Work Text:
The sky is a mellow grey on the window where the rain patters. Thunder claps before the flash of lightning.
Weight shifted on Bokuto's bedside where the blankets were pulled over his chest. The space is warm yet the coldness of his absence seeps in. Light spills through the frame of the bedroom door.
Bokuto, still riddled with sleep, rubs his eyes open as he walks towards the darkness of the room. He makes an awkward reach for the door handle after rummaging on the walls for it. The door makes a creaking sound and Akaashi turns towards him.
"Did I wake you?" Bokuto instinctively leans against the touch of Akaashi's hand on his cheek, a tired smile rests on his face. He feels him tuck a strand against his ear. Bokuto shakes his head.
"Nope, s'all me," The smell of caffeine lingers in the air and Bokuto faintly catches sight of Akaashi's tousled hair, "You're wearing your working glasses. You have a deadline to catch?" To which Akaashi replies with a hum.
Bokuto doesn't remember when Akaashi sat him down on the couch where he rests on his shoulder, the sounds of the keyboard keys clicking and momentary sighs permeating as his eyes closed.
"You should go back to sleep Bokuto," Akaashi said through the clicking but Bokuto only positioned himself on Akaashi's lap. Bokuto swings his legs back and forth as it dangles on the armrest.
"I'm not sleepy" He yawned, attempting to get up but Akaashi's legs remained warm and comfortable. Instead, he turns towards the laptop on the tabletop where the screen displays a word document and the time on the lower right corner. 12:46 pm, it read.
Bokuto blinked twice against the blaring bright screen as Akaashi worked his way filling the blank white space with characters. Thunder roars in the living room and Bokuto's head slightly juts forward involuntarily.
Bokuto finally sat up and Akaashi frowned at his coffee mug before walking towards the corner of the room.
"Akaashi, give me some too," He said as Akaashi tears open a new sachet on the counter that separates the living room and the kitchen. The fluorescent light gives the mug a stark appeal to Akaashi’s delicate fingers.
"Bokuto you need sufficient rest tonight lest you'll wake up in a bad mood," He said.
"I'm not going to bed if you aren't in it," Bokuto pouts and crosses his arms like a petulant child. Akaashi exhales through his nose, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He picks up another mug from the cupboard.
The wind howls outside, opting for Bokuto to check through the window. He could barely make out the buildings as dark clouds enshroud the city view. Lightning flashes like cameras shuttering in his direction and the sound of the storm a crowd cheering his name. As the thunder claps, the adrenaline rushes to Bokuto's body like a never-ending rally on the court.
"Hey hey Akaashi, the storm reminds me of volleyball for some reason. Does that make sense?"
Bokuto spins towards Akaashi's direction where he is nowhere to be found.
The two mugs are placed neatly on the countertop with coasters underneath each one, steam forming steadily on top of its rim. Bokuto apprehensively nears the kitchen behind the counter. He called for Akaashi but there was no response. The storm howls loudly like a mocking jest in Bokuto's trepidation.
"Akaashi, this isn't funny," He said, as if almost to himself.
The light flickers in the apartment, and Bokuto's heartbeat quickens. He notices the laptop on the tabletop where a small window popped up notifying the loss of the internet connection.
He pries the bathroom door open hoping to find a familiar scowl, but nothing. Then he tries for the bedroom, still nothing. Sweat trickles down his nape, his feet glued against the kitchen floor. Akaashi wasn't the type to disappear.
"Akaashi, Akaashi, please—Keiji!" Bokuto screams, hands cupped around his mouth hoping he were louder than the rage of the storm gods. The room around him seemed bigger and wider.
The light flickers again, only this time it remains dark. He hears a glass shatter, but the window—as it seemed to be the only light source from outside—didn't break. He shivers at the touch of lost contact, the dropping temperature biting on his skin.
“Keiji–Keiji please, where are you?” He tries, sinking his head further into his folded legs. The rain is a quiet scream between his knees. It didn’t take long for Bokuto to feel a swipe from his shoulder before screaming and bracing himself towards Akaashi’s glowing phone screen.
“Calm down–yes, it’s me Bokuto-san, I’m here, don’t worry, you’re safe now.” Bokuto eases the weight on his shoulders as he feels the warmth of Akaashi’s stomach and the hands rubbing circles on his back. He lays on Akaashi’s lap again–his familiar touch a breath of relief. He feels the comfortable weight of Akaashi’s hand when he cards through his hair, the tension seeping out of his body in an instant. Bokuto almost forgets about the storm.
“Hey, Akaashi?” Bokuto turns to his side, his ear tucked between Akaashi’s thighs. Akaashi continues to stroke his hair.
“Yes, Bokuto-san.”
“I take back what I said about the storm," He swallows, allowing himself to catch his breath, "this does not feel like volleyball.”
“I don’t think the power will come back any time soon,” voiced Akaashi from under Bokuto’s arm. The sheets tangle between their legs as it wraps them warm. Darkness fills the room like a thick foreboding entity but Bokuto couldn’t help but chortle at the touch of Akaashi’s hair on his neck.
His head sinks further into the pillows as he pulls Akaashi closer, the smell of coffee still lingers somewhere.
"Hey Akaashi, ask me about my fear."
Bokuto supposes Akaashi had fallen asleep in the quietness of the room but a moment later, Akaashi responds albeit muffled.
"What is your fear, Bokuto-san."
"Well," Bokuto looks up in thought despite the darkness, "I guess not being able to play volleyball for the rest of my life.”
A long silence ensued and Bokuto could immediately feel the way Akaashi’s eyes roll like muscle memory, “I regret acquiescing to your demand,” he said as he shifted to his back against Bokuto’s chest, “goodnight.”
“But Akaashi you never told me yours!”, Bokuto whines, nudging Akaashi by his arm. Akaashi remains a steady mountain, yet adjusts his head on Bokuto’s arm.
“We never agreed to that.”
“Was it the storm?” Bokuto turns to the window behind him where the rain is finally tamed to a quiet drizzle. Moonlight spills through the dark clouds, illuminating the room in a mellow glow. Akaashi’s figure looks almost too ethereal to touch that if Bokuto were to touch him, he’d disappear from his grasp. The reflection of water droplets from the window left ghastly spots on Bokuto’s arm as he reaches for Akaashi’s hair, feeling the softness between his fingers, “Was it the storm?”
When Bokuto pulls Akaashi enough to plant a soft kiss on his nape. Akaashi sighs, almost as if he had held his breath for a long time.
“Oh Akaashi, if I had known any better–why you woke up at that hour, I could’ve just done it like this,” Bokuto feels Akaashi turn his body in his direction, sheets pull as their legs tangle then entwine. Under the moonlight, Akaashi’s skin mimics that of a porcelain doll. Bokuto brushes aside his hair for another kiss on the forehead. And another, and then another.
That night, Bokuto dreamt.
He was the first to wake up this time, contented with the familiar warmth of Akaashi right next to him. Although the weight of Akaashi’s head left a stinging numbness on his arm, it was worth seeing his face of usual frowns and displeasure in a calm peaceful state. Akaashi is here , Bokuto reassures himself, he is here with me.
Outside, the sky is a bright blue where the cotton clouds reside. A weather doll hangs on the window sill where Bokuto insists Akaashi put on the night before. Its hand-drawn face smiles at the secret wishes it granted, and Bokuto smiles back.