Archive of Our Own

11:58pm.

Two minutes until the release of the limited edition giant MSBY Bokuto Koutarou Ninotan™.

Keiji’s eyes flicker down the digital clock at the bottom of his laptop screen, his thumbs fiddling in anticipation. Keiji doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous in his life.

Let’s look at the facts. Logically and statistically speaking, while Bokuto might be the biggest star in the V-League currently and historically (though Keiji might be just a bit biased) - surely, certainly, there wouldn’t be 14 other fans waiting right now, hunched over their laptops like Keiji is, anxiously waiting for the limited edition giant MSBY Bokuto Koutarou Ninotan™.

But Keiji is nothing if not cautious and strategic - his mind is quite literally, the pinnacle of intelligence, now fully mobilized on a mission to obtain (1) limited edition giant MSBY Bokuto Koutarou Ninotan™.

There were only 15 MSBY Bokuto Koutarou Ninotans in production - only 15 giant Bokuto plushies available for squishing. Not that any of them would ever come close to the real Bokuto.

At least, Keiji speculates.

According to his scientific observation and hypothesis - formed from years of secretly staring at Bokuto, deductive reasoning tells Keiji that Bokuto would make an excellent cuddler. Mathematically speaking, the bicep to tiddy ratio is perfect.

Not that Keiji would ever get to test his hypothesis, you know, since Bokuto’s best friend duties don’t necessarily include extended periods of cuddling.

The digital clock flickers in the corner of Keiji’s eye. It’s 12:00am.

Keiji’s nimble fingers hit refresh, the website reloading to display the limited edition giant MSBY Bokuto Koutarou Ninotan™. His eyes dart straight to the black ‘Add to Cart’ button.

It’s a race. A race against the however many dedicated (obsessed) Bokuto Koutarou fans - with a giant golden glowing MSBY Bokuto Koutarou Ninotan waiting at the finish line. And Keiji is fast as fuck boi.

He’s on the Check Out page now. Keiji bites his lips nervously, hunching closer to the screen in anticipation. He has all his card’s details saved on his browser (yes, he knows this is unsafe but there are currently more pressing matters at hand). He eyes the ‘Next Day Express Delivery’ and thinks fuck it before clicking on it, adding another 1000 yen to his total.

His knee bounces anxiously, waiting for his card to go through before the screen lights up with a ‘Congratulations! Your ‘V-League MSBY Bokuto Koutarou Giant Ninotan Plush’ is on the way’.

He got it.

Keiji had been dealing with Bokuto Ninotan-induced stress the whole day and knowing that he got it - Keiji can’t help but feel an euphoric sensation bloom across his chest as relief spreads across his spine. He sags against his chair and hangs his head back, closing his eyes - the burn of staring at a digital screen too long finally registering.

Distantly, Keiji realizes that he may have blown this purchase way out of proportion. Because, who the hell spends 250,000 yen on a giant Ninotan plush of their long-time best friend and unrequited crush?

Keiji apparently.

Please send him your thoughts and prayers.

But in Keiji’s defense, he’d been having trouble sleeping for weeks. Sleep and rest always escaping him in the dead of the night. So really, Keiji was buying the Ninotan for a functional purpose. It was a health-related purchase. Clearly necessary.

And, well. The Ninotan was cute. It had Bokuto’s grey and white spikes, giant emboldening gold eyes, and his bright signature grin. It’ll even come with an autograph from The Bokuto Koutarou himself! (as if Keiji doesn’t already have enough of them)

Outrageous purchase aside, Keiji is really, really happy. He can feel a warm giddiness thrumming in his heart - allowing an inadvertent grin slip as he slaps his palms on his cheeks.

Though, the giddiness doesn’t stay for long. Because his eyes eventually land on a giant pile of transcripts lying on the table, immediately erasing his grin as he drags his hands down his face and groans.

Ah, the temporary elation of consumer goods.

While Keiji had anxiously awaited the Ninotan’s release date for a month - making sure to mark it on his calendar, both digital and physical, the arrival of the actual Ninotan had quickly slipped his mind as he dove back into work.

It was a weekend, a Saturday to exact. So ideally, that meant that Keiji would have 2 days to himself to recharge for the next hectic week of being a manga editor.

Ideally.

In reality, Keiji was stuck at home, barely awake at 12pm; mind still reeling and exhausted from a night of editing, with another day of it ahead of him. Earlier last week, Keiji distinctly remembers telling Udai, ‘Udai-san, please get back to me with this week’s chapter by Thursday’.

Once again, it was a Saturday.

And Keiji had woken up to an email from Udai, titled ‘hehe’, with this week’s chapter attached.

Keiji was not hehe-ing.

Yet, before any of his Udai-induced rants could develop further, Keiji’s doorbell rang - shaking him from his bleariness as he slouched against the kitchen counter, coffee cradled close to his chest.

Begrudgingly setting his coffee mug down, Keiji padded over to his front door - silently grumbling how it was clearly too early to human right now. Swinging the door open, Keiji came face to face with a mailman - with a 3ft tall cardboard box next to him.

Keiji’s eyes flicker down from the mailman to the large cardboard box, up, down, up, down, before startlingly realizes, it’s here.

He quickly fumbles with the mailman’s notepad to sign it before quietly thanking him. Clumsily squatting down to pick up the box, Keiji clunkers back into his apartment - arms wrapped securely around the box.

With his Udai-induced wrath forgotten, Keiji quickly scurries over to his kitchen for a pair of large scissors and plops down his knees on the floor of his genkan, his hands itching to slice open the cardboard box.

Keiji feels his heartbeat inadvertently speed up with excitement, and oddly enough, nervousness. He knows it’s not the real Bokuto, and though he’s been waiting for the Ninotan for a long time, that’s not what he’s nervous about.

Making quick work of cutting open the tape, Keiji squeezes his eyes shut before flipping the box open.

His eyes open to the sight of a folded and squished-up contortionist Ninotan Bokuto. The differences between the real Bokuto and Ninotan Bokuto are already quickly becoming apparent, real Bokuto is nowhere near this flexible. Trust Keiji, he would’ve noticed.

Reaching into the box and lifting Ninotan Bokuto by his armpits, Keiji’s eyes rake down the 2.5ft long plush, taking in his appearance. Ninotan Bokuto’s hair was a little flat and his cotton a bit uneven, probably from his long travel from the merchandising house.

Keiji bites down his lip, trying (and failing) to stop a wide smile from slipping. Rumpled clothes and hair aside, Ninotan Bokuto looked happy. He was as big as Keiji’s head and torso combined and he felt so so soft.

Drawing in a deep breath, he gave Ninotan Bokuto’s body a tentative squeeze, feeling his fingers sink into Ninotan Bokuto’s black MSBY jersey - one he owned a matching copy of in his closet.

Ninotan Bokuto looked perfect, a little ugly, but still perfect. He was ugly in all the cutest ways, he was cugly. But then again, maybe that was because Keiji made the mistake of comparing Ninotan Bokuto to Bokuto Koutarou. Ninotan Bokuto stood no chance.

“Sorry,” Akaashi mutters, “it’s not you. It’s me, I swear.”

Maybe Keiji should name him Bo. But that’s weird, right? Some of Bokuto’s friends called him Bo (really it was just Atsumu), it felt a little close to reality.

Keiji thought for a bit, thinking hard about what he should call Ninotan Bokuto before a figuratively light bulb lit up on the top of his head.

Nino Bo. That’s what Keiji would call him.

Smiling proudly to himself, Keiji treks towards his bedroom, continuously squishing Nino Bo on the way.

Distantly, Keiji knows, Nino Bo is just a placeholder for the real Bokuto Koutarou. A substitute of sorts for Bokuto’s engorging absence in Keiji’s life.

Not that Bokuto was distant or no longer close to Keiji, but 8 years of longing and pining has left Keiji with a greed that threatens to swallow him whole - a greed which emboldens the absence of what was and what could be.

8 years ago was when Keiji first laid eyes on Bokuto Koutarou - a bright-eyed, boisterous yet-to-be ace on the precipice of blooming. A star in his own right, a boy who had drawn in Keiji unrelentingly, but not unkindly.

Keiji likes to think of his compulsion towards Bokuto as inevitable - that he was just an unsuspecting victim pulled into Bokuto’s orbit. That it was simply a part of nature’s course - something like a moth to flame. Keiji would like to believe that he had no choice in this, that Bokuto had left him none.

But Keiji knows. He knows that his heart had long chosen Bokuto Koutarou 8 years ago, and he knows that he continues to choose him each day. In each failed relationship, in each fleeting fling, he knows.

He knows that his heart is no longer his own.

Keiji is in love, devastatingly so. He didn’t dare think it could be reciprocated.

Because Keiji is just Keiji - never too much, never too little. Enough, yet not quite. Because Bokuto was everything, like the main character in an epic saga; whereas Keiji was merely the inconspicuous supporting character.

Sometimes, when Keiji is feeling particularly heartbroken, he thinks of himself as the pitiful second lead in a romance drama - the one who’s always there, the one who’s always kind, yet nonetheless not interesting or lovable enough for the main character.

There is simply no space for someone like Keiji. Because Bokuto deserved someone who was just as much, someone who was the main lead - depressing backstory and redemption arc notwithstanding. Someone who could give Bokuto their best, someone who wasn’t Just Keiji.

So Keiji keeps his devotion, tucks away his love, looks away when Bokuto looks at him, and tells himself that the privilege of knowing Bokuto is enough.

This is how Keiji finds himself in his scarcely decorated apartment, holding Nino Bo - knowing that he’s wishing for Koutarou instead.

Ambling over to his bed, Keiji places Nino on top of it. Nino Bo lies splayed out against his navy blanket - looking all too excited to be lying down and doing nothing else.

Keiji scans Nino Bo’s form, noting the flimsy black MSBY jersey and shorts - all of which probably don’t do much to keep Nino Bo warm in the current winter cold. Hesitantly, he reaches to tuck Nino Bo under the covers, making sure his shoulders were securely covered.

Standing back up again, Keiji is met with Nino Bo’s beady stare, staring right into Akaashi’s soul as if he’s just done something incredibly stupid.

Keiji feels his face contort into a scowl. “Do you want hypothermia?”

Swiftly turning around haughtily, Akaashi marches back to his kitchen, picking up his coffee as he frowns into it.

Keiji was just trying to do something nice.

It’s bedtime. And Keiji's current concern is: Nino Bo has laid claim to Keiji's bed.

Like a colonizer.

Clearly, this is a problem. A big one, because now, Keiji can’t get into his own bed, because he feels like he’d be invading Nino Bo’s space if he did - that he’d be crossing his boundaries.

Keiji is a good man, he knows the significance of consent - of personal boundaries. He has values. Values which now leave him fidgeting at the side of his bed, not knowing how to get under his covers.

Keiji thinks he’s going insane.

Sure, he was the one that put Nino Bo there in the first place. But the semantics don’t matter here. The point is, Keiji is the victim here. He’s tired, barely able to hold himself upright and too awkward to dip his toes into his own bed.

Keiji meets Nino Bo’s beady state head on. As if he’s waiting for him to give a nod, a thumbs up, a blink, an anything, to say that it’s okay. Come in.

Though of course, none of that happens, because Nino Bo isn’t actually, you know, real.

Keiji draws a deep breath, trying to psych himself up before tentatively dipping his head into a small bow and softly muttering, “is it okay if I join you?”

No response.

Keiji tilts his head up and looks at Nino Bo through his eyelashes, watching Nino Bo remain completely still.

Fuck this, Keiji thinks. It’s now become a power struggle, a war. It’s time for Keiji to reclaim his space, his throne, his dignity.

Launching himself forward to dive under the covers, Keiji violently rolls and wraps himself in his blanket, tugging it away from Nino Bo and leaving him out in the harsh air-conditioned cold to fend for himself. It’s the survival of the fittest out here and Keiji intends to live.

Now safely secured in his burrito blanket, the extent of Keiji’s delirium is beginning to register.

Peering at Nino Bo behind his covers, Keiji thinks that Nino Bo is looking a bit lonely in the cold. Huffing, Keiji untangles himself from his blanket burrito and tentatively tugs Nino Bo to his chest.

Wrapping his arms around Nino Bo’s pillowy frame, Keiji feels himself sink into a placid state. Nino Bo feels plush against Keiji’s face, the velvety fabric soft against Keiji’s cheeks. Breathing a sigh of contentment, Keiji burrows his face into Nino Bo, nuzzling the plush gently.

Nino Bo isn’t real. He’s just a plush. A plush to help Keiji sleep. It’s okay for Keiji to be doing this, it’s okay for Keiji to reach out for comfort.

Cracking an eye open to peer up at Nino Bo, Keiji is met once again with Nino Bo’s bright grin - no longer taunting, now oddly reassuring.

“Let me know if you’re uncomfortable”, murmurs Keiji, his brain now sleep-addled and drowsy.

It seems that Keiji and Nino Bo were going to be good friends.

“goodnight, Bokuto-san”

Keiji is the most well-rested he’s ever been in his entire life. The past 2 weeks with Nino Bo had been magical.

Most days, Keiji conks out the minute his head hits his pillow and his hands find Nino Bo. He’s not really sure how plush had completely transformed his sleeping habits but Keiji finds that he really isn’t in a position to complain.

And beyond the bed, Nino Bo has become a sort of fixture in Keiji’s life. On the rare days Keiji can’t sleep, Nino Bo accompanies him for a late-night movie on the couch. On days where the loneliness in Keiji’s heart feels more than he can bear, he holds Nino Bo’s hands and tricks himself into feeling a phantom warmth. And most importantly, on days where Keiji’s work makes him feel like screaming into the void, Nino Bo’s chest makes a great muffler.

Nino Bo is now constant - where Keiji goes in his home, Nino Bo follows.

It’s a weekend again and Keiji is sitting on the floor, slouched over his laptop on the coffee table as he sits cross-legged on the floor. Nino Bo sits next to him, offering Keiji the motivation he needs whenever he looks over (once every 15 minutes) through his triumphant grin.

Keiji is scanning over a chapter draft (not Udai’s this time, luckily for both of them) and his attention span is wearing thin, his folded knee has been bouncing anxiously for 5 minutes now and he’s in need of another coffee.

Surreptitiously, he glances over to Nino Bo. Plushy and inviting Nino Bo.

Maybe what he needs is a nap instead, just a quick 10 minutes with Nino Bo.

Keiji reaches over the table for his phone to set an alarm, but his phone lights up before he can, vibrating in his palm as the words ‘Bokuto-san’ flash across his screen for a video call.

Keiji feels his heart rate pick-up, biting down his lip to stop himself from grinning. It’s been about 3 weeks since Bokuto had last called him. They’d both been too busy since to find time to call each other with Keiji’s borderline exploitative work schedule and it being peak V-League season.

In fact, Keiji remembers Bokuto having a game today. Bokuto had texted him about it 4 times.

Keiji taps accept before setting his phone against his laptop, his phone lighting up with a very up-close view of Bokuto’s nostrils and wide excited eyes.

“AGHSHEEE! WE WON!”

“Too close Bokuto-san, please hold your phone further from your face,”

“Oops, sorry!” Bokuto shifted, his full-face coming into view against the background of his rowdy bus as he smiled brightly at Keiji, “BUT AKAASHI! Did you hear me? We won! So many of spikes went SCHWABAM!”

Keiji feels a fond warmth wrap around his spine as he gazes at Bokuto’s sunshine grin, unfortunately endeared by his onomatopoeia.“Congratulations Bokuto-san, I’ll be sure to watch it once the match is up online,” returning Bokuto a soft smile of his own.

While it had been hard trying to keep in touch with his old Fukurodani teammates, Keiji finds that he’s never found it difficult with Bokuto. With the other always so willing to text him about his day, his schedule, calling Keiji whenever he found the free time, or always asking for a good-luck or goodnight wish, it had been easy.

Painfully so.

He’d been worried at first, thinking that Bokuto should spend his already scarce free time resting instead. But whenever he brought it up, Bokuto would always give the same reply. It was one that would always send Akaashi’s heart hammering - a small smile as he softly murmured “just a bit longer.”

Keiji had stopped bringing it up eventually. Knowing his heart couldn’t take anymore of those soft smiles, soft smiles that felt like they were reserved just for Keiji.

Selfishly, in those moments, Akaashi treated them like they were. Always serving to painfully inflate his hope, but nevertheless the only reprieve he could find throughout the years of longing.

And Keiji had hoped too, that maybe he provided Bokuto some kind of rest, some kind of solace as well. Just like Bokuto did for him.

Bokuto is about to open his mouth, probably to tell Keiji more highlights of the match, when Atsumu shoves himself onto the screen, infuriating smirk in place, “What’s this Bo-kun? Are ya tryin to impress Keiji-kun ‘ere?”

Keiji feels his eyebrow twitch. “Hello Miya-san. Congratulations on your win.”

Atsumu’s smirk widens, leer no less obnoxious across a screen, “Thank ya, Keiji-kun. Shame ya weren’t there to see me in action,”

“Yes,” deadpans Keiji,”I am heartbroken.”

Atsumu raises an eyebrow at Keiji in amusement, smirk curling into something more taunting before he leans forward to cradle his cheek in his palm, “Just kiddin’ Keiji. We both know there’s only one person you watch our matches fer, right?”

Keiji feels the beginning of a scowl take root on his face. Keiji is about to narrow his eyes, resisting the urge to bite a petty comment about how he watches Volleyball matches for the sport, thank you very much (the fact that most of the matches he’s watched so far have included MSBY is merely because Keiji admires their aggressive play-style. Nothing else). But when his eyes land on Bokuto, looking at Keiji with a soft smile and patient eyes, his retort dies in his throat.

Not knowing what to do with the awareness of Bokuto’s undivided attention. Keiji stutters out a pathetic response, “the spor- I watch- not just for Bo- I watch it for the sport. The sport, Miya-san.”

Atsumu cackles. And Keiji, Keiji wishes hellfire upon him.

Atsumu’s eyes gleam with mischief, eyes that tell Keiji that Atsumu was never going to let that go. He shoots Keiji an elaborate wink before teasingly smirking, “T’was nice to see ya Keiji, I’ll leave you both on your little date now.”

And then disappearing, like the demon spawn he is. Thus leaving both Bokuto and Keiji gaping at each other, pink flush across their cheeks.

Keiji knew he liked Osamu more for a reason.

Keiji opens and closes his mouth, urging himself to say something, anything to get rid of this stilted tension that’s fallen over them.

Bokuto’s loud laugh jolts Keiji out of his momentary breakdown, slicing through the tension between them. Keiji’s eyes refocus on Bokuto, whose face was still flushed and eyes were darting around - not once meeting Keiji’s as he laughed loudly.

“Ignore Tsum-Tsum, he’s- he’s just being stupid. He knows we aren't like that!” booms Bokuto loudly. A futile attempt to reassure Keiji, his lips upturned in an awkward grimace instead of his usual bright smile.

To untrained ears, Bokuto’s laugh sounds like his usual - loud, boisterous, earth-shattering. But Keiji is anything if not fluent in Bokutospeak, and underlying Bokuto’s laugh was an uncharacteristic layer of nervousness - strain.

It was awkward - a word he’d never thought he could describe Bokuto with.

Ah, Keiji thinks. The idea of Bokuto possibly harboring any romantic or possessive feelings for Keiji had made Bokuto uncomfortable, incredibly so it appears.

Keiji feels pinpricks of pain sear across his chest.

Keiji knows, he knows he’d never be anything more than just Keiji to Bokuto, Keji the friend, the best friend. But that didn’t mean that being reminded of it, by the unfortunate object of his affections nonetheless, made it hurt any less.

Keiji glances down to his lap in shame and bites his lip, willing the seeping pain in his lip to stop the pain burying itself into his heart.

He takes a deep breath to collect himself before looking up back at Bokuto, adjusting his glasses before offering Bokuto a small smile, “that’s not very nice to say about your setter, Bokuto-san.”

Keiji’s jab at him snaps Bokuto from his nervous fiddling, golden eyes snapping to Keiji before smirking teasingly, “It’s not like it’s not tru-”

Bokuto cuts himself off, leaning forward to squint his eyes at something on the screen, head tilted sideways curiously.

Keiji raises an eyebrow, confused by Bokuto’s sudden shift in attention.

“Akaashi, is- is that a Ninotan?”

Oh fuck.

Keij’s eyes widen as his heartbeat pounds furiously in his chest, a scathing wave of panic overcoming him. Keiji’s eyes dart to the corners of the screen, searching for Nino Bo, before finding a plush leg, clothed in a peek of the black MSBY shorts poking into the right corner of his phone screen.

Keiji’s instincts kick in, pushing him to slam his phone onto the table, blocking his phone camera and Bokuto’s inquisitive state. And really, Keiji should’ve been a baseball catcher in another life, because the speed which he shoots up to yeet the 3ft tall plush across his living room would put Lightning McQueen to shame.

Nino Bo falls with a pathetic thud at the foot of his hallway, limp and face down.

Keiji mutters a silent apology to him before hurriedly plopping down on the floor to right his phone up, setting his phone to lean against his laptop screen before breathing, “what Ninotan?”

Distantly, Keiji hears circus clown music.

Bokuto’s eyebrows remain scrunched up, lips pulled into a confused (adorable) pout. Keiji isn’t faring very well either, his glasses askew and his clothes rumpled, sleeves bunched around his shoulders.

“You’re not very good at lying Akaashi,” says Bokuto as he narrows his eyes at Keiji.

Keiji feels a tendril of dread curl around his throat. Did Bokuto see? Did he see the Ninotan? That it was a Ninotan of him? Was Bokuto disgusted with Keiji now?

Keiji wracks his brain, trying (and failing) to formulate a perfectly plausible reason as to why he has a giant Ninotan of his best friend. A reason that was not ‘because I am completely and utterly enamored by you and I just wanted to know what it’d feel like to hold you, even if it has to be with a cotton stuffed you less than half your height’.

“It’s not what it looks lik-” Keiji begins.

“It’s okay Akaashi! It’s nothing to be embarrassed of, they’re super cute!” Bokuto grins, looking very not disgusted. Keiji feels the tendril loosen by an inch. “Oh, did you know?! Did you know that they made a Ninotan of me Akaashi?! Of me!”

Keiji knew very well.

“Ah, I think I saw the ad for it the other day.” says Keiji, like the liar he is.

Bokuto puffs out his chest as he preens, smile turning proud with a new glint in his eye, “Kuroo told me someone bought it right when it was released!”

Ignoring the embarrassing flush creeping up his neck, Keiji feigns ignorance, “oh? Your fans must be quite dedicated Bokuto-san,”

Though Keiji can’t help but want to narrow his eyes in suspicion at the mention of Kuroo. If Kuroo had access to the Ninotan sales, does that mean he knew who bought the Ninotans too?

Maybe it was time he gave Kuroo a call.

“Yeah! I wanna meet them! I bet they’d be super cool since they’re a fan of me” Bokuto laughs loudly.

They’re not cool, Keiji thinks. They’re a loser.

“WAIT! Akaashi! Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, don’t change the subject!” Bokuto shouts, his mouth curling into a small pout - as if he wasn’t the one that changed the subject to himself in the first place.

Keiji smiles in amusement at Bokuto’s antics, “what do you mean Bokuto-san?”

“What Ninotan is it? Is it from an anime?”

Keiji can feel his palms turning clammy, glancing to the side to avoid Bokuto’s stare as he wracked his brain for a believable answer. His eyes land on a pile of papers on the table, a new Zomb’ish draft perched on top of it.

Snapping his eyes back to Bokuto, Keiji hurriedly bites out. “It’s for Zomb’ish.”

Keiji’s lie is met with a loud gasp and glittering eyes, Bokuto’s face pulled into delighted surprised. “That’s amazing Akaashi! Can I see it? That means Zomb’ish is getting more popular right? Of course it is, I have great taste, you know? I have an eye for these things.”

Really, Keiji should add ‘lying’ as one of his skills on his resume. “It’s a prototype, Bokuto-san. I’m not allowed to show it before its release.”

Bokuto pouts, pink lip jutting out as he glances to the side and tilts his head sadly.

Keiji smiles in amusement, the guilt of his lie now slipping away as he offers Bokuto a kind smile and a promise that will never come true, “I’ll be sure that you’re the first that sees it when it’s released, Bokuto-san”.

Immediately Bokuto brightens, like sunlight breaking through dawn, “you’re the best Akaashi!”

Keiji feels a flare of affection bloom across the canvas of his heart, like unrelenting waves that threaten to drown Keiji whole.

Bokuto is a man of few secrets. His emotions constantly embodied, his thoughts always emanating for the world to see. So here, atop of Bokuto’s glaringly bright grin, is his unabashed and unwavering pride and affection for Keijii - presented honestly and fearlessly.

Bokuto has now returned back to narrating the highlights of the match - detailing the Adler’s finest plays and how he, Bokuto Koutarou - Regular Ace™, had shut them down.

Nodding along to Bokuto’s exuberant monologue with Nino Bo abandoned across the room, Keiji recites a silent prayer - thanking whoever that was listening for allowing him to keep Bokuto for one more day.

“I didn’t know dates were allowed for post-game celebrations” drawls Atsumu as he drapes an arm over Keiji’s shoulders, leering over him at the entrance of the Izakaya. “If I’d known, I’d woulda brought one of my own”

“Your brother doesn’t count Miya,” snides Sakusa as he sidesteps Atsumu into the entrance, mask in place and sanitizing spray weaponized.

“Omi-omi, that’s not who I meant and you know it,” whines Atsumu, retracting his arm from Akaashi’s shoulder to trail after Sakusa like a lost puppy, Keiji long forgotten.

Keiji stares after them, eyes deadpan.

Huh, Keiji had never thought Atsumu a masochist. Somehow, he wasn’t all that surprised.

“Akaashi! You made it!”

Heart catching in his throat, Keiji swivels his head towards the earth-shaking shout. He had just barely caught Bokuto’s face a hair away from his before large hands clasped down on Keiji’s shoulder as he leaped into Keiji’s space excitedly - eyes glimmering gold.

Keiji felt a warmth creep up his neck as his heart thudded heavily. Bokuto’s face was a few centimeters away from his. If Keiji just tilted or moved his head the tiniest bit, his nose would’ve brushed Bokuto’s.

Bokuto was close enough to smell, smelling faintly of his oaky cologne and citrusy detergent. Distantly, as Keiji breathed Bokuto in, he wondered if it was possible for home to come back to you.

Keiji had been invited to the MSBY vs. EJP Raijin post-game celebration that night, held in a small family-owned Izakaya nestled in one of Tokyo’s many indistinct crevices. It’s been 3 months since Keiji had seen Bokuto last.

Unfortunately, Keiji wasn’t able to make it for the actual game due to an ill-timed company meeting but if Atsumu’s shameless jeering at Suna was anything to go off of, MSBY had won.

“Yes I did, Bokuto-san.” said Keiji, meeting Bokuto’s bright grin with a soft smile of his own.

Keiji allows his gaze to linger on Bokuto for a beat, watching his bright grin turn into a softer, warmer smile before Bokuto breathed a soft, “hi Akaashi,” The remnants of winter revealing themselves in wisps of air.

Tilting his slightly to the side, Keiji feels his smile widen inadvertently, affection and sincerity seeping onto his gaze unbridled. “Hello Bokuto-san, congratulations on your game, I heard about your win”

Bokuto preens under Keiji’s undivided attention and praise, launching into a detailed play-by-play spiel of Bokuto’s top 10 best plays (honorary mentions of his teammates included) as they settled into the izakaya, plopping down at the end of the table in front of Atsumu and Sakusa.

Keiji catches Washio’s eyes across the table as he sits down and offers him a small smile and wave. He quickly glances at Bokuto before returning to look at Washio with an apologetic grimace, trying to communicate his apologies to Washio for not coming over to greet him. The sides of Washio’s eyes crinkle up in mirth, offering a slight smile before shaking his head to say ‘don’t mind’.

“You should’ve seen it, Akaashi! It was so close, I thought the last set was going to go on forever, not that I would’ve minded.” laughs Bokuto, eyes cheeky and full of mirth. “Tsum-tsum and Omi-kun were on fire too. It’s like they were in sync with each other!”

Keiji’s eyes snap back to Bokuto - who took no notice of Keiji and Washio’s small interaction. Keiji is about to ask Bokuto more about the match when he catches Atsumu and Sakusa freeze from the corner of his eye. Their previous squabble coming to an abrupt halt at the sound of their names.

Atsumu turns his head towards Bokuto, smirk saccharine sweet as bats his eyelashes at him, “aw, Bokkun. You flatter me. But it’s just called being a good setter,”

Bokuto’s mouth rounds into an ‘o’. “That makes sense! Akaashi was always attentive towards me and he’s definitely the best.” He says as he flashes a grin at Keiji.

Keiji immediately flushes, knowing that the attentiveness was very much a ‘I’m in love with you’ thing and less a setter thing. From the corner of his eye, he sees Atsumu narrows his eyes at him - as if his honor as a setter had been bescmirched.

Keiji coughs in his hand, quickly clearing his throat before meeting Bokuto’s eyes, “I’m sure Miya-san is much better than me Bokuto-san. After all, he is a professional volleyball player while I only played up until high school,”

Bokuto scrunches up his face in thought, “I mean I guess. But that’s not what I mean! It was just different, you know Kaashi? It was different playing with you.” Face smoothening out, he levels Keiji with a warm gaze as a small smile toys at his lips - as if it was reserved especially for him.

Surely Bokuto couldn’t mean - no surely not. Bokuto always expressed affection and adoration in its most unadulterated form, sweeping up unsuspecting victims in warmth. Keiji knows that, has known that for a long time - has to know because it was always all too easy to allow his hope bubble to the brim when Bokuto said things like that.

He quickly averts his gaze.

Keiji coughs in his hand again, quickly clearing his throat before meeting Bokuto’s eyes, “where’s Hinata-kun? Was he not playing in the match today?” quickly making use of his absence like a well-timed Get Out of Jail card.

“Oh! He should be coming soon. He said he had to meet Kageyama first!” replies Bokuto, before his eyes lit up again. “Speaking of Hinata, you would not believe him today Akaashi! Or maybe you could, since you’ve seen him play before, but Hinata! It was like he was everywhere on the court today! I think he got more receives than Omi!”

“No, he did the fuck not,” Sakusa bristles, slamming the cup of tea he was drinking down on the table.

“I think he did Omi! More saves too!”

“No, I had 3 receives more than him. I made sure to count,”

“WITH WHAT?!”

Keiji chuckles at Bokuto’s dropped jaw, sliding his gaze away before promptly meeting Atsumu’s knowing smirk. Atsumu attempts to wiggle his eyebrows at Keiji (really, it’s an attempt, his eyebrows look like they’re having a cardiac arrest), before tilting his head snidely towards Bokuto with a coy smirk.

Keiji purses his lips and closes his eyes, thinking that maybe if he couldn’t see Atsumu, Atsumu wouldn’t be there. You know, like selective object permanence.

Yet, alas, when Keiji opened his eyes, Atsumu was still there, smirking at Keiji - his smile more annoying each second. Honestly, Atsumu had no business being this observant. Was it a setter thing? Was it a setter thing to be a piece of shit?

Was it because he always called Atsumu the uglier twin to spite him? Was this karma? Could karmic retribution come in the form of a 6ft tall blonde gremlin?

Atsumu is about to open his mouth, most likely to make a snide comment about Keijii’s disgustingly obvious pining because somehow, Atsumu always knows, when Hinata bounces into the Izakaya with Kageyama in tow in a flurry, greeting everyone with a bright beam from Hinata and a curt nod from Kageyama.

Hinata steals the attention of the whole table, pulling Bokuto, Atsumu and Sakusa into an enthusiastic barrage about the match and the cat they saw on the way to the Izakaya as he sits down next to them.

Keiji isn’t really sure if he’s following the conversation but Bokuto and Atsumu seem to be with how enthusiastic they were. Even Sakusa is giving a solemn nod every few minutes. But honestly, Keiji is just happy to be here.

It makes Keiji happy seeing Bokuto so happy, surrounded by the people he loves. It gives Keiji a glimpse of Bokuto’s world - the one that no longer has Keiji in it, for volleyball at least. While Keiji had long left competitive volleyball behind, there is an irrevocable part of him that belongs - that he owes, completely and wholly to the sport and the people he met along the way. Keiji has no regrets leaving volleyball, but he doesn’t deny that he misses the comfort volleyball brings him - even as it presents itself to him now, fleeting yet heart-warming.

So seeing Bokuto, being with him here, makes Keiji feels like he still has a place in this world. Maybe in Bokuto’s world too.

Keiji seems to be the first to notice the figure walking towards their table in long strides, everyone else too busy being immersed in Hinata’s infectious energy.

Keiji tilts his head upwards to meet the face of the onigiri man - Miya Osamu. He nods at Osamu with a small smile, quickly glancing down at the plastic bag the cradles between his fingers, hoping its onigiri, “Miya-san, it’s good to see you.”

Osamu smirks down at Keiji as he plops down the seat next to him, “I told ya to call me Osamu, Keiji-kun. Look, I even brought ya leftovers.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Osamu-san? Because I’m not gonna lie, I think it might be working,” Keiji smirks as he reaches over for the plastic bag to dig into the onigiri.

Somehow, throughout the many matches Keiji had attended, Keiji had formed an unlikely friendship with Osamu - one built on Keiji’s love for Onigiri Miya and their mutual love of ribbing Atsumu.

“Oi, why is he Osamu? Why am I still Miya-san?” snides Atsumu, taking notice of his brother’s arrival.

“Osamu’s good looking.” retorts Keiji easily.

“WE HAVE THE SAME FACE.”

Atsumu and Osamu fall into their usual banter. Affectionate pet names such as scrub and dipshit acting as the soundtrack to Keiji’s onigiri unwrapping ceremony, peeling apart the paper before biting down heartily.

“Keiji-kun. Oi, Keiji-kun.”

Keiji looks up from his onigiri at the sound of his name, his mouth full of onigiri and distractingly mumbles a “hm?”

“Ya wanna share some of that Keiji-kun?” drawls Atsumu, glancing down at the onigiri in the plastic bag.

Keiji stares at Atsumu, drawing the onigiri in hands closer to his chest, “am I allowed to say no?”

Osamu barks a loud laugh, his eyes twinkling with mirth before his eyes catch on something behind Keiji as his laugh tapers off.

Keiji notices Osamu stillness and raises his eyebrows. He turns his head inquisitively, onigiri still cradled in his hands, to meet Bokuto frowning, eyes narrowed as he stares at something behind Keiji.

“Bokuto-san? Are you alright?” asks Keiji.

Bokuto snaps out of his stupor at the sound of Keiji’s voice, face flushing as red dusted across his cheeks. He looks down at Keiji with a sheepish smile, “of course Akaashi! You enjoying your onigiri?”

“Yes, it’s very good.” Keiji bites his lip and thinks for a moment before reluctantly lifting up the onigiri in his hands and asking, “would you like some, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto freezes for a moment, eyes darting down to the onigiri in Keijii’s hands. He lifts a hand to scratch behind his neck before awkwardly saying, “ah, uh- the same one?”

Keiji flushes red, realizing that he was offering the onigiri that had his saliva slobbered all over it. There was a voice at the back of his head that sounded disgustingly like Atsumu for some reason, taunting him with “indirect kiss, indirect kiss, indirect kiss”.

“Ah- no- no no. Uh, there are 3 more left I think. Let me just get, just get them for you,” stutters Keiji, desperately wanting to turn around to hide his blush.

Bokuto laughs loudly, his smile widening as he shakes his head, “it’s fine Akaashi, I can tell you don’t really want to share,”

Keiji didn’t think his face could handle any more heat, and yet he could feel the tell-tale warmth creeping up his neck.

Keiji nods and offers Bokuto a small smile before turning back to Osamu, embarrassed and red-faced.

“Ya would share onigiri with Bokkun but not with me, Keiji-kun? I hafta say Keiji-kun, that frankly, I’m dyin here” smirks Atsumu, his eyes knowing as he raises his eyebrows.

Keiji narrows his eyes at him, “then perish.”

Osamu laughs beside Keiji, watching as Atsumu clutches at his heart playfully before throwing himself over Sakusa - who immediately shoves him off his chair.

Osamu leans nearer to Keiji as he watches Atsumu, whispering softly, “Keiji-kun, I’m gonna tell you somethin’, but it’s top secret, okay? So keep this between us,”

Keiji raises his eyebrows at Osamu and nods, confused. Keiji and Osamu were definitely friends, close enough to make fun of each other and have friendly conversations, but certainly not the secret-sharing kind.

Osamu playfully looks conspiringly left and right, before smirking at Keiji, “I’m openin’ an Onigiri Miya branch in Tokyo,”

Keiji gasps, smile widening as his eyes light up before launching at Osamu a barrage of questions of where, when, how soon,

Osamu answers all of Keiji’s questions patiently, maybe happy that someone was so excited for his success. And Keiji was happy for him. But he was also really happy at the prospect of potentially having Onigiri Miya every day instead of tri-monthly like he had to at matches.

Keiji is about to lay a hand on Osamu’s shoulder to congratulate him, you know like friends do, when he feels his chair being suddenly pulled backward, leaving his hand awkwardly hovering in the air between them.

Keiji turns around, meeting at Bokuto’s hard eyes before he glances down to see Bokuto’s hand clenching the edge of Keiji’s seat.

Keiji snaps his eyes back to Bokuto’s face and tilts his inquisitively, “Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto’s face remains hard, impassive as he says, “I think Suna is calling you Miya-san. Maybe you should go say hi.”

Keiji turns back around to watch Osamu’s wide-eyed shock morph into amusement before chuckling, “I’ll go do that, thanks Bokuto. Nice talking to ya Keiji-kun,” he says, shooting Keiji a wink before getting up to walk to the other end of the table.

Keiji turns back to Bokuto with a confused look, “I didn’t hear Suna calling?”

Bokuto’s hard stare remained as his eyes trailed after Osamu’s figure. Once Osamu sat next to Suna at the other end of the table. Bokuto turns back around - eyebrows jumping in surprise upon meeting Keiji’s curious stare.

His lips curl into a shy smile, turning sheepish as he raises a hand to scratch his cheek, “ah well, he didn’t”. Bokuto glances away before settling his eyes back on Keiji with a grimace as he mutters “I just missed you and wanted to talk you,”

Keiji feels his heart catch in his throat as he stares at Bokuto, rewinding through the last few moments and registering Bokuto’s sheer- he doesn’t even know what to call it. Could he call it possessiveness? Or was that just his useless crush projecting, hoping?

Keiji gapes at Bokuto, his mouth parting and closing again, not sure how to respond. He looks away and clears his throat, desperately willing himself to say something when he’s inevitably saved by Bokuto again.

“Akaashi! You’ve been doing that a lot today. Do you need a cough drop? I can go buy you one. Oh! Or maybe Omi has one”

Keiji snaps his head up just as Bokuto is about to ask Sakusa for the cough drop he most likely has because Sakusa is just the type to be endlessly prepared for any situation. Keiji quickly reaches to grab Bokuto’s arm to stop him, the embarrassment still glaringly obvious on his face as he stutters out a, “It’s o- I’m- I’m good Bokuto-san. I’m good, thank you.

Bokuto narrows his eyes at Keiji, his eyes scanning down Keiji’s face in suspicion before breaking out into a bright grin, “if you say so Akaashi! Did I tell you I almost got a sponsorship from a cough drop company once? They said voices like mine were cough drop material!”

Keiji offers Bokuto a smile and inquisitive “oh?”, as he wills his embarrassment to bleed away.

Bokuto details how the company had approached him specifically, and how it was a company that definitely didn’t begin with ‘Ri’ and end with ‘colo’ - completely unaware of the war waging inside Keiji’s mind.

And while Keiji looked incredibly calm and attentive to everyone on the outside, Keiji was still dying inside, working double-time to stoke out the fires of hope that surged with Bokuto’s possessiveness(?). Though there was a tiny part of him that felt unmistakably warm at Bokuto’s attentiveness and care.

Keiji needed to get home, needed to put some physical and figurative distance between himself and Bokuto.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave Bokuto, not just yet. He hadn’t seen him in so long and he didn’t know when their schedule would align for them to meet next. There was no telling that even if Bokuto did have time, that he would want to spend it with Keiji anyway. So Keiji chooses to stay. He stays because here, he gets to be happy. He gets to be content with Bokuto by his side.

It wasn’t long before the night eventually wrapped up, both teams calling it a night as their fatigue eventually caught up to them. All of them pleasantly buzzed and lulled by their many beers. They had all said goodbye to each other, with Sakusa and Atsumu and Suna and Osamu leaving as separate pairs. Keiji snorts a pleased laugh to himself, taking good note of how both brothers were leaving separately.

Keiji stood outside the izakaya next to Bokuto, waving goodbye to Hinata and Kageyama. Keiji felt a mixture of relief and sadness swim in his gut. Relief for the oncoming time he would have away from Bokuto, but also sadness that he would once again be away from Bokuto

After Hinata and Kageyama eventually disappeared when they turned a corner, Keiji to Bokuto to bid him goodbye - to find him already looking at him. Keiji’s breath catches in his throat as he looks back at Bokuto’s bright eyes, a soft smile etched on his face.

Keiji feels his cheeks warm and resists the urge to clear his throat again. He doesn’t think he could handle a cough drop offer right now. “Thank you for tonight Bokuto-san, I had a lot of fun,”

Bokuto’s smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the side, “Me too Akaashi!”

Keiji reaches up to nervously grip the handles of his backpack. He reluctantly nods towards the direction of the station, knowing that he should go (for politeness’ sake and his sanity), “I should get going then. Goodnight Bokuto-san”

“Akaashi, wait.”

He stops as he’s about to turn, looking back to meet Bokuto’s nervous smile as he stares down at his shoes, his feet kicking the pavement as he scratches behind his neck. “Ah well, I don’t- is it weird-” Bokuto stops, pausing to look at Keiji before taking a deep breath, “Akaashi,”

Keiji tilts his head inquisitively, “yes Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto’s eyes steel, meeting Keiji’s curious ones head-on, “I haven’t seen enough of you yet Akaashi. Let’s hang out more.”

Keiji’s eyes widen, his eyes blown wide in surprise. He gapes, opening his mouth before closing it again, not knowing what to say, or how to interpret that, or just how to feel.

Quickly, Keiji reviews his feelings for the night. He’s overwhelmed yet enamored. He’s exhausted yet this is the most content he’s felt in months. He’s panicking but also- no, he’s just panicking. So really, Keiji should say no.

And yet what comes out of his mouth is, “would you like to come over Bokuto-san?”

Ah, fuck.

“You can put your shoes here Bokuto-san”

Standing up from tucking away his shoes, Keiji flicks on the light switch, illuminating his small apartment.

“Woah Akaashi, your place is nice!” Bokuto lets out a low whistle, whipping his head around to take in his kitchen and living room with wide eyes. “It’s a bit empty though.”

“I haven’t had much time to decorate,” mutters Keiji, slipping past Bokuto to set his backpack down on his couch.

This was true. His life as a manga editor didn’t really afford him much time to spend in his apartment. And rare times spent in his apartment were spent doing work anyway or sleeping anyway.

“Oh!” exclaims Bokuto behind him.

Keiji turns around to see Bokuto pick up one of the framed pictures on his shelf. Keiji shuffles over to Bokuto, peering down to look at the frame in his hands.

It was an old picture, a Fukurodani team picture, taken during their last year together at nationals - their last tournament together, where they came close but not quite close enough. Chancing a glance towards Bokuto, Keiji is met with Bokuto’s soft smile as he gazes down warmly at the picture in his hands.

“I like this one.” mutters Bokuto softly, lifting his head to shoot Keiji a fond smile.

Keiji returns Bokuto with a small smile of his own, glancing down to look at the picture. “Me too.”

For a long time, looking at that picture felt bittersweet. It was a flicker of a moment captured of his most fulfilling yet heartbreaking year in high school volleyball. Keiji couldn’t bear to even look at that picture the year after, his regrets drowning him even after a glance

But now, that picture has since become a permanent fixture of Keiji’s home - turning his apartment into a home filled with the people he considered family. The years have been kind to him, serving to be gracious enough to forgive himself for the bitterness of loss. And now all that remains is the love he feels for the people and the sport housed in that frame.

“Still, you are missing one really important thing though,” sing-songs Bokuto, tilting his head towards Keiji to smirk at him. “An autographed picture of me.”

Keiji snorts a laugh to himself and shakes his head, “I have more than enough, thank you Bokuto-san. Would you like some tea?”

“Sounds good, Kaashi” says Bokuto, placing the picture frame down to survey the other items on his shelf.

Keiji nods and excuses himself to the kitchen, where the intensity of his circumstances eventually dawn on him. After glancing back to make sure he was out of Bokuto’s sight, Keiji drops down to a crouch on the floor to muffle his screams.

Bokuto was in his house, in his space, breathing his air. There are currently 10 mini Keijis in his brain all collectively screaming, like a choir in hellfire.

Keiji needed space, and this was the exact opposite of space. This was Bokuto’s first visit. He’d been to Keiji’s university dorms but he hasn’t visited since Keiji had become a full-fledged working adult, opting to always meet at restaurants instead.

Keiji had barely survived the trip here, relying solely on his years of experience of bouncing off Bokuto, not able to truly pay attention to Bokuto with the chaos raging in his mind.

Keiji stays crouching, trying to regulate his breathing, repeating to himself the breathing exercises that got him through university.

Keiji relays to himself repeatedly - It was just Bokuto, his best friend Bokuto - who made frequent appearances in his homoerotic dreams, but still, his best friend nonetheless. Just Bokuto, who’s here because he missed Keiji, as a friend.

Keiji could do friends. He’s had friends before. Friends was familiar - his expertise, dare he say. He was a professional at Friend™ behaviour - a certified friendfessional.

Springing up with a sense of newfound vigour, Keiji quickly prepares two mugs of tea, all while aggressively chanting to himself ‘Bokuto, friend, Bokuto, friend’.

As he steps out of his kitchen with two mugs in hand, Bokuto turns to look at him, splayed out over Keiji’s couch comfortably, warm bright blinding grin in place as he waits for Keiji. At that, Keiji’s mind quiets, mind zooming in on Bokuto’s warmth.

And oddly, Keiji - Keji had never felt more at home.

He passes a mug to Bokuto, to which Bokuto chirps a ‘thank you’, before settling down on the couch, mug cradled close to him.

They both share a small smile with each other before clinking their cups together to take a sip. Bokuto rises first, breathing a loud ‘ahhhh’.

Setting down his cup, he turns his whole body to Keiji, head leaning against the top of the cushion of the couch, “So Akaashi, how have you been? Tell me what you’ve been up,”

Keiji is about to brush Bokuto’s question off because all he did was work anyway so there wouldn’t be much to say. Yet, when he lifts his eyes from his mug, mouth opened with a nonchalant answer prepared, he stops.

Bokuto was looking at him, eyes attentive and sincere. Patiently waiting to hear about Keiji’s life.

Keiji took a deep breath, settling into the couch as he thought about where he could begin, “well, I’ve been thinking of murdering Udai-san,”

Turns out, there was a lot that Keiji had to say. Because once Keiji got going, he couldn’t stop. He told Bokuto about Zomb’ish and it’s rising popularity, that he was reading a new book and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it yet, that he saw Konoha and Komi last week and how nice it was and that Keiji was thinking of getting a new plant.

All while Bokuto just sat and listened, nodding always to ensure Keiji knew he was being heard, asking questions at the right time, never once cutting Keiji off, looking content to just have Keiji talking.

“What are you gonna name it?” asks Bokuto, chin propped up on hand.

“Name?”

“Yeah like that plant, what are you gonna name it?”

“I’m not sure, it depends on the plant I guess,” says Keiji, head tilted as he indulges in Bokuto.

“Hmmmm,” Bokuto looks up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed deep in thought as he mulls over Keiji’s words before he snaps his eyes wide open to Keijii, a smile forming on lips, “what about Kou?”

Keiji chokes, “K-Kou?”

“Yeah, like Koutarou! This way I’ll always be with you,” grins Bokuto, wistfully unknowing of how wrong he could be interpreted, how he’s inadvertently caused Keiji’s jackrabbit heartbeat

Keiji swallows, his throat dry. “I’ll- I’ll consider that Bokuto-san, thank you. Here let me wash these,”

Keiji quickly stands up and grabs both mugs before swiftly turning to the kitchen.

Never in Keijii’s 23 years of living did he think dish-washing could serve as a tactical retreat.

“Oh! Okay, thanks Akaashi! Wait, could I use your bathroom though?”

Keiji glances behind to nod at Bokuto before calling out, “it’s down the hall.”

“Thanks Kaashi!

Keiji takes his time washing the mugs, making sure to wash each inch as he once again steadily chants ‘Bokuto, friends, Bokuto, friends’ repeatedly to himself.

The night was going well. It was nice. Really nice. And Keji isn’t about to ruin it because he couldn’t keep his feelings in check. He is on his best friendfessional behaviour.

Wiping his hands on his trousers, Keiji readies himself to face Bokuto again - the third time he’s had to do it tonight. His heart rate is steady and his mind is almost clear again when he steps out of the kitchen to find Bokuto standing in the middle of his living room, Nino Bo in his hands.

Oh.

Oh no.

In his mind, the hellfire choir was singing again.

Bokuto snaps to face Keiji at the sound of his footsteps, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. He looks down at the Ninotan then back up at Keiji, mouth closing and parting before eventually settling on, “why do you have this Akaashi?”

“I- um- Wh- What were you doing in my room?”

“....I didn’t know how down you meant,”

Keiji stares at Bokuto and his confused expression, his eyes inquisitive but not judging - though it does nothing to soothe Keiji’s encroaching panic. His heart feels like it’s about to collapse on itself. Like the walls of his living room are closing in on him, threatening to swallow him whole.

Keiji closes his eyes, telling himself to breathe. In, out. In, out. When Keiji opens his eyes again, he takes one more deep breath before telling the world’s most believable lie, “it’s not mine,”

Bokuto’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, “but you live alone?”

Silently, Keiji accepts his defeat. “Okay, it is mine. But I just- I- I bought it to support you. I don’t actually use it or anything like that,”

“It was on your bed. Tucked into your blankets,”

“....I was worried he would get cold,”

Keiji watches as Bokuto’s eyebrows scrunch further before smoothening out then lifting in amusement, his eyes are filled with mirth and his lips pursed, as if he’s trying his hardest to not laugh out loud.

It quickly dawns on Keiji, how ridiculous the whole thing is and before Keiji knows it, there are a series of giggles escaping him, pushing both Keiji and Bokuto to collapse in fits of giggles and booming laughing respectively.

Keiji wipes a tear from his eyes, his laughter eventually subsiding as he lifts his head to meet Bokuto’s crinkled ones, eyes kind and endlessly amused.

Bokuto holds up Nino Bo to survey him carefully, lip quirking up as his eyes scan down Nino Bo’s body. “Akaashi, if you wanted to cuddle, you could just say so. I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Keiji’s brain stutters, “you- you wouldn’t be...opposed?”

“Of course not, I’ve wanted to since like forever,” says Bokuto, eyes still cast forward on Nino Bo.

Huh?

Keiji stares at Bokuto, mouth parted, not trusting himself to respond because what. What does that even mean?

Bokuto eventually notices the silence, lifting his eyes from Nino Bo to meet at Keiji’s surprised stare. It seems to dawn on Bokuto then, the weight of his words, because Bokuto’s eyes immediately widen as he flounders for a response, “I mean not like forever, forever you know. Just like high school. Which I guess could have been our forever but that’s not the point, I meant it completely platonically. Like best friend cuddles? That’s a thing right? We can make it a thing.”

Keiji takes in Bokuto’s nervous state. His knuckles are white, clenching Nino Bo tightly in his grasp and his eyes are darting across the room, never once landing on Keiji. Keiji’s instinctual reaction to seeing Bokuto like this is to calm him down, to shift the conversation to familiar territory, to take the attention off Bokuto.

But, there are things Keiji needs to know.

“Bokuto-san, what do you mean since high school?”

Bokuto chuckles nervously, tongue darting to lick his lips as his eyes lift to look at Keiji before quickly darting away again. “I mean it’s not like you don’t know. But don’t worry, I know you don’t feel the same way! I do! But everyone needs a hug sometimes! That’s why you bought the plush right? Unless you don’t hug it, but what else would you do with such a big one though? I mean I guess-”

“What do you mean the same way?” interrupts Keiji, cutting Bokuto off as he stares at him with wide eyes.

Keiji’s heart is pounding, hope blooming across his chest, surging from the curve of his ears to the tip of his toes. He knows he shouldn’t, that he should stamp out the flame while he can.. He knows that he’s going to get disappointed, going to get hurt. But for once, Keiji can’t bring himself to care.

Bokuto halts, eyes darting up to meet Keiji’s. And for the first time in this conversation, they stay. His lips turn upwards slightly into a small remorseful smile before muttering the words that would shatter everything that Keiji knew to be, “you know, that I like you and stuff”

What, thinks Keiji.

“What.”

“What?” replies Bokuto.

“You like me?” says Keiji incredulously, brain uncomprehending.

Bokuto’s smile turns sheepish as he lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck, “I mean we’ve never talked about it but I thought it was obvious. I’ve been trying to make moves on you since high school.”

Blood rushes to Keiji’s ears, deafening them. He can no longer hear the hellfire choir. Because, make moves????????????

Bokuto has moves???????

And apparently Keiji has seen them???????

Wait, “high school?! You dated someone 2 years ago!”

Akaashi remembers it well, though short-lived, Bokuto’s relationship at the time had absolutely destroyed Keiji. That was the final nail in the coffin that absolutely convinced Keji that his love was hopeless and doomed for devastation

“I mean yeah, cause you didn’t like me, so I had to get over you somehow.” shrugs Bokuto, red dusting across his cheeks as he chewed his lip.

“Who said I didn’t like you?”

At this Bokuto’s face scrunches in confusion, looking at Keiji as if he’d just said the stupidest thing. “You? I mean, you would get really tense when I tried to touch you, and like really red so I could read the signs you know. I took the hint, I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable”

Oh.

Keiji sucks in a deep breath, willing his mind to calm down.

How do you confront the fact that you’ve inadvertently cockblocked yourself for 8 years? Was it too late for Keiji to confess? To say that he was desperately in love with Bokuto?

“Have you?” Keiji’s throat is dry, he’s pleading, hoping whoever that was listening that he wasn’t too late, that he still had a chance at happiness.

“Have I what?”

“Gotten over me.”

Bokuto gapes at Keiji, mouth parting and closing before settling on a sheepish smile, “how could I?”

The flame in Keiji’s heart ignites, burning through the confines he’s long bolted in place. With newfound confidence, adrenaline and recklessness, Keiji surges forward, throwing his arms around Bokuto’s shoulders before clumsily pressing his lips against Bokuto’s with his eyes squeezed shut.

Bokuto stills. His chapped lips unmoving underneath Keiji’s determined ones.

For a cursed moment, Keiji begins to think he’s made a mistake, that he had somehow, all obvious signs withstanding, read Bokuto wrong. Reluctantly, Keiji starts to pull away, shame beginning to take root in his sinking heart before Bokuto’s arms shoot out to wrap around Keiji’s waist, lips now pressing against his insistently.

Bokuto was kissing him back.

For years, Keiji had dreamt of Bokuto - of Bokuto’s lips, of kissing Bokuto. Always a faraway dream, one that could only exist in the realm of requitedness. He’d never allowed himself to dwell on it much - he never quite knew what to think. He only had questions. Would Bokuto be eager? Would he be scaldingly intense? Or would he be uncharacteristically shy? Or none of the above?

But as Keiji continued to meet Bokuto’s lips, in gentle and tender caresses, he realizes all semblance of guessing has been for naught. Because Bokuto kisses like he has all the time in the world, he kisses Keiji like he cherishes him, as if Keiji was a long-awaited dream - as if Bokuto loves him.

Keiji tightens his arms around Bokuto, hands reaching up into Bokuto’s hair, playing with the short strands at the base of his neck. One of Bokuto’s hands reaches up to cradle Keiji’s face, fingertips lightly dancing across his cheek, while the other tightens around Keiji’s waist, pulling him closer, nearer - flush against Bokuto’s chest.

Bokuto pulls away first, eyes blinking open in a daze and mouth parted as he pants heavily, light-headed and out of breath. Keiji tries to trail after Bokuto, lips following Bokuto’s in hopes of the kiss lasting just a bit longer.

Slowly, Keiji flutters his eyes open, looking up at Bokuto from under the hood of his eyelashes as he blinks slowly, mind still reeling from the kiss they shared.

Bokuto licks his swollen red lips, nervously watching Keiji, “Akaashi, is this a sign?”

Keiji bites his lips, eyes focused on Bokuto and Bokuto only. Drawing in a deep breath, Keijii breathes the confession he’s so futilely buried in the garden bed of his heart, “I’m in love with you Bokuto-san. I have been since I was 15.”

Perhaps now, something new, something good will bloom there.

Bokuto blinks at Keiji, eyes unbelieving as he searches Keiji’s face for a trace of a lie. When he finds none, his face breaks out into a bright grin, like sunlight breaking through dawn.

Booming a boisterous laugh, Bokuto wraps his arms around Keij, picking him up and spinning around - drawing a series of unrestrained giggles from Keiji.

The living room spins in a blur to Keiji, light-headed and giddy, and Keiji’s apartment - it had never felt so full.

Distantly, Keiji thinks - his house is now a home.

“Akaashi, I’m literally right here.”

Keiji looks up from where he’s lying on the bed, cuddled into Nino Bo.

After sharing their unnecessarily long-awaited confessions, it was already too late for Bokuto to catch a train home with all the stations already closed. So Bokuto was now staying the night, their first night together as more than friends.

Bokuto is standing at the foot of Keiji’s bed, hands on his hips as he tries to glare sternly at Keiji- no, at Nino Bo, lips pulled into a scowl.

Keiji feels embarrassment colours his cheeks. One, for being caught cuddling Nino Bo, and two, that Bokuto meant he could take Nino Bo’s place. “...he’s soft.”, explains Keiji sheepishly.

“SO AM I!”

Keiji scans down Bokuto’s body, taking in his broad chest and sculpted limbs, before lifting his eyes back up to raise a skeptical eyebrow at Bokuto.

“Wow Akaashi, 2 hours of dating and you’re already checking me out, who knew you could be so bold?” smirks Bokuto.

Keiji chokes, hacking as he tries to clear his throat. When did Bokuto become such a menace?

Must be all the exposure to Atsumu.

But wait- there were currently more pressing matters at hand, namely -“we’re dating?” mumbles Keiji shyly.

Bokuto’s eyes soften, walking over to sit on the edge of Keiji’s bed. He reaches to clasp Keijii’s hand in his, intertwining them before squeezing them once, twice. “I’ve been in love with you for 8 years Keiji. I’m not wasting another second being less than your boyfriend”

Keiji feels his heart race, thumping heavily in his chest - clenching at Bokuto’s unbridled adoration and the use of his first name. He tugs Bokuto’s hand, lifting to give it a chaste kiss before holding it close to his chest - close to his heart, “I love you Bokuto-san.”

“I love you too, Keiji. And that’s Koutarou to you.”

Keiji sputters, cheeks pinking before drawing a breath (and courage). Keiji steels his resolve, locking his with Bokuto’s, “K- Kou- Kouta- Bokuto-san I can’t, not yet,” cries Keiji softly, burying his face back into Nino Bo in embarrassment as the tell-tale warmth creeps up his neck.

Bokuto chuckles in mirth, lifting a hand to caress Keijii’s curls before mumbling, “I’ll wait as long as you need Keiji,”

Keiji lifts his head to smile up at Bokuto, smile unrestrained and unfiltered, and light - hoping that it conveyed the gratitude and affection Keiji had for the man before him.

Years of (assumed) unrequited love typically hardens one’s heart. It is a love held by the thread - a love that teaches you that whatever it affords you is already too much. And yet, here with Bokuto, Keiji feels the most free he’s ever been. So was this okay? Was it okay for Keiji to have so much?

But maybe it was time Keiji stopped questioning the worth of love. Maybe it was time for him to be the protagonist- No, the writer of his own story.

“The Ninotan still has to go though,” smirks Bokuto, raising an eyebrow tauntingly at Keiji.

Deep in the night, when Keiji and Bokuto’s legs are intertwined, hands clasped close to their chest - to their hearts, Keiji whispers to Nino Bo who sits on Keiji’s desk chair, “thank you Nino Bo.”

Keij nuzzles his face into Bokuto’s shoulders, seconds from succumbing to the wisps of sleep, when he hears Bokuto ask, “his name is Nino Bo?”