Chapter Text
Blinking at the faint glow of his clock on the bedside table, Bokuto couldn’t describe the chills that climbed his spine, the way he suddenly felt like he wasn’t alone.
The overwhelmingly foreboding certainty that he was being watched.
It was two thirty-two in the morning when Bokuto was awoken, confused why he felt chilled to the bone like he was laying in a bed of ice. He ran so hot that he kept the fan blowing at full force when he was asleep; otherwise he would wake as a sweaty, irritated mess, no matter the weather outside. He was distantly aware of the fan still humming at the end of his bed.
Slowly, he turned over from his side onto his back, squinting into the darkness of his room as if he could see. Shit, he was going to be murdered. Somebody had snuck into his second floor apartment, and he was going to be stabbed to death in nothing but his boxers before he finished out his volleyball career.
He lay still for a long minute before he whispered, “Hello?” After the question left his mouth, he immediately felt like a horror movie protagonist, and since he echoed the most targeting line in the script, he knew for sure he was going to get murdered.
After waiting with bated breath, nothing replied to him.
He relaxed a bit, even though he still felt the chill in the air. Slowly, he dared to reach for the lamp on his bedside table. Just before his fingers could make it to the switch, his heart came to a stop when the humming from his fan abruptly cut to silence.
Bokuto snapped on the lamp so fast that it almost went sliding off its surface. He twisted to frantically look around his bedroom, expecting to find a man in a mask, or maybe Pennywise from IT (Kuroo had forced him to watch the new movie not long ago even though Bokuto hated horror).
He let out a sigh of relief to find his room empty. His fan was still off, though. Did he somehow imagine that it had switched from on to off? It seemed more rational to believe that he just never turned it on in the first place before bed and he had woken up because his body was overheating.
Except he wasn’t sweating and still felt goosebumps raised on his arms. He got up to cautiously check his closet just in case. Then he slowly knelt to peek under his bed. Feeling lighter after finding nothing hiding, he switched his fan back on and climbed under his comforter.
He did not turn off the lamp.
Bokuto woke up in the morning and almost forgot about the strange incident. He went about his routine, much later than usual because it was Sunday and he didn’t have practice.
He pissed, brushed his teeth, took a shower, dressed, spiked his hair, and went into the kitchen to make his protein drink and breakfast. He reached for the cabinet door where his dishes were, then frowned. It was already open.
Bokuto scratched the back of his head. Maybe he left it open last night? He found it odd he hadn’t noticed it coming into the kitchen this morning. He had a bad experience of his cabinets being left carelessly open. One time when Kuroo and Kenma had been over, Kenma had accidentally left a cabinet door open and Bokuto had walked right into it. It had been both painful and humiliating—even now he could recall the horrid sight of crimson blood dripping from his nose and the echoes of Kuroo’s cackles.
He was eating his dinner much later, watching a dumb comedy after an uneventful day of movie marathoning when he heard a door slam shut.
Sure, he lived in an apartment complex. He heard things all the time. But that was most definitely coming from his own apartment. Bokuto swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry.
He muted the TV before standing. His place was small, really only three separate spaces. It could only have been his bedroom door or the bathroom. He hesitated before he snatched a knife from the kitchen, thinking it would be better to be safe than sorry.
Heart thumping in his chest, he froze at the end of the hall, knife held forward. He could see from there that the bathroom door was open as he left it, but his bedroom door, at the very end, was closed shut. Not how he left it. After a very long moment of contemplation, he grabbed his phone, stepped into his slippers, and stood outside his own place.
“Akaashi? Are you busy?” he asked as soon as his best friend picked up.
Akaashi took a second to reply. When he did, his voice sounded a little breathy. “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”
“Could you…could you come over?” he asked in a small voice.
“Are you okay? Why do you sound like that?”
“Just come over,” Bokuto begged. “Weird things have been happening.”
There was a muffled sound, like maybe Akaashi was talking to someone but was covering up the phone. Then a simple, “Okay. I’ll be there soon.”
Bokuto stood shivering in the autumn night air, wishing he had thought to grab a jacket before he fled, studying the knife he still held, glinting under the artificial lights.
Luckily, Akaashi’s place was within walking distance. Looking out over the edge of the railing, Bokuto waved frantically to his friend as he saw him walking up. Akaashi climbed up the stairs, his cheeks flushed from the chill, wrapped in a bomber jacket and a navy scarf that highlighted the gunmetal blue of his eyes.
“What is it?” Akaashi asked wearily. “Why are you standing out here in the cold with no jacket or shoes and…a knife?”
“Okay, so look,” Bokuto started, and gave him a rundown of the fan, cabinet, and door situation. “And I didn’t want to go check by myself, because like, I don’t know if there’s someone living in my walls or something.” That one movie had really freaked him out, the man climbing out from the walls and hiding again whenever he pleased…
“Living…” Akaashi said in disbelief under his breath before he sighed. “Okay, I’ll check for you and then you can make me some soup since I came all the way here for nothing.”
Bokuto followed his friend inside his apartment, knife in his hand. “You stand behind me, I just wanted someone to be able to run for help when the man in my walls attacks me,” Bokuto said, but then paused when he stood at the end of the hall.
His closed bedroom door seemed to loom.
“You can admit that you’re scared,” Akaashi stated before he calmly walked towards Bokuto’s bedroom.
“Hey, hey, hey! Akaashi!” Bokuto hissed, following closely after him, weapon held tight in his grip.
His friend pushed open the bedroom door, flicking on the lights to show an empty room. “See? Nothing. I’m telling Kuroo that he’s forbidden from showing you scary movies.”
“But…” Bokuto kicked a few articles of dirty laundry out of his way before he checked his closet. He refused to look under his bed in front of Akaashi, but when his friend turned his back to leave the room with an exasperated sigh, Bokuto quickly ducked his head under to make sure.
Akaashi was already relaxing on the couch, jacket and scarf folded neatly across the back of it when Bokuto finally followed after him, pouting. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“It’s difficult for me to believe in things I can’t see,” Akaashi said. “The power probably went out for a second and that’s why the fan went off. Or it’s getting worn and is dying on you. And you’re so absent-minded—how can you be sure you didn’t leave the cabinet open? You live in a complex with thin walls, you must have heard somebody slamming their door nearby.” He stretched his arms, letting out a satisfied little groan that made something in Bokuto’s stomach flip. “These things are getting to you since the very first incident weirded you out. Our brains trick us.”
Dejected, Bokuto mumbled something incoherent before restarting the movie for Akaashi and began making Akaashi’s favorite cold weather soup. Faced with logic, Bokuto found it hard to argue, even when deep in his bones something felt off.
He moved into this apartment not even a month ago after running into problems with his landlord at his last place. But this was the first time he had noticed anything strange, so maybe it was all in his head. It was true that he had quite an imagination, and Kuroo insisted that he watch a bunch of horror movies with him lately in honor of Halloween coming up.
Akaashi nearly always ended up being right about things.
Bokuto finished Akaashi’s soup, handing him a bowl where he lounged comfortably with his legs crossed. He wasn’t finding the film very humorous, hadn’t even cracked a smile once, but his face lit up when he received his gift for coming over in Bokuto’s time of need.
“What’s that?” Akaashi asked, pointing to a small owl carved out of wood that sat on the coffee table.
“Kuroo gave it to me as a house-warming gift! A late one. Isn’t it cool?”
Akaashi, who was of course very practical and had given Bokuto oven mitts, nodded without much conviction.
“Who were you with, anyway?” Bokuto asked, flopping down and eyed his own forgotten plate of grilled meat. “I didn’t mean to drag you away from anything.”
Akaashi seemed suddenly interested in the movie, not looking at Bokuto very purposely. “Just a friend. This soup is very good.”
“Just a friend…” Bokuto eyed him dubiously. Akaashi was pretty antisocial. The only people he hung around with besides Bokuto were Kuroo and Kenma, sometimes Sugawara. And none of those people would’ve warranted a vague description as ‘just a friend.’
So, he had been with somebody Bokuto didn’t know in the evening hour, and didn’t want to talk about… His gaze narrowed.
“Stop drilling holes into the side of my head with your eyes,” Akaashi said, turning to glare. “Just watch your dumbass movie.”
Something clicked. The way Akaashi’s voice had sounded over the phone, the timing, the secrecy—“Were you gonna get laid?” Bokuto gasped.
Akaashi’s cheeks flushed, his jaw clenched. “Mind your own business.”
“I bet you’re pretty mad at me for calling you over here for what you call nothing when you could’ve been having sex,” Bokuto taunted, unable to resist prodding at the subject for some reason.
“Bokuto. If you don’t shut up about it, I’m leaving right now.”
Remembering his wall-friend, Bokuto shut up immediately and let his savior finish dinner in peace. Akaashi’s bite followed his bark.
He managed to convince Akaashi to stay for another movie, this time one of his choosing. It was an exciting thriller, but it was hard for Bokuto to stay focused. He kept looking over at Akaashi, endeared by the way his long eyelashes were fluttering, struggling to keep his eyes open. He was too tired to be focusing on the movie either.
The part of Bokuto’s brain that stored a little bit of reason was telling him to shake Akaashi fully awake, to send him home since he had work in the morning and Bokuto had practice. The other part of Bokuto’s brain that was living in fear told him to make Akaashi stay and wake up extra early to send him home then.
“Hey,” he murmured to a dozing Akaashi. His friend blinked his eyes open. “It’s late. I’m going to get you a blanket and pillow and wake you up early so you can go get ready for work, yeah?”
Akaashi sighed sleepily. “All part of your evil plot tonight,” he mumbled. “Didn’t want to be alone?”
“Of course I don’t. Besides, you’re good company even when you’re not here to help ward away whatever is here,” Bokuto said, rising to retrieve a blanket and pillow as promised.
“You better not forget to wake me up,” was all Akaashi said before making himself comfortable. He seemed to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Bokuto wished he could possess that kind of ease. He warily searched his home once again before getting ready to go to bed. He found nothing, but he made sure to keep his bedroom door wide open. He could see the couch where Akaashi slept easily that way. He hesitated before leaving the bathroom light on, slightly ajar to light up the hallway, leaving his own room dark as it usually would be. He turned the fan on, praying it kept humming away all night.
---
Three days passed with no other strange occurrences. Bokuto was finally relaxing. He was sleeping with all the lights off, wasn’t checking hidden spaces, and the intense paranoia was waning away.
He was taking the trash out late Thursday afternoon when he stumbled into the landlady who lived on the ground floor. “Excuse me!” He bowed to the older woman. Comparing Bokuto’s last landlord and this one, they couldn’t be more different; the deep smile lines around her mouth and the creases around her eyes spoke volumes about the more recent one.
“Hello, young man. How have you been?” Bokuto took her bag of trash from her and gave his automatic standard polite answer.
They made small talk before he gingerly asked, “Do—ma’am, have there ever been complaints made from other tenants living in my apartment before me?”
“What sort of complaints?” she puzzled. “Well, the walls are thin, unfortunately. If you have a noisy neighbor you can file—”
“Ah, no. It’s just… It almost feels like my place is haunted,” he admitted in a rush of breath. He cringed when her brows raised.
She chuckled. “Nobody has passed away in this complex. They’re still fairly new, you know.” The old woman started to walk away before she turned around. “I believe in spirits, mind you. But if you’re experiencing something, it isn’t because of a death in your home.”
Those words were more menacing to Bokuto than if she had told him a previous tenant had been murdered in his apartment. How could he fight it if he couldn’t understand it?
Kuroo came over not long later. This time, he would not be allowing the lean man to convince him into watching another scary movie.
“Your boyfriend isn’t with you?” Bokuto asked when he opened the door to let Kuroo inside.
“Kenma is hanging out with Hinata,” he said a little wistfully as he tossed his jacket on the recliner.
Bokuto was always impressed with how much in love Kuroo and Kenma were with each other. Despite knowing each other for so long, they never got tired of each other. Well, Kenma sometimes got sick of Kuroo’s shit, but they were still perfect together.
“Little Hoot!” Kuroo exclaimed gleefully, noticing his carved gift on Bokuto’s table.
“I think ‘Kaashi thinks it’s ugly,” Bokuto said, going into the kitchen to mix the stir fry on the stove.
Kuroo sniffed and leaned against the counter. “Akaashi’s taste is boring, so of course he does. Also, I’m not surprised you find his opinion more important than mine.”
“Huh? What do you mean? I listen to you!”
Kuroo gave him a long look. “Never mind. Anyways, you texted me and told me you had a ghost?”
Bokuto almost knocked the pan to the floor in his excitement to whirl around.
“Careful. That’s my dinner.”
“It’s either a ghost or a man in my walls!”
“What?”
Bokuto explained the situation to his friend, including the part where he made Akaashi come over, though he remained vague about that, sure Kuroo would make fun of him.
“And my landlady just told me today that nobody has ever died here, so like, I really don’t know what’s happening. ‘Kaashi didn’t believe me and you probably don’t either, but I’m sure of it.”
Kuroo’s eyes glinted. “Well, I just told you Akaashi is boring. Shall we get in contact with your ghost friend and ask what it’s doing here?”
Bokuto blanched. “It hasn’t done anything for awhile! It might have left.”
Just as the words left his mouth, Little Hoot tilted and fell to its side on the table. Bokuto let out an embarrassing shriek, and even Kuroo’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Oh shit, oh shit,” Bokuto began to chant, backing up towards his front door. There were chills up his spine and his arm hair had raised. “You saw that, right?”
Kuroo set the owl back upright. “That was weird, dude. But calm down.” He stared down at the object. “It just told us it wasn’t gone. I think it wants to communicate.”
Bokuto shivered. “At least someone knows I’m not crazy now.”
“Do you have any candles?”
“What do you take me for?”
“Yeah, fair. Call Akaashi.”
As expected, Akaashi was not down for the plan, yet he owned candles. He came over after Bokuto told him he made stir fry.
“You’re a terrible influence, you know that, right?” he immediately said to Kuroo. “He doesn’t need any more encouragement.”
Bokuto dished Akaashi a plate. “He saw it though! He’s a witness.”
Kuroo set his phone down on the coffee table. “So, Kenma is about to come over with Hinata.”
“Yes!” Bokuto exclaimed excitedly, not at all bothered that they were invited without his permission because he was a People Person, then frowned. “Wait, I don’t have enough to feed everyone.”
“How on earth did you manage to persuade Kenma to participate in this nonsense?” Akaashi said after carefully chewing a bite. “Ah. Hinata must have done the convincing.”
Kuroo helped himself to a huge plate of Bokuto’s cooking. Noticing Bokuto’s distress, he assured, “They have to already eaten by now, knowing Hinata’s huge appetite. And, Akaashi, you were swayed to come help out pretty damn easily—I wonder why that is.”
“A wonder,” Akaashi replied in a rather frosty tone.
“Because I said there was stir fry! I can always win Akaashi over with food,” Bokuto said.
Kuroo smirked, sitting down in the recliner. “Yep, that’s all there is to it. Akaashi is pretty simple-minded, huh? He really likes your cooking.”
To that, Akaashi sent him a warning look.
Bokuto could tell there was something he was missing, but he couldn’t figure it out. Sometimes Bokuto could just not follow their underlying conversations. He accepted it a long time ago, trying to tell himself it had nothing to do with his own intelligence.
The three had long since finished eating, no leftovers to spare when Kenma and Hinata arrived.
Hinata immediately sniffed the air, bouncing on the balls of his feet as soon as he was through the door. “I smell something good!”
Bokuto groaned loudly. “I’m sorry, you guys. I would have made more food if I knew I’d have this many guests.”
The only other skill he was really good at other than volleyball was cooking. His friends knew that, and they were always out to eat whatever delicious meals he made. He loved the praise. It was disheartening when Hinata’s face fell.
However, the smaller man deflated for only a second before he brightened with his signature huge smile. “That’s okay! I heard we’re going to be talking to a ghost, so that definitely makes up for it.”
“You already ate anyway,” Kenma muttered before falling into his boyfriend’s lap on the recliner, automatically leaning into him like they had a magnetic attraction. Hinata took a seat on the opposite corner of the couch as Akaashi, leaving Bokuto to sit in between the two.
The two candles Akaashi had brought over were already on the coffee table. None of them actually knew what they were doing, possessing zero prior experience with communicating with spirits, but Kuroo was excited to wing it.
“Oh-kayyy,” Kuroo drawled. “Bokuto, would you like to explain your situation since these two haven’t heard yet?”
Bokuto explained his haunting experiences with the two new arrivals, uncharacteristically solemn. Hinata listened intently with huge eyes, while Kenma appeared liable to fall asleep at any moment.
“Wow,” Hinata said, very impressed. “You’re so brave, Bokuto, being able to live here with the ghost messing with you!”
Bokuto puffed up his chest. “Thanks, Hinata! It hasn’t been easy.”
Kuroo snorted but left it at that. “Let’s light the candles. Bokuto, do you have a lighter or matches?”
“If I didn’t have candles, why would you think I’d have those?”
“You could be a smoker!”
“Hinata, we are professional athletes—we can’t do that! Tell me you don’t smoke,” Bokuto exclaimed.
“Of course not!” the redhead cried, affronted, as if he hadn’t just implied that maybe the spiker did.
They all looked at Akaashi, who had sighed (he did that a lot around them) before standing to search in his jacket by the door. He pulled out a small box of matches and lit the candles. “I knew that this would happen.”
“Hit the lights, please, Akaashi,” Kuroo said eagerly when Akaashi went to put the matches back in the pocket of his jacket. He obeyed without a word, returning to the couch, knowing his way around Bokuto’s place well enough already to not stumble into anything.
Bokuto’s small apartment felt different in the dark, a palpable stillness that made Bokuto feel uneasy. He wondered if any of his friends felt the same way as him, or if he alone felt on edge due to his experiences.
The single two sources of light flickered dimly in front of them. It was hard to make out each others’ faces, but the whole coffee table was lit, illuminating Little Hoot, a succulent, and an empty dish, scraped clean that one of them had left there.
“So I was thinking we could just, you know, ask it yes or no questions using the two different candles,” Kuroo proposed.
Feeling his fingers twitch nervously, Bokuto spoke up apprehensively, “Is this really a good idea? This is where it all goes wrong in the horror movies.”
“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out, Bokuto?” Kuroo challenged. “Hinata thinks you’re so brave…”
“I am!” he defended.
“He is!” Hinata agreed enthusiastically. He was literal sunshine. Bokuto just wanted to hug him.
“Well, if Bokuto doesn’t want to do it—” Akaashi started, leaning forward as if to blow out the candles.
Bokuto stopped him by grabbing his elbow. “No! I—I’m not a chicken, so let’s do it.”
“This is so ridiculous,” Akaashi murmured. He thought he could see the shape of Kenma’s head nod in agreement.
Unfortunately for the pair, the number of stupid people in the room outnumbered their rational minds.
“I think it’s best if Bokuto kicks this off, since he’s living with it and all,” Kuroo said as if Akaashi hadn’t spoken.
Bokuto cleared his throat. “Okay, here I go… um… Hello.” He stopped there, not sure where to start.
Kuroo cackled. “So awkward!” Even Kenma and Hinata giggled. Akaashi was probably smiling, Bokuto thought.
If he weren’t mostly shameless, he would probably be blushing. “Because this is awkward!” He waited until everyone was serious again (as serious as they could be) before trying another time. “Hello, spirit. I’m Bokuto, as you are probably well aware of. Guys, introduce yourselves.”
They all did, Akaashi and Kenma kindly cooperating.
“Spirit, the left candle is for ‘yes’ and the right candle is for ‘no.’ Please communicate with us by extinguishing the flames,” Kuroo instructed.
“Spirit, are you with us?” Bokuto asked. “By the way, when we mean left, it would be my left as if looking ahead of me!” he added helpfully.
They waited with bated breath for a long moment.
Bokuto was a mixture of relief and disappointment when it seemed as if nothing was going to happen—until the left candle flickered almost completely into darkness before leaping to full flame once again.
‘Yes.’
He gasped, the goosebumps returning to his skin, his neck tingling when he shivered. Without thought, he found his hand grasping for Akaashi’s, who gently curled his cold fingers around his own.
“Oh my god!” Hinata screamed, flailing his legs out as if he didn’t know what to do with his whole self. His foot hit the edge of the table, and it shook with a rattle.
“Well, well, well,” Kuroo said.
“That doesn’t really mean anything.” Kenma said quietly, although he now seemed a bit more interested. “Try another question.”
“Uh, okay,” Bokuto said a tad breathlessly, trying to recover. “Spirit, why are you living with me?”
“That wasn’t a yes or no question,” Akaashi reminded.
Bokuto huffed out a chuckle. “Oh, yeah. Spirit, do you have good intentions?” His hand squeezed Akaashi’s, heart fluttering. He really was hoping his spirit was harmless and could be reasoned with to go away.
Again, the left flame momentarily flickered away to nearly nothing.
“Good!” Bokuto released a huge sigh of relief. “But you’ve really been freaking me out. I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Spirit, have you been trying to scare Bokuto on purpose?” Kuroo asked.
The right flame flickered this time.
“Guys, this is really scary,” Hinata said in a hushed voice. “Like, we are actually speaking with a ghost.”
With every tensed up muscle of Bokuto’s being, he agreed.
“Spirit, were you once alive?” Kenma asked, surprisingly. Apparently it was finally authentic enough for him to participate.
The left flame flickered.
The answer shocked the whole room, drawing in breaths collectively. This was a person. A deceased person. It made the situation feel undeniably real now.
“Spirit, are you haunting Bokuto?” Kuroo asked.
‘No.’
“Are you haunting his apartment?”
‘No.’
Bokuto scowled. “Hey, hey, hey! Don’t lie, spirit.” What else could it be then?
“It’s neither,” Kenma murmured thoughtfully. “Bokuto, have you brought any new objects into your home lately?” He stared at the coffee table.
“Huh? Well…” Bokuto tried to think. “I bought a new remote because I accidentally broke the old one. My mom gave me a fern plant that’s in the kitchen. Oh! And Little Hoot. Kuroo gave him to me as a late house warming present.”
Their gazes locked on the little wooden owl, the wide painted yellow eyes glowing at them seemingly innocently.
“Kuroo, where did you find that?” Akaashi asked.
“I took Kenma to this antique shop that he wanted to stop by for a while, and I saw that little gem and immediately thought of Bokuto. Wait. You think—Little Hoot is hosting the spirit?” Kuroo looked to the little owl as if betrayed.
Bokuto took a deep breath. “Spirit, are you attached to Little Hoot?”
The left flame much more slowly flickered down this time, but it was undeniable that it was an unnatural dance of fire. Yes, there was a spirit here in his apartment, and it was inside Little Hoot.
“Spirit, did you have something you wanted to tell us?” Kuroo asked.
No answer.
“Spirit, do you have a name?”
Again, nothing.
They tried some more, but it appeared as though Little Hoot’s spirit had left. Or ran out of energy or something.
Eventually, they blew out the candles and switched the lights back on. Bokuto’s hand was sweaty when he finally released Akaashi from his grip, free of the darkness. They were all in a state of disbelief, not quite able to comprehend what they had just experienced. And, of course, they couldn’t look at the little wooden owl the same way anymore.
“Kuroo, what the fuck,” Bokuto said, picking up the pieces after his mind had been blown. “What kind of present is this? No offense, Little Hoot.”
“It’s not like I knew!” Kuroo cried. He was shrugging on his jacket.
“Yeah, but—hey, are you leaving?”
“Kenma and I both have to get up early tomorrow,” Kuroo said, and Kenma nodded, grabbing his own things.
Bokuto turned to see Hinata doing the same. “Yeah, I’ll be going too since I need a ride.”
“You guys are leaving, just like that, after this huge revelation? Are you going to at least take Little Hoot with you?”
Kuroo raised his brow. “And why ever would I be taking Little Hoot? He’s your gift.”
“I don’t know, because it’s fucking haunted and that’s a terrible gift,” Bokuto said hotly, his arms falling open to emphasize his woe.
Kuroo only grinned and he knew he was screwed. Bokuto turned desperately to Akaashi, who was placing the candles back into the bag he brought. He seemed to be planning to leave as well.
“I’ll help you clean up the kitchen,” Akaashi said, the others leaving shortly after thanking him for the food and the ‘fun, crazy night’ as Hinata had excitedly put it.
“Akaashi,” he said reverently, almost moved to tears when he found he wasn’t left alone. They were terrible friends, all except for Akaashi. Bokuto knew there was a reason why he usually called the quiet man first.
Akaashi washed the dishes while Bokuto dried and put them away. “That was…something,” Akaashi eventually said.
Bokuto bit his lip, fingers drumming against the counter as he waited for another dish to be passed to him. “Yeah. Something.” He was being unusually quiet.
“You’re scared,” Akaashi said, handing him the last dish to be put away.
The taller man rubbed the towel vigorously across the plate, pursing his lips. “What do I do with Little Hoot? I can’t just throw him away. He’ll probably haunt me forever if I do that. Also, it just feels wrong to do that to him. On the other hand, I can’t live everyday wondering what he’s going to do next—my heart can’t take it.” He visibly shuddered.
Akaashi was silent for a long moment before speaking. “Bokuto, would you like to stay with me up until the weekend. Until you figure out what to do with…Little Hoot?”
Bokuto’s golden eyes went wide. He turned his whole entire body to face Akaashi. “You mean it? You’ll let me stay with you?” He was practically bouncing in place with his excitement.
“Yes, I mean it. Only till the weekend,” he repeated sternly.
“Akaashi!” he cried with a wide, joyful smile. “You're the best! Let me pack.”