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Arms outstretched like wings, Bokuto leapt off the ground; his predatory gaze focused on the ball's trajectory. With perfect aim, he sent the ball flying in a dead straight line down the court. He landed and immediately turned to Akaashi, a wide grin on his face and eyes shining. “Didja see that, Akaashi?” he asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“I did,” Keiji answered, picking another ball out of the cart. All he could see were the lean lines of Bokuto's body, the flex of muscle when he pulled back to spike, the way he tensed a second before he jumped. Keiji saw it. He always did. “Good job, Bokuto-san.” It had been a perfect straight spike. If Bokuto hit them all with that kind of strength, they stood an excellent chance at Nationals.
Bokuto blinked at him, before breaking into one of those radiant smiles that seemed to brighten the room and rival the sun. “One more?” he laughed, already moving into position.
As if I ever say no. He shook his head to clear it and tossed Bokuto the ball. “Last one, and then we stop. It's already late and we both have homework.” Keiji knew for a fact that Bokuto had an English essay due soon, and that he'd been putting it off to spend more time training.
The ace groaned. “Homework sucks,” he whined, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face and revealing perfect abs. “Come around and help me with it?” he begged, clapping his hands together into a prayer symbol.
He never said no to that, either. Keiji nodded once, pretending he hadn't been staring at Bokuto's abs. “Alright then. Do you want to shower here, or at your house?”
Bokuto shrugged. “Mine I guess. I'll just stay in these, rather than changing back into my uniform.”
“I don't have a change of clothes,” Keiji realised.
Bokuto ruffled his hair, heading back to where they'd left their bags. “That's fine, I'll lend you something.”
The hours they spent in the gym were nice, but spending time with Bokuto when Bokuto was comfortable, his hair down and the pressures of the day fading away, were just as good. Keiji liked how Bokuto calmed down bit by bit, the restless energy bubbling under his skin finally dissolving and leaving him relaxed and content.
There's no sign of that quiet when they're walking back to Bokuto's place. Bokuto chatters on about the day's events, re-enacting his best spikes from practice and interrupting himself every few minutes to give anecdotes.
Keiji hummed his agreement where necessary, content to let Bokuto's voice wash over him.
All too soon they stood outside Bokuto's house. Bokuto unlocked the door and waved Keiji in, moving into the kitchen. He told Keiji they needed “brain food” in order to study properly, and promptly handed Keiji a handful of protein bars.
Never one to turn down free food, Keiji accepted and devoured three of them. He noticed Bokuto staring at him, an odd, half-smile on his lips. “What?” Keiji muttered, feeling self-conscious. He knew he ate a lot.
Bokuto didn't answer though, just handing Keiji another bar. “There's plenty more, if you're still hungry.” Was it the strange perceptiveness Bokuto had at work?
Or just Keiji being obvious? At least his stomach wasn't grumbling. He still ate the bar in record time though.
Bokuto's gaze flicked around the room, his fingers tapping against the bench in staccato sounds.
The jittery motions drew Keiji's attention, and he frowned. He'd hoped Bokuto would have lost some of that restlessness; it didn't bode well for their study. “Is something wrong, Bokuto-san?” Best to be direct.
Flinching, Bokuto met his gaze for a second before dropping his head, his expression guilty. “No,” he mumbled, pushing away from the bench and grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge. He passed one to Keiji, still not meeting his eyes.
Had he done something wrong? All he'd done was stuff his face, but that was pretty normal for him and never seemed to bother Bokuto before. Then again, his moods tended to drop without warning; it could be something as simple as Bokuto realising he didn't have any fruit juice left. Keiji would just have to pay close attention and try to avoid upsetting Bokuto further. “Well then, let's get started on our homework. I'll help you with your essay.”
With a sigh, Bokuto led them to his bedroom, walking in and flopping down onto his bed with a groan. “Do we have to do it?” he grumbled, voice muffled by the sheets.
Keiji followed him in, eyes wandering over the owl posters on the wall. Bokuto's room was surprisingly neat; the desk held his school books and stationary, his bed was made and there wasn't anything littering the floor. “Yes Bokuto-san, we do.” Keiji sat at the desk, spinning the chair around so he could face Bokuto. “If you fail your classes, you can't play volleyball, can you? So it's best to get your work done and out of the way. Then tonight you can play games and relax.”
Bokuto mumbled something and sat up, grabbing his books out of his bag with a grunt.
He was quiet for the next half hour, and it was starting to worry Keiji. He'd read the same sentence three times because he was too busy watching Bokuto's face. “Bokuto-san,” he began, unsure of how to continue.
Something was bugging him, and he'd be sullen and unresponsive until he admitted what was wrong. Bokuto looked up, brow furrowed in annoyance.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” Keiji offered, resting his chin on the back of the chair. “Maybe I can help with whatever is bothering you.”
Bokuto's face softened. He shrugged and picked up his pen. “Thanks Akaashi.” He didn't elaborate.
“Hey, we forgot to have our showers,” Keiji realised, noticing they were still in their practice uniforms. “No wonder you feel off. Why don't you go have yours? It'll make you feel better.” He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head, wincing at the pop his shoulders made.
Bokuto stared at him, his face oddly expressionless and his eyes travelling from Keiji's face down his body to the floor. It didn't suit him at all, none of that vibrant enthusiasm written on his features.
Keiji flushed, feeling self-conscious again, like he'd somehow fucked up with his constant talking. Usually Bokuto was the one filling the air with his commentary, and here Keiji was blathering on. Should he just shut up? Maybe Bokuto actually wanted peace and quiet to focus on his work, and Keiji's constant pushing was just invasive. He started fiddling with his fingers, pressing the bottom two into his palm.
Bokuto shook his head and gave Keiji a smile. “It would help a lot, Akaashi!” he proclaimed, though the words lacked their usual conviction. “I'll go have a shower then.” With that, he grabbed clothes from his cupboard and disappeared in the direction of the bathroom.
Keiji took the opportunity to procure his next shirt, choosing one of Bokuto's shirts from the back and shoving it straight into his school bag. He really should stop doing it, but not today.
Rather than going back to the desk, he wandered over to the bed and sat at the end. His mind raced; thinking of issues that could be bothering Bokuto, mild concern over not finishing their homework (most likely Bokuto's fault), whether Bokuto would invite him to stay over like he sometimes did. Too busy with his thoughts, he missed Bokuto's return and jumped when Bokuto sat down next to him.
“Akaashi? You okay?” Bokuto stared at him, his black and white hair freshly washed and hanging down around his face.
Strands fell into his eyes, making Keiji wish he could reach out and brush the hair aside. And maybe stare at the golden eyes currently fixated on his face. “I'm fine, Bokuto-san,” he said, rubbing his face. “I was just distracted; I didn't notice you come back.”
Bokuto slouched back against his pillows, running a hand through his hair and tapping his other hand on the bedspread. “Hey, did you wanna stay the night?” he offered, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. This one was a light grey colour, a black owl sitting over the heart. He'd thrown on a pair of shorts, the kind you lounge around the house in. There was a hole at the bottom of one leg, showing an oval of pale thigh. It was like the inch of skin between his leggings and shorts; all the more interesting for having been concealed and then revealed.
Keiji dragged his eyes up from Bokuto's thighs, catching on the way his shirt clung to his chest. Get a damn grip! Keiji told himself, forcing himself to look up at Bokuto's face. “As long as we work on our homework,” Keiji said, keeping his tone neutral. “And I want a shower first.”
“Oh, right!” Bokuto threw him some clothes, motioning towards the door. “Do you have your English/Japanese dictionary?”
“Yes, it's in my bag,” Keiji answered, absent-mindedly running his thumb over the fabric of the shirt, spreading it out to see the design. This shirt just had two fluffy owls perched on a branch. It was too big for Keiji, and would slip off one shoulder (something Keiji privately loved, if he was honest with himself). The shorts he were thrown were too small for Bokuto; he kept them for Keiji to wear when he was over.
“Great!” Bokuto announced, bounding over to rifle through Keiji's bag.
It occurred to Keiji why that was a bad idea at the exact moment Bokuto pulled out the shirt he'd stuffed in there. Shit. Fuck. Idiot! He cursed himself for forgetting.
“Hey...isn't this mine?” Bokuto asked, frowning at the shirt. “What was it doing in your bag, Akaashi?”
Keiji swallowed hard and cast about for a believable excuse. “You left it at my house a few nights ago, Bokuto-san,” he lied through his teeth. “I meant to give it back sooner, but I wanted to wash it first.”
Bokuto shrugged and seemed to accept that answer.
When he got out of the shower, he found Bokuto lying on his back on the bed, one arm covering his face. His other hand held the sheets in a white knuckled grip, though he wasn't moving.
Keiji went cold, reading Bokuto's body language and coming back with danger. Something was wrong, and Bokuto needed to share or he'd drive himself into a worse state. Keiji perched on the end of the bed near Bokuto's legs, careful not to startle him. “Bokuto-san,” he said quietly, one hand resting inches from bare skin. If he was a little braver, a little less reserved, he might lay a hand on Bokuto's leg in comfort. But that danced too close to crossing the line. “Please tell me what's bothering you.”
Bokuto shook his head, his face still hidden by his arm. “No Akaashi, you put up with me enough.” He sniffled then, rolling onto his side. “You shouldn't have to deal with this too. I'm stupid and pathetic. You should just leave.”
Recognising the warning signs of a downward swing, Keiji shifted closer and cleared his throat. Bokuto always tried to keep it to himself, fearing he was being too annoying or burdening Keiji with his problems. It was different to his dejected modes on the court; these downward swings weren't volleyball related, they were personal: Bokuto's own emotions getting the better of him. It took careful comfort and reassurance to pull Bokuto out of these states, ignoring him just made it worse.
With that in mind, Keiji patted Bokuto's shoulder lightly. “Bokuto-san, you know people can't always solve problems by themselves, right? It's perfectly fine to ask your friends for help in these situations.” He kept his voice light and soft, no threat of anger or you're not good enoughs in his tone. “And as your friend, I would hope you trust me to try and help you as best I can.”
Bokuto uncovered his face, revealing shiny tear tracks down his cheeks. “You already help me out so much. I can't repay you by being a useless, miserable jerk. You deserve better than me.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
For the millionth time, Keiji wished he could take these moods away. It sent a pang through his chest every time he had to witness Bokuto suffering like this. What could he do? All he had were words. He couldn't pull Bokuto into a hug, stroke his hair or whisper it's going to be alright, I'm here for you. “Bokuto-san,” he said instead, hoping the sincerity of his words shone through, “you aren't useless.”
Bokuto's lips twitched, but he didn't say anything.
He leaned over to meet Bokuto's forlorn gaze. “You are one of the most honest and kind people I know. You're full of energy and joy and it shows in everything you do. Nobody should ever call you useless, not with everything you've accomplished.” He took a breath and continued. “If someone told you that, please tell me so I can kick their ass.” Keiji found his hands clenched into fists at the thought of someone telling Bokuto such horrible things. Bokuto was like sunshine, he brightened everyone's day without even trying. He was warm and entertaining and he dragged you into his orbit whether you wanted him to or not.
How dare someone try to ruin that!
Bokuto groaned and sat up, hunched over with his face in his hands. He was shaking, just slight trembles but enough to be noticeable. “Akaashi you don't understand! I invited you over because I'm selfish and lonely and all I do is abuse your time. Like now, you should be doing your homework and you totally would be if I wasn't here being a pain and making you put up with me being like this.” He waved a hand at himself, face scrunched up in an effort to ward off tears. “I'm so stupid and pathetic and I don't know why you even bother with me. I'm not worth it.” He curled up into a ball, his head tucked against his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs in a vice grip.
Keiji felt sick, his heart aching. He hated this! He was powerless to help. All he could do was mutter platitudes and hope Bokuto could work through it. “Bokuto-san.” He adjusted his position until he was sitting next to Bokuto, daring to reach out and rub soothing circles on the ace's back.
Bokuto flinched under his touch.
Keiji ignored the motion, telling himself it wasn't personal. “You know none of that is true.” Lowering his voice, he dropped his hand to the sliver of bed between them. “Tell me why you feel like this. Maybe I can help fix your problem.”
“You can't fix this.” Bokuto sounded defeated, his eyes dull. He leaned a tiny bit closer, before pulling away with a snarl.
“How can you know, if you won't tell me what the problem is?” Keiji resisted the urge to raise his voice, digging his nails into his palm instead. The way Bokuto kept writing him off was starting to get annoying. He was used to taking care of Bokuto, good at reading the facial cues to know how Bokuto felt at any given moment. But that didn't help him when Bokuto refused to explain. If only Bokuto would stop shutting him out, he might get somewhere!
Bokuto ran his hands through his hair, yanking on the strands and huffing. “I just do, alright?” he grumbled, turning away.
“At least give me a chance!” Keiji cried, grabbing Bokuto's shoulders and forcing him to look at Keiji. “That's not too much to ask for, is it?” he hissed, fingers digging into the muscle below them. As soon as he'd done it, he realised he'd been to aggressive. Way to fuck that up, Keiji. “I mean, give me a chance to help,” he tried to back pedal.
Bokuto stood up, throwing off Keiji's hand and glaring at him. “You don't know what you're asking,” he muttered, stepping away from the bed. Putting distance between him and Keiji.
It hurt, like a punch to the chest. Keiji immediately buried the hurt behind his walls, summoning his anger back and using it as a shield. He got to his feet and met the ace's glare with one of his own; honed through endless practice. “Well no I don't, since someone can't be bothered to tell me!” he snapped, waving a hand at Bokuto. “You're so wrapped up in your own damn head you can't figure, 'Hey, Akaashi usually helps me out, maybe I should fucking say something!'” Keiji threw his arms in the air. His face was probably red from exertion, since it felt hot enough. He sucked in a breath, forcing himself to calm down and wrangling his turbulent emotions back under control. Before he crossed a line he could never recover from.
“I say plenty!” Bokuto shot back, planting his fists on his hips. His eyes flashed. “I say too much! I'm always talking and it's like, who cares? Nothing I say is important anyway, so I should just shut up!” He nodded at Keiji. “I'm sure it bothers you. You're always quiet. Probably because I don't shut up long enough to give you a chance to talk.”
Keiji strode forward and poked him in the chest, anger vibrating through his whole body. “So what if you talk a lot? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I like listening to you talk? That my life is boring and mundane, but you're full of interesting stories and adventures and listening to you talk about them makes me feel like you're sharing the journey with me? How about when we discuss volleyball plays, and you talk about all these cool manoeuvres we should try?” Keiji growled the words at him, barely noticing the agony on Bokuto's face at his words. “After all the time we spent together, I thought you'd know what I'm like by now.” He grabbed a fistful of Bokuto's shirt and drew him close. “Which is why I don't understand why the hell you won't let me in!”
“Because I like you, Akaashi!” Bokuto cried, his face anguished. He was panting, arms held in the air in front of him. His eyes went wide, as the realisation of what he'd just blurted out struck him. Bokuto deflated, all the tension leaving his body in a rush. “Because I like you,” he whispered, sounding broken.
Keiji just stood there, one hand still gripping Bokuto's shirt while he tried to calibrate his thoughts. Options flitted through his mind.
A: I'm hallucinating. Cause for alarm, but an unlikely situation.
B: Bokuto's feeling down and needs reassurance that I'm still his friend and I don't hate him after my blowup. That's what he means by 'like'. The probably situation, since he is in a bad state right now.
C: Bokuto just confessed to me.
Keiji almost snorted. Yeah, that was the option he wanted, for sure. He refused to let himself believe it was option C, no matter how much he hoped it was. Instead he went with B. “I like you too, Bokuto-san. You're my best friend,” he said simply. “I hope you know that.” He kept his voice quiet, hoping it wouldn't crack from the weight of his emotions.
“You don't understand,” Bokuto sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I like you. As in, romantically, pink cards held out, please consider my feelings. That kind of like.” His words were flat, and he refused to look at Keiji. Still, now that he'd started talking, he was likely going to spill it all.
Keiji stood there and stared, unable to form comprehensive thoughts. He likes – romantically – feelings – confession.
“I've felt like this for a while, but I didn't want to burden you. You deserve better than putting up with me all the time, and that's if it was even an option. I wasn't going to ask because it's rude and because you saying you didn't like guys to my face might have actually killed me.” He looked so small all of a sudden, his voice barely a whisper. “Just please don't...please don't stop being my friend just because I'm stupid and awful and do things like this.” Bokuto looked up, his golden eyes shining and a single tear trailing down his cheek. “I swear I won't do anything, I won't mention it ever again, just please –”
Desperate to cut off those horrible pleas, Keiji leaned forward and kissed him.
It was warm, and he could feel Bokuto's chapped lips under his, rougher than he'd expected. He'd misjudged the angle though, only managing to get the side of Bokuto's mouth rather than a proper, whole mouth kiss, but it was their first kiss (sort of), no matter how awkward it was.
Keiji had imagined confessing to Bokuto a thousand times and the outcome.
A: Bokuto rejected him and refused to speak to him again.
B: Bokuto's flattered by the attention, but doesn't feel the same. He does agree to ignore Keiji's feelings and pretend it never happened.
C: Bokuto reacts violently because he isn't gay and is offended Keiji thinks he is (unlikely, knowing Bokuto, but still possible).
D: A happy resolution?
He'd never expected D to be Bokuto confessing first, blurting it out in a heated moment while trapped in his own self-loathing. Still, he could work with this. Keiji kissed Bokuto again, this time tilting his head to press their lips together properly. Oh, okay, this was much better.
Bokuto pulled back, eyes wide. “Akaashi?” he asked, sounding lost. He hadn't kissed Keiji back; but that might have just been the surprise.
Keiji didn't blame him; the evening had taken a turn for sure. “I like you too, Bokuto-san,” he said, unable to stop the smile tugging his lips up. Being able to say that out loud without fear was incredible. “As in, romantically, pink cards held out, please consider my feelings.” He let go of Bokuto's shirt and met the ace's wondering gaze. This was his chance to change their relationship. No more holding back; he was going to be honest and lay all his feelings on the table. “I like you, Bokuto-san. Will you go out with me?” he asked simply.
Bokuto looked like he'd been hit in the face with a volleyball. He blinked and looked at the roof. “Is this real?” he asked it, pinching his arm. “Ouch!” He rubbed the spot and grinned sheepishly. “Okay so this is real. Wow. I umm...yes. Yes I want to go out with you.” Bokuto flashed one of his radiant smiles, no sign of his downswing left in sight.
Oh. He was worried about upsetting me. Keiji slotted that piece of the puzzle away for later, preferring to focus on the here and now. “Good.” He closed the distance between them and rested his hands on Bokuto's broad shoulders. “Then, can I kiss you again? My first attempts weren't too good, and I'd like to practice some more.” He didn't care if all they did for the rest of the night was kiss. Homework was a very low priority right now, when he could be touching Bokuto, running his hands through Bokuto's hair, tracing the muscles under his shirt and breathing in his scent.
Bokuto laughed, a short, sharp exhalation before he was nodding furiously. “Yes!” he shouted, flinching at the volume. “I mean, yes. Okay, good. Please kiss me again.”
The muscles under Keiji's hands twitched; Bokuto resisting the urge to move.
“You can touch me,” Keiji murmured, cupping Bokuto's face between his palms. He was allowed to do this now. And it was far better than his imagination. Imagination couldn't give him the exact texture of Bokuto's cheeks beneath his thumbs, the softness of his skin over hard jawbone. Being this close, he could see the flecks of amber and bronze in Bokuto's golden gaze.
Bokuto licked his lips, raising a hand to circle Keiji's wrist and rub over the pulse point.
Figuring he should make a move before Bokuto thought he'd changed his mind, Keiji closed his eyes and brushed his lips over Bokuto's, keeping the motion soft.
This time, Bokuto kissed back.
Keiji opened his mouth, running his tongue over Bokuto's bottom lip. He was rewarded with a gasp into his mouth, before Bokuto pulled back to stare at him. “Was that bad?” he asked, dropping his hands and feeling self-conscious. Need more practice.
“No!” Bokuto held up his hands and shook his head. “I mean, no, it's cool. I liked it. Just wasn't expecting it, you know?” This time Bokuto was the one leaning forward, his fingertips resting on the side of Keiji's neck. He licked across Keiji's lips until Keiji opened his mouth, and then his tongue was sliding along Keiji's.
Their first few proper kisses were wet and awkward; they were both inexperienced and every new thing caused them to blush and apologise or gasp in surprise. Keiji revelled in it, letting his hands wander over all the planes of muscle available to him now and kissing Bokuto over and over. Eventually he had to stop and gather himself.
“I really like this,” Bokuto admitted, his hands falling to Keiji's hips and using them to pull him closer until there was no room between them. “I always thought you'd like, punch me or something if I ever told you how I felt.” He smiled, eyes crinkling around the corners.
Keiji knew his face was going red under that beautiful, vibrant smile. “I thought you'd hate me,” he murmured, burying his head in Bokuto's shoulder. “I couldn't bring myself to confess in case you thought I was horrible or disgusting, or you no longer felt comfortable around me. Your friendship meant too much.”
Bokuto wrapped him in a warm embrace. He always gave off heat like a furnace, but it was something else to be in the centre of that warmth. “I can't believe I just blurted it out like a loser,” he laughed, his whole body shaking with the movement. He pressed light kisses to the top of Keiji's head.
“I'm glad you did,” Keiji sighed, finally letting himself reach up to stroke through Bokuto's two-toned hair. The strands were softer than he was expecting, lacking the usual gel.
Bokuto lowered his head to kiss Keiji's bare shoulder, where the too-big shirt had slipped to the side.
Keiji shivered at the sensation, suddenly so, so grateful Bokuto was broader than he was. He'd have to make a note to 'accidentally' let all the shirts he borrowed fall off a shoulder, if this was the reaction he got. Realising he was wearing Bokuto's shirt reminded him of other shirts. If they were going to do this relationship properly, then they had to be honest with each other. “You know how I said you left your shirt at my place?” Keiji said, trailing his fingers in the fine hairs at the nape of Bokuto's neck.
“Mm?” Bokuto hummed against his shoulder, where he was gently nibbling the skin.
The vibrations made his skin tingle, and it took Keiji a moment to remember what he was saying. “I lied,” he announced. He had to bite back a gasp at the feel of Bokuto's teeth grazing his shoulder. Who knew that felt good? “I keep stealing them because they smell like you.” He tilted his head, giving Bokuto better access to his neck in the hopes those teeth would move up. “I like sleeping in them because I can pretend you're there with me.”
Bokuto leaned back to stare at him in amazement. “You've been stealing my shirts?” he asked, eyes wide. “Wait a minute, so the laundry fairy–”
“Was me, Bokuto-san.” Keiji covered his cheeks, idly wondering how many times he'd blushed already. “I wash them before I give them back!”
Bokuto started laughing, grasping Keiji's wrists and pulling his hands away from his face. “I don't mind, Akaashi!” Twining their fingers together, Bokuto mumbled something under his breath.
“I didn't catch that, Bokuto-san.”
“I said,” Bokuto took a breath, “that I like seeing you wearing my shirts. Why do you think I keep inviting you over when I know you aren't prepared?”
Keiji blinked at him, taking in the slight flush and the way Bokuto's eyes kept flicking between the floor and Keiji's face. “I see,” he said neutrally. “In that case, I'll be wearing them more often.”
Bokuto grinned and nuzzled into his neck, humming happily. A moment later he was gasping and staring at Keiji. “So uhh...we're boyfriends now, right?” he asked, biting his lip.
It was the old fear surfacing; that he wasn't good enough, that he wasn't doing it right. He needed the assurance that he was all right, that this was real.
Boyfriends. Keiji started laughing to himself, reaching out to wrap his arms around Bokuto's neck. “Yes Bokuto-san, we're boyfriends,” he breathed. Bokuto wasn't the only one feeling like this was a dream.
Bokuto bounced up and down, detangling himself from Keiji's grip and throwing himself onto his bed. Grabbing the pillow, he buried his face in it and muffled yelling could be heard. After a moment, he rolled onto his side and gave Keiji a wide grin. “Sorry, just had to take a moment there.”
“It's fine, Bokuto-san.” Keiji sat next to him, resisting the urge to drape himself over Bokuto like a blanket.
Apparently Bokuto was thinking along the same lines, since he reached up to grab Keiji and pull him down on top of himself. “I can't believe I can do this now,” he said, taking the opportunity to steal a kiss.
Keiji adjusted himself until he was comfortable, their chests pressed together and legs tangled. “I feel the same,” he sighed.
Eventually they returned to their homework, though not much was accomplished. Keiji was too busy discovering new things about Bokuto (like the way the back of his knees are ticklish), Bokuto was too busy stealing kisses (okay but Keiji enjoyed that too), and homework just seemed so dull in comparison. The evening passed in pleasurable companionship, until they both called it a night.
“Come to bed, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked shyly from the bed, holding out a hand.
Keiji took it and let himself be pulled over to lie down next to Bokuto, wriggling around until he was tucked into Bokuto's side.
Bokuto pressed a kiss to his forehead and whispered, “goodnight, Akaashi.” One arm rested over Keiji's waist.
Keiji let all his nervousness go, the tension leaving his body bit by bit. Who would have thought it would turn out like this? All this time they'd been keeping apart, harbouring their doubts when they could have been doing this. But then, Bokuto had always been the braver of them. “Goodnight, Bokuto-san,” Keiji whispered back, closing his eyes and snuggling in close. Imagination couldn't give him this; the Bokuto who wrapped him in warmth and mumbled sleepy goodnights, the Bokuto who liked seeing Keiji wearing his clothes and left marks on his neck. Now, he didn't need imagination.
Because the real thing was far, far better.