Work Text:
I know it's hard to tell how mixed up you feel
Hoping what you need is behind every door
Each time you get hurt, I don't want you to change
Because everyone has hopes, you're human after all
i can’t decide if i need...
.
i, a large coffee
(spring semester)
.
So what should one do when they're sitting in the middle of a lecture, at 9 a.m., trying to hold back a yawn?
The first option is to yawn and try to bring your attention back to the person who is desperately trying to get your eyes on them, it can be your teacher or another student. Whoever that is, keep your eyes on them and pay attention. Sadly, that only works if you've actually had some decent amount of sleep during the previous night.
This is, unfortunately, not Akaashi Keiji's case. It never has been, probably never will be.
Second option, get some sleep. Nap. Try not to fall asleep directly on your desk, run back to your dorm after the lecture is over and fight exhaustion by feeding your body with some rest. Unfortunately, that only works if you actually have time to nap.
Of course, Akaashi Keiji could just not go to his next class. He could wait until 10 a.m., sneak out of the auditorium, and go back to bed. He could . But he won't. Because he's a serious student. A good student. Because his parents are paying for him to go to university. Because the name Akaashi cannot be tainted with something as trivial as fatigue or mortality.
So he blinks once, twice, and tries his best to listen and write down some cryptic notes he knows he won't be able to understand later, his eyes glued on his computer screen as he types 'see dispute over Okinotorishima' . And with this single sentence his usual weekly cycle of 'not researching the thing immediately - having to do it later - failing to have a healthy sleep schedule' starts. His to-do-list growing and growing and growing bigger and bigger and bigger.
Eventually, the pile will grow so high it will stumble and crash, breaking on the floor at the same time as his mental health.
And then, you have the third option .
When you have to deal with that ever-growing pile of things to do and a very little amount of sleep in your system, the third option quickly becomes your only option.
It's coffee.
The third option is coffee.
So, yeah. Akaashi Keiji is unfortunately a coffee addict, among other things.
“Good morning,” the owner welcomes him with a soft, peaceful smile. “Oh, it's you.”
“Good morning to you too.”
And the light goose-poop-coloured hair of the owner has never pissed Akaashi off more. Said-owner whose name is nothing else than Konoha Akinori rolls his eyes and starts brewing Akaashi's usual cup of coffee, with two shots of espresso and no milk (unless it's after 4 p.m.)
Akaashi has never really liked coffee. And coffee doesn't really like him either (by that, he means Konoha has decided to make his life a living hell by putting his nose anywhere but where it should be, which makes drinking coffee a living hell) (but he wants to support his friend's business, so he keeps coming back anyway).
“How's Kenma?”
Akaashi rolls his eyes, and takes the cup Konoha puts on the counter with a wink.
“He's good.”
He has no idea, because Kenma and he actually don't talk about their feelings. But he seemed healthy enough the last time he saw him, so he's going to simply assume he's as good as he looked.
“Is he still single?”
“Oh my god, Konoha.”
He doesn't know when he dropped the -san. Probably somewhere between Konoha's attempt to make him fall in love with his own sister ('I'm gay, Konoha-san' - 'Well I have a brother, then, Akaashi' ) and that time when he put sugar in his 7:45 a.m. coffee. To be honest, he probably dropped the -san when Konoha started becoming the first person he saw every day.
“It’s not for you.” Konoha smirks, but somehow, Akaashi doesn’t believe him.
“Who is it for then?”
“It has to stay between us.”
With a dramatic sigh, Akaashi stares at him with raised eyebrows, thinking that he really doesn't need Konoha to hold his leg when he has research to do .
“I have no one to tell anyway, except for Kozume who happens to be as chatty about his feelings as a brick. So no, I won't gossip about your crush or whatever your deal is.”
“It's not for me.”
“Okay.”
“It's for Kai.”
“Excuse me?”
Okay so, Akaashi is rarely interested in Konoha's mess. It's like he tries to win the trophy of the most self-created chaotic life ever. But who can blame him? It must be boring to own a cute coffee shop with mainly polite hipster customers when you've been used to Bokuto's presence in your life. Hence the need to replace the silence left behind their former captain with his own-created chaos.
“I think they’d go well together.”
“Have you asked Kai before?”
“No, why?”
They look at each other. Akaashi blinks. Konoha blinks.
He definitely knows why.
“So is he single?”
“I guess. But you should ask Bokuto.”
“Bokuto can’t keep his mouth shut.”
“That’s fair.”
Why does he always end up following Konoha’s stupid plans?
“Could you-”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re the best Akaashi!”
“I know.” That’s a lie. He’s not the best. But he’s too generous with Konoha, that’s for sure. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Oh but Akaashi, I have tons of other things to-”
“No.”
“Okay.”
He’s been coming here for a few years now, so he almost has his own table, always empty when he arrives. It sits in the corner, next to the window, with one chair and a small cactus in a yellow pot. He loves this place.
He puts his laptop on the light wood and starts focusing on whatever legal issue this Okinotorishima island raises.
He’s been staring at the cactus in its yellow pot for so many years (five, actually), he could draw it by heart. Konoha can’t even count how many doodles of the small plant he has found on paper napkins over the years Akaashi has been coming to his coffee shop.
It’s the beginning of the year, so Akaashi only comes one time every day, in the morning, just before or right after his first lecture. He needs his daily fuel. He sits in his corner that Konoha secretly reserves for him (he always takes the small reserved note just before Akaashi enters the shop), and starts finishing the reading he was supposed to do last night.
But this circus has been going on for four years already. So Konoha knows that it’s only a matter of time before the one daily occasion Akaashi comes here to work turns into two, then three, and eventually one again because he just won’t leave his table at all.
.
Spring slowly turns into the beginning of summer, and Akaashi starts appearing at the end of the day too, just before the shop closes. Thankfully for him, Konoha is a good friend, and he agrees to keep the shop open so Akaashi can have one last shot of decent coffee before he has to return to the library to study whatever case law it is that he’s reading at the moment.
They've been friends for years now. Since high school and their famous volleyball days.
Konoha is a good friend who takes pity on him when he shows up at eight p.m. after class, with dark circles under his eyes and a skin as pale as the dead.
"You should sleep."
"I know."
Konoha lets him in anyway and puts two espresso shots in his mug.
This has already been going on for a week now.
The dark-haired man comes to sit on the chair in front of the counter and he rubs his eyes with his index fingers, groaning as multi colored explosions erupt in his vision.
Gling .
"Sorry we're closed." Konoha announces, from behind the counter where he's preparing Akaashi's drug (it's not a real drug. It's only coffee. Although they both know he considered doing cocaine once or twice)
"Ah. Sorry I didn't know. Would you know of a place where I could get good coffee in the area?"
Akaashi frowns but his vision is still full of red and green and yellow explosions, blurry from his eye rub so he can't make sure he heard well. But this voice. It's familiar. Right?
"I think the Starbucks at the end of the street is still open."
"Oh- I'm not- I don't really like the industrial- the way they treat their uhm- employees and stuff. But thank you, I guess I'll make do without the coffee."
He's rambling when Konoha turns around, a mug of coffee (with milk and a small drawing of a bunny in the foam) in his hand. He hands it to Akaashi who's staring at the guy standing in front of the open door.
"Excuse me but- aren't you Fukurodani's setter?"
"You two know each other?"
For the love of God. Akaashi curses silently. Why did Konoha have to be there to witness this? Not that this is anything. This is something completely neutral, nothing big, really. It's just two people who happened to know each other from high school. Nothing big. Had it happened in any other place, Akaashi wouldn't even have batted an eye at Miya Osamu. But right now. Right there. With Konoha staring at him with a wicked grin, he knows this is somehow becoming big.
Osamu is visibly hesitating. Of course, Akaashi hasn't shown any sign of recognizing him.
"Maybe I'm mistaken."
It's been five years since their last encounter. Akaashi could pretend it's not him. He could lie and-
"Nah, this guy used to be Fukurodani's setter." Konoha says with his stupid smile.
Akaashi is a peaceful man. He studies law. He's all for peace and justice. But right now, he's thinking of all the ways he could hurt him without getting arrested for it.
"Oh- well uhm. Hello. It was nice seeing you again I guess."
And Akaashi hasn't said a word. He's too busy noticing Konoha's shining eyes and his smile and the way they go from Miya to him.
He's fucked.
“Don't worry, you can come in. It's closed but if you're friends, I'll make an exception.”
“We're not friends,” Osamu quickly says, “we uhm- we just met once at nationals during our 3rd year, it's not-”
“Ah, a volleyball player! Even better. Come in, come in!”
Akaashi hates his life.
“Miya,” he greets him with a small smile because Osamu is not responsible for Konoha’s love for dramatics. He’s only one of his many many victims.
“Fukurodani’s setter,” he smiles back.
“So, what team were you playing for?” Konoa asks with his eyebrows raised. “How do you want your coffee?”
“Black and strong please.”
Konoha nods and turns his back on them. Akaashi takes this opportunity to look at the former Inarizaki wing spiker. He hasn’t changed much. Somehow, his shoulders got broader (why does he remember what his shoulders used to look like, he won’t dwell on it), and his hair is now fully black. Other than that, he still looks pretty much the same, with his lazy eyes and his softly arrogant smile, his pale skin and his long fingers that are now gripping the mug Konoha hands to him. And Konoha definitely catches him staring at these fingers.
And oh, he is so fucked.
But he’s also so damn tired .
So he takes a sip of coffee and tries to ignore the proximity of Osamu’s very firm body sitting on the high chair next to him.
“I used to play for Inarizaki.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“It’s okay, Bokuto is playing with one of these guys now- Atsumu? Haven’t met him yet, though.”
“Yeah, Atsumu’s my brother.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Konoha asks with disbelief.
“No, he’s my twin brother.”
“There are two of yous?!”
And from the way Konoha is shamelessly staring at Osamu’s arms, he’s going to send a text to Bokuto very soon to arrange a meeting with the other Miya.
“Konoha,” Akaashi intervenes.
“Yes, yes. Right. Sorry. Enjoy your coffee, and feel free to come back anytime. Are you staying in Tokyo?”
Yeah, are you staying in Tokyo? Akaashi wonders. His mug sits very empty in front of him, and he should go back to the library to finish his research. There’s a book he still needs to get his hands on, and he should definitely go back there before the library closes. He’s wasting his time staring at Miya Osamu’s arms. But they’re big and- fuck.
“Yeah, I’m studying here.”
Akaashi’s head slowly turns to look at the man next to him. It’s true that he had always expected him to go pro after high school. He was known for being his brother’s partner after all.
“Oh,” he can’t stop the surprise from showing on his face and Osamu smiles at him gently. Who knew a Miya could smile with such tranquility?
“Surprised I didn’t go pro?” he asks, a quiet challenge hidden behind his cheery tone.
“I always thought you would follow Atsumu.”
He’s still following the volleyball scene from afar, but when you enter law school, it’s not like there’s much room for anything else. So, Osamu could have been a professional player and Akaashi wouldn’t have known, really.
“Yeah, everybody did. Even ‘Tsumu. It just- I didn’t feel like it was the right thing for me.”
Akaashi nods and jumps from his chair, throwing his coat on his shoulder. He’s standing closer to Osamu now, too close. Konoha certainly doesn’t miss a second of this interaction. His eyes are hungry and he’s going to give him so much shit for his pathetic behaviour. But for now, Akaashi is too busy trying to stop his own heart from bursting through his chest as he stands closer to his arms.
“So, what are you studying?”
“I’m a Master student at Geidai.”
His brain almost combusts between his ears and he looks up to catch Osamu’s eyes on him, shining slightly with amusement.
“I know, it’s really different from volleyball.”
“It is. But I didn’t really know you outside of volleyball, after all.”
He did have a slight idea of who Osamu was, as a player, as a brother, but definitely not as an individual.
“I’m not an Art student though, not with a capital A. I only study conservation.”
Conservation. Right. Akaashi takes his eyes off him for a second, realizing that it’s clearly not natural to look at someone in the eyes for so long, but they drift apart slowly, and he looks at Konoha who is fucking grinning at him like the Cheshire Cat. Oh, he’s not coming back for coffee anytime soon. Mission Avoid-Konoha-Akinori is launched.
“What about you?”
“I’m in Law School.”
“Oh. Are you surviving?”
“Barely.” Akaashi whispers with a small smile, and he closes his eyes and tries to ignore his heart shrinking in his chest as he thinks about the work he still has to do. He bites his lower lips and sighs. “It’s been nice, but I have to go back to the library.”
He hands Konoha his money with a long stare that means Don’t do anything stupid (but he knows he can’t trust that ferret ) and takes his leave, not without one last smile in Osamu’s direction. He would have loved to stay, really, take his mind off that stupid Okinotorishima island, but he has a paper to write, and not enough time. So he leaves Osamu there, hoping it won’t be the last gulp of fresh air he’ll get this year.
.
The next evening, Akaashi pushes the door of the coffee shop in defeat (because he just can’t avoid Konoha’s coffee forever and he has already missed his morning and afternoon coffees). Osamu is sitting on the same high chair as yesterday, and when he meets Konoha’s amused eyes, he knows this is going to become a habit.
.
“I asked Yaku,” Akaashi says randomly, a few weeks later, as he’s taking his morning coffee and Konoha is taking his break.
“You did what?”
“I asked Yaku if Kenma was still single and he is, in fact, still single.”
“Oh thank god.” Konoha sighs and slides a large mug of freshly brewed coffee on the counter with a side-smirk. “It’s on the house. Because you’re the best.”
"I'm not."
"Why would you say that?" comes a lazy voice behind Konoha.
"The only thing I did was ask a friend if another friend was single."
"And now my friend will get a date. So you are in fact the best, Keiji. Good morning Osamu, do you want your usual?"
"Yeah, please, I feel like I haven't slept in days ."
He lets himself fall on the chair next to Akaashi's, the one that goes with another table where someone else is already eating their breakfast. But if she minds, she doesnt show it, clearly too engrossed in her own phone to even look at them.
"Rough night?"
"Yeah, I had to work on a paper. Since we can only work in the studio on the paintings in bright daylight, I work on my papers at night. And I have classes in an hour."
"Impressive." Akaashi says with a small smile and he genuinely believes it. He's not the type to diminish other people for studying something else. He knows law requires a lot of mental strength, but it's not the only strength that matters. "You don't look too exhausted to me though. Like- Not different than usual." You're still insanely attractive , he almost adds but refrains himself.
"Thanks, it's the makeup."
"Oh."
"Thank you, Konoha," Osamu says when Konoha brings him his cup of coffee and Akaashi can’t help but notice it has milk in it.
They sit there in a peaceful silence, Osamu clearly in a slightly comatose state and Akaashi focusing on the book he's trying to decipher.
.
Just like that, evening meetings turn into morning and evening meetings. And suddenly, Konoha isn't the first person he meets every day anymore and he isn't the last one he talks to either.
.
By the end of June, Akaashi is spending more time at the coffee shop than in his own dorm, or even at the library. He has done his reading, he has done his research, now he only has to write, to remember, to print the sight of his notes at the back of his retina, hopefully forever.
None of them ask, but one day, he enters the coffee shop and everything changes.
There's nothing unusual to notice at first. The place isn’t packed yet and the buzzing sound of the customers’ chatter is soothing to his tinnitus, covering the neverending ringing in his ears.
Nothing unusual, then.
Until his eyes land on his usual corner, the one next to the window, where the cactus in its yellow pot is sitting. His head turns towards Konoha who’s definitely using the counter to protect himself from the things Akaashi might throw at him.
It’s not the same table anymore. It’s a bigger one, slightly longer, and it has two chairs .
The yellow pot and the cactus are still here.
“Don’t worry, he doesn’t let anyone sit at your place.” Osamu’s voice comes behind his shoulder, and he’s close, so close he can almost feel his breath on the bare skin of his neck.
“I just thought it would be more comfortable for you two to sit at the same table.”
It’s true that Osamu’s been sitting next to unknown clients for weeks now, turning his back on them to talk with, look at, or just sit with Akaashi. So it does make sense to put another chair at his table. It's the rational thing to do.
“It’s bigger because exam season is coming and I know you both need space for your books, or whatever.”
“Thank you so much,” Osamu says with a big smile and he watches Konoha make his latte with the same fascination as usual (it’s been months and he still finds it incredible).
When Osamu smiles and goes to sit at their table, Akaashi comes closer to the counter, his face only a few centimeters from Konoha’s.
“I see what you’re trying to do here.”
“Oh, and what is it?”
“I won’t let you.”
“I’m afraid it’s already too late, though.”
Konoha is an asshole.
But Konoha is a good friend.
Konoha is a good friend.
Konoha is a Good Friend.
Konoha is a good friend .
He needs to repeat the sentence five times in his head before he finally sighs and nods. He’s not going to murder him yet. He’s a Good Friend. And he could use a bigger table, for sure. So Akaashi simply stares at him for another minute before turning on his heels to go sit across from Osamu.
“You’ll thank me later.”
“Make me the usual.”
Konoha smiles to his back, and starts putting coffee grinds in the coffee machine. Akaashi doesn't pay for his coffee that day, and Konoha actually doesn't mind because the sight of his friend blushing is worth a free coffee after all.
.
“Why do you study conservation?” Akaashi asks over his Constitutional Law book he bought during his first year of uni. It’s full of annotations and doodles, but he has to go back to it sometimes, just to check (lies, he just forgot most of his constitutional law knowledge).
Osamu takes a moment to think about it, his hands stopping on his keyboard.
“When I was younger, we used to go to the museum very often,” he starts and he looks at Akaashi with his usual quiet smile that might make his heart melt a little, but that’s only between you and me.
“With Atsumu?”
“Sometimes, but most of the time I would go there with our older sister. I was very young the first time we went to the Hyōgo museum in Kobe. I don’t know I just- I guess I’ve always liked how peaceful these times were. And I like how meticulous this work is. You can’t rush it, you have to work very slowly and carefully. It’s the complete opposite of volleyball, and I liked it. I still do. It’s soothing.”
Osamu is a passionate person, Akaashi can see that. Despite his calm demeanor, he’s fuelled by the same fire as his twin brother, it’s just that he tamed it a bit more successfully.
“And it- it makes you a part of History, you know? It’s maybe more selfish but I like telling myself that one day, in many decades, if people can still see some paintings, it’ll be thanks to me.”
Akaashi doesn’t know when his eyes have dropped to his now empty mug, but he just can’t look at Osamu right now, not when they’re shining with passion and excitement. Not when he’s so envious of the love the other man has for what he does.
“It’s a thing I do for the next generation and the rest of humanity, and I think that’s what makes me happy. And everyday, you have many questions you have to answer, should this painting be restored? How? It’s fascinating.”
He’s used to that feeling, to the ache in his chest every damn time he sees passionate people, the world spinning around him because he just doesn’t know how to stop his brain from being loud . Why do you do what you do? Why can’t you be happy for others (he is, though, truly happy, for them all. Bokuto, Osamu, Konoha, they’re all happy, and it’s great. It is. But he just can’t help the feeling of envy that lingers at the back of his heart)
“And I guess having the opportunity to touch the paintings is also great. I've always wanted to do it. Every since I was a kid. So I either had to become a thief or a conservator. I chose the more legal path.”
Osamu laughs, light, and warm, and Akaashi just sinks deeper and deeper.
“What about you?”
Akaashi sighs and closes his book.
“I’m going to be honest here,” he whispers after blinking twice or thrice, “I have no fucking idea.”
.
Summer is definitely there, and by the end of July, they are both done with their midterms.
From : Bokuto
Are you coming to watch the game next week?
To : Bokuto
I have my ticket, yes
From : Bokuto
Do you want to come to the party after the game?
To : Bokuto
I’ll be done with my exams by then, so why not?
From : Bokuto
Great, I’ll ask Konoha!!
And for once, Akaashi can’t say he really cares. He could use a drink after all. (Many of them, actually). And Konoha being here only means one thing: a familiar face in the big crowd of the MSBY messy family. So, for once Konoha is a good thing .
.
ii, six shots of vodka
(summer break)
.
It’s the first weekend post exams so other students naturally ask him if he wants to come party with them to celebrate the end of this Way of the Cross. See, Akaashi Keiji might be reserved, silent most of the time and polite to an extent that might almost be considered ridiculous, but he's still very well liked. Especially since that MUN event in third year. But let's not talk about that.
“I’m sorry, I already have something planned.”
“Oh, okay,” the girl says with a shy smile and her eyes drop to the floor.
He still doesn’t know how he managed to get so close to total strangers that he actually ends up being invited to not one but two different parties. Thankfully, for once, he doesn’t have to lie when he says he’s already meeting with other friends.
“A friend of mine is in town this weekend for a volleyball match and I promised I would go.”
“That's okay! Next time then.”
Akaashi nods. They both know next time will never come. He'll find another excuse by then. He’s not the type to party, especially not with strangers (or friends he barely knows). He knows that college is supposed to be fun but where is the fun in hanging out with the same people you see all the time in such an unpleasant environment as Law School ? No fucking where.
So he doesn’t hang out with other law students and always ends up in front of his laptop, playing some kind of game, or reading an old classic (so he can brag about it to Osamu later) (‘You read now? ’ Konoha asked in a very rhetorical question).
.
“Akaashi!”
“Hello, Bokuto-san.”
He waves towards his former ace who’s currently running towards them, his hair still wet from the shower he probably took just after their crushing victory over the F.C. Tokyo team.
“Konoha! You came too!”
“Akaashi dragged me here.”
It’s a complete total lie. Konoha was the one who bought them tickets. Not that Akaashi wouldn’t have bought them, of course, but he definitely wasn’t the one queuing on the MSBY website to get VIP tickets.
But that’s a secret they will keep between them.
“Bokuto, are you- Oh but if this isn’t the famous Akaashi!” Atsumu appears behind Bokuto and throws an arm around his shoulders.
The resemblance between Atsumu and Osamu is striking. Osamu has larger shoulders (how does he maintain this shape, Akaashi doesn’t know) and his fingers are always covered in multicoloured paint instead of tape but apart from that, they really do look alike.
“Miya-san.”
“Are you coming tonight?” Atsumu asks with a smile that could rival Konoha’s own grin and Akaashi suddenly feels trapped .
“Of course he’s coming!” Sweet. Honest. Naive. Bokuto. Bless his soul. Akaashi wants the ground to swallow him.
“Good.” Konoha and Atsumu look at each other and with that, Akaashi knows it’s over for him. He doesn’t know what they’re trying to do, but there’s nothing he can do to stop them anyway.
.
He eventually finds out what they were planning a bit later that night when he’s sitting at the counter, his fourth beer in front of him, looking at Konoha with disbelief. How can someone be so drunk and normal at the same time? Probably by acting drunk even when sober. It gives an illusion of normality to even the biggest nonsense.
He orders a fifth beer and watches Atsumu and Konoha actively talk about that time when the twins threw a party back when they were in high school in the middle of the countryside.
They’re both drunk. He knows that. But they’re wearing such a serious look that one might be fooled.
But once again, he delivered one of his best opening statements while drunk, so who is he to judge? No one.
“Talking about that time you fed Kita’s neighbour's horse with a baby cedar tree?”
And everything comes crashing down all at once.
“Myaa-sam!” Bokuto yells from the other side of the bar and Osamu waves at the MSBY ace.
“Nice to see you Konoha, Akaashi.”
“Hey,” Akaashi simply whispers and, oh, the world starts spinning slightly around him. He’s slightly drunk too then. Nice.
“What? Do you want to tell that story? You know I do it better than you,” Atsumu yells.
“It’s your own stupid brain who came up with the idea, of course you tell it better than me.”
“The horse looked hungry”
“Horses don’t eat cedar trees, Tsumu.”
Atsumu lets out the biggest sigh Akaashi has ever heard (and he played volleyball with Bokuto for two years) before falling back on his chair and resuming his narration of that time when Kita lost his shit because Atsumu almost killed his neighbour’s horse.
His fifth beer comes just in time for him to politely escape the counter to go wander around, in search of another quieter place to sit. But Osamu’s faster than him (the perks of being sober) and catches his wrist between his fingers.
He immediately lets go when Akaashi freezes under his touch.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s just- It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”
“Yeah- Uhm. Exams and all.”
“Yeah.”
They look at each other and everything sounds much much louder suddenly: Atsumu’s laugh, Konoha’s voice, Bokuto and Hinata’s singing. And it’s the first time they’ve ever met outside of the familiarity of the coffee shop, the first time they don’t have books to look at or excuses to make so they can leave as soon as it becomes too much .
“I’m going to order a drink, you want something?”
“I just ordered a beer.” Akaashi says and he slightly raises his very full bottle that Osamu has obviously already seen.
“Oh yeah, right.” Osamu smiles sheepishly.
Akaashi has never noticed the differences between the twins more than right now. Osamu's dimples are deeper and larger. His eyes are grey and clear, and his smile is gentler, and his aura is calmer, steadier.
He’s not as confident as his brother. Or maybe it’s just Akaashi who makes him blush like that. Who knows?
Their eyes meet once again for a few instants before Osamu hesitates and slowly walks away to go order his own beer. Thankfully Akaashi doesn’t hear Atsumu yell “Fuck 'Samu, that was pathetic .”
Later that night, when the night is fully dark and the majority of the Japanese population is asleep, Akaashi finds himself crouching over a line of six small glasses full of vodka and for an instant, he wonders how the fuck did he find himself in this position? during one striking moment of lucidity before Bokuto starts yelling in his ear.
He inhales slowly but the bar is so full and the air is thick and wet, and hot, there’s no relief in the gulp of air he takes before taking the first glass in his hand. Once he starts, he knows he won’t back down. They all know it.
He hates vodka. Who likes vodka anyway? Konoha probably, because the guy has a shitty taste in everything.
He throws his head backwards as he brings the glass to his lips, exposing his naked throat for Osamu to see (it’s not intentional, but after the third glass, he finds the courage to briefly look at him. Their eyes meet and he can definitely see hunger there. Good.) Three other shots to go.
“Be careful Samu, your gay ass is showing,” Atsumu whispers a bit too loudly but Konoha’s the only one to hear.
“Shut your goddamn mouth.”
Konoha ends up stealing the sixth shot and Akaashi glares at him for five seconds after that. They hug for five whole minutes afterwards anyway when the coffee shop owner starts crying, saying he’s sorry (he better be) and Akaashi reassures him.
“It’s okay because you’re one of my best friends and I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“You’re such a sap.”
“Shut up I’m drunk.”
“Thank gods I drank that last shot then.”
“You’re paying me back.”
“I love you bro.”
“I love you too.”
They’re ridiculous, but at this point, who even cares anymore? No one because Atsumu and Bokuto are already going from friend to friend to ask them if they want to go to a nightclub.
“Come on 'Samu, it’s been since Semi. You need to get laid. ”
“I get laid often enough, thank you very much.”
“When was the last time? With dear Tobio?”
“Oh god, that was once and it was a mistake, Tsumu, no need to remind me.”
Atsumu wants to yell something back (he always does, because he wants to have the last word, you see) but they’re interrupted by glass shattering on the floor next to them. They turn their heads simultaneously to stare at the broken beer bottle, their eyes sliding along the legs behind it and Akaashi's chest before they reach his face. He’s very obviously staring at Osamu with round eyes.
They all freeze for a second before Konoha stumbles next to his friend and puts a hand on his shoulder to make him step out away from the broken glass. A waitress appears next to him and starts kneeling on the floor but Akaashi snaps out of his thoughts and takes the hand brush from the woman’s hand.
“Don’t worry, it’s my mess, I’ll clean it up,” he says with a polite smile. "I'm sorry."
Thankfully the bottle was empty and there’s only shattered glass in the middle of the sticky floor. He hands the dustpan back to the waitress once it's full of glass fragments and bows quickly before promptly standing up to run towards the toilets.
He sighs to himself as he meets his reflection’s eyes in the mirror. He’s pale and tired and the skin under his eyes is so dark he might as well get punched in the face and no one would notice the difference. He puts his hand under the tap and groans when he sees red liquid falling in the sink, dark velvet smearing the white porcelain.
“Shit.”
He must have cut himself on the glass fragments. He still washes his hands and splashes some water on his face before the door opens and Osamu appears, first in the mirror and then next to him.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah I- I just cut myself.”
“Here, let me see.” Osamu comes closer and he quickly washes his hand before he takes Akaashi’s one in his own, soft and deliciously cold. “Sit here and wait.”
He smiles at Akaashi and he leaves, almost running towards the door.
Vodka is a fucking blessing, Akaashi thinks, because in any other circumstance, he probably would have freaked out just by looking at the deep cut in the palm of his hand. To be honest he wouldn’t have freaked out, he rather would have spiralled in a whirlwind of self deprecating thoughts. But Akaashi is pleasantly drunk, so he simply sits there and looks at the stalls, wondering if it’s possible to lock someone from outside.
It seems like only a second has passed when Osamu comes back with his coat on his shoulder.
“Here, give me your hand.”
And he’s standing in front of Akaashi, and their knees are just one centimeter away from touching. His fingers are gentle against his hand as he cleans the wound with a small spray before wrapping the palm of Akaashi’s hand with a bandage.
“Here, it’s as good as new.”
“You’re good at it.” Akaashi whispers, looking at his hand. He’s never found his hand more fascinating than now, with Osamu’s fingers still touching the warm (too warm) skin.
“I’m the doctor of paintings after all.” He smiles gently but even in his drunken state, Akaashi can see he’s avoiding his gaze.
“They’re lucky paintings, then.”
Osamu chuckles and his fingers linger just for a second before he lets Akaashi’s hand fall on his thigh to put the bandages and the bottle of antiseptic back in the pocket of his wool coat.
“Why do you have these in your coat?” Akaashi asks, more to fill the silence than because he really cares (Osamu’s probably a responsible adult and that’s all).
“We often use scalpels in the studio and- let’s say accidents happen. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“I see.”
Osamu gently throws his coat on his shoulder and starts walking towards the door before he stops on his path. His shoulders visibly rise before they go back down and Akaashi stops breathing for an instant when the man turns on his heels and looks at him straight in the eyes.
“Listen Akaashi. If you have a problem with me being interested in men I- I’m sorry. For you, of course, but I value our uhm- friendship and I-”
Akaashi blinks before he almost chokes on his own saliva as he realises what Osamu is trying to say. He lets himself fall back on his feet hitting the floor in a thump before interrupting him loudly.
“No! No, no, no, no, not at all. Why would you think that? I’m sorry if I- Fuck, okay I’m drunk, but I’m sorry if I said something insensitive, I don’t mind if you’re gay or bi or whatever.”
Osamu audibly sighs in relief, his eyes dropping on the floor, skin burning. And Akaashi desperately wants to reach for him, for his face, reassure him in any way he can.
“Oh, sorry, it’s just that when you heard I uhm- I had a thing with men you dropped your bottle so I thought you were uhm- disturbed by it, I guess? I’m not always comfortable coming out so I always assume people will- That they will hate me for it but I shouldn’t have doubted you I’m sor-”
“Hey, it’s okay, I understand why you thought that. But I really don’t mind.”
“I’m glad.” Osamu says with a small smile, and it’s shyer than his usual solar obnoxious smiles that could appear in Colgate adverts.
“As I said, I’m drunk, and you hooked up with Kageyama, I was- I was surprised. Not in a bad way, it’s just that I’ve known him since high school so it’s- it’s just weird.”
It’s Akaashi’s turn to look at the floor and Osamu laughs quietly before shrugging.
“It was a mistake, it shouldn’t have happened, it was a-” he sighs, “it was a mistake, that’s all.”
“We all make mistakes.” Akaashi smiles and he’s actually the first one to get to the door. He pauses in front of it, “are you coming to the nightclub or not?”
“Nah, I’ll pass. I have to go to the studio tomorrow to work on a painting.”
Akaashi nods and smiles softly before leaving without another word.
.
He goes home with a stranger that night, and if he pictures broader shoulders and gentler hands, he’ll forget about it in the morning.
.
He doesn’t.
.
When Konoha asks him if he wants to move in with him in his shared apartment because his current flatmate is going to study abroad, Akaashi tells himself it will be cheaper.
The truth is, it’s a lie. It won’t necessarily be cheaper. But he will get to live closer to the coffee shop (and the library) which is always a plus. So he accepts and he hates himself for it because Konoha is an arrogant asshole and even more because Konoha is an arrogant nosy asshole who loves drama way too much and Akaashi can see it coming, as big as an elephant, that the guy is going to make his life a living hell. But it’s not like they don’t see each other twenty four, seven anyway.
Konoha promises him there is a lock on his bedroom so he can just lock him out of his personal space if he wants to. He also promises to not be too loud after they go back from the coffee shop (Akaashi eventually finds out that Konoha is honest when he says he usually goes to sleep two hours after coming back from work).
So yeah, in the middle of August, Akaashi moves in with Konoha, and if it’s not a big deal for him, Konoha is Konoha. And Konoha will make a big deal out of it if he fucking wants to.
That’s how he ends up with the entire former Fukurodani team and at least twenty other people partying in Konoha’s (and now Akaashi’s) loft to celebrate his arrival in the Kingdom of Dramatics.
And when Miya Osamu knocks on the door and enters, with his lazy grin and burning eyes, the whole Fukurodani team falls silent.
“Awkward,” Osamu sing-songs with a side smile directed directly towards Akaashi and the poor man almost turns to ashes right there.
Not having classes means not having to study all day every day (he still does, but he does it in his bed, with a cup of instant coffee), so they haven’t seen each other at the coffee shop since the MSBY victory party, two weeks ago.
“It’s fine man, we’re over it.”
Akaashi chuckles, he had almost forgotten that Fukurodani had fallen on their knees before Inarizaki during his last year of high school.
“Speak for you,” Konoha jokes but he pats Osamu’s shoulder anyway when he comes to sit next to him.
The party is less wild than the other time, maybe because Atsumu and Bokuto aren’t here to wreak havoc, or maybe it’s just Akaashi’s perspective because he actually doesn’t get insanely drunk.
“How’s your hand healing?”
“As good as new,” Akaashi raises his formerly injured hand with a big smile.
“Here, let me see.”
And his fingers close around his palm once again, making him blush furiously. No one around them notices, they’re all too drunk or too focused on their conversation to look at them.
“You’re as great at fixing people as you are at fixing paintings.”
Osamu’s index pass over the place where the injury used to be. Akaashi shivers. There’s a bridge that is slowly building itself between them, sinuous and gnarled but solid.
“You’re not going to drink a meter of shooters today?”
Akaashi looks at him and there's a challenge in his eyes.
“I didn't plan to. Why? Do you want to make it a competition?”
“You don’t stand a chance,” Osaamu replies with a smirk.
“You know I used to hang out with Konoha much more when I was an undergrad, right?”
“And I grew up in the countryside, you don’t stand a chance.”
“Try me.”
It’s because they lost against Inarizaki during the finals, that Osamu fires up his competitive instincts, Akaashi tells himself. But the truth is that he really wants to see that strong collected man be just a bit less collected. It’s a social study, an experiment for his own personal knowledge.
“Konoha!”
The sadly-wet-sand-hair-coloured man turns his head towards them and smiles wickedly when he sees the two men sitting so close to each other (at least Akaashi assumes that’s the reason why he smiles that way).
“Yeah?”
“Do you have limes?”
“You’re serious?”
Konoha’s eyes brighten up immediately, and with that, it’s like they’re all twenty years old again, with their heads full of dreams and no sense of responsibility whatsoever.
“Tequila shots?” Sarukui yells from the couch like he has been called.
“Body shots!” Konoha answers without even having to look at Akaashi.
“Even better!”
Akaashi slowly turns his head towards Osamu who looks at him with fire in his eyes, red on his cheeks.
He knows what’s coming for him.
Konoha doesn’t give him any time to compose himself however, because he walks behind him and winks at Akaashi.
“When was the last time you called for tequila shots, Akaashi? During your third year?”
“I believe so. And you couldn't beat me back then either.”
And who knew Akaashi could become so somber in an instant. He takes a step in Osamu’s direction, pinning him under his dark stare and he swears he just can’t breathe anymore.
“Do you think you can still beat me?” Konoha asks to his best friend.
“Oh so you’re going against me?”
Konoha shoots him a challenging look. “Scared?”
“Not at all.”
“Washio, come here.”
“Dear lord, I thought we stopped doing that after Kuroo and Oikawa-”
“You want to, or not?”
“Fuck yes, I missed this.”
They push the empty bottles from the counter and Washio throws himself on it with his back against the stoneware. He takes off his shirt and Konoha starts putting salt on his chest with an unusually serious look on his face.
He takes his eyes off Fukurodani’s former middle blocker and finds Akaashi’s questioning eyes on him.
“Bokuto’s not here so you need to find someone else, Akaashi.”
“Don’t worry. I think I know perfectly who would be willing.”
It’s not like no one in Fukurodani would accept to be under their former setter’s tongue, definitely not. But this whole thing has a purpose, so he only looks at Osamu who slightly nods.
“Washio?” Osamu asks before laying himself down next to him and their eyes meet for a long moment.
“Yeah?”
“If you say one word to Rin, I will cut off your balls.”
“Hot. But fair. Don’t worry, Suna will not hear a word. From me at least.”
“I can work with that.”
Osamu takes off his shirt. He takes off his goddamn shirt and how the hell can he look like that if he works at the studio during the day and write his papers at night? It’s like the guy has never stopped playing volleyball.
“Like what you see?” he asks, looking at Akaashi with a glint in his eyes.
“We all do,” Konoha says almost like a prayer.
“You okay with this?” Akaashi asks one last time. Osamu nods, his smirk never leaving his face, and he suddenly looks much more like Atsumu than usual. “Here you go.” He puts the lime slice between his teeth and it’s the last time they truly look at each other before things get more serious.
Akaashi has to admit he has a hard time putting the salt on Osamu’s pale skin at the junction between his shoulder and his neck without shaking. Konoha throws a wet tissue towards Akaashi to clean Osamu’s belly button. He puts tequila in the small cavity once it’s somehow clean (not super clean but clean enough for drunken minds, let’s say) and with that, the competition begins.
“Hands behind your backs.” Sarukui announces and Akaashi inhales, watching Konoha with a neutral face that says I will fuck you up.
“Ready.” His heart is beating at a million miles an hour.
“Set.”
He exhales slowly and takes a step towards the counter, now standing between Osamu's spread (unfortunately still covered) legs, close enough for them to touch and he’s glad Osamu is still laying down so he doesn’t have to meet his eyes as he prepares himself for what’s to come (in the end, what matters is that he can’t let his desires make him lose against Konoha).
“Go.”
He throws himself at Osamu, his mouth closing over his navel and sucking the liquid waiting for him there, ripping a moan from his assistant's throat. He tries his best to ignore his very obvious hard on and the burning feeling in his oesophagus. Osamu’s already sitting up to make accessing the salt on his shoulder easier.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Washio sitting up too, but it’s only slightly late compared to Osamu. The tip of Akaashi's tongue slides against the warm skin, salt biting his taste buds.
His heart is ringing in his ears and he can feel his head spinning slightly when he feels Osamu tense under the hand he had mechanically put on his thigh. But he doesn’t dwell on it because he only has an instant to look inside Osamu’s eyes before he closes them and takes the lime slice from the tip of teeth, his tongue only slightly brushing against his lips before he throws his head backwards and bites into the fruit.
Acidic juice runs against the salt on his tongue and he spits the remains next to Osamu's as Sarukui yells.
“And Akaashi remains the uncontested king of body shots in the Fukurodani team!”
“Fuck,” Konoha swears against Wahio’s lips.
But Akaashi doesn’t hear him because he’s too busy staring at Osamu’s slightly parted lips and his very red face. He only then realizes what he just did .
“Fuck,” he whispers
“Please, tell me you’re not straight,” Osamu whispers, and he’s still very very close to his face because his breath tickles his skin where some lime juice remains.
“I am very much not.”
“Oh thank god.”
You see, Akaashi is a very quiet, reserved person. He doesn’t like being the center of attention. He'd rather linger in the corners. But somehow, this doesn’t bother him because he lets Osamu grab his face between his hands to pull him into a kiss that involves teeth and tongue under the loud cheers of his former teammates.
“Can you wait until tomorrow to send this picture to Atsumu, please,” Akaashi hears Osamu say.
“Okay, but only because I love you man,” Konoha replies.
“What would you say about taking this to the bedroom?” Osamu then asks, jumping from the counter to stand in front of Akaashi, his nose almost touching his, but his hands are now only lazily holding on his wrists.
“Yes, definitely.”
“Go inaugurate your new room, champ’” Konoha yells when Akaashi closes the door of his very new bedroom. It isn’t even locked yet but Osamu throws him on the bed anyway, not caring if anyone comes in to take a look (Akaashi will mind later) and goes down on his knees.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this?”
“I think I have a pretty good idea,” he laughs and groans.
The rest of the night is muffled behind the fist he bites to keep himself from making too much noise (he still does have some dignity). They fall asleep side by side, Osamu curled up against his side, one of his arms thrown around his waist.
For once, alcohol brought him something else than a messy one night stand and a hangover.
Konoha sends the picture of them kissing to all their friends at 8 a.m. the next day and Akaashi’s phone blows up.
.
iii, two weeks of sleep
(fall semester)
.
Akaashi lets himself fall on his usual chair and Konoha doesn’t bother hiding the reserved sign anymore, simply letting it sit on the table for Osamu or Akaashi to put away. He knows they’ll eventually replace it with their books and laptops.
His eyes are slowly closing, his mind drifting away as he tries his best to stare at the yellow pot in front of him. At this point, he can even imagine it perfectly with his eyes closed, and so he doesn’t really know anymore if the plant is the real one or the one his mind is picturing to make him believe he’s awake.
Of course, he doesn’t notice Osamu coming to sit in front of him. It’s the strong smell of coffee that makes him stir as the other man puts his hand on his shoulder.
“Keiji?”
He hums against the back of his hand and Osamu simply shrugs, letting the other man sleep.
They have been spending almost every night together since Akaashi has moved in with Konoha, and Osamu has seen the very little amount of time the law student dedicates to actual sleep. He might take small naps on his desk in the middle of the afternoon, or fall asleep on his shoulder in the morning when they’re sitting here and they move the chairs to sit next to each other, but he doesn’t rest.
“You should sleep more,” Osamu tells him one night, when they’re both sitting on Akaashi’s bed, their laptops on their knees.
He can see the small letters of the paper Akaashi is trying to read, his eyes squinting behind his reading glasses.
“I sleep enough.”
“You don’t.”
“I don’t have time anyway. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
“That’s not healthy,” Osamu tries.
He’s been observing him for weeks now, months even, seeing the other man go from surviving on unhealthy coffee consumption to dropping all the anxiety that has been building up in his mind thanks to once again unhealthy alcohol consumption. And from what Konoha said, it’s something that isn’t unusual for Akaashi, a cycle that always repeats itself. Of course, he gets why Akaashi’s like that. It’s not like he doesn’t understand . But coffee isn’t enough anymore to make him fight his anxiety, and alcohol just cannot be consumed everyday when you have classes at 8 a.m. (it’s possible, but Akaashi’s not there yet, or he’s not there anymore, Osamu doesn’t really know)
“What do you want me to do?”
Akaashi sighs and looks at him briefly, a tired look in his eyes. Osamu closes his laptop (he still has a few weeks before the publication of his article, so he can sacrifice a few hours to help his- his friend or whatever they are now).
“I want you to sleep. Give your body some rest.”
“I don’t need to rest.”
“When was the last time you slept more than five hours straight?”
“I always wake up during the night, so I guess never.”
“You’re really irritating.”
“I can take care of myself.”
Osamu feels the need to fight back on the tip of his tongue but he simply sighs. Akaashi’s not ready to have that conversation, so he’ll just stay there and hold him tight for as long as the other man will allow it.
He puts his laptop in his bag and curls up next to Akaashi’s thigh, his face pressed against his uncovered skin. Eventually, he falls asleep like that.
Occasionally, the former setter would put his hand in his hair to pat his head softly, before going back to his restless typing.
A few hours later, Osamu opens his eyes, and the room is silent around them, no more typing background noise. It’s dark, and he notices the screen in front of Akaashi’s eyes is now black.
Gently, he takes it from his hands and puts it on the floor next to the bed. The other man is snoring softly, still sitting against the wall.
“Come, lay down, ‘Kaashi,” he whispers gently and the other man hums sleepily as he lets Osamu guide him to rest his head on his pillow.
They fall asleep wrapped around each other.
It doesn’t last for five hours, but Akaashi gets a few hours of rest, anyway.
.
It starts slowly.
First, it’s a cough, and if Osamu notices it, he only gives Akaashi a cup of warm water with lemon and honey, not mentioning how his voice is a bit more nasal than usual when he speaks.
Second, it’s the way he stops eating with his usual appetite. Even Osamu’s signature homemade onigiri can’t seem to make his eyes lighten up anymore.
Third, it’s the way his usually bored eyes become shiny . Akaashi’s eyes don’t usually shine. It’s a rare sight. But now he’s looking at his mug, thinking about whatever thing this okinotorishima island has done to the political balance of the world and his eyes are glassy.
Osamu waits until the fourth sign shows up on the next morning before saying anything. He’s careful like that.
“You’re really pale,” he remarks after he has sat down with his mug of coffee.
“I’m always pale.”
“I know what you look like, this isn’t usual-pale. That’s vampire-pale.”
He tries to sound casual, but the greenish tone in Akaashi’s skin is starting to make him worry. It’s not natural for someone to have a green skin, unless you’re Osamu and you spend so much time working with pigments that you always end up with colours everywhere on your body, green included.
“I’m fine.”
“Konoha!”
“Don’t bother him,” Akaashi mumbles but it’s too late.
“Oh, I will bother him.” Osamu declares, raising his eyebrows in a challenging way.
Of course, a few seconds later, Konoha appears behind Osamu with an innocent smile and the traitor doesn’t even wait for Osamu to speak before he says,
“He hasn’t eaten anything solid in two days and we’re out of tissues because he has used them all. So do something, please, thank you.”
“Konoha,” Akaashi warns.
“Keiji,” Osamu interrupts him and he gestures to Konoha that he can leave. I’ll take it from there , his eyes say.
“Don’t 'Keiji' me. I won’t let you manipulate me.”
But that’s the moment his body starts betraying him, and Akaashi can’t hold back a sneeze.
“Out,” Osamu orders before he shows him the door. “Come on, we’re bringing you home.”
“I have readings to do.”
“You can’t do them in this condition, go, rest and we’ll deal with your readings later.”
“I can’t fall behind.”
“‘Kaashi, if you don’t rest at least a bit, you’re going to be sick until exam season arrives and then you’ll be really fucked. Trust me, I know. I’m a student too, and I’ve done this kind of stupid things too.”
“What kind of stupid thing?”
“Ignoring the signs my body is sending me. Now, come on. Up.”
He offers him his arm and Akaashi reluctantly wraps his own around it.
“See you tonight Konoha, have a nice day!”
“Put him in bed and make sure he stays there.”
“Don’t worry, I grew up with 'Tsumu, I know how to tie someone to a bed.”
Konoha winks at him but both men choose to ignore him.
.
“Usually I get ill during the winter after my exams and my body just can’t take it anymore.” Akaashi admits, his mint tea warm against the sweaty skin of his hands.
“And you think that’s a good thing? That you can keep on doing this?”
“It’s almost over.”
“‘Kaashi, you won’t have more time to take care of yourself once you start working. You will only start taking care of yourself once you decide you will do so.”
Akaashi sighs and drinks the hot liquid in silence. He knows this. But it’s just so hard to tell yourself that you should just stop .
“I know it’s hard- I know you feel like your body is invincible, and that it’s only a vessel for your mind, but you need to take care of it too. And coffee cannot replace sleep.”
“What if I fail?”
“Success isn’t worth destroying your body.”
He gets lost in his own thoughts, silent, but he lets Osamu pull him against his chest nonetheless. There’s tenderness between them, so much gentleness in the way Osamu takes the mug from his tensed fingers, the way he kisses them after, and there’s no way they’re not dating, right? He kisses his forehead and takes him to the bedroom, throwing a soft blanket on his aching body.
“Rest, now, Keiji. I’ll stay here.”
“Don’t you have better things to do?” Akaashi mumbles, already drifting to sleep.
“I can work from here and watch over you. I don’t mind. Don’t worry.”
After all, Osamu has gone through this already. Neglecting his body, failing classes because of it. He knows what it’s like. Since then, he has realised he simply cannot keep putting his academic success before his own health, before his own happiness.
And Akaashi makes him happy.
With his snarky remarks and his gentleness. They don’t have a firework-type of love. Gods, he’s already talking about love. But they’re good for each other, in the healthy steady way they both need.
So he chooses Akaashi over whatever painting he has to work on at the studio. He can always go back to it later. There’s no rush. Not at the moment. So he simply sits on the floor, his head against the wall, next to Akaashi’s face, so he can take small furtive glimpses at the sleeping man.
.
It doesn’t take more than a few hours before the fever comes to knock at their door. It's a blessing that Osamu actually managed to give Akaashi some soup and a few pills before the man simply starts to shiver, his eyes glassy, and his forehead burning.
Osamu lays down next to him, one arm under Akaashi's head, his fingers gently caressing the nape of his neck, softly scratching his short black hair.
His other hand is mindlessly scrolling on his phone as he stalks Atsumu and his instagram posts, noticing the way Bokuto appears just a bit less than his other teammates. In Atsumu-language, this means I'm hiding something. Because you see, if Sakusa had been the one missing from the pictures, Osamu's alarms wouldn't have turned on. But for Bokuto to disappear from his social media posts means mystery and mystery, in Atsumu's world, means love affairs .
He groans and he turns to his side, getting closer to Akaashi so he can use his other hand with his arm still trapped under the man's neck. He quickly types a message for his brother and before he even has the time to send it (and the text is only 5 lines long), Akaashi's sleepy voice rises next to his ear.
“Dont stop- your hands in my hair- they feel nice. Keep doing that."
"Bossy."
"Mmh. You like it."
"Maybe," Osamu laughs quietly against Akaashi's now sweaty hair. But he runs his hand in them anyway.
"And I like you ."
Osamu's hand stops dead on its track, and he suddenly can't remember how to breathe.
"Keiji."
"You're so soft and comfy. You're like a giant pillow. But you're alive and I like it when you hug me."
He almost wants to facepalm under the weight of Akaashi's words. Suddenly, he's glad that the man cannot see him because he must be as red as a very red peony.
"Don't leave me alone."
"I won't." He simply says. It's not like Akaashi is going to remember anything he's saying anyway. His whole body is burning up and his words sound just so unlike himself.
If the fever doesn't fall before tomorrow morning, he'll have to take an appointment to his doctor.
"You've been so good to me, I can't believe you're real."
Gods, please make him stop talking, Osamu prays silently.
But he can already feel himself fall, fall, fall.
It's not that he didn't like Akaashi before. He surely did- does. More than anyone he's ever shared romantic feelings with. But hearing him say that makes his heart flutter and his mind race.
"You're feverish, Akaashi. You don't know what you're saying."
"Since you came into my life, everything's brighter and more colourful. Like the gay flag."
"Yeah. Like the gay flag."
"You made my world gayer."
Osamus shakes his head, laughing quietly, and pulls the smaller man closer to him.
"You made mine gayer too."
"Mmmh, you're perfect."
Their eyes meet for a few moments, glassy blue ones much rounder than usual, and Akaashi almost looks like a child, innocent and naive.
He snuggles closer to Osamu, his face nuzzling against his throat, forcing a moan out of him that he just can't keep inside. But Akaashi's dead to the world as soon as he closes his eyes.
.
"Fuck."
Akaashi jolts awake before Osamu even wakes up in the morning. But when he sits up in the bed, of course the man sleeping next to him starts to stir in his sleep.
"'Morning," he mumbles, his face still in his pillow.
"How long?"
"Mh?"
"I slept, right? For how long?"
"Pretty much the entire day."
"Fuck."
Osamu's fully awake now, and he sits up next to Akaashi, slides an arm around his thinner waist and pulls him against him, keeping him in bed.
"How's your fever?" He asks, his fingers rising to touch his now not-that-hot-anymore forehead. "Good, I think it's almost back to normal."
"What did you do?"
"What did I do?"
"To make the fever die down? It usually takes a week."
Osamu winks at him and smiles softly before kissing him on the mouth.
"My love killed the fever."
There's a moment of pause and Osamu stares apprehensively before Akaashi tilts his head.
"Your love."
"And the meds I put in your soup yesterday."
"You said love ."
"And I also forced you to sleep."
"Osamu."
"Keiji."
"You said love ."
"I know. I'm pretty sure having someone to take care of you has indeed helped you feel better."
"But you said love." He feels like a parrot but Osamu is obviously dancing around the word.
“I don't take care of people I don't love, Akaashi. This means Atsumu, my parents, my older sister and probably Rin and Shinsuke but most of them don't need to be taken care of. And then, there's you.”
“You don't have to save me. I'm not a baby.”
“I know, but I like you.”
“I like you too.”
Osamu sighs in relief and lets himself fall back on the mattress. Akaashi looks down at him with an amused smile.
“Does that make me your boyfriend?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
And for once, maybe for the first time in Akaashi’s life, something comes to him easily, for the first time in his existence, something feels simple, and it feels right. Osamu’s here, steady and confident, looking at him with adoration, and Akaashi has to look away before he starts burning under his gaze.
.
Nothing changes between them, not really. Osamu still spends most of his nights in his room or on the couch with Konoha, watching volleyball matches. And if he finds Konoha’s personal BOKUTO MSBY jersey one day as he’s doing Akaashi’s laundry, he never tells a single soul.
So nothing really changes. They go from being friends to being boyfriends like it’s nothing. And it’s so simple, so natural, that Akaashi almost can’t believe it.
He had spent all these sleepless nights thinking about every single possibility of his confession ending badly and all of this for nothing?
Typical.
.
iv, a hug
(winter break, exams, graduation)
.
Leaves fall on the ground, cracking under their feet. Winter is here. And with winter, comes the final exams season.
One night, when Akaashi’s sitting on his desk, desperately trying to study, Osamu quietly typing on his keyboard, he takes the book sitting on his lap and throws it on the wall across the room.
“Hm?” Osamu tilts his head and looks at this boyfriend with a questioning look.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“Come here.” Osamu says and he stands up quickly to come behind his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He lets his face rest in the crook of his neck before starting to kiss the tender skin under his lips. “It’s going to be okay, love.”
“It’s not- It’s not. I don’t know what I’m doing- and what if I’ve spent five years studying something for- for nothing ?”
“That’s bullshit, it’s never a waste to learn stuff, even if you don’t use it in the future. It has made you who you are today.”
“But what if the person I am today is a bad person?”
“You trust my judgement, right?”
Akaashi slightly relaxes between his arms and he lets his head fall slightly to the right, against Osamu’s own face.
“Yeah.”
“I’m telling you, ‘Kaashi, you’re too harsh with yourself. Sure you do some dumb stuff sometimes, but you’re not a bad person for making mistakes.”
“But I could be better.”
“We all could, love. But we’re human. And you’re doing your best, right?”
“I guess.”
“No one is perfect. But you’re kind and you’re passionate. I’m sure it will be okay.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t have to face the world on your own, you know that?”
He feels Osamu’s nose brushing softly against his throat and he laughs when it tickles the thin skin over his carotid. He’s never going to be perfect, but he’s perfect in Osamu’s eyes, and in the end, it does help. It’s not everything, and he knows someone’s opinion on him shouldn’t be what makes him love or hate himself, but for now, he’ll allow Osamu’s words to matter enough for him to fight the storm's that's coming.
.
Akaashi comes back from his last exam, and Osamu is already done with his, so he’s greeted by the sweet smell of lemon pie that fills the flat. Konoha is already sitting at the table, a slice of pie in his plate and he smirks at Akaashi.
“We’re keeping him.”
“I’m not sharing,” Akaashi smiles and Osamu immediately walks in his direction, opening his arms in a welcoming hug.
The law student puts his coat on the couch and carefully flies towards his boyfriend’s chest.
“How did it go?”
“No idea, but it’s done.”
“Yeah.”
Osamu wraps his arms around him, and Akaashi lets himself fall, only grounded by the feeling of his lover’s fingers in his hair and the soft sound of his voice as he lets Akaashi shake against his chest. He doesn’t realise he’s crying before he steps back and looks at the grey-almost-turned-black-in-some-places-because-of-his-tears and now wet shirt of his boyfriend.
“Here, I’ve got you.”
He holds him for a few minutes before they feel another pair of arms wrapping around them.
Sometimes, when you’re feeling overwhelmed, and you just don’t know what to look for in the storm raging in your head, you actually don’t need anything else but a hug from the two people who love you the most in this world. So, when he feels Konoha’s arms around him, something in Akaashi just feels complete.
“You’re the best, Keiji,” his best friend whispers and Osamu nods against the top of his head.
Sometimes, all you need is a long ass hug and a few kind words to remind you that it’s okay to break.
.
“He’s abandoning me.”
“He is not, Konoha, the flat is literally 5 minutes away from here.”
“But who is going to back pies for me now?”
“You’re the one who owns a coffee, you should bake us pies.”
They’re bickering in the middle of the kitchen before the guests arrive to celebrate his graduation. This time, he has invited some people from his class, ready to let some of them enter his life.
Of course, Osamu is the first one to knock, his signature lazy smile on his face. He kisses Akaashi on the cheek before going to meet Konoha behind the counter.
“OSAMU! Finally!” Konoha throws his arms around the other man. “I was precisely telling Akaashi about how much I was going to miss you.”
And none of them acknowledge that Akaashi is actually the one living here.
“We’re not that far away.”
“That’s what I told him.”
“I know but it feels wrong. ”
“Stop being dramatic,” Akaashi mumbles and he takes a beer from the fridge, watching Konoha disappear in his room. “Are you going to pout in your room?”
“No, fucker, I have something for you.”
Osamu slides an arm around his boyfriend’s waist and when Konoha comes back, he bows and hands them a small packet wrapped in brown paper.
“For your new flat, although I still consider this treason.”
“Oh my god, Konoha,” Akaashi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. But he doesn’t really mind, because his eyes are fixed on the paper that’s falling on the ground, revealing a small cactus in a yellow pot.
“It’s your baby. It’s a cutting of the cactus that’s on your table at the coffee shop. So you can make your flat a Konoha-friendly flat.”
Akaashi smiles despite the obnoxious idiocy of his best friend and he raises the small plant to eye level, looking at it with adoration.
“Thank you so much, Aki.”
“You’re welcome.”
Osamu puts the small pot on the counter before wrapping his arms around Konoha, and Akaashi eventually joins him.
Sometimes, when you’re feeling overwhelmed, you need to be hugged. And sometimes, when you feel really good. When you feel at peace, grounded, like you have a place on earth and you’re standing exactly where fate wants you to be, you just need to hug others, in the hope of making them feel just as home as you do.