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Bokuto barely remembers his first kiss with Akaashi. It occurred just seconds ago, but by the time they’re pulling away, Bokuto’s only thought is how to get to the second.
“Let’s redo that,” he says. “I think I blinked.”
“It’s not like we’re taking a photo,” Akaashi replies, leaning back in. Another quick peck that Bokuto barely remembers. “Are you supposed to keep your eyes open while kissing?”
“Oh,” Bokuto says. “Then, let’s redo that one. I’ll close my eyes this time.”
“I think you just want more kisses.” Akaashi kisses him again. Their third kiss. Akaashi moves away far too soon, an amused smile on his face, like he’s teasing Bokuto on purpose.
How do you get a fourth kiss?
“I do want more kisses,” Bokuto admits.
That gets him another kiss from Akaashi.
Four kisses. None of which he remembers. All he can think of is how he can get a fifth kiss.
“Akaashi,” he tries again.
This time, Akaashi pulls him by the hand and drags him inside his house. At the genkan, they share their fifth kiss.
What Bokuto does remember is the moment before their first kiss. He was holding Akaashi’s hand for the first time as his boyfriend, and Akaashi adjusted it so their fingers were intertwined. It was life-changing — until Akaashi leaned in, and Bokuto realised he needed a bigger word to describe the magnitude of that moment.
He’s still in that moment. He’d stay forever if he could.
Akaashi enters Bokuto’s bedroom first. Bokuto fumbles with locking the door, before he turns around. “Akaashi, can I kiss you a—”
Akaashi’s hands are already behind his neck, drawing him in. Their lips crash together, and Bokuto’s heart is racing so fast it might give out. He deepens the kiss, angling their lips so they slot together. His hands roam Akaashi’s back, pressing his body against his, trying to close the distance. It isn’t enough.
Bokuto nudges Akaashi towards his bed. Akaashi complies, falling backwards, and when Bokuto climbs on top of him to continue kissing, Akaashi rewards him by nibbling on his bottom lip, pulling it with his teeth.
“Akaashi,” Bokuto tries to say, but it comes out as a whimper.
It still isn’t enough.
Bokuto swipes his tongue over Akaashi’s lips. Akaashi gasps, and Bokuto swallows the sound, muffling the words Akaashi was about to say.
Now that their kisses last more than a fraction of a second, Bokuto starts to remember the feeling. Akaashi’s soft lips constantly seem to murmur something against Bokuto’s lips as they move. And whenever Bokuto lifts his head to catch his breath, Akaashi’s hands tug on the collar of his shirt to bring him back.
Maybe Bokuto can’t get enough, no matter how many times they do this. Maybe Akaashi feels the same.
Bokuto moves away from Akaashi’s lips. He presses light kisses along Akaashi’s jawline. When Bokuto trails downwards to nip at Akaashi’s neck, sucking on his rapid pulse, he starts to hear what Akaashi keeps trying to say.
“Bokuto-san,” he pleads. “Koutarou.”
It makes Bokuto dizzy.
Akaashi’s hands are in his hair, mussing up his gelled style. Bokuto tries to unbutton Akaashi’s shirt, fumbling as he did with the lock on his door, but with Akaashi’s hands constantly pulling him back in, he gives up after the fourth button. Bokuto hasn’t seen Akaashi this impatient before, so engrossed in the present. He’s more than happy to oblige.
Every time Bokuto kisses him somewhere new — and he’s trying, trying to map every exposed part of him — Akaashi’s hands pull on his hair, simultaneously holding his head in place and urging him to move to the next spot. Bokuto wants to look in a mirror, to see what he looks like after Akaashi messed him up.
He always wanted Akaashi to hold him like this. But he didn’t realise what exactly he wanted until Akaashi kissed him for the first time earlier today, and his desires started toppling onto the next, like dominoes. He wants Akaashi to pull a little harder, wants Akaashi to be a little louder. Akaashi moves his arms to hold onto Bokuto’s back, and Bokuto wants him to hug a little tighter. He doesn’t know when the dominoes will stop; they’re still falling.
Bokuto bites Akaashi’s collarbone, earning him another gasp. He follows it with a soft kiss on Akaashi’s neck. He can’t decide if he wants to ravage Akaashi or treat him as gently as he could. But really, he doesn’t want to decide. He wants to do both, and he feels like he has all the time in the world for it.
He comes back up to peck at Akaashi’s lips. His nose. His forehead. Bokuto’s hands cup Akaashi’s face, gently tilting his head, so Bokuto can lean in and settle into a lingering kiss. His thumbs caress Akaashi’s wet cheeks, and he pauses, realising something is wrong.
Bokuto raises his head. “Akaashi?”
Akaashi is crying. The corners his lips are trembling, curled into a frown, and that’s all Bokuto needs to see before he’s sitting up and pulling Akaashi onto his lap.
“Akaashi! I’m sorry, did I go too fast?” Bokuto frantically wipes the corners of Akaashi’s eyes, careful not to rub too hard.
Akaashi shakes his head. His gaze is focused on a point in the wall behind Bokuto’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Bokuto tries to reassure him. Another tear rolls down Akaashi’s cheek. Bokuto wipes away that one, too. “We can stop, okay?”
Akaashi shakes his head again.
“We can continue another day,” Bokuto says. “Do you wanna cuddle instead? We can cuddle all night, Akaashi! Since you finished all your homework.”
Akaashi’s hands grip the collar of Bokuto’s shirt. He’s pulling again, undoubtedly stretching the hem, tugging Bokuto back in for another kiss. “Bokuto-san,” he whispers against his lips, like he’s afraid something would break if he spoke any louder. “You didn’t finish your homework, though.”
“Akaashi!”
Akaashi breathes out, chuckling, and Bokuto wants to swallow that sound as well — he wants to capture Akaashi’s lips again and slot them back into his so they learn and memorize each other’s shape. Bokuto leans against the wall.
“Akaashi, do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Then, why are you crying?” With Akaashi sitting on his lap, Bokuto has to look up to see his face. Akaashi seems fragile — frail. But he’s never looked fragile, not like this. He always carries himself with quiet strength. Bokuto wipes away another tear. “I’m sorry, Akaashi. I’ll do better, okay? You can tell me what I did wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Akaashi whispers.
“Akaaashi,” Bokuto whines. “I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”
Akaashi shakes his head, frowning, another tear slipping down his cheek. “It’s not—”
Bokuto pulls him into a hug, his chest squeezing. He leans his chin on Akaashi’s shoulder. “I won’t look! So you can tell me, okay? Please tell me, Akaashi. I don’t want you to cry.”
Akaashi rests his cheek on Bokuto’s shoulder, his arms reaching around to hug Bokuto in return. Bokuto can feel Akaashi’s tears through his shirt — he hugs him tighter.
Akaashi whispers close to his ear, “I’m not lying. You didn’t do anything wrong, Bokuto-san.”
“Then why—”
“It’s just,” Akaashi sniffles, “you kiss me like you love me.”
“‘Cause I do love you, Akaashi!” Bokuto watches the world outside his window. The sun is starting to set, hidden behind wisps of clouds that Akaashi loves taking photos of. Bokuto freezes. “Is that the problem? Do you not—”
Akaashi squeezes him tight enough to knock the wind out of Bokuto’s lungs. “I love you,” he says, voice shaking. “Bokuto-san, I love you. Please, just give me a moment.” Akaashi slowly loosens his tight hug. Bokuto doesn’t move, his arms iron around Akaashi’s torso.
“I don’t understand,” Bokuto says. “I don’t want to break up with you, Akaashi.”
“We’re not breaking up,” Akaashi immediately replies. “I don’t want to break up with you either. I’m sorry I made you think so.”
“Akaashi...”
“I love you,” Akaashi repeats. “And I want to kiss you. All night. We can cuddle, too. I want to cuddle.”
“Okay,” Bokuto says. “Anything you want.”
“Only if you want it, too.”
Akaashi rubs Bokuto’s back. The movement of his fingers feels deliberate, like there’s an underlying message. He touches Bokuto’s back with the same thoughtfulness he puts into every set, slowly mapping the expanse of it, the same way Bokuto tried exploring Akaashi’s body with his lips, with only four buttons of his shirt undone.
“I still don’t understand,” Bokuto says quietly. “Why did my kisses make you cry?”
Akaashi’s fingers slow down. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure if your feelings were truly the same as mine. It was possible you were mistaken about romantic love and your affection for me as your best friend. I was afraid that… our first kiss would be our last.”
“But we kissed lots after that.”
“I couldn’t believe you’d want to do that much with me.” Akaashi traces stars on Bokuto's back. “It made me happy.”
“I wanna do lots with you, ‘cause it’s you,” Bokuto replies, tracing little hearts on Akaashi's back in return. “And, you know, you’re my number one, Akaashi. With or without the kisses.”
“I see,” Akaashi whispers.
“Do you believe me?”
“I do. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“I don’t mind being worried by you.”
Akaashi huffs out a laugh that tickles the side of Bokuto’s neck. Bokuto squirms, but he stays put on Akaashi’s shoulder, watching the sun set outside his window. A patch of his shirt clings wet to his shoulder from Akaashi’s tears, and when Akaashi traces a number one on his back, the moment feels like one of the many kisses they shared. Bokuto would count it, if he remembered the number.
“I kept kissing you like it would be my last,” Akaashi says, tracing a heart that spans Bokuto’s back. “Can we redo those kisses?”
“Of course, Akaashi. Anything you want. I mean it.”
Akaashi lifts his head from Bokuto’s shoulder. Bokuto lifts his head as well and faces Akaashi.
“Bokuto-san, you’re crying.”
“‘Cause I love you.” Bokuto sniffles. “I’ll say it all you want.”
Akaashi wipes away Bokuto’s tears. He presses a quick kiss on his lips. His nose. His forehead. Then, he cups Bokuto’s face, rubbing away the last of his tears with his thumbs, and leans in for a slow, lingering kiss.
“It’s okay,” Akaashi murmurs against his lips. “If you show it instead, I’ll understand this time.”