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i. you got me
Keiji first met Bokuto Koutarou — really met, not the weird unbreached territory (Keiji wasn’t going to breach it, anyway) of seeing someone in the air for one second and thinking, he’s a star — at the first meeting of the Fukurodani High School Volleyball Club.
The meeting itself was exactly what he’d expected. The first year rookies introduced themselves. Keiji recited what he’d been reciting this past week in every new class: Akaashi Keiji, from Mori Middle School. Only this time he added I played as a setter. He thought he’d seen movement from where the second years were, but he couldn’t be sure. Then it was the seniors’ turn.
Bokuto stepped forward. Keiji would very much like to say he’d listened to his introduction, but he’d be lying. And then it was over all too quickly, Bokuto introducing himself with the same enthusiasm he had on the court, and it was time for actual practice. He didn’t get to steal glances at the second year spiker, focusing instead on the coach’s instructions and demands.
So when practice inched to a close and Bokuto called him over as he was collecting stray balls, Keiji was surprised. He only slightly remembered correcting Bokuto on his name.
Keiji said yes to the request for extra practice, if only because he felt like it was the only chance he would have to set for the Bokuto Koutarou exclusively. (Well, he didn’t know much, then.) But just a bit wasn’t a bit, and by the time Bokuto announced they were done both of them were panting and the only sound aside from their breathing was the night patrol starting to lock up.
“Akashi!” Bokuto called out to him. It was automatic, his It’s Akaashi response, and he was trying too hard to get his heart rate back under control to really think about what either of them were saying, until Bokuto shouted again.
“Your tosses are the best!”
Ah. He didn’t dare put a name on the warmth in his chest, but he knew he was happy, incredibly so, to hear the praise. He said his thanks. Bokuto said something else. It got lost in the drumming of Keiji’s pulse and the rushing of his blood.
“By the way, Akaashi.” He got it right. “Do you go home by train, too?”
Keiji swallowed. “Yes.”
“Perfect!” Bokuto beamed. “Wanna walk to the station together?”
“If you don’t mind, Bokuto-san.”
“Of course I don’t!” Bokuto laughed. “We’ll finish here and I’ll lock up, okay?”
The walk to the station included buying Keiji a drink from the vending machine, and turned into sitting side by side on the train. (“Oh, we’re going the same way!” Bokuto exclaimed, but it sounded like he’d expected it.)
Bokuto filled it with idle talk, Keiji answering questions when he was asked and nodding when he wasn’t. It wasn’t until they were almost at Keiji’s stop that he decided to ask where Bokuto would have to get off. Bokuto told him, and in turn Keiji said it was the one right after his.
The second year laughed. “Who would’ve thought! I guess I’ll keep you company until then.”
Bokuto’s idea of keeping him company was getting off at Keiji’s stop.
“Bokuto-san, I thought this wasn’t your stop.”
“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “But it’s fine, Akaashi! I’ll walk you home.”
“Uh.” Keiji blinked. They were almost at the turnstiles; there wouldn’t be much time to convince Bokuto he would be fine walking alone. “I always go back alone. It’s something I’m used to, Bokuto-san.”
“Ah,” he dragged the sound out. “But not this late, right?”
Keiji paused at that.
“Gotcha!” Bokuto grinned. “You’ll have to get used to it, because before important games we usually end around this time! But since this is your first time going home late after practice, I figure you could use a friend.”
“Ah, but … I would hate to be too much trouble for you, Bokuto-san,” Keiji said, a bit wary — because they’d only known each other for a few hours, technically, and Bokuto was an upperclassman. Keiji didn’t want to overstep.
“It’s fine!” Bokuto insisted. “Take it as an apology for taking up so much of your time today. I didn’t realize it was starting to get late, but I noticed you were glancing at the clock a couple times during extra practice.”
He did? Keiji didn’t even realize it. “I’m sorry. That is terribly rude of me.”
“No, no, I’m sorry! I should’ve realized! But usually no one wants to do extra practice with me, so when you said yes, I got excited ….” He trailed off.
“It’s no problem at all, Bokuto-san.”
“Right! Which is why it’s also not a problem for me to walk you home!”
Well. He got him there. Keiji smiled a little and let Bokuto scan his card first.
The walk home was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Keiji led the way and occasionally looked up at the sky. It was too bright with the streetlamps and the light from the houses dotting the neighborhood; Keiji squinted, but couldn’t see any telltale glimmer of a star.
“What are you looking at?”
“Ah.” Keiji looked back at Bokuto, a little embarrassed at having been caught in the act. “I was looking for stars.”
“Oh.” Bokuto looked up, too. “There isn’t any, is there?”
“No,” he agreed. “This is central Tokyo, though. So I’m not surprised.”
“You’ll find ‘em someday, ‘Kaashi.”
Keiji stopped in his tracks. That sounded like a promise, somehow.
He smiled. “I hope so.”
ii. i dream while looking at you
“Man, this place has mosquitoes but not stars?”
Lying beside him on the grass, Keiji laughed softly. “I don’t think we’re in the right part of Tokyo to see the stars, Bokuto-san.”
“Where do you think we can see them?”
“I understand there are quite a few parks in central Tokyo where you can see stars at night,” he informed the upperclassman. “But I’m not sure where they are. I’m not as familiar with Tokyo as, say, Kuroo-san.”
“Right.” Bokuto hummed happily. “Maybe we can visit one of those places someday.”
Keiji smiled and stole a glance. They were killing time waiting for Fukurodani’s turn to use the showers, and Bokuto dragged him here saying they’d go look for stars. They both probably reeked of sweat, and the humidity clung to his skin as well as the bits of grass that dug into his back, but he was content. Bokuto was different after a whole day of practice and extra practice, calmer, but the enthusiasm never dulled. He was smiling at Keiji as he told him his plan.
“Maybe after Spring High?” Bokuto offered. “We can celebrate.”
Keiji blinked. “And what would we be celebrating?”
“Our victory, of course!”
Keiji averted his gaze to the skies above. To the version of him one year ago, it would’ve sounded like a promise, but Keiji knew Bokuto better, now. Bokuto Koutarou didn’t make promises. He said things, set goals and made them happen, made sure they happened, because gods forbid if the world didn’t give him what he wanted, what he would give 120% of himself for.
It wasn’t a promise, but Keiji believed in it nonetheless.
“This year’s tournament is shaping up to be interesting,” Keiji commented in lieu of an answer. “With Hinata, and Kageyama ….”
Bokuto perked up instantly. “Right! Those Karasuno guys are something else. Always with something new to try! Kind of like their name, right?”
“Crows?” Keiji smiled. “Yes, I think so too.”
“Well, hopefully they crush Shiratorizawa.” Bokuto pouted slightly. “Man, I kind of want to play against Ushiwaka again, though. You know, since this is our last Spring High.”
“But it’ll be real fun if Karasuno wins,” he continued before Keiji could reply. “I’m rooting for them. My disciple’s gonna blow everyone’s mind.”
“Hm?” And then it clicked, and Keiji laughed. “Oh. Hinata. Yes, he’s certainly a force to be reckoned with.”
“We’re gonna be a force to be reckoned with,” Bokuto said. Keiji smiled and made sure to always remember Bokuto’s not-promise earlier.
Someone called for them, telling them it was finally Fukurodani’s turn. Keiji rose to his feet and watched Bokuto do the same.
“No stars tonight, huh.” Bokuto looked up. “Better luck next time.”
Keiji shrugged. Tokyo’s night sky might not have enough stars for them to observe, but glancing at the boy next to him, he thought maybe he didn’t need to look up to see one, after all.
iii. i got you
It was reminiscent of another night in front of the hotel, Bokuto without a jacket and Keiji wearing his. Only this time the set of Bokuto’s shoulders as he placed his hands on his hips was rigid, and he was so still he didn’t even shiver in the cold air.
It’s not your fault, Keiji wanted to say. Wanted to shout it into the distance between them, an empty reassurance that Keiji knew was wrong. He was never one to mince his words; if he’d meant it, he’d have said it back when they were still standing on the court, the runner ups of the 2013 Spring High huddled together, the echoes of the final whistle still shrill in their ears.
But he hadn’t, so for however much he wanted to tell Bokuto not to blame himself, he couldn’t.
Keiji sighed — it went unnoticed — and looked up. There were still no stars in Tokyo.
A thought, unbidden and unwelcome, but familiar: there is one in front of you. Keiji stared at his captain’s back and felt the same way he had a few months before, lying on the grassy hill of Shinzen High.
And he’d always follow him, he knew he would, but where would they go now, when Keiji could no longer trace the invisible trajectory of a ball from his own fingertips right to Bokuto’s?
“Bokuto-san,” he started.
“Akaashi.”
Keiji paused. The older man looked back at him.
“Go ahead, Bokuto-san.”
“I can’t take you to the park,” he muttered.
Huh?
“The park where we can see stars,” Bokuto continued. “I was supposed to take you there to celebrate our victory.”
Right. Keiji had never forgotten the not-promise, of course, but he didn’t expect Bokuto to remember too. “It’s okay, Bokuto-san.”
He didn’t say We can still go there even if we lost, because he knew it was different for Bokuto.
It was silent for a while until Bokuto gave him a tight smile. “What were you going to say?”
When he called Bokuto’s name earlier, Keiji wasn’t going to say anything; he just wanted to break the silence. Now he felt like he needed to say something, a different answer to Bokuto’s veiled apology that wasn’t It’s okay. But Keiji didn’t make promises, either. He couldn’t promise a better result next year, couldn’t tell Bokuto they’d get to see the stars in the park together one day.
“We should go back inside,” was what came out of his mouth.
Bokuto tilted his head. “Because we shouldn’t underestimate January?”
This time Keiji huffed out a laugh, and watched Bokuto’s little smile turn a little wider. “Yes, that.”
“Akaashi.”
“Yes?”
There was a glint in Bokuto’s eyes that Keiji recognized as he regarded him, and for a moment Keiji was afraid Bokuto was going to tell him he was going to bring the team to victory next year. It would be a great weight on Keiji’s shoulders he wasn’t sure he could hold up yet, but a perfect parallel to his words in front of this same hotel on that night: that they were going to win all of their games.
But Bokuto didn’t. He just grinned. “You’re going to be an amazing captain.”
That he could handle. That wasn’t a weight as much as it was a mantle, a role he would have to work hard to fill in after such a massive predecessor, but he was positive he could do it.
”Thank you, Bokuto-san.”
When both of them looked up again, the clouds had shifted and the streetlights had dimmed, and it wasn’t the brightest, but Keiji thought he could see the twinkle of a distant star.
Bokuto gasped in delight. “I think the universe is on our side.”
Keiji was inclined to agree.
iv. i breathe while looking at you
Bokuto’s ceiling had glow in the dark stickers. Keiji stared at them and listened to his own breathing.
He really ought to be going home. It was the third years’ graduation ceremony tomorrow — Bokuto would have to get up early. And it was late enough in the evening that Keiji’s parents would worry if he didn’t come home soon.
Bokuto had invited him over this afternoon, with a specific agenda in mind that both of them had ended up forgetting. Now they’d just finished a marathon of some movies Konoha had told them to watch, and neither of them had moved from their positions slumped over Bokuto’s beanbags.
But, really, Keiji really needed to go home.
He said as much to Bokuto.
Bokuto started nodding, but halfway through the motion he stopped. “Do you have time, Akaashi? Just for a moment?”
Keiji sat up straight in his seat, alarmed. “Of course.”
“It’s not something bad!” Bokuto waved his hand to placate him, a flustered look on his face. “Don’t look so glum! I promise it’s not something bad.”
He laughed, but only relaxed a fraction. “Okay ….”
“I just want to say thank you.”
Oh.
“Um, I never told you this — or maybe I did — but you were the first person to go along with my extra practice and never complained.” Bokuto actually looked sheepish.
Keiji couldn’t possibly say his monologue about practicing with a star player without being embarrassed, could he? He nodded and let Bokuto continue.
“Also, Konoha and I were talking the other day about how you’re so attentive to my moods.” Here, Bokuto swallowed, a bit of vulnerability showing on his face. “I can’t thank you enough for that. I know I’m a handful on court.
“And I think I said this before, but you’re gonna be a really great captain.”
Keiji felt his cheeks warm. “Thank you very much, Bokuto-san—”
Bokuto wasn’t finished. “And I’m so grateful to get to know you, even though we only got to play together for two years.”
“Bokuto-san.” He laughed, but his eyes were prickling with tears. This felt familiar. “Bokuto-san, you’re not going anywhere, are you?”
The reassurance was quick: “No! My team is still in Tokyo!”
“Oh.” Of course. There was a local Division 2 team that had scouted Bokuto right after Spring High was finished, and whose offer Bokuto had gladly accepted. Keiji laughed again. “Okay.”
“Anyway, the point of all this is ….” Bokuto inhaled deeply. “I’m asking if you — uh, that is, if you don’t mind — I’m asking if you’re willing to wait for me.”
Oh?
“The park,” Bokuto continued. “One of them. I’m going to win a match for my new team, so … so we can go to the park.”
Oh.
“So.” Now he was digging in his pocket for something, and reaching across the space to hold one of Keiji’s hands and smooth it open, palm up. He dropped something there, in the middle. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to wait until after graduation, but, uh, it’s yours if you wanna.”
Keiji looked down to see what Bokuto had placed on his hand, and found the second button of Bokuto’s blazer.
Oh.
Keiji curled his fingers around it in reflex. “Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto snapped alert. “You don’t have to — I mean, you don’t have to keep it, or — or, well, wait for me, that is. I mean — my feelings — uh, you don’t have to return them.”
“Bokuto-san.”
“Uh. Yeah?”
“I — don’t want to wait.”
“Oh.” A pause. “Okay. That’s fine, um—”
“No, I mean.” Keiji took a deep breath and tried again. His face must have looked really red. “I mean, I don’t mind waiting, but I also … I don’t want to wait. I mean, we don’t have to wait. For the … park.”
“Akaashi, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying.” He forced himself to look at Bokuto’s face, however flustered both of them were. “I’m saying — well, I’m asking. I’m asking if you, uh, if you don’t mind if I kiss you right now.”
“Oh!” Bokuto’s eyes were bright and wide. “Oh. I’d actually like that.”
It was awkward. Neither of them were experienced, it seemed, and it was more of a peck than a kiss, more of shared laughter than anything else. When they pulled apart, they were both grinning.
“So … the stars,” Bokuto started.
Keiji smiled. What else could he say to that? “They’re here.”
epilogue
“Where are we going, Kou?”
Koutarou’s answer was a little too eager, if you asked him.
“We,” he exclaimed, “are going on an adventure.”
Keiji, blindfolded in the passenger seat and with no knowledge of their destination, smiled anyway.
Koutarou’s chatter filled the car, anecdotes of his team’s shenanigans that Keiji suspected were exaggerated (then again, this was the national team — Keiji had heard enough stories and witnessed some of them firsthand to not be surprised if the anecdotes turned out to be true to the actual events). Koutarou had promised a couple’s trip to celebrate Japan’s silver medal in the Olympics, but Keiji wasn’t expecting to be blindfolded through the journey. It felt somewhat exciting.
The car stopped.
“You can take the blindfold off,” said Koutarou cheerfully. Keiji obliged, then proceeded to gasp when he realized where Koutarou had taken them.
“Oh.” He chuckled. “I should have guessed.”
Koutarou rounded the car to open the door for him, and Keiji laughed when they started making their way to the grass where a picnic blanket was set up.
He knew if he looked up, he’d see stars — maybe not as many as in the countryside, but a great deal more than what he was used to seeing from their shared apartment in the very center of Tokyo. The brightest one, though, was in front of him, holding his hand with a giant smile on his face.
They sat and ate and drank and looked at the stars. Neither of them knew anything about constellations, so they made up shapes as they saw them.
“That one looks like Konoha,” Koutarou said at one point. Keiji laughed out loud.
Content as he was, snuggled with the love of his life under a sky full of stars, Keiji wasn’t expecting anything else to happen.
So when Koutarou suddenly grabbed his hands with a serious look on his face, he froze.
“Keiji.”
He swallowed. “Yes?”
“I think this is going to be short and quick because years later and I’m still bad at asking you things, Ji, but,” Koutarou huffed out a laugh, “you know how much I love you.”
“I do.” He smiled. “You remind me everyday.”
Koutarou smiled back. “And I want to keep reminding you. For the rest of our lives.”
Keiji blinked. “Kou, are you—”
“I was going to be on one knee, but Kuroo said I could make it authentic by kind of recreating our first kiss.” He laughed sheepishly. One of his hands left Keiji’s to reach into his pocket, like all those years ago when he’d fished out his second button for Keiji to keep.
This time, it was a velvet box.
Keiji gasped.
Koutarou, his smile still in place but his hands shaking, opened the clasp, and presented Keiji with a simple but beautiful ring. “Keiji, I’ve loved you since I was eighteen, and I want to keep loving you until we’re too old to count our age.
“You’ve always been more than my boyfriend — you’re also my best friend, and partner in everything else, and I want the whole world to know how much you mean to me. I want to be proud of you in front of everyone — I want them to know how happy you make me. So will you marry me, Keiji?”
Keiji laughed through the happy tears. “Kou ….”
Koutarou plucked the ring out of its case and put it on Keiji’s palm. Keiji, of course, curled his fingers around the band.
“Is that a yes?”
Keiji leaned in to press their foreheads together. They were both crying, but also smiling and so, so happy, and they were at the place Koutarou had said he’d take Keiji to. There hadn’t been a promise, then, when Koutarou said those words on the hill of Shinzen High when they were young.
There was a promise between them now, as Keiji slipped the ring on his finger and muttered a resolute yes, and there was a promise he sealed with a kiss.
The stars were the closest they’d ever been.