuto chose her instead. Wasn’t her fault Bokuto loves her instead of him.
He once asked her why. “Because you’re his best friend, right?” Those words felt bittersweet.
A month before graduation, Akaashi tried mustering up the courage to confess. He’d follow him around, stayed with him late into the night, practicing. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spit out, but his fear of being brutally rejected, made him clench his mouth shut.
That month went by without any confessions, Akaashi played with Bokuto at their last practice match together, sadly looking at him, holding in the urge to cry. Because if he did, everyone would know, everyone would know that he cried stars, cried stars for a ‘ special ’ someone. Then, they would pester him about who it was, especially Bokuto.
Going home, a few ‘tears’ slid down his face, leaving stars on the pavement behind him. The soft sound of twinkling follows him home.
He didn’t cry long, he knew he’d see him again on graduation day. He knew that day, he would sob and sob and sob.
“ Mother, why is everything becoming to look so dull?” His mother started sobbing into his shoulder. “Keiji, Keiji, Keiji...I’m so sorry.” “Why...?” “Look up Star Tears Disease, when you have the time.” His mother wiped her own tears away, telling Akaashi that she loved him. She didn’t have the courage to tell him.
Akaashi stood outside of the school’s gym with Bokuto, taking pictures with him after the graduation ceremony. His mother took a picture and looked at him knowingly. She made sure to take plenty of them.
When Bokuto had to go home to pack, Akaashi tightly hugged him. Bokuto laughed, “I’ll miss you too, ‘kaashi!” The boy hugged him, kindly smiled at him, then walked off with his girlfriend to take pictures with her.
Akaashi watched them, tears falling endlessly, the sound of twinkling accompanying them. His mother covers his face with her body, kissing his forehead. “ I’m sorry, Keiji. I wish I could do more.”
His third year, Akaashi’s world had become bleak. The sky was a varying color of grey, the ground, trees, animals, people , were the same. He could look around now, and just see grey, white and black, like an old film.
Akaashi would practice in the gym, passing sets to someone other than Bokuto. The other was already long gone, already in university...probably already forgot about him. He shook his head, hoping it wasn’t true.
Akaashi would look out of his window at night, looking up at the stars in the sky, wondering how they ended up as his tears.
Akaashi’s stars would fall every night, he would wonder why it had to be him? Why did it have to be the person who was already in love with someone else? Why? Why, why, why?
... Why?
Stars of varying whites and grays, fell onto his lap, solid, but soft. Akaashi picked one up, feeling it between his fingers, he squished it. So hard it popped, turning into liquid, and sliding down his hand. Back to how it was supposed to be in the first place.
Falling asleep, he would think about golden eyes, grey hair with white, frosted tips, and rough, calloused hands high-fiving his own. Dreaming of colours he can no longer see.
The love of his life had slipped through his hands, and was laughing with someone else, kissing someone else, holding someone else.