Work Text:
Akaashi can’t believe this is happening.
He stares blankly at the sterile white wall in front of him, ruminating on all the ways he could have prevented his current situation. Physical therapy? Really? He’s barely in his mid-20s! And yet here he is. Didn’t he used to be an athlete? How had he let this happen? Why hadn’t he taken better care of himself?
“Akaashi Keiji?”
He looks up from where he’s sitting the waiting room couch. A middle-age man stands in the doorway, holding a clipboard. His brows are raised. Akaashi nods and stands, wincing as his lower back twinges at the motion. “Yes, that’s me.” He follows the man, who introduces himself as Yamiji Takeyuki, his primary therapist. They stroll out of the waiting area and into the main room.
The large space is full of stationary bikes, exercise equipment, and a few massage tables. Akaashi’s eyes dart around, taking in the new sights and sounds. It’s bright and loud, with chill music playing from overhead speakers and a lot of movement.
Yamiji-san ushers Akaashi into an exam room, but not before Akaashi hears a booming peal of laughter. He can’t help but look back for the source of the noise, but he only catches a glimpse of strangely dyed hair before the door shuts.
“Now, Akaashi-san, let’s chat.” His therapist motions for him to sit. “What exactly has been bothering you?”
Akaashi tells him. He explains how he’s been having severe lower and upper back pain and tightness for over two years. How his neck and shoulders are often so stiff that they feel numb and tingly. And how he’s nearly lost all of the core strength he once possessed.
It’s sort of freeing to finally talk about it, honestly.
Twenty minutes later, they emerge from the exam room. Yamiji-san had given him a thorough assessment, a list of exercises to do at home, and a short massage (Akaashi had melted; it felt so good). “Next time you come in, we’ll assign you to one of our therapy aides. They’ll help you through the exercises, and then we’ll meet to chat about your progress. Okay?”
Akaashi nods. “Thank you, sir.” He starts to head out, feeling pretty good about the overall experience. He’ll just have to be sure not to slack off on the exercises…
Suddenly, he hears that same, resounding laugh as before. He glances up.
A young man, perhaps around his age, is strolling by. The first thing Akaashi notices is his odd, two-tone hair styled into spikes. Then it’s his arms—extremely muscular arms that strain a bit inside his short-sleeve polo shirt. His chest is quite impressive, too.
The laugher stops. Akaashi looks up to see the man’s wide, golden eyes looking right back, eyebrows raised.
Flustered at being caught looking, Akaashi breaks his gaze and hurries from the building, hoping his ears aren’t as red as they feel.
***
Akaashi returns to the therapy center four days later. He had tried to keep up with his exercises, but admittedly skipped a few morning sessions. But he can’t help it! It’s hard enough to get out of bed in time for work, let alone leave twenty minutes for exercising.
Akaashi is ushered in by a short, redheaded aide who instructs him to hop on a bike. “Just a quick ten minute warmup,” she says. “Bokuto-kun will be over soon to help you with your exercises.”
Akaashi nods, glancing at her name tag. “Thank you, Shirofuku-san.” He starts to pedal, trying to reacquaint himself with the motion. It had been a while since he’d been on any sort of bike, even a stationary one. The resistance is low, though, so he barely breaks a sweat.
As he finishes his final minute, he suddenly feels a presence at his right. He turns slightly to see the young man with the spiked hair, who he’d noticed last time. He’s gripping a sheet of paper with both hands and wearing a surprised expression.
“Hi there!” The man greets, a bit too loudly. “Um, I’m Bokuto! You’re Akashi, right?”
Akaashi fumbles with the pedals, his last few rotations are awkward and jerky. “It’s Akaashi,”he corrects, “but yes. Um. Hello.” He tries to ignore the heat in his cheeks. Of course his aide is the one he’d been caught checking out last time. Just his luck.
“Great!” The man’s mouth shifts into a crooked grin. “C’mon, let’s get started! We’re going to start with some chair exercises!”
Akaashi follows him to the other side of the room, where a few chairs are lined up against the wall. Bokuto instructs him to sit flush against the back, lock his fingers behind his head and lean backwards. Akaashi tries it, and Bokuto grins. “There you go! This is called a ‘thoracic extension!’”
The next two exercises are also on the chair, and ones that Akaashi had already been practicing: A neck stretch for his scapulae, a leg stretch for his hip flexers. Then they move to a doorway for his daily pec stretch. He’d been doing that one whenever he could, at home and his office.
Bokuto then grabs a barbell. “This one really works your hamstrings! It’s called a ‘Romanian Deadlift, ‘kashi!’”
Akaashi can easily forgive the terrible pronunciation of his name as he watches the man bend down and push his hips back. He knows he should be paying attention and not ogling, but it’s proving difficult. The man’s shirt is just so, so tight, and Akaashi is very, very gay…
“Wanna try?”
Akaashi tears his eyes away and takes a deep breath. “S-sure.” He accepts the barbell and attempts the movement. But Bokuto shakes his head.
“It’s not a squat, don’t bend your knees so much,” he explains. “Keep your spine straight, almost like you’re—oh, yeah! That’s it!”
They do a few more standing exercises before Bokuto instructs him to hop onto one of the tables. “You’ve been doing the ‘Open Book’ exercise at home, yeah?” When Akaashi nods, he grins again. “Two sets of fifteen!”
The rest of session goes well, and soon enough, Bokuto is bidding him farewell and heading to help another client. Yamiji-san arrives to check in, giving him a short massage and handing him a new sheet of exercises to work on.
As Akaashi leaves, he once again catches Bokuto’s eye, and this time the aide offers him a small wave.
He feels light for the rest of the day.
***
“Good morning, ‘kashi!”
Blinking, Akaashi looks up at Bokuto peeking at him from over the front of his bike. “Morning, Bokuto-san. Though I’m not sure if it’s 'good.'”
“Not an early riser, huh?” Bokuto hums. “Well, hopefully this session will help wake you up!”
Akaashi sighs. “I’d prefer some coffee…” Bokuto laughs, and Akaashi can’t stop the corner of his mouth from turning up slightly. He follows Bokuto through the usual exercises, this time adding more weight training. Once again, Bokuto becomes a distraction. Akaashi’s eyes widen as Bokuto leans forward, bracing himself against the front of a massage table as he demonstrates a new move.
“See? Just lift the weight backward, so you feel a comfortable pull in your upper back!” Akaashi nods silently, unable to stop himself from staring. Are Bokuto’s pants tighter in the rear today? They must be. Isn’t he afraid of ripping them?
He notices that a young woman, sitting nearby doing wrist exercises, is staring too. Her mouth is slightly agape. When she realizes she’s been caught by Akaashi she quickly looks away, a flush high on her cheeks. Akaashi sends her a sympathetic look. He knows how she feels.
“Bo! Did ya see the game last night?” Another young aide, even taller than Bokuto but not quite as muscular, saunters over. His hair looks like he just rolled out of bed, and he’s wearing a lazy smirk. He twirls a TheraBand around lazily.
“Ushijima’s serve is nasty as ever!” Bokuto replies, while motioning to Akaashi to start another set. “Kageyama’s not far behind, though.”
Interesting, Akaashi thinks, they’re talking about volleyball. Akaashi recognizes some of the players’ names. Having played a bit in middle and high school, he keeps up with the national team and some of the V.League when he can.
“You’re done, ‘kaashi?” Bokuto leans in close. Akaashi catches a whiff of… is that pine? Whatever it is, it’s really nice. “Do your other arm next!”
“Ah, so this is Akaashi.” The other man slides over, leaning onto the side of the table, smirk widening. Akaashi immediately feels on edge. “Kenma mentioned you’d be coming here soon.”
Oh. Right. Akaashi had almost forgotten that his friend’s boyfriend worked here. “And you must be Kuroo.” He looks at him flatly before continuing his reps. “Nice to meet you. I suppose.”
The man cackles. “Kenma said you were a hoot! And likewise. Bo hasn’t worked ya too hard, has he? This guy can be a bit much, if you know what I mean.”
“Kuroo!” Bokuto whines. “Why would you say that?”
“Sorry bro, you know it’s true.”
“It’s not!”
Akaashi finishes with the weights, turning to see Bokuto’s bottom lip jutting out in a pout. Kuroo is sniggering, poking at his shoulders, and Bokuto is slapping him away playfully. They seem close. Familiar. Like best friends. Akaashi wonders absently if Kenma has ever met Bokuto. Maybe he should ask him...
Kuroo finally strolls away, greeting an elderly man entering the facility with a walker.
“What he said is kinda true,” Bokuto mutters once Kuroo is gone. His eyes a bit duller than usual, and Akaashi decides he doesn’t like it. “I can get a bit intense sometimes. You tell me if I ever do that, okay? Also, don’t mind Kuroo—he can come off like a jerk, but he’s a nice guy, really!”
Akaashi shrugs. “I suppose he must be, if Kozume likes him.” He smiles, wanting to see Bokuto back to his cheery self. “And don’t worry. You’re great. I’ve enjoyed our sessions.”
He’s rewarded with a thousand-watt smile.
***
“Have you used a foam roller before, ‘kaashi?”
Akaashi shakes his head as he follows Bokuto to a corner of the main room. His nerves rise to the surface, as they do whenever he is taught something new. He really doesn’t want to look weak or awkward. Especially in front of Bokuto.
“Let’s try it!” Bokuto leads him over to a low padded surface, just high enough of the ground to sit on. It’s an odd space, in the shape of a horseshoe with skylights above, with a small table in between for hand therapy. Akaashi watches as Bokuto demonstrates how to carefully lay across the cylindrical foam roller and do the exercises. “Your turn!”
Akaashi hops up, turning on his back and positioning himself over the roller. At once he feels a delicious stretch in his scapula. His body feels like it's opening up, adjusting into proper posture after being hunched over so much.
He sighs, feeling quite satisfied. Bokuto chuckles. “Feels nice, doesn’t it? I bet your desk job hurts your back, neck and shoulders a lot, eh?”
Akaashi makes an affirmative sound, trying to ignore their close proximity. He shuts his eyes but can still smell a woodsy scent wafting from Bokuto’s general direction.
“Here, try this…” Suddenly, Akaashi sees a shadow pass over him. His eyes shoot open to find Bokuto kneeling, so close that Akaashi can see Bokuto’s individual eyelashes and see that his lips are chapped.
“Move up a bit, so that your tailbone is supported. There you go!” He backs up again, and Akaashi laments the distance. “Okay, now bring you arms up one at a time. Almost like you’re swimming the backstroke. There, that’s perfect!” He instructs Akaashi through a few more sets.
Akaashi tries and fails to not blush as the man looms over him. It’s all so innocent and yet, Akaashi’s body seems incapable of understanding that. He can’t help it! He’s weak for buff men with bright personalities. Especially when he’s flat on his back underneath one...
“Wow, you’re so good at this!” Bokuto is looking at him as if he’s impressed, and Akaashi scoffs.
“It’s not that difficult, Bokuto-san. I mean, I’m literally just laying here…” He shifts on the roller, reaching up to weave his fingers together above his head and releasing another deep sigh. He winces as his shirt rides up, the foam scraping the skin of his back.
Bokuto is silent for a beat longer than usual. When Akaashi glances up, the man is looking at him blankly, mouth parted slightly, eyes lidded. Akaashi is so used to his exaggerated expressions that this throws him for a loop. “Bokuto-san? Is everything okay?”
Immediately the man blinks, as if coming out of a brief trance. His usual sunny smile returns, albeit a bit weaker. He nods. “Of course! Good work ‘kaashi!” He turns to reach for his clipboard. Akaashi wonders if it’s just his imagination that Bokuto’s ears look a bit pinker than before.
***
When Bokuto isn’t at work one day, Akaashi immediately worries.
“Is he alright?” He asks Kuroo. “He’s not sick or anything, is he?”
Kuroo chuckles. “Nah, he’s fine. One of his sisters is in town for the day so he’s showing her around. Anyway, that man is hardly ever sick. I think he’s had like, one case of the flu since I’ve known him. And we’ve been friends for years.”
Akaashi is surprised at the relief washing over him. He’s only known Bokuto for a few weeks. Why does he care so much?
“Ready?” Kuroo waves him over to a weight machine. “I’m taking over your session today.”
“Oh joy,” Akaashi drawls.
Kuroo just snorts. “Don’t start with me. Or else I’ll make you do an extra set of Dead Bugs. Bokuto says you hate those with a passion.”
Akaashi winces. “Ugh, yeah, okay…”
Later, when he emerges from the massage room, Kuroo finds him again. “You’re coming to Kenma’s game night, right?” he asks. “He told me he asked you.”
Akaashi shrugs. “Maybe. I sometimes work late on Fridays. Any idea why Kenma is suddenly being a social butterfly? He never does group hangouts like this.”
“Neither do you, from what I hear.” Kuroo smirks. “Don’t you guys usually just hang out at the bookstore? Him with his manga, you with your poetry books. Nerds.”
“Ha ha.” Akaashi rolls his eyes, turning to make his exit.
“Bokuto will be there.”
Akaashi stops in his tracks. He turns to find Kuroo’s smug smile growing wider. “W-Why does that matter?”
The man hums. “I mean, you two seem to get along...”
“Well, he’s my aide…”
“… And it might be fun to hang out with him… somewhere else.”
Akaashi narrows his eyes. Kuroo looks too much like he’s trying to come off innocent, and it’s really not working. But Akaashi is enticed by the invitation. It would be nice to see Bokuto outside of the therapy center for once. “Um, I’ll think about it.” He waves aimlessly to Kuroo as he leaves, thoughts still racing. Does Bokuto talk about him? Is that why Kuroo asked? Does Bokuto really want to see him?
Suddenly, his phone buzzes with a text from Kenma:
Hey. You’re coming here Friday, yeah?
Akaashi stares hard at the message. He knows he’s overthinking this whole thing. He always does this. It’s just in his nature.
Maybe, just this once, he should let things fall where they may.
He takes a deep breath and types out his response:
I’ll be there. See you then.
***
Kenma’s place is nice. He’s doing well as a gamer and YouTuber, and had been able to move out of the apartment he shared with roommates last year. The home is traditional Japanese, with a kotatsu in the living area and shoji separating a few rooms. There’s extra bedroom on the side he uses for streaming. It’s impressive, though still understated for someone of his status.
When Akaashi follows his friend into the gaming room, Kuroo and Bokuto are already there. They’re locked in an intense Mario Kart battle, shouting curses and pushing at each other’s elbows.
“Dammit, Kuroo! Don’t blue shell me!”
“Then don’t try to run me off the road!”
“I didn’t mean to! I was trying to get back onto the road!”
“So you admit you suck at this course, then? Ha!”
“Shut up, bastard!“
Kenma sighs. “Guys, shut up. Akaashi’s here.”
Bokuto immediately abandons the game. He basically throws his controller to the side and shoots up from his seat, spinning around. His eyes are practically bursting out of their sockets. “Akaashi! Hey!”
“Dude, did you just forfeit?!” Kuroo whines. “Why am I even still playing…”
“Hello, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi bows. “It’s nice to see you.”
Bokuto nearly trips over some pillows as he hurries over. “Y-you too! Welcome! I mean, it’s Kenma’s house and I’m sure you’ve been here before. But, um, hi!”
Kuroo snorts. “Smooth, bro.”
Akaashi smiles, smitten at Bokuto’s excitement to see him. “I’m glad I could make it.”
They spend the evening passing around beers, munching on snacks and taking turns on various games. Akaashi discovers that Bokuto is quite the button-smasher. Kuroo is more methodical, but has a quick temper. Akaashi himself is calm and analytical. Of course, Kenma annihilates them all.
Eventually, Akaashi settles down onto a floor cushion against the back wall to watch the trio finish a round of Smash Bros. He smiles. They're a fun group to hang out with. He’s surprised how comfortable he feels already.
It doesn’t take long for Bokuto to come back and join him. “Hey!” He offers Akaashi a wide grin. He’s got a slight flush to his cheeks, most likely from the alcohol. “Having a good time?”
Akaashi nods. “I am.” Bokuto flops down next to him. Instead of his normal polo and shorts, he’s wearing an old t-shirt and joggers. But the baggier clothing does nothing to hide his defined form. For once, Akaashi allows himself to stare shamelessly.
They fall into easy conversation. Bokuto asks him about his editor job, meeting Kenma at university, his favorite movies (and then his favorite books, when Akaashi says he studied literature).
When he learns that Akaashi used to play volleyball, he looks like he might faint. “Are you serious?!” He grabs Akaashi by the shoulders, eyes wide. “What position did you play? What high school did you go to? Do you ever still play just for fun? Kuroo and I are part of a local league! You should join in sometime!”
Akaashi answers every question, delighting at Bokuto’s ecstatic reaction when he agrees to play a match with them someday. “What about you, Bokuto-san? Sounds like you have a lot of experience with the sport.”
Bokuto’s expression falls. He rips his eyes away, curling in on himself. (Akaashi has seen this happen a few times. Bokuto’s mood will plummet in seconds. It’s hard to watch.)
“Apologies, Bokuto-san. You don’t have to—”
“Nah, that’s okay.” He shrugs. “I, um, played for a long time. Through high school. And then I was… scouted by a professional team.”
That’s surprising. Akaashi blinks, more intrigued by the minute. “Wow. That’s very impressive.”
Bokuto chuckles, scratches the back on his neck shyly. “Yeah, well, I got injured at the end my first season with the league. It was really bad. Bad enough to stop my career from going anywhere.”
“Oh.” Akaashi feels his heart clench. “I’m so sorry to hear. That must’ve been hard.”
“Yeah, it was. But I’m happy where I am now!” He turns back to Akaashi hesitantly. “I decided to learn about physical therapy and rehabilitation, to help other people who get hurt! I want to become a real, licensed therapist someday!”
He’s smiling again. The tension in Akaashi’s shoulders fades at the sight. He’s beginning to realize how much better he feels when Bokuto is happy. It’s almost scary how much.
“You’ll be a great therapist, Bokuto-san. I just know it.”
Bokuto grins. It’s uncertain, still half-sad, but grateful and genuine. “Thanks, ‘kaashi.”
***
Akaashi’s final day of physical therapy comes much too soon.
He’s sitting in the waiting room, frowning down at the calendar on his phone. Has it really been more than six weeks since he started? It felt like the time has flown by, faster and faster with each passing session.
He has a hunch that it might have something to do with a certain therapy aide.
He and Bokuto haven’t hung out again outside of the facility. They haven’t really had an excuse to, without their mutual friends planning something. And it feels awkward to breach that gap at the therapy center.
Akaashi is pretty sure Bokuto likes him. Even without Kenma’s confirmation that the man is (definitely, without a doubt) bisexual, he’s caught him stealing glances. In certain situations, like that time on the foam roller… Bokuto still can’t seem to look at Akaashi for very long without going a bit red.
One time, after Akaashi takes a long swig of his water bottle and licks his lips, he finds the man looking at him with a dazed, heavy expression. Another time, Akaashi bends over in front of Bokuto to start his weight exercises, and he hears a strained gasp from behind.
Akaashi keeps track of the amount of times he’s seen Bokuto blush in his presence: So far, he’s logged up to 17 suspicious occurrences.
“Akaashi-kun?” It’s Shirofuku. Akaashi follows her, eyes scanning over the main room and finally finding gold. Bokuto waves shyly from the corner, where he’s helping a client with leg stretches. Akaashi waves back before settling onto a bike.
Should he ask Bokuto out? He ponders the consequences. It might still be considered indecent. Maybe he just should pitch another game night at Kenma’s place. Or maybe a group trip to Disneyland?
Still, it would be amazing to hang out with Bokuto. Just the two of them. He doesn’t even care what they do. Merely being in Bokuto’s bright presence is enough.
“Hey hey hey! Ready for your last session?” Bokuto’s smile is exquisite, and Akaashi is really, really going to miss it.
The session goes well, but Akaashi can’t help being sad whenever they complete an exercise or stretch. Each time brings them closer to when they will inevitably part ways. Unless Akaashi finds the courage to say something, of course.
“All done!” Bokuto claps after Akaashi complete his final deadlift rep. “Yamiji-san is waiting for you in his office for a review. Congrats, ‘kaashi!”
Akaashi tries to smile, but it probably comes out more as a grimace. “Thanks, Bokuto-san.” They stare at each other for a moment, but Bokuto makes no move, and says nothing else.
Okay then.
It’s obviously not meant to be. If Bokuto had wanted to hang out again, or ask him out, or anything, this would’ve been the time to say something.
And so Akaashi just bows, and thanks him one more time. He allows himself one final look at the man before finally breaking their gaze and scurrying away.
He doesn’t look back.
Ten minutes later, however, Akaashi is proven wrong.
He’s already outside, power-walking towards the train station, when he hears Bokuto’s frantic voice shouting his name.
“Akaashi! Wait, Akaashi!”
When Akaashi spins around, he sees Bokuto sprinting down the sidewalk towards him, arms flailing, one hand clutching a cell phone. His usually spiked hair is in complete disarray. Akaashi freezes. “Bokuto-san? What are you—”
Bokuto finally reaches him. He’s huffing with exertion, surprising for someone of his athletic prowess.
Akaashi waits patiently for him to catch his breath.
“You… your number!” Bokuto gasps. “I mean, uh, Akaashi, I’d like… I mean, could I maybe, please, um, have yours?”
Akaashi blinks. “My… number?”
“Yeah!” Bokuto nods furiously. “I was hoping, um, we could keep in touch? Or something?”
“Or something..?”
“Akaashi!” Bokuto whines. “Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m trying to do!”
That shuts Akaashi up quick. His thoughts race. In the past hour, he’d changed his mind a hundred times about what Bokuto might think of him. He’d finally given up, accepted his fate. But now..?
“You don’t have to!” Bokuto cries. He looks so frazzled. “I just thought… Well, hanging out at Kenma’s was so fun, and you’re cool, and pretty, like crazy pretty, and now that I’m not your aide, finally, I thought we could go out! On a date. Or anything, really… if you don’t like me in that way, we can be friends! And I really don’t mind if you don’t want to—”
“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi finally regains motion in his limbs, reaching out to grip the man’s elbow gently. Bokuto stops rambling, staring down at his hand. “Of course I would like to spend more time together. I was hoping for that.”
“Really?”
He nods. “I guess I thought you didn’t want to. You never said anything…”
Bokuto curls his fingers around Akaashi’s wrist gently. His hand is very, very warm. Akaashi feels breathless at the contact. “Well, we aren’t supposed to ask out patients. And you were technically still my patient until a little while ago…” He grins wryly, and Akaashi blushes.
“Oh. that makes sense.” He bites his bottom lip.
“I wanted to ask you out the moment you walked out of the center!“ Bokuto insists. "But I was with another client, and when I turned around you were already gone, so when they started their first exercise I ran out of there as fast as possible—”
Akaashi raises an eyebrow. “So you just left your patient? You’ll definitely get in trouble with your boss for that, Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto huffs. “That’s not the point! I was trying to be romantic! Like in a shōjo manga!”
Akaashi can’t help it—he giggles. Bokuto’s eyes go wide at the sound. Embarrassed, Akaashi clears his throat and reaches into his pocket for his phone. “Here, Bokuto-san. Please give me your number. We can plan a date for this weekend. How does that sound?”
Bokuto’s jaw drops. “Really?”
“Really.”
Bokuto’s beam is blinding. He cheers, lurching forward and pulling Akaashi into a tight hug. It’s intense. Akaashi reels at the feeling of hard muscle and warm skin encompassing him from all directions. Hesitantly, he brings his arms around to reciprocate. The hug lasts mere seconds, but Akaashi’s on fire. He sighs, eyes fluttering closed as he breathes in Bokuto’s distinctive scent, and shivers when he feels Bokuto’s hair brush against his neck.
How long has he been longing to touch this man? They’ve known each other for less than two months, but to Akaashi, it feels longer. “You think Kuroo and Kenma knew this would happen?” Akaashi asks as they finally step back from the embrace. They don’t completely let go of each other just yet; their arms remain overlapped. Akaashi delights in the chance to dig his fingers into the man’s powerful forearms.
Bokuto chuckles. “I mean, I sort of talked about you all the time,” he confesses. “I wouldn’t be surprised that Kenma’s game night was just an attempt to bring us together.”
“Kuroo knows about the patient-therapist rules, doesn’t he?”
Bokuto snorts. “He should. But he loves to goad people.”
“A master of provocation.”
“Provo-what?”
“Never mind, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi forces himself to put some space between them. The air feels ten degrees cooler outside of Bokuto’s personal bubble. They exchange phones, quickly typing in each other’s information. “I should go. The next train leaves soon.”
Bokuto nods. “Yeah. And I guess I should get back to work. Text me, okay?” He gradually starts walking backwards, sending one last wave. “Have a wonderful rest of your day, Akaashi!”
Akaashi smiles. “See you soon, Bokuto-san.”
Physical therapy was an odd experience.
Akaashi still feels embarrassed sometimes, for how messed up his body became in such a short time. He knows people—his parents included—think it’s strange he has all these issues at such a young age.
But he’s proud of how far he got in six weeks. And he plans to get even better in the future.
Plus, he’d come out of the whole affair with a sweet, caring, hottie of a boyfriend.
Everything considered, things worked out pretty well.