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Keiji doesn't expect to be notable on the day he joins the volleyball club, but he has no such luck. A second year zeroes in on him before he even has the chance to introduce himself to the captain.
“You’re a setter, aren’t you?” he’s asked. The second year has strangely dyed hair, and smiles as if Keiji is an old friend. A weirdo, he determines. “I can tell! You look like a setter.”
“I am.” Keiji says, not bothering to comment on how ridiculous it is to say someone looks like a setter.
The guy brightens even more, somehow, and says, “Great! Can you toss to me? I wanna practice my spikes but everyone gets tired of it even though I’m the ace—”
“You are not the ace,” a third year calls out from the other side of the gym. “At least not until you do something about those mood swings of yours. And stop crowding that first year.”
The second year looks dejected, his shoulders slumping. Keiji is about to excuse himself and step around him, but he straightens before he can move, puts on another smile and says, “I’m Bokuto! What’s your name?”
“Akaashi,” Keiji replies automatically.
“Welcome to the team, Akaashi!” Bokuto says, “Come toss for me!”
Keiji sees no way out.
-
He doesn’t play in official matches until the third years leave, but most of his practice time is commandeered by Bokuto, whose constant energy quite easily overwhelms a majority of their teammates. It doesn’t bug Keiji, however. The repetitive nature of the receive, toss, spike is something he comes to crave, and his daily rhythm is thrown off if Bokuto doesn’t bully him into spiking practice.
The first time they play in a match together Bokuto asks, “Are you nervous?” and seems affronted when Keiji says no. “Everyone is nervous the first time they play in a match!” Bokuto insists.
“I played in middle school.” Keiji points out.
“Yeah, but it’s different.”
“Not really.” Keiji looks out across the court, to their opponents, to the stands that are filling with people. “We’ve practiced enough that it doesn’t matter to me.”
Bokuto is smiling at him suddenly, and Keiji is almost unnerved. He slaps his shoulder and says, “You know, when you’re right, you’re right, Akaashi!”
The whistle blows and they have to start warming up before Keiji can think of a response
-
They win.
They win with a team that felt hastily thrown together just a few months ago, a team consisting of mainly second years Keiji doesn’t know too well, and surprisingly held together by Bokuto’s enthusiasm. He had no downs today and Keiji dreads the day they happen in a real match, but for now there’s only celebration.
When Keiji looks at his team, the corners of his mouth start to turn upward. He looks at Bokuto and thinks, I’m going to make this into a team that supports you.
Then he thinks, involuntarily, I really want you to kiss me right now, followed by a very voluntary, Shit.
“Look! A smile! It’s a smile!” Bokuto points at him. “Do you see that, Sarukui? Washio? Akaashi is smiling! I didn’t know it was possible.”
Keiji puts on the foulest frown he can manage.
-
Bokuto mopes in the club room after they lose, weeks later. The atmosphere is heavy, and no one is talking as they change.
Keiji isn’t going to put up with it. “Bokuto,” he says, “You need to get ready.”
Bokuto lets out a heavy sigh and slumps further down, placing his head into his hands. Keiji expects him to start carrying on about how everyone should just play without him next time, but instead he says, “Sorry.”
“...Sorry?”
“They blocked me completely. I’m the ace, I should have broke through. So... sorry.”
He sounds like he really means it. Keiji swallows. “There’s no such thing as an unblockable spike.”
Bokuto whines, wordlessly, and asks, “What do I do, Akaashi?”
“Practice,” he responds automatically, because he thought it was obvious. He places a hand gently on Bokuto’s shoulder, feeling a little awkward about it. “We’ll figure something out.”
Bokuto looks over at him, and Keiji desperately wants to give him a reassuring smile like he’s seen him do for other members of their team, but his heart is beating too fast for him to concentrate. “Alright,” Bokuto says, and then he grins and stands up and the energy seems to return to the room all at once, “Alright! We’ll practice until our arms fall off if we have to!”
“You wouldn’t be able to spike if you had no arms.”
“That’s not the point here, Akaashi!”
And then Bokuto laughs and Keiji feels like he could run a marathon.
-
In a quiet, impulsive moment, Keiji blurts out, “Why don’t you touch me as much as the others?”
Bokuto pauses, hand hovering over the volleyball he was reaching to pick up, and tilts his head in confusion. They’re alone in the gym, since Bokuto once again corned him to ask if he’d stay an extra hour after practice and Keiji huffed when he agreed, as if he’d ever say no. Everyone else had the good sense to be scarce as soon as possible.
“What I mean is,” Keiji says, trying to keep his face as impassive as ever, “If Konoha scores a point, you practically jump on him, but you don’t do that with me.”
“Oh.” Bokuto laughs. “You just don’t seem like the type to like being touched.”
For whatever reason Keiji thinks back to when they first met and Bokuto told him You look like a setter and he wonders how the constantly oblivious Bokuto is able to read him so well. Or, he thinks with a jolt, maybe Bokuto can read him because it’s him. He tells himself he’s being too hopeful, and dismisses the thought.
Bokuto finally retrieves the volleyball, and tosses it into the cart with the rest. “Was I wrong?”
“No.” Keiji says, because he wasn’t. “But I won’t blow up if you do.”
Bokuto breaks into a smile. “Akaashiiii,” he says, and Keiji regrets ever bringing it up because he knows the bone-crushing hug is coming before Bokuto scoops him into it. He takes it stoically, glad that no one else is around to see, and hoping Bokuto won’t notice how nervous he’s gotten.
“Bokuto.” he says after he counts to thirty.
“Nope, not happening.” He feels Bokuto’s smile from over his shoulder. “I’ve been wanting to do this since day one!”
Keiji sighs. “That’s enough.”
“Oh, come on, just a little longer.”
“No. Let go.”
Thankfully he does, but when Bokuto’s arms open Keiji starts immediately missing the contact he was so eager to get away from.
-
Keiji feels like the time he spent playing with his team in his second year was entirely too short. His new team is good, excellent even, full of first and second years that look up to him and none of them get horribly dejected when they’re struggling during matches. He settles into a new routine soon enough, a steady rhythm of school, practice, and planning.
One day it’s broken when, after practice has ended, someone steps into the gym and calls, “Hey, new captain!”
Keiji and his coach look over, and Bokuto is standing in front of the doorway, waving, a bag slung over his shoulder. He looks at his coach, who smiles, and hands him the key to the gym. “Just clean up after yourselves, alright?” He chuckles, and says, “Just like old times.”
Bokuto charges over and throws an arm around Keiji’s shoulders. “Hey, hey Akaashi, if you don’t mind, could you—”
“Sure.”
“Huh? Really?”
The gym door clicks closed as their coach leaves. “Of course,” Keiji says, “I always did spiking practice with you.”
Bokuto whoops in excitement and starts to pull out gym clothes from his bag to change into. Keiji walks over to the half-dismantled net he was going to finish putting away and sets it up again instead. After a minute Bokuto joins him, saying, “Man, this place hasn’t changed at all!”
“You graduated two months ago.”
“Yeah, but still.”
Keiji doesn’t want to admit that the gym feels completely different when Bokuto’s not in it. He finishes tying up the net and says, “Ready whenever you are.”
“I’m always ready.”
Bokuto’s posturing is not effective and Keiji has to roll his eyes at him. He takes a volleyball, bounces it on the ground a couple times, then tosses it high above his head, and Bokuto slams it onto the other side of the net. He says, “One more,” and they fall into their routine from the previous two years. Toss, spike, toss, spike, each play ending with a shocking thud when the ball hits the other side of the court. Bokuto gets it out of bounds sometimes and Keiji can’t help but feel endeared while he pouts, but mostly what he feels is elation. His new team is nice and he wants to lead them to victory. But it doesn’t have Bokuto on it, and there’s something undeniably special about him. Bokuto must feel the same way about their combination, because he starts laughing victoriously after each easy spike, and Keiji gets caught up in his energy. Eventually Bokuto starts laughing too hard and he misses a toss, but it just makes him laugh harder.
He tucks Keiji into a one-armed hug and says, “I missed this! The setter on my university team is great, but he’s not you.”
“I missed it too,” Keiji admits, and then he realizes just how close his face is and the atmosphere shifts.
Bokuto looks almost serious, his lips part slightly, and he leans in and Keiji thinks This is it, he’s actually going to kiss me, but then he doesn’t. He starts to pull away and mutters, “Sorry.”
Keiji’s not going to put up with anything half assed from his ace, so he takes matters into his own hands and does what he probably should have done two years ago and kisses Bokuto square on the mouth. When they break apart Bokuto lets out a laugh, burning off nervous energy, but then Keiji kisses him again, and then again, and so many times that Bokuto finally wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer and the kiss deeper. Keiji kisses Bokuto once for every time he’s wanted to in the past, and then a few more for good measure.
They pull apart and stand, foreheads touching and arms wrapped loosely around each other, and breathe for a minute. “Now why didn’t we do that sooner?” Bokuto asks.
Keiji considers it, and says, “Cowardice.”
He feels Bokuto’s smile ghosting above his lips. “But not anymore, huh.”
“No,” Keiji agrees, pulling him in again, “Not anymore.”
-
“Come here,” Kotaro says, grabbing Keiji’s arm. He pulls him down on the couch until Keiji’s head is resting on his chest, and Keiji lets him. It’s not exactly comfortable to be laying down together on the couch, but they’ve done it enough he knows how to curl in and not be in danger of falling off.
Keiji opens the email program on his phone and clicks on an email from one of his professors to read it, phone tilted sideways. Kotaro groans. “I was hoping you’d pay attention to me if I did this!”
“Is that so.” Keiji idly says, skimming the email. It’s just a list of assigned reading for the entire semester. He starts to type up a reply to let his professor know he got the email, even though he normally doesn’t, because he knows it will make Kotaro impatient.
It’s a nice enough spring day that all the windows in their apartment are open, which makes it almost pleasant to be surrounded by unpacked boxes. Keiji knew, when he agreed to get a place near their university with Kotaro, getting his easily-bored boyfriend to unpack would be like pulling teeth. There’s already a mess on the kitchen table because Kotaro insists on using it like a desk. He has a desk, but it’s buried under boxes he’s too lazy to sort through.
“Keijiiii,” Kotaro whines, wrapping his arms more tightly around him.
“I’m busy.” he says, but doesn’t bother trying to move. He opens up another email, just to be difficult.
“Hey, do you remember when we first met?” Keiji doesn’t respond, but of course he does, and of course Kotaro continues. “You had such a baby face! You’ve grown up well, though.” Keiji has no idea what kind of compliment Kotaro is going for. “You know, thinking about it, I’m pretty sure I started liking you when you told me to practice my straight spike.”
Keiji puts his phone down and looks at him. He knows exactly how Kotaro is going to respond when he says, “I liked you before then. Since the first time we played together.”
“What? No way! Why do you always have to be first at everything?” He looks so frustrated that Keiji props himself up on his elbows and gives Kotaro a light kiss.
“I love you,” he says.
Kotaro’s face becomes an interesting shade of red. “No, stop doing that, stop doing everything first!” he says, sitting up. He rests his head on Keiji’s shoulder and sighs. “I love you too, you asshole.”
Keiji smiles.