Chapter Text
Koutarou stands in the middle the refrigerated section at the grocery store, trying to remember exactly which brand of cheese it is his mother usually buys. It’s painfully late, and the droning buzz of the fluorescent lights isn’t helping his exhaustion any. It’s been a long day, between early practices and all the patrons that stayed well past closing at the library, but his plans of just absolutely crashing face-first into his bed have to wait because he has to get groceries with his mom all tied up at the moment and, well. He’s got a headache. He wants to go home and binge watch Naruto. He thinks it’s the yellow package.
As he’s picking it up, he catches a flash of something painfully familiar from the corner of his eye. And he’s nearly positive that there’s no way. He’s definitely wrong, he’s just tired and his brain is making things up to punish him for the lack of sleep. And because it’s purely, wholly impossible, he looks. Just to confirm what he already knows. But by the time he’s finally turned, the aisle is empty. Koutarou stares at the vacant space for longer than he probably should, a little spaced out, then firmly shakes his head, tosses the cheese into his basket, and continues around to the next aisle.
Even as he works through the rest of the shopping list, he can’t shake the feeling that lingers in the pit of his stomach. There are very, very few people who would ever, ever— But, they’re supposed to still be in Chicago (or maybe New York?) aren’t they, which is a pretty far shot from Tokyo either way, so there’s no chance. He just needs to get home and crash into his couch, take a nap. It’s loneliness, probably. The fact that Kuroo and Kenma’s anniversary was yesterday, and the day before, Koutarou had gone on one more bad date amongst a whole string of bad dates from the last month, and this is all his imagination, rubbing salt in the wound.
Seriously few people though. Seriously few, because it takes a certain type to have such terrible taste, and it would take a lot more than three years and six thousand miles for Koutarou to forget that. So he does the irrational thing, and paces past each individual aisle, peering down the lines of shelves carefully, so there’s no way for him to miss anything. And he’s just about confirmed that it was all in his head, there was never anything there at all to begin with, but then—
There, standing right in front of a shelf of chocolates, wearing the world’s ugliest, most unfunny sweatshirt, stitched together with fabric that’s the worst shade of yellow imaginable. Koutarou still clearly remembers seeing it hanging in a store window, ages ago, and commenting that it was a crime against fashion. Maybe it should feel a little stilting, and maybe it does feel that way. There’s definitely something sitting in his chest, but his head’s a little too mixed up to piece it together. Is it acceptable to say hello to someone you haven’t spoken to in over a year? How do you address someone who isn’t actually your ex because you never really dated, but your relationship wasn’t totally platonic, either, was it, just in that weird limbo between happening and not happening, a coward’s romance.
“Bokuto-san?”
Ah. They’ve noticed him. Spared him the decision, at least, as to whether or not he should say anything.
“Akaashi!” Koutarou pulls up a smile that feels awkward on his face. He steps just barely into the aisle, leaving a fair amount of distance between them. He’s not sure what exactly is appropriate in this situation. What’s acceptable between them now? “Hey hey! I didn’t know you were back.” He swallows around a lump in his throat. Stupid. Of course he didn’t know. It’s not like they’ve been keeping in touch as of late. It’s at the same time both of their faults and neither of theirs. Circumstance.
Akaashi nods. They look . . . different. Koutarou can’t really place it. Hair that’s longer in some places and shorter in others, but curlier all around. They’re a little taller, maybe, or maybe it’s just been so long that Koutarou doesn’t remember what the difference between the two of them standing together was to begin with. “It’s only been a couple weeks,” they say. “I graduated a semester early.”
“Oh.” Koutarou wracks his brain, trying to remember if they ever mentioned that they were planning to do so. But his mind is buzzing too much to think straight, so he can’t place any sort of conversation. He blinks at Akaashi, and thinks he’s maybe been silent a beat too long. “That’s cool!” He used to know how to talk to them without thinking about it. “I bet your family’s happy to have you back.”
Akaashi offers a smile, gentle and polite. There’s a familiar light in their eyes, and Koutarou feels—
He’s not sure what he feels.
Akaashi pierced their ear, right along the base of the curve, and a little silver ring loops around the cartilage. It looks nice, Koutarou thinks.
“Kimi was excited to hear I’d be getting back early,” they tell him. “Think my mom’s glad to have me back, too. She keeps saying how quiet it’s been since Hiro moved out.” Koutarou wasn’t aware their brother had moved out. He can feel himself frowning and stops it before Akaashi can think anything wrong of it. “It’s nice, though. I like seeing them all again.”
“You never liked being away from them,” Koutarou comments. This, at least, he remembers. The phone calls that took place at all hours of the night, when Akaashi was homesick and needed someone to talk to. Koutarou always picked up, even if he’d been dead asleep when the phone rang. Somewhere along the line, the calls had begun to come less frequently.
“It was weird,” Akaashi says, smile widening just a twitch. “Too quiet. Too clean. I think . . . it was good, though. To be away. I learned a lot. And I think they all learned a lot without me. Kaori actually does a lot of the cooking now, without starting any fires.”
A small laugh bubbles out of Koutarou, and Akaashi’s smile grows a little more. “A miracle they survived without you, huh?” He offers a smile of his own, feeling more comfortable here, with them. “Are you . . . Are you back permanently? Do you have a job somewhere, or . . .”
Or are they going to leave again?
“Ah, yes.” Akaashi fidgets with the handle of their basket. Half of what’s in there is sweets. That, at least, hasn’t changed in the slightest. “I have a couple of offers at different studios here, so I’ll be sticking around. Do you? Have something now, that you’re doing? The last time we talked you said you were thinking about coaching some.”
Koutarou nods, beaming, even though there’s a knotting feeling in his heart through it all. Has it been that long? That Akaashi doesn’t know? “I’m coaching some classes part-time! Just locally, at a gym near my old university, a couple classes a week. But I’ve got my job at the library, too! It’s super cool, I’m organizing all the story times for each week. All the kids are really great.”
Akaashi looks at him with a flash of something akin to pride. It’s familiar — the sort of look he’d get on the court when he nailed a good straight, or did well on a math exam, or when he finished his university entrance exams. Koutarou feels light with it. Knowing that Akaashi is proud of him, happy to see him accomplish what he’d set out to do — he’s filled with pure light.
“That’s wonderful, Bokuto-san. I’m happy you’re doing something you enjoy.” And they mean it, Koutarou knows. Akaashi never speaks with anything but sincerity, in regards to the things that matter, at least.
A thought in the back of Koutarou’s mind: he must still matter to Akaashi, on some level.
He feels relieved at that.
There’s a pause, a beat of silence that lapses between them. Akaashi’s gaze falls towards the floor, hands fidgeting more intently with their basket. Nerves. Koutarou feels it in the pit of his stomach, furling in and over itself. Has he given Akaashi reason to be nervous? Did he say something? Look at them the wrong way? Koutarou isn’t sure.
But then Akaashi speaks up, breaking through the static of the fluorescent lights and the distant buzzing of the refrigerators, and Koutarou understands immediately. “I . . . My mom’s been asking about you, you know.”
Koutarou’s turn to be anxious, now. She’s asking about him? It’s been over a year since he even spoke to Akaashi, longer since he saw anyone from their family. They’ve been apart for so long, the distance mounting like a growth that he couldn’t rid himself of, until the lines had been drawn and crossed and their nightly calls became weekly, then monthly, maybe, then not at all. Until Koutarou’s heart had wrung itself inside and out, that specific, spectacular pain of falling out of a five-year-old love.
Everyone knows, they haven’t spoken. That they are separate entities whose worlds don’t overlap a single hair anymore. Akaashi’s mom would know this.
But she’s asking about him.
“If you wanted . . .” Akaashi lifts their gaze, seeking out Koutarou’s. He forces himself to quell his turning stomach and meet it. “If you wanted, you could drop by for dinner sometime. Catch up? Kimi misses you, and Hiro’s supposed to be in town next weekend. Just, um. If you wanted.” They lose momentum as they continue on, words growing steadily softer and less certain, because they know it, too, of course they do.
The last time they spoke was a weak phone conversation. Akaashi was going on a date with some guy from one of their classes that night, and Koutarou had spent the rest of the night wallowing in his room, knowing with a sense of finality that the door between them was closed.
The awkwardness of the whole situation strikes Koutarou right in his chest. He doesn’t want it to be awkward.
So he finds himself saying, “Okay.” Akaashi’s hands still, eyes lighting. “Okay, yeah, yeah! I’d like that a lot.” He offers the best smile he can muster. The only way to dispel whatever air is between them now is to persist with force and try not to mind the time he knows it’ll take.
Akaashi smiles back. Something inside Koutarou lifts, like the early morning fog dispersing as the day breaks.
“I’ll text you, then? You still have the same number, right?”
Koutarou nods, probably a little excessively with his excitement at the prospect of having his friendship with Akaashi back.
When they part ways, it’s on a high note, the door cracking back open. There’s an easiness settled in Koutarou’s mind and chest the whole way back home. The months he’d spent missing Akaashi even when they were still talking, and the whole year he’d spent getting over them, moving on, the way he should have the second Akaashi was admitted to two different schools in the states and another in France — all of the weight it’d pressed on his shoulders, dissipated. He’s missed his friend. More than anything else in the world, he’s missed them. Missed being able to talk to them about anything and everything, teasing them about their shitty drawing skills and spending evenings crammed onto their couch with half their family to watch old movies. He’s missed the comfort Akaashi always provided.
And even if there’s been a shift, even if things don’t turn out to be exactly the same as they were, he’ll still have even just a piece them back.
Kenma gives him the most genuine, warm smile Koutarou’s ever seen from him when he drops in at his and Kuroo’s place the next night and tells them about Akaashi. He lets Koutarou settle in beside him on their narrow couch and just smiles, like he knows exactly what he’s feeling, and he probably does. Kenma’s just all-knowing, always has been. Has all the answers to the world in the palm of his hand.
“I know you missed them,” he says, tucking himself into Koutarou’s side. “I’m glad you’ve got a chance to reconnect.”
Across the room, folded haphazardly in their oversized arm chair, Kuroo gives him a look like he has more to say than he’s actually going to. Koutarou knows. He was there all the nights Koutarou’s whole chest ached with the void Akaashi had left, and had listened to his quiet admissions that he was in love in love and hated that he was too much a coward to ever admit it. When Akaashi had left the country for their first year at university, it was Kuroo’s couch Koutarou curled up on and watched drama after endless drama, already trying to hold together a heart that hadn’t yet broken, but was on its way to it.
Kuroo had watched Koutarou fall in and messily out of love with Akaashi, so Koutarou can hazard a guess what he wants to say.
But he also has nothing to worry about. Koutarou’s been down that road already, and knows it doesn’t end well, so he’s learned. He just wants Akaashi back as a friend. He has zero intentions of falling in love again, especially with someone he’ll never have like that. His heart’s protected, this time.
Kuroo doesn’t say any of what he’s thinking. Just gives one last long glance to Koutarou and goes back to the book he’s reading. He trusts him, then. Koutarou swallows a smile and focuses back on the game Kenma’s playing on his DS.
To have Akaashi in any capacity is enough. Even if it’s just casual conversation every now and again, even if they never get back to the same sense of familiarity they had before, it’s enough. Because no matter what, it’s still Akaashi.
Akaashi texts Koutarou two days later, asking if the next Saturday is okay, and gives him their address as if he would have forgotten. He knew the route to it from Fukurodani just as well as he knew how to get back to his own home, and could probably find his way to it backwards and blindfolded on his knees from anywhere in Tokyo. So it’s a little weird, for sure, but not even that could take away from the blooming in his chest at the prospect of seeing Akaashi and their whole family again.
Nights after school had ended and they’d worn themselves out at practice were always marked with half-cold dinners and Akaashi’s bedroom, where they’d both sprawl out with their homework. Weekends, they barely managed any work at all over the course of the two years they were both at school together — everything always got tossed to the side within the first thirty minutes in favor of old Gamecube games that had a tendency to freeze up now and again, or movies with Akaashi’s sisters. Even when Koutarou started university, he made sure to drop by as often as he could. Things were busier then, but any stress fell away the second Koutarou walked in the door.
In a sense, Akaashi’s home had always also been a little bit of Koutarou’s. It’s always been as familiar to him as the sound of their laugh, so he’s not sure why he’s expecting it to feel weird when he walks up to the door Saturday afternoon, store-bought pastries in hand. But it doesn’t. It feels the same as dropping by Kuroo and Kenma’s, or at Oikawa’s place. Nothing about it has changed. Maybe some new stains, a little more mess here and less there.
It’s definitely just as noisy as ever.
Akaashi answers the door in an all-too familiar way, and Koutarou’s immediately met with pounding footsteps coming from upstairs and the sound of Super Mario Sunshine coming from the next room. Someone is yelling, somewhere. It sounds like one of the twins. Akaashi, for their part, doesn’t look the slightest bit sheepish. They know that Koutarou has always expected this much from their home.
They step aside to let him in, and he peers around the front room, taking it all back in. On the wall right beside the door frame — that’s a new burn mark, for sure. He doesn’t remember that being there the last time he was here. He makes a note to ask about it later, because there’s gotta be a story there — there’s always a story, with everything in this house — and he wants to hear about it.
“I told them you’d be coming,” Akaashi says, watching Koutarou toe off his shoes and shrug off his coat, “but I didn’t exactly say when, so. I don’t think they’re exactly ready.”
Koutarou snorts and flashes them a smile. “They wouldn’t have been ready even if they did know when.”
A mess. An uncoordinated, untimely mess. That’s Akaashi’s family. Koutarou loves them all dearly.
(Is he allowed to still feel the same love? It’s been a couple years. Does he still have the privilege?)
“Bokuto-san!”
Koutarou doesn’t have time to register his name or the rush of limbs coming at him before he’s being wrapped in a tight hug, arms squeezing right around his middle. Wide eyes peer up at him, matched with a familiar grin.
(He definitely still has the privilege. Even if he doesn’t, the same love sparks up, so. End of story.)
He hugs Kaori back without hesitation. It’s infinitely familiar and infinitely different — both at the same time. She’s gotten taller. Chopped her hair way short. But just like Akaashi is still Akaashi, Kaori is still Kaori, with the same crooked smile and lilting voice. That’s all Koutarou needs to comfort himself.
The hug only lasts a short moment before Akaashi’s sister is pulling back to sock him right in the arm. Koutarou yelps and steps back, hand coming up to cover the place she hit. It doesn’t hurt much. Rui’s the athletic one, who could probably take Koutarou in a fight when it comes down to it. And it’s not like Kaori actually means any harm. Just—
“Where the fuck have you been?”
That startles a laugh out of Koutarou, while Akaashi frowns with a sharp, “Language.”
Kaori just waves them off and looks up expectantly at Koutarou, waiting for an answer.
“What would he visit for if I’m not around?” Akaashi says, sparing him from having to try to explain that he just couldn’t, that seeing them wouldn’t have helped his aching heart any. “You think he comes around to see any of you? I wasn’t here, so what was the point?”
Kaori scoffs and turns her gaze onto them. “As if. Bokuto-san was just using you as an excuse to see us and you know it. Way to be full of yourself, Kei.” She hooks an arm around Koutarou’s elbow, standing up straighter, holding her head higher. The real snotty way she definitely learned from Akaashi. “I’ll take him from here, thanks. You can go off and do whatever the hell it is you do.”
Akaashi rolls their eyes and wraps their hand around Koutarou’s other arm, pulling him in the other direction. “In your dreams. Where’s Kimi?”
Kaori pads along with them down the hall, still sticking at Koutarou’s side. “Helping with dinner. Hiro’s in there, he needs all the help he can get.” She says this purposefully loud enough for Hiro to hear from the kitchen.
He returns back with an, “I can hear you,” and Kaori simply tells him that was the point.
It’s all so familiar and Koutarou aches with it. He’s missed this.
There’s an odd feeling in his gut when they bypass Akaashi’s room entirely, going straight to the kitchen instead. He knows that of course, there’s no reason to be going in anyway. It’s more that it breaks the pattern Koutarou was once familiar with. It feels the same as the rare occasions where he doesn’t get a phone call from Kenma on his way home from work — not bad, necessarily, just different. Not going straight to Akaashi’s room to hang out alone for a little, laugh at dumb cat videos, share some of Akaashi’s massive sweets stash.
Another point, of how much time has passed, and how much their relationship has shifted.
Kaori hops up to sit on the counter as soon as they get into the kitchen, peering down at whatever it is Hiro’s cooking. It smells good for sure, if slightly burnt, but Koutarou doesn’t really expect anything less.
Akaashi leaves Koutarou lingering in the doorway and picks grapes out of a bowl on the counter, like they expect Koutarou to just find his own place in the mix, settle himself down, the same way he used to every time he came over. It would’ve been easier a couple years ago, but now the uncertainty is coming back. What’s he supposed to say? He hasn’t spoken to any of them in even longer than he last spoke to Akaashi, and he’s realizing it’s weird, it’s definitely weird, if he just fits himself right back in as if no time has passed at all.
His own inaction leads everyone else to fill in the blanks for him. It takes about two seconds for Kimi to turn from where she’s leaning against Hiro’s side, pestering him about not stirring enough, and as soon as she’s noticed Koutarou in the doorway, she’s beaming. She’s even taller now, older — the same, Koutarou realizes, as the twins, when he first met them. Has this much time really passed?
“Bokuto-san!”
Her words get Hiro’s attention, too, because then he’s turning to look while Kimi hops over to give Koutarou a tight hug, and then he’s just got half of Akaashi’s family asking where he’s been, how he’s been, what he’s been doing, and it’s loud and chaotic and he doesn’t even notice when Hikaru joins them, but he does, and he looks like Akaashi when Koutarou first met them, which is just as terrible as Kimi looking like Rui and Kaori, because it’s been so long. Too long. He might cry a little.
“You could all stand to give him some space, you know,” Akaashi finally says from the stove, where they’ve taken over Hiro’s job, hopefully making sure nothing gets burnt worse than it already is.
“You could stand to let us live our lives,” Kimi fires back, and it startles a laugh out of Koutarou. She was always the softer-spoken one, less prone to snark, but Koutarou can’t really be surprised if she’s suddenly picked up a habit for it, considering the rest of the family.
Even with that response, they do back away, and let Koutarou take a seat at the kitchen table, feeling marginally better when Akaashi takes the place beside him and Hiro goes to the stove, and he feels like he has a little more breathing room. More comfort, knowing Akaashi’s got his back. They’ve always done well with making him feel better when he’s overwhelmed.
Eventually, the rest of Akaashi’s family fills in, and it’s loud and messy and rice gets spilled fully over the floor, and then it just gets louder as they all scramble to get it cleaned up before the dog can get into it and make himself sick. It is absolutely everything Koutarou has missed in the last couple of years. In the midst of it all, he catches Akaashi’s eye, and sees they’re smiling, too. He doesn’t think he could ask for more.
Dinner gets set out and passed around, and there are only minor casualties of small scraps dropped to the floor, which is a little impressive, if he’s being honest. Conversation lifts away from Koutarou, temporarily at least, now that they’ve all had a small chance to interrogate him on the big things. They fill him in on themselves instead, letting him know everything he’s missed, and it’s just nice. It’s overwhelmingly beyond nice to be back with Akaashi and their family, and finally feeling the last dregs of awkwardness dissipate as Rui laughs at one of his lame jokes while Hiro calls it out for being lame, and this is everything Koutarou thought he was never going to get to have again.
Akaashi offers him a small smile. Everything Koutarou thought he was never going to get to have again. And here he is.
Dinner is good. Akaashi and Akaashi’s family are good. Hearing about Kimi taking up volleyball and Hikaru’s high school classes, and the twins taking on the last curve of their third year — it’s all good.
Less good is hearing about Akaashi. It’s still— It’s fine, it’s great, Koutarou loves to catch up, to know that he gets to be a part of this life he’s missed now, but at the same time, it’s just that. This is a life he’s missed out on so much of. He watches them take a helping of baby carrots and can’t piece together when their full aversion to them ended. He listens to their family talk about their last boyfriend — a recent breakup, apparently — and of course they’ve been dating, Koutarou has been, too, it’s just weird to hear about it. Koutarou doesn’t recognize the names of half of Akaashi’s friends and that’s even weirder. He used to know everything about them and now he’s so far behind and it’s a little discomfiting.
Just as discomfiting: every time Akaashi asks Koutarou about something he thought they would have known and realizes that no, of course they wouldn’t. They used to know everything about him, too, and now they don’t.
Koutarou’s not sure what to do with any of that other than file it all away to bring up to Kenma and Kuroo and Oikawa later. They’ll have logical sense to talk into him, and help him sort out all his feelings, and it’ll be fine. Akaashi is back in Koutarou’s life. It’ll be fine.
He doesn’t stay much past that. He doesn’t know if he should, really.
Akaashi walks him to the door and leans in the frame, casual and easy and comfortable, and seeing them like that eases something in Koutarou.
“I have missed you, you know,” they confess, voice gentle.
“I’ve missed you too,” Koutarou says, offering an honest smile. “We should go out next week sometime! Get lunch or something! I wanna hear about your new job, you’ve gotta tell me everything.”
“I’d like that.”
Akaashi promises to call and Koutarou knows they will. He goes home with a settled mind and a warm feeling in his chest. He’s missed this. Missed them. And Akaashi’s missed him, too.
They’re getting back to even ground.
This is all Koutarou could ever ask for.
Falling in love with Akaashi was, possibly, one of the easiest things Koutarou’s ever done.
He’s always imagined it must have to be, when you know someone so well. When you know a person inside and out, flipped around and over and could pick out their shadow in a pitch black cave blindfolded and backwards, it’s probably hard not to say you’re in love with them. And Koutarou’s always known Akaashi.
Maybe not always. Not the first few months, maybe. There was a learning curve, or something. Time needed to find the balance between them and match their pace. It was a gap, but a small one, and easy to close between early practices and lunches with half the team crowded around Konoha’s desk. Koutarou fit himself at their side, and learned easy to read the wide open book Akaashi’s always been.
Early practices turned to nights finishing late at the gym before walking to the train together, and lunches with the team turned into just the two of them, in any corner they could find. Akaashi listened to Koutarou talk on about whatever came to mind, for as long as he could talk about it, and didn’t interrupt — encouraged him to go on, even. When they had their piece to share, Koutarou took in every word. Akaashi didn’t ever go on as long, not out of the fact that they didn’t want to talk, but rather, they tended to condense the same amount of thought into shorter phrases. Koutarou cherished every piece.
Somewhere along the line, Akaashi turned from teammate to friend, and from friend into something more. Someone Koutarou suddenly knew best. He found himself on so many nights crammed on the couch with their sisters, learning to knit, going to their rugby matches and plays, helping to teach their youngest siblings to read.
Best friend. That was what Koutarou called them. His best best friend. Konoha gave him a look that held a significance Koutarou didn’t understand in the moment, and Kuroo scoffed with something similar. But he didn’t really care to figure it out then.
What he knew was this:
Akaashi was the person he knew best. The person he spent the most of his time with. The person who always accompanied him to go shopping when his mom didn’t have time for groceries, or he needed new kneepads, and the person whose bedroom floor he spent too many afternoons to count napping on in lieu of studying, head in their lap and book he hadn’t been paying any attention to closed on his chest.
They always chided him, “This is why you’re doing so poorly in math.”
“This isn’t even for math,” Koutarou fired back, “this is for literature.”
“And what’s your grade in that class?”
That shut Koutarou up.
Akaashi was good at that. Knowing just the right thing to say, or do, to get the reaction they wanted out of him. Teasing remarks about his grades to get him to study, space on the court to settle down and wave the pressure off his shoulders, a completely false act of nonchalance to get him to give them his last Kit-Kat. If they were an open book, then so was he, and they were paying attention.
He wasn’t really sure what to make of that.
What he knew was this:
Akaashi was the person he knew best. He knew they had the world’s biggest sweet tooth. They hid ice cream behind the vegetables in their freezer, kept candy in an empty shoebox in their closet, and the owners of their favorite bakery knew them by name. (This was also the quickest Cheer Akaashi Up solution — a bad day meant the first step to a better mood was Koutarou swinging by with a bag of chocolate and gummy candy, ice cream if the weather was right for it.)
They were terrible in the cold. As soon as the temperature dropped, they’d pile on layer after layer, going so far as to steal Koutarou’s hat on the chilliest days. Not that Koutarou minded. He always ran warm, and most days, he only wore a hat so Akaashi could take it when they needed. Winters always led to them clinging to Koutarou to steal his warmth — taking his hand, curling up into his side on the couch, shamelessly dropping right into his lap on the floor of the club room and pulling his open jacket far enough forward to wrap around their own shoulders. They were a touchy person in general, but winter brought it out in full force.
Akaashi was the best sibling in the whole world. second best. They were the second best sibling in the whole world, because Koutarou was the best best to his sister, even if he didn’t sew buttons back onto her school jacket or read to her before bed. They were snarky and intentionally annoying and totally stole from Rui’s sweets stash more than once, but they made up their lunches, went to all their club events, helped with their laundry and sometimes let Kimi win at Mario Kart.
A lot of information. Koutarou knew a lot of information about Akaashi. That they fidgeted all the time, that their hands were all he had to look at to know if they were nervous or excited or upset. That they hated carrots (hated, past-tense, apparently), and secretly knew all the words to every Twice song Koutarou played on the buses to matches. That sometimes they got really motion sick and couldn’t ride roller coasters after a particularly terrible incident when they were twelve.
Most of it was probably useless, when it came down to it. Facts Koutarou probably couldn’t really do anything with. But he still remembered everything about them. Because that’s what best friends did, right? Remembered. Cared. Something like that, right? Right?
Some days he wasn’t sure if that was where the line ended.
What he knew was this:
Akaashi was the person he knew best. Sometimes, when they laughed, it made Koutarou feel everything all at once right in the middle of his chest. When the phone rang and it was them calling, he’d pick up immediately, no hesitation, always excited to see their contact name scroll across the screen.
Akaashi was the person he knew best. The person he spent the most time with. Maybe the person most important to him.
He started to decipher Konoha’s look, Kuroo’s fully unsubtle teasing.
Best friends . . . friends . . . probably didn’t do the things they did, did they? Koutarou didn’t even meet Konoha’s sister until the day of their graduation. He didn’t know if Washio liked sweets or not, didn’t know Yukie’s favorite drama, never brought his spare scarf for Komi to borrow. He’d never spent a single night laid out in Washio’s lap watching terrible romance movies and sharing a single milkshake.
What Koutarou decided late in the night when on the phone with Akaashi but not talking, because he was pretty sure they’d fallen asleep a good five minutes ago, after a three hour conversation spanning at the same time every topic ever and absolutely nothing at all:
He was definitely at least a little in love with Akaashi Keiji.
What he didn’t know was this:
What to do with those feelings.
And maybe that’s where total galactic collapse began.