Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Akaashi's bloodshot eyes looked up at the dark ceiling, listening to the distant sound of the clock ticking outside his room. It's been several days since he has slept well. Several days since his mind felt at ease. I want to see you perform as well. Why did it matter so much to them? Why did it matter so much to everyone? Was it really so important?

It was… wasn't it? It was because it continued to bring nothing but pain and restlessness into his life. Kept him up at night going over the same thoughts, the same feelings, making his chest feel like it was caving in constantly. Exhausted and quiet, he was a walking shell. Something was missing. Clawing at him from deep within. A gaping section in his chest where love and passion once sat. He felt it then, a flicker, a small spark. It was important. It had always been important to Akaashi. He loved it. Loved skating. He wouldn't let go, not yet.

Shoving the blanket off himself, Akaashi sits up quickly in his bed, moving to the desk-side lamp, the beautiful glass one Oikawa had gifted him, and he turns it on, engulfing the space in a soft pink light. He moves around the room putting on layers to fight against the cold winter. Once that is done, he moves to his duffel and makes sure that all his items are present: skates, a small towel, and a water bottle. Zipping up his bag, he turns off the light and gently opens his bedroom door. Quickly checking that he has his phone on him, he tiptoes over to the shoe rack and grabs his winter boots. Quietly lifting his house keys out of the stack, he grabs his bag and walks out into the night. Locking the door behind him, he turns and begins making his way to the lake. Luckily, the full moon tonight illuminated his path with ease, the freshly padded snow only assisting in the brightness. He walks forward, determined. He would not give up. His love wouldn't be ripped away so easily; he wouldn't let it.

Tonight, he wanted to drown in silence. He had left his headphones at home and settled on listening to the reality of it all. The nature, his breathing. He needed it to be true, to be able to connect. He needed to remember that love, needed to feel it once more. Approaching the lake, Akaashi begins to tremble slightly, fear fighting with his will to try. Ignoring the tremors, he sets his bag down and sits on the tree stump, shoving the skates on and tying them quickly. Once done, he stands up, leaving all his items in his bag, and approaches the edge of the lake. It sparkles slightly under the moonlight, freshly sprinkled snow covers it in a thin layer. Taking a sharp inhale, Akaashi sprints forward onto the ice, moving fast, not allowing fear to catch him. He moves his leg forward, one after the other. He doesn't want to stray too far from his belongings, so when he feels the distance is good, he turns quickly, beginning to do spins and swirls on the ice. He starts slow, gliding on the solid ground first. Transitioning slowly into sharper, more skilled spins. He was rusty; two years of neglect had taken a huge toll on his skills, but he was going to do them even still. No one was watching, no one would care if he failed. Even still, he was terrified of it.

He listens to the sharp cuts of his skates, the crunching of snow. It was beautiful. He felt enveloped in pure magic, the moon bright and solid above him. The mountains dark and distant, yet ever present. He felt at home, felt safe. Maybe that's why he did it, why he tried. Gliding backwards, a split-second decision to twist quickly and… jump.

His feet were in the wrong position, and he barely gained any air, tumbling quickly to the ground. He didn't rise at first, keeping his hands in the thin layer of snow, letting his adrenaline calm itself. Akaashi looked down at his hands, felt the cold beneath them. He felt alive. Angry and upset but alive. The rush of the moment, the excitement at trying again, overwhelmed him. He wanted to cry, scream, and curse. He wanted to beat himself up over failing, but mostly he wanted to celebrate, to rejoice. He tried. He tried and failed, but he tried. It was worth it. He could do it again. Could attempt another jump. Shaking the tears from his eyes, he picks himself up off the ground and begins skating again. Moving left and right, spinning once, and as he glides backwards, he snaps his feet, picking up more air but not succeeding yet. Another jump, another fall. He failed again, over and over again. His knees ached, and his hip would be completely bruised in a few hours. His hands were cold and numb from the snow, from the ice under his fingertips. Slowly, the joy starts to fade. Sitting silently on the ice, Akaashi looks ahead. His eyes distant and unfocused.

You are so useless! Why did I ever waste my time on someone like you?

Akaashi lets out an angry huff, focusing his eyes back, breathing out a harsh "Fuck you," before standing up again. He wouldn't give up, not yet. As he continued to fall, he had to remind himself that failure was part of it. He had to fail before he could even begin to succeed. But it weighed down, with each new fall, it felt harder and harder to get up. He was achy and sore, limbs trembling from the sudden exercise. He was weak. Sitting on his hands and knees, Akaashi stares at the ground, vision blurring slightly. He was weak, but that was expected, wasn't it? He hadn't trained. Hadn't moved like this in years.

He hasn't danced for a very long time and is probably rusty beyond belief. Never mind his fucked up leg.

Of course, Atsumu's mockery finds him here. He wasn't wrong, but Akaashi still felt the urge to find the boy and knock him across the head. Rusty was an understatement. He was weak, muscles soft and unused. He could pretend that it'd be easy to go back to how he once was, but that was a lie. It would take time. It would take dedication. Did he have it in him to commit like that?

You need to heal. Your leg needs time and care. Just– please stop.

Settling on his decision, Akaashi lifts his head and pushes himself off the ground. He may not have the mental strength to keep pushing when all these terrible thoughts come in like a flood, but he knows someone who would. Someone who would help him do it right. Skating over to the edge of the lake, he sits and quickly unties his skates. Akaashi just hoped that it wasn't too late, that he hadn't cried his eyes out one too many times for anyone to believe that he could be capable again. He didn't want the pain to win; he wanted to be better than this. Stronger than it. Packing up his things, he grabs his bag and starts making his way to his cousin's house.

—

He stops his hand just before he knocks, only now remembering how late in the night it was. Picking up his phone, Akaashi finds Iwa's name and presses call. Waiting patiently for the ring to go through. After several seconds, a groggy voice answers, "Hello?"

"I'm downstairs, could you let me in please?" Akaashi says, looking up at the window that he knows belongs to Iwa.

"Huh? Wha—" he hears some shuffling, "Keiji? What are you talking about?"

"I don't want to knock and wake your parents," he replies, "Can you please let me in?"

There's some silence before a very raspy, "Okay." He hangs up the phone and pockets it, standing in front of the door and waiting for his cousin to open it. He wasn't fast, clearly still trying to battle sleep. As Iwa opens the door, he rubs at his eyes, looking very confused and a little annoyed. "Keiji, what's going on?"

"I want you to help me train again," the words spill out of him before he can change his mind. It was done, said, and settled. No turning away now, he could be strong.

Iwa looks at him, brows drawn in as he hugs his hoodie, "What?"

"I need your help training again. My legs are weak, I can't… jump."

"Jump?" Iwa rubs at his eyes aggressively, "Are you talking about skating?"

"Yes."

That snaps his attention up, his eyes now more awake and focused, searching Akaashi's face for answers. "Why? Is it because of what Tooru said?" Iwa sighs, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to—"

"I want to. I want it too, Hajime." Stay strong. Stay strong. "But I can't do it yet. I'm too weak; my legs haven't been trained for years. All the strength I once had is gone, but I can get it back in time. I just need your help with it."

Iwa looks at him for several long seconds, lips tight, brows low. Akaashi knew he was being slightly irrational and frantic, but he couldn't let go. His hands finally found the edge, and he wanted to hold on, to grip it before he fell completely. There was still some fight left in him; he could prove it.

Sighing deeply, Iwa says, "Okay, but we do it under my conditions."

Akaashi nods, "Okay."

"That means, when I say stop, you stop." His look was pointed. Akaashi knew the same old memory was moving through both their minds in this moment.

Keiji, stop! Your leg hasn’t healed yet!

"Okay."

Hajime, leave! I’m fine! I can do this.

"I mean it, Keiji. The second you start feeling pain, we stop," Iwa crosses his arms.

"I understand." And he did. He knew that when the moment came, he might be stubborn and push, but right now, he agreed.

Looking at him for just a second longer, Iwa sighs when he doesn't find any sign of deception in Akaashi's face, "When do you want to start?"

"Right now."

"Now!? Keiji, it's like four am!" Iwa splutters out, eyes wide. Realizing how loud his voice got, he lowers it slightly, "It's the middle of the night!"

"Please?" It was a big demand, a big ask, but he needed to start now while his motivation sat high. He didn't know how he would feel come tomorrow, he had to take this opportunity while it lasted.

Squishing his hands into his face, Iwa mumbles a very tired, "Fine. Come in." Moving out of the way to let Akaashi inside, he shoves off his shoes and walks into the kitchen, "But I'm making coffee first."

"Alright," Akaashi says, putting his duffel down and sitting on a chair, waiting for Iwa to get ready. He didn't allow himself to think, to change his course of action. He had to stay task-focused, had to ride out this wave. He may have been exhausted and slightly delirious, but he could do it. He was strong enough. He waits patiently for Iwa to get ready, to wake up properly. Staring dead at the wall, keeping his mind focused.

"You get so scary when you're like this," Iwa's voice cuts through Akaashi's concentration, "No wonder you like scary movies. You act just like those freaky ghosts."

Akaashi grins slightly, "Careful before you find me staring at you from the darkness in the corner of your room."

"Ew." Iwa shakes his head at the idea, "Don't even think about it. I have fighting reflexes, I'll break your nose accidentally."

Akaashi huffs a laugh, but he knew it was true. The one and only time he decided to scare his cousin when they were younger, he left that situation with a bloody lip and a scolding from his dad about playing such pranks. It was worth it, though. Akaashi would never forget Iwa's painfully high screech of fear. He laughed hard and long that day, even with a bloody lip.

"Ready?" Iwa asks.

Nodding, Akaashi gets up, following behind. His uncle had a mini gym in their garage, built long before Iwa was even born. A few items are spread out now, with enough space for movement. He preferred it; it was away from the crowds, somewhere he could train alone or with a single designated person. "So you want to train legs?"

"Everything, really," Akaashi says, stripping a layer off himself, leaving only a shirt and his pants. "I get out of breath easily, my movements are stiff, and my legs are too weak to gain much air for the jumps."

"I see," Iwa nods, placing his coffee down on a side table, "Let's start with a bit of cardio to remind your body of the movement. Though, please stretch first."

Nodding, Akaashi picks up one of the yoga mats lying around and starts his routine, or what he remembers from it. It was fascinating how quickly his body kept up. Though old, these movements have not been forgotten. Years of drills and practices came back in almost an instant. For a brief moment, he wondered if his body had desired this. Skating and the training that came with it had been so ingrained in his life that it only made sense that doing it again felt like home. He spends several minutes on his own, stretching out his limbs. At some point, Iwa puts on some music in the background, quiet and light. Once done, he stands up, ready for more orders. Iwa guides him through different exercises, counting down sets, giving out small bits of motivation and encouragement. Akaashi appreciates his patience and appreciates that he was doing this to begin with. While working on a set, Iwa has to run out to get a water bottle and a granola bar to keep Akaashi standing.

After a few hours of training, he sits on his yoga mat, breathing deeply, letting the sweat slide down his face and chin. Feeling it soak his clothes. "Let's call it a day. I don't wanna overwork you."

"I can handle it," Akaashi says instantly. He could do it, he could keep going.

Iwa, however, had no tolerance for it: "No. You did enough today. Let your body rest, and especially let your leg rest."

Akaashi stares at the ground as he sits with his legs crossed on the floor. Small bits of anger nip at him. It was irrational; if he opened his mouth, he knew something mean would escape. Why didn't Iwa believe in him? Why did everyone always doubt him? Feeling a gentle shove to his head, Akaashi looks up. Iwa stands over him with a water bottle in hand, extending it for Akaashi to take.

"You did very well today, Keiji. But everyone needs rest." Iwa looks down, "We can do more tomorrow. Does that sound good?"

Breathing in deeply, Akaashi grabs the bottle, "Yeah. Okay."

After cleaning up the area, Akaashi packs his stuff away. He changes out of his sweaty clothes in the bathroom, shoving on the t-shirt and sweats Iwa provides him. As he comes back into the living room, he says, "Thank you for the clothes. I'll bring them back once I wash them."

"No problem, I'd rather you not walk home in that cold while soaked."

Giving each other their goodbyes, Akaashi makes his way back to his house. The sun now rising quickly, bringing the world back to life. They'd been training slowly for several hours, and the toll of it had started weighing on his shoulders. After coming home and briefly telling his dad that he went on a small run, Akaashi takes a warm shower, throwing all the dirty clothes into his basket before falling asleep almost instantly.

They continue like this for the next few days leading up to New Year's. Akaashi eventually has to admit that he started training with his cousin to his dad once Iwa had rejected the early hours. In a few ways, his days improve. The exercise helps him sleep, though his schedule was still messed up— sleeping most of the afternoon away and then staying wide awake through the nights. He looks forward to his sessions, enjoying the feel of sore muscles that indicate he did the right work. Recently, they even started practicing floor spins. It wasn't that good. Akaashi stumbles more often than he'd want to, but he just keeps going. Standing up and trying again. He had only been able to push Iwa's limits that were set on Akaashi a few times. Reassuring his cousin that there was no pain… even when there was. He knew his foot was weak, but he chose to ignore it. The ache always caught up to him late in the evening, though.

Today, however, they took to the ice finally. The rink was closed for the holidays, so they had settled on the lake. A part of Akaashi hoped they'd find Bokuto there, but they didn't. No one was there, not really. Usually, the lake had more people on it, especially during holidays, but it seems like this year was a dry one. As they began training, Akaashi's mind felt a bit numb. The day itself felt heavy and weird. He would have to watch his attitude; he had to keep strong, otherwise he would crumble and blow up like he always did.

He tried, he really did try, but after far too many fails, too many falls that left his hip, his hands, his elbows aching, he couldn't get up again. Didn't want to face that failure. His spins had improved drastically, but he still couldn't land it. Sitting on the icy floor, he clenches his fists.

"You did good," Iwa says softly, approaching where Akaashi sits on the ground, "We can take a break—"

"No. I'm not done yet." Akaashi spits out. He wouldn't succumb to this weakness. He was better than that. He wouldn't let everyone win. Wouldn't let him win. He could do it. He would do it.

"Keiji…"

"I'm fine."

Hajime, leave! I’m fine! I can do this.

"No." Iwa says sternly, "You promised you'd listen. And I'm telling you that you're done. Either take a break or go home and rest entirely."

"Hajime, I'm fine. I'm just a little upset," Akaashi pleads, making his voice softer to make his cousin believe that what he was saying was true.

Mulling it over, Iwa says quietly, "Alright, but next time I tell you to stop, you stop. Got it?"

Akaashi just hums in return, anger now sitting high up in his neck. He needed to breathe. To ease his shoulders and allow the emotion to pass through. Taking a few minutes to do this, he then gets up, focusing on his task. Skating backwards before twisting his body and attempting a jump, a dull ache shoots up his leg at the collision. He gains some air, not enough, before doing a weak two-point spin, landing awkwardly, though not on the ground. As he straightens out, he curses to himself.

"That was good, try again if you can," Iwa says, standing off to the side.

Giving his head a single violent shake, Akaashi focuses once more, attempting the jump again. Another fail, this time the toe of his skate catches on the ice, propelling him forward. He stumbles a bit before falling and sliding on his chest. An instinctive, angry reflex takes over, slamming the tip of his skate on the ground harsh and fast.

"Keiji—"

"I'm fine," Akaashi says, standing up and dusting the snow off himself. He doesn't give his cousin the chance to speak before he goes back into another spin. Fail. Fail. Fail. Falling for the last time, Akaashi yells out in frustration, short and infuriated. One jump. He couldn’t do one fucking jump. Slamming his fist on the ground, he stands up again, ready to try one more time.

"Stop."

"Hajime, it's fine—"

"I said stop." There was no debate in his voice. No kindness or sympathy, just an order. Parts of Akaashi wanted to fight, begged him to fight back, but he had always been an obedient dog. There were only so many times he could ignore orders.

"Okay." He stood still on the ice, unable to let go. To leave. He didn't want to leave; he wanted to try again.

"We can come back another time,"

He doesn't answer. Doesn't want to. He just stands and looks out towards the beautiful scenery. Snow-covered mountains, frosty white trees, and the ever-distant lake. He knew there was an end there somewhere, but he thought that maybe if he started skating, he could skate for all eternity. Always forward, always towards the beautiful view. A memory of Bokuto's sisters' painting flashes in his mind. He wonders if she has a wintery one made, his chin quivering with emotion at the thought. It's been a week since he and Bokuto spoke, since they fought. Akaashi couldn't quite describe the gutwrenching ache he felt missing him. It was all his fault. It was always his fault.

"Let's go home," Iwa's voice breaks through his thoughts, "You should rest your leg."

At the reminder, a sharp shooting pain makes its way into his knee. Akaashi groans slightly, quiet enough that only he hears it. If Iwa knew how often he had ignored this pain, he was sure to give up this whole ordeal. They couldn't stop now; he was too far in. Too deep to let go. He needed to do this, to complete this. To feel accomplished, fulfilled. He needed it more than he could describe.

"Okay." Turning back towards his cousin, Akaashi walks slowly, ignoring the ache in his ankle and doing his best to hide a limp. They pack up quietly. Akaashi doesn't want to talk, and Iwa wasn't interested in pushing. His cousin always knew when his limit was reached.

Once they left the lake, they parted ways at the split to their houses. Akaashi mumbles a quiet goodbye before turning away and walking home. As much as he wanted to stay on that lake and practice, he was eternally grateful his house was close by. Every terrible thing had doubled since their walk started, weighing on him until his shoulders felt heavy. His vision was going blurry and dark, restless anxiety mixing uncomfortably in his chest. By the time he reached his house, he felt as if he would throw up. Rushing in, he tosses his shoes off, practically crashing into his room and shutting the door. His breath becomes quick and hot, burning his chest. The speed at which he inhales just makes him dizzier, more lightheaded. Heart pumping fast, fingers going numb and cold. He couldn't see anymore, couldn't see in front of him. Spots dance in his vision as he stumbles to the floor. Holding on to his chest, he pulls at his shirt. He needs to rip it off; it was suffocating. Everything felt violent, desperate. He starts pulling his layers off, hoping that fewer clothes could help him breathe again. It isn't enough; his breathing wouldn't slow, his body now violently shaking as he sits with just a tank top and jeans on. Caving in on himself, he wraps his arms around, gripping and clawing at his skin. And then, suddenly, the spasms start as they always do. Muscles clenching painfully, freezing him in place until he can't breathe, can't see, can't hear. As his muscles relax slightly, Akaashi breaths in deep. The tears came flowing out, fat and heavy, falling to the ground instantly. He releases his arms, the nail marks stinging, and brings his hands above his head, clutching at his hair. He pulls hard, gripping chunks of black hair. The spasms come again, and he can't let go. His nails digging deeper into his palms.

He sits on the ground, curled in and frightened, remembering all the times he had felt like this. Afraid and small, at the whims of pain, of his body. His hands stay curled into his hair, a painful reminder of the past. Of violence, he wished to forget. He was an idiot for trying again. He should have never gone back on the ice; it only held death, pain, and so much brutality. It was never worth it. He should never have tried. Feeling overwhelmed and angrier than before, he lets go of his hair, lifting his arms high, forming fists, and with a sudden gasp, bringing them down hard and fast on his thighs. Feeling the sting, he continues once, twice. He keeps going until it feels right to stop, the hits becoming harder and harder each time. Until the pain is enough to calm him down. But it's not enough, it was never going to be enough. His hands sit limply on his now tender thighs; the bruises would show up soon, but it didn't matter. Gasping out a sob, Akaashi closes his eyes, hunching over himself. He didn't want to hurt anymore, didn't want to hurt himself. Feeling helpless, he crawls his way up off the ground, swinging his bedroom door open and running towards the backyard entrance. Sliding the door open quickly, he drops to his hands and knees into the snow, allowing it to calm him instead. Crying into it, his tear droplets melt the parts they fall on. Another spasm finds him, making his limbs bend uncontrollably, but it was better than before. He could handle this; he could hold on. Just a little longer, and this would all be over. The pain will leave. God, he prayed the pain would leave.

"Keiji!? What are you doing?" his dad's frantic voice calls from behind.

Gasping out a sob as soon as his muscles release him, he shakes his head. What could he say? His dad has never seen him this way. He had no lies, no false statements that would make this attention go away. All he had was the truth, so that's what he spoke, "I'm— I'm trying not to hurt myself," he cries out, voice muffled from the liquid in his mouth. He had never admitted this to his dad. That he, in his own way, harmed himself. No one knew—no one, except Iwa. But then, Iwa never should've known either.

He doesn't hear a response; more sobs shut down any noise surrounding him. But he feels hands wrap around his chest, his dad pulling him out of the snow and back into the house. They tumble together onto the floor, sitting against a small cabinet. His dad clings to him tighter than he ever had, his chest shaking, "You're still hurting yourself, baby." His dad's tears hit Akaashi's forehead, sliding down and mixing with his own.

"I'm sorry," he gasps out. He doesn't want to make his dad cry. He was always making everyone sad and upset.

"Please, don't apologize, Keiji," his dad shakes his head, "Just— just let me hold you. I know I can't help with everything, but just this once, let me take care of you."

He does. He slumps in his dad's arms and cries. Loud and guttural, his voice breaking with each new sob. He doesn't know how long they stay like that, minutes, hours, probably. It doesn't matter. Eventually, Akaashi's sobbing turns into soft crying until he just sits there. Tear streaks drying out, eyes open, devoid of emotion. He was so exhausted. He wanted to close his eyes and rest for however long the world would permit him. He stares dead ahead, eyes unfocused, mouth slightly open. His mind has completely shut down, preventing any emotion, any memory, or any thought from passing through.

There was no movement around him, not until he was completely calm. His dissociative state was interrupted with a deep kiss at his temple. His dad finally moving, squeezing Akaashi tighter to his chest. Whispering softly, he says, "I haven't heard you cry like that since you were a baby."

Akaashi's heart sinks at the knowledge. He always cries; it comes so easily now, but he always tries to be quiet, tries his best not to disturb anyone around him. It was not often he found himself like this. How awful he must have made the people around him feel.

"I'm so sorry," he breathes out. And he was sorry; he hated making people so upset, so worried. He never meant to be such a pain to have around. Everyone had their own struggles, and now he had made them worry about him and his life. It wasn't fair. He wasn't fair to them. He was so awful to those who cared for him. The trembling started again.

"Keiji, stay calm," His dad tightens his grip. "I don't know what's going through your head, but you're okay. You're safe. I've got you."

Taking a deep breath, Akaashi tries to calm his nerves. He breathes in and out, one after the other. Letting his limbs drop, easing the tension in his shoulders. "My love, can you please tell me what has you feeling like this?" His dad whispers.

Akaashi shuts his eyes; he could be brave. Breathe in, all is well, "I… I'm trying to do my jumps again, but I keep failing. It upsets me a lot. I used to be so much stronger than I am now. It's just all… very upsetting."

His dad listens quietly, taking a few moments before responding, "Isn't failure part of it? Part of learning?"

"It is, but I already learned," Akaashi hears his voice become harsher. Shutting his mouth, he breathes in before answering again, "I just feel like I should've remembered by now. I should be able to do it."

"Do you know what the issue is? Is it strength? I know you always mentioned that such a quick spin requires a lot of that."

"Maybe, but I've been training," Akaashi argues, almost whining. How pathetic.

"My instinct is to tell you to take a break, but I doubt you will do that," his dad huffs out a small laugh, "But don't rush it. You will get it. I know you will." He kisses his head then, giving him another squeeze. Akaashi has nothing to say; it was easy for everyone to believe in him. They weren't the ones that had to do the jump; they weren't the ones that failed. They didn't understand. And that was fine; his struggle would continue to be his own. He and his dad sit there together for a while, not talking, just in each other's arms. In truth, Akaashi almost falls asleep, but then his dad's shuffling makes him open his eyes and remember where he was.

"Come on, if you're gonna sleep, let's do it in bed where it's comfier," he says as he brings the two of them up. He stands in front of Akaashi, wiping his face slightly. The tears have long dried, but he did so even still. "I hate seeing you so sad." He says, frowning. Akaashi looks at his dad and sees the eye bags behind his glasses. The drawn-in dark brows, so similar to Akaashi's. Though he wore his mother's face, he and his dad had always matched in expressions. Now, they both looked sadly at each other.

"I'm really sorry for stressing you out," Akaashi mumbles, breaking eye contact and looking down at their feet.

His dad runs his hand through Akaashi's hair. Pushing it out of the way before kissing his forehead, "Don't worry about me, Keiji. I just want to make sure you're feeling okay."

Akaashi nods, but he knows it wasn't true. How could he not worry about his dad? They were both suffering in their own way, though he supposed his dad was handling it much better. Accepting the silence, his dad takes Akaashi's arm and pulls him back to his room. The memory of what happened there only minutes ago stops him in his tracks. He didn't want to be there alone. Didn't want to feel the air that sat heavy in that room. His dad notices the hesitation, looking back at Akaashi and rubbing his thumb over their interlocked hands. "Want to stay in my room?"

Akaashi hesitates, but the idea sounds better than what lies in front of him. Nodding quietly, his dad proceeds to lead him to the other side of the hall where his room sat. The bed was made, though a small dent sat on the side where Akaashi knew his dad had been lounging on earlier. The TV still ran, gentle noise coming from the show he had put on. A small bookshelf off to the side, a dresser with a variety of items on top, and his mother's old vanity. It was spotless, not a speck of dust found on it. Emotion rose in Akaashi's throat; love was still so present. A part of him couldn't handle it. The sight of it made him want to fall to the ground and hide away like a child. He missed her so much. Could hear the laughter that used to echo in this room while she got ready. Could remember sitting on her lap, watching with wonder as she put on her blush, making her cheeks bright and rosy. Could remember when he made the awful decision of climbing up on the vanity, chasing the sight of a bird outside the window, and the inevitable fall that followed. He chipped his tooth that day, crying loudly while his parents tried not to laugh at his mistake. In the end, they took crying little Akaashi in their arms and ran outside, trying to chase around birds to make him feel better.

He couldn't do it. Couldn't be in this room. It held too much. He stops, pulling at his dad's arm, begging. His dad turns, knowing instantly what was running through Akaashi's mind. "You're not in here that often anymore… maybe the living room would be best, yeah?"

Akaashi nods, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, baby. I understand," he says, smiling sadly. One last time, he guides Akaashi to a room, one that he can handle. Helping him settle down on the couch, wrapping a blanket around him. His dad picks up the TV remote, leaning on one leg and flipping through the channels, "Anything you want to watch?"

Akaashi thinks for a moment, "Is it possible to find Barbie in the Nutcracker?"

His dad hums, "Sure, let me see if we can rent it somewhere for the day." Akaashi follows with his eyes as his dad clicks through several sections. Typing in the name of the movie and finding the right one. Once Akaashi confirms that he found it, his dad makes the purchase and presses play. "I'll cut up some fruit for you. We still have a whole batch of those oranges." He walks into the kitchen without receiving an answer. While waiting, Akaashi settles comfortably in his seat, watching the ridiculous movie again. It didn't feel the same without Bokuto here, but it was all he had for now. The only way he could keep the boy close without grabbing his phone and begging for forgiveness.

He had thought many times about what he should say. When to say it and how. He couldn't come up with anything that was worth hearing. He didn't want to just text Bokuto, didn't want to call either. In person would be best, but he couldn't show up at his house unannounced; it would be rude and sudden. He needed to find Bokuto out and about, but it almost felt like the boy had vanished. Like he never even existed. Akaashi had hoped that the lake would reveal him, but it didn't. Maybe Bokuto wasn't real after all. Maybe Akaashi came up with some fictional version of someone that he thought could heal him. At this point, he didn't think anyone was capable of helping him. Not even himself. He wondered if this kind of pain was all that he would ever feel. If this was it, for the rest of his life. Somehow, he knew it was true, that this was as much as he would ever get.

But then there was always that little spark. A moment in the movie that made him smile, or his dad coming into the room with orange slices on a plate and a weak smile on his face. He runs his hand over Akaashi's hair as he hands him the plate, not saying anything as he watches him eat.

"Have some as well," Akaashi says, extending the plate. His dad looks down for a moment before gently grabbing a slice.

"Thank you, Keiji."

They eat quietly together, watching the movie. A few times, his dad chimes in, asking what's going on and why. Akaashi explains, feeling ridiculous at trying to make his dad understand. It felt nice, familiar. It reminded him of when Bokuto tried to explain this movie. His dad kept him company for the rest of it, making idle comments here and there. After the movie is done, his dad picks up the now-empty plate and takes it away to clean up. Akaashi searches for a new movie, something that would keep his mind distracted. He knows that the movie he stops on wouldn't make him feel better; in fact, it might just make him cry again, but he wants to see it even still. Pressing play, he lay down comfortably, or as comfortably as he could in jeans, and watched the first few scenes of Mamma Mia. The comfort of it allows him to slowly drift off to sleep, and he is quite glad that he would miss the performance of Slipping Through My Fingers and The Winner Takes It All.

—

The rink opened up right after New Year's, only a few days before school would start up again. He and Iwa didn't have any training planned for the day, so he was simply going to drift around the ice, bringing his headphones over to keep him company. He had only seen Iwa a handful of times after their session on the lake. Once for an impromptu training when Akaashi was back on his feet, not one that involved jumps, and once for the New Year's celebration held at his cousin's house—a final family gathering before everyone went back to their homes.

The rink is quiet when Akaashi walks through it. He would've feared it was still closed if it weren't for the unlocked gates and the person who greeted him at the front desk. Though he supposed it was still very early in the morning. He didn't sleep well last night either, feeling his mind stay far too loud for far too long. The days have gotten better since his breakdown, but things still feel uncertain and… bad. And with school starting up again soon, he felt that his unrealistic goal of performing this upcoming season was quickly slipping away. Never mind the fact that he would have to find a way to be around Bokuto again. Akaashi thinks of him as he places his skates on, sitting on the bleachers. He still hasn't come up with how to apologize, and he thought doing it during school hours would be terrible, considering that everyone would watch. And Akaashi was sure he would cry. He held too much guilt not to. Once he's done tying up his skates, he grabs his phone and wired headphones, placing them on and looking for what music to play. Today, he wanted something smooth and dramatic, to feel like he was flying through the ice. As if he were the main character going through a transformation. If only that were true. Pressing play on his song, he walks over and slides into the rink, warming up first by going in mindless circles all around the area. The ice was smooth, untouched. He felt the wind move around him, the cold hair fluffing up his hair, his cheeks feeling the bite of it. He attempts to match his songs, doing sharp moves when they come up and smoother, longer ones that synchronize with the rhythm. A small part of him itched to throw away the standard moves, the point-by-point angles, and to just flow. To move like he did when he was younger, when no one but his dad watched.

Dance, my Keiji! Dance!

And so he did, letting go of the restraints and allowing his body to move freely. To tell a story of some sort, to be one with the music in his ears. Several times he closed his eyes and allowed himself to simply feel. To be aware of how he moved his limbs, making them thrash and sway like water. He bent forward and backwards, letting his body take control. He spun in wide circles, and then in tight, quick circles. Hopping from one foot to the other, extending his legs, his arms. Moving fast, skating backwards, letting an unseen force tug him along. It was exhilarating. It was freeing. No sets. No routine. Just him and his music. It reminded him of his time skating with Bokuto, how easy it was to just feel the music, the movements. With Bokuto, it was always so easy to feel. A sad swell in the song makes him cave in on himself. He had to do something right. He had to apologize now, today. He had to. Losing such a dear friend, someone who made his heart leap to unimaginable distances, someone warm and welcoming; losing that felt like losing his own life. He couldn't do it, couldn't go through with it. He would have to find Bokuto somehow today, would have to beg for an apology. He couldn't lose him.

As emotion builds up in his throat, he almost stops skating, wanting to form a solid plan. But before he does, he feels movement next to him. Startling him out of his flow, Akaashi watches as Sakusa skates to his side, mimicking his position. And when he slows down and stops completely, so does his friend. He knew instantly what this was, a game they used to play all the time. Akaashi would come up with the moves first, skating whichever way he wanted to, and Sakusa would try to copy it. A synchronizing exercise. They would switch, and Akaashi would try to copy Sakusa until they looked identical on the ice, always facing each other, always moving together. Smiling softly to himself, Akaashi begins skating again, watching as Sakusa follows suit. A small twirl— Sakusa copies. A bend of the arms, a swing of the leg, going faster and faster in a large circle. They make eye contact only a few times. Sakusa's eyes focused, staring at Akaashi, making sure no move went unnoticed. Akaashi's chest swells with something good for once, something familiar. He had loved doing this practice once. It was challenging, it was exciting, it forced him to try new moves, to push himself and Sakusa to newer limits. It was fun. They skated left and right, moving smoothly across the ice. Sakusa couldn't hear Akaashi's music, but he didn't need to; he was very skilled and was able to keep up with ease. In fact, when they switched without a word, Akaashi was the one who struggled. Sakusa's moves had always been similar yet vastly different from his own. Akaashi's movements were sharp and solid, determined and steady. However, Sakusa flowed like water, moving limbs beautifully and easily. He had always been more flexible than Akaashi, and during this exercise, it was no different. Akaashi couldn't quite bend like that anymore, didn't have enough flexibility left in him. But he tried anyway, tried to keep up with someone who had now completely surpassed Akaashi's skill. It was bittersweet; it angered him. How far he has fallen behind. And when Sakusa twists quickly and jumps, Akaashi tries to follow, ending up on the ground while Sakusa still stands.

"I'm sorry," his friend says quickly, "I didn't mean to add the jump in."

Akaashi doesn't answer immediately; it takes more concentration than he wanted to admit to hold the emotion down. He was so angry with himself, frustrated with being unable to complete a skill that he once called his signature. His weaknesses became far too obvious in the presence of new stars. "It's alright. I wanted to try anyway," he replies weakly.

Sakusa stands quietly for a moment, whispering in return, "You did good."

Akaashi just nods. He could feel the tears building up in his eyes, his torn-out headphones sitting uselessly on the ice, soft music playing through them. That was enough. It was enough for one day; it was all he could handle. Shaking his emotion away, Akaashi stands up and dusts himself off. He smiles weakly at Sakusa, not quite making eye contact, and skates off to the edge. As he slides through the gate, he notices Oikawa and Kiyoko sitting off to the side. He makes brief eye contact with Oikawa before turning away and sitting down at a bench that holds his duffel. He can feel eyes on him, but he ignores them. It was no use discussing anything now. Oikawa most likely already knew everything from Iwa, and Akaashi had no energy to discuss his failures.

His hands shake slightly with emotion as he tugs at his skate laces. The open space of the rink begins to feel suffocating and awful. He needs to leave now before the walls begin to close in on him, making his panic triple. Placing his discarded skates in his bag, he zips it up and slowly walks out of the building. He has nowhere he really wants to go. Everything and everywhere felt bad, held some awful and negative memory. He thought of the cozy movie room, one that didn't hurt to think about. He missed it dearly; there in that room, he felt safe. Where he didn't hurt. He was so tired of feeling awful all the time. The constant thoughts trapped in his head. The uncomfortable swirl of emotions in his stomach, anxiety that felt like it was eating away at him. Destroying his body from the inside out. He missed when he had felt… normal. Good. It's been years. Since he was a child, really, though, in many ways, not even then.

The solid ground below him disappears suddenly. Dropping down to reality, Akaashi looks down at the powdered snow under his feet. Quickly turning to look around, he realizes he had unintentionally made his way to the lake again. Feeling content with the location, Akaashi is just about to drop his duffel down and change out his shoes again when he looks over at his designated tree stump and stops. Breath catching in his chest, he stares at the white and gold bag. A small tag hanging on the side, Bokuto's name proudly displayed on it. His eyes begin to water as he stares at it. How long has it been? Weeks? Months? Inhaling sharply, Akaashi turns towards the noise coming from the ice. He watches as Bokuto arches back, moving his hockey stick fast, hitting the puck towards the net. He swings hard, and the echo of the hit is followed by the sound of the puck hitting the metal post. Akaashi can't quite hear it, but he knows the groan that follows after that failure. Knows how Bokuto is feeling in this very moment. Understands the sharp swing of his hockey stick, how he moves it down quickly in frustration. Feels the hand that he rubs at his neck, trying to regulate through the disappointment. Akaashi knows all these movements far too well. All this time, Bokuto knew his pain better than anyone else. All this time, the person who understood Akaashi best was the very person he scared away with his erratic outbursts and mean nature. He was an awful friend, but he had missed Bokuto so fucking much. And when the boy on the ice looks up and notices Akaashi, it is the last thread to be broken. Feeling the weight of everything, Akaashi lets himself get down to the ground, sitting on his legs, his duffel falling next to him.

He lets the tears fall, lets the frustration air out. He hears sharp cuts on the ice, skates scratching faster than it should've been possible. And as he looks up, Bokuto is in front of him, tumbling forward to his own knees, face painted with worry, "Kaashi! Are you okay!?"

The air in Akaashi's lungs claws out suddenly. His voice. It was real, it was all real again. He can't answer, words stuck deep in his throat; he just starts crying, hunching over himself. "Kash, please, I'm so sorry! I never meant to upset you!"

Shaking his head, Akaashi can barely see the boy in front of him through the tears. But he was here, real. Not some imagined entity Akaashi made. He needed to get words out, to explain everything, and to apologize, but his mouth wouldn't open. Not yet. Only sad gasps escaped him.

Bokuto scootches closer until their knees touch, groaning loudly as he says, "I hate that I'm making you cry like this! I'm so sorry!"

Akaashi wants to laugh, as if any of this was Bokuto's fault. Still unable to calm down enough to talk, he decides to hold Bokuto's hands instead. They rest on his own knees, and when Akaashi grips them, tight and desperate, Bokuto stays quiet and moves closer. They hold on to each other, both waiting until Akaashi can calm down. Slowly, Bokuto's thumb starts moving side to side, giving a gentle rub to Akaashi's cold fingers. The act was so gentle and caring that it sent Akaashi into another crying fit. He never wanted to lose this boy; his heart would shatter beyond repair if that were to happen. As he starts crying harder again, Bokuto grips him tight, not stopping the soothing motions even for a second. It was a few minutes before Akaashi could breathe easily again. Until he can speak without falling into another sob.

He lifts his head slowly, having to hold back another set of tears as emotion sweeps over him. Bokuto's eyes were round and worried, looking at him expectantly. Waiting for a cue, a first word, anything. "I'm so sorry," Akaashi whimpers out. That was enough of a sign.

"No, I'm sorry! I never should've said those things!" Bokuto says quickly, leaning closer, more desperate.

Akaashi shakes his head, "Bokuto, please—"

"I'm serious, Akaashi!" he watches as tears start to build up in Bokuto's eyes, "I didn't want to make you upset! Or hurt! What I said was selfish and mean."

"It's okay—"

"It's not!" Bokuto exclaims, pulling their hands closer to himself, "I shouldn't have said such things! I knew what your relationship with skating was like, and I still tried to convince you of something I wanted to see. It wasn't fair to you—"

"Bokuto—"

"I'm really sorry, Kaashi!" tears slip out of his eyes, Bokuto's brows scrunching up sadly, "Please don't be mad! I promise I'll do better from now on! I won't continue to upset you, I promise!"

"You're not upsetting me," Akaashi breathes out. Bokuto was talking so quickly that his exhausted brain couldn't even keep up fast enough to stop him, to let him know the truth.

"But I am! You're crying because of me!"

"I'm not."

"You are! You're—"

"I'm crying because I missed you so much!" Akaashi gasps out, "I'm crying because I'm tired and hurting all the time, but not because of you. Something is very wrong with me, but I never should've yelled at you the way I did. It wasn't right."

"It was, I deserved it—"

"No." Akaashi snaps, "No, you didn't. You didn't say anything wrong. I don't have a grip on my emotions when it comes to skating. I should've reacted better. I should've been better. It's not your fault, Bokuto. I'm not mad."

Squeezing their intertwined hands, he says, "You're not?"

Akaashi smiles sadly, looking at Bokuto's hopeful, tear-streaked face, "No, of course not. Maybe I was at first, but I'm not anymore."

Akaashi can see the exact moment Bokuto's shoulders relax. He gasps out a laugh, dropping his head down, keeping his forehead pressed against their intertwined hands. "Oh, thank god." He starts laughing, the energy expelling out of him. Akaashi stays quiet, smiling, letting the boy get the stress out in a way he knows how. After a few moments, Bokuto lifts his head again, looking sadly at Akaashi. "I'm still so sorry. I should've been better to you."

"And I should've been better to you."

Bokuto smiles, seeing his dimples again sends a shiver up Akaashi's spine, "I guess we're both pretty bad at this."

Smiling softly, he says, "Yeah. I'm afraid we are." Looking down at their hands, Akaashi has a single question that has been nagging at him. "Why… why didn't you text me?" So selfish. He knew why Bokuto didn't, yet he still wanted to understand. Wanted to complain about something he had no right to complain about.

"I didn't want to bother you," Bokuto says sadly, "I thought it was best to give you space. I wanted to, though! On Christmas and New Year's and every day in between! I wanted to see if you wanted to skate, but I thought that would be awful to ask at the time."

Akaashi huffs, "Yeah, it probably would've been. But I did skate." He talks quietly, as if admitting to a secret. "I started training again recently. Not that it did any good."

"You did?" Bokuto's voice is gentle, almost afraid. Shock is clear in the way his eyes move around Akaashi's face.

Akaashi nods, looking down at their hands, "I wanted to try. Despite my reaction during our conversation, I do want to perform as well. I just… there's just a lot of things holding me back."

"Like what?"

Akaashi laughs lightly, observing Bokuto's strong hands, how well they fit into his own. Warm fingers against cold ones, "Well, for one, my leg. It's still very weak. Even if I can skate longer now, after a few jumps, it gets irritated. Never mind the fact that I can't land a proper jump. Especially nothing above a two spin."

Bokuto hums in response, thinking as he looks away into the distance. Akaashi lifts his head, observing the boy's expression. He seems focused, his features solid and unmoving. He doesn't turn back when he asks, "Why did you start in the first place?"

"After our conversation, it was just running through my head, and I—"

"No," he interrupts, turning back to face Akaashi, "Why did you start skating? Like, originally."

Akaashi looks at him. The answer was there, but so were the memories. They hurt, they always did, but it was worth talking about it even still. He couldn't hide forever. Holding on only ever made it worse. "I always skated, in a way. Everyone here does, even a little bit. There's not much else to do around wintertime."

Feeling a little wobbly, Akaashi takes a deep breath, "But I didn't start properly skating until… until my mom passed away." He gulps away the tears, feeling Bokuto's hands tighten their grip. A silent reassurance to continue, that he was listening.

"I was about eleven when it happened. We used to skate together all the time, my parents and I. After she passed, I didn't know what to do with myself. There was so much pain that wouldn't go away. I started listening to music more frequently. I found songs and melodies that understood my pain, that helped me release it. But it wasn't quite enough."

A small tear slid down Akaashi's cheek, falling into his lap and wetting his pants. "One day, Dad asked if I wanted to go skate, to get out of the house for a bit. I agreed. Took my headphones with me and found an escape." Breathing in deeply, he continues, "The music helped before, but the movement and exercise that came with skating made me feel alive again. My lungs, calves, and nose all burned so much that day, but it was incredible. It made me feel like I could breathe. It was the first time in weeks that something felt right."

Looking down, he feels Bokuto's thumb start that smooth rubbing again, "I skated on this lake until the ice melted, and after that, my dad got me a membership for the rink, and I skated every day after that."

He glances up at Bokuto, his eyes filled with sadness. "Skating was everything to me. It's how I met all my friends. It's how I coped with my grief. It's how I met you." His ears grow warm from the confession, but there is no point in hiding. He could be brave here, with Bokuto, he always could.

He watches a sweet smile bloom on the boy's face, dimples deepening, and eyes shyly looking away. Bokuto doesn't say anything for a bit, just chews on his bottom lip.

"Why do you want to perform then?" he asks suddenly.

"What?"

"All those things you mentioned, they won't go away if you don't perform," Bokuto looks back, "You will still have all your friends, me, and you can use it to cope. You just continue to skate as you have been recently."

"Weren't you the one to say you wanted to see me perform?" Akaashi teases.

"Well—" Bokuto hides his face near his shoulder, "I wanted to see that because I wanted you to skate the way you did before! When you used to tell stories!"

Akaashi blinks in surprise, "What? What do you mean?"

"I watched all of your performances, Kash. I saw how you danced at the beginning versus at the end. You lost something there. You used to skate so differently. You used to tell stories through your performances. And in the last few before… the fall, you were just… skating. You weren't yourself. I don't know if that makes sense, but—"

"It makes sense." Akaashi stares dead ahead, memories swirling about in his mind. It made sense because he saw it too. He had lost himself, lost his passion, who he was, and why he performed. Why did he perform?

Slowly, Bokuto speaks again, "Why do you want this? What is this to you?"

That was the question, wasn't it? At the end of it all, that was Akaashi's final question. Why did he want to go back on that stage? What waited for him there? He didn't want recognition. He didn't want fame or to be some star that everyone believed he was. He didn't even want to win or compete; he never really did. Skating used to be… fun. He used to love it for what it was. So why was the stage calling to him even if he was content skating the way he had been in the last month?

But that was a lie, wasn't it? He hadn't been content. Every failure set him spiraling, crying over his own incompetence. He still heard the music from that fatal day. The scratch of his skates. The clapping that followed every successful jump. The eyes that bore down on him, challenging him to mess up. The terrible ache in his leg, pain that wouldn't go away, a pain he could never reveal. The final jump and the consequent loss of everything. Why did it matter to him?

"I… never finished my routine," Akaashi says, blankly staring past Bokuto. "I only had one jump left. The jump I failed. It was almost over."

"It feels incomplete to you?" Bokuto asks.

"I think so," Akaashi breathes out. It did feel incomplete, but there was something else. Those eyes. Always angry and unsatisfied. They stared at him, found him in every corner. Every place on the rink and now, even outside the rink.

"So getting that one final jump would make you feel better?" Bokuto asks again, trying to understand the situation. Akaashi lowers his eyes, focusing finally on the boy in front of him.

"Maybe," he admits. Maybe if he lands his final quad, maybe then all will be well again. Maybe he wouldn't be so scared anymore.

"That's easy then!" Bokuto exclaims.

"What?" Akaashi's brows draw in.

"It's just one jump, Kash!" he smiles brightly, "That's so easy!"

"And the fact that it's one of the hardest jumps means nothing to you?" he huffs out a laugh. What a ridiculous boy.

"Pfft, you did what four other ones that performance? Never mind all the ones you did during practices and performances leading up to your last one. This is a piece of cake for you!"

"You say that as if I hadn't been failing nonstop for the past two weeks," Akaashi argues, his mouth downturning.

"So? You don't master something in two weeks."

"I've already mastered it." There was that anger again. Control it Akaashi. Don't let yourself continue making these mistakes.

"Yeah, you did, once, but it's been many years," Bokuto counters, "You need time. You'll get it. I have no doubt."

"I wish I could be as confident," Akaashi says, shaking his head.

"I'll just be confident for you then," Bokuto closes his eyes, straightening up, "You, Akaashi Keiji, are going to get that super duper hard jump down in no time. You know why?"

Akaashi looks at him, not saying a word. Bokuto opens one eye, nudging his leg with his knee, "Come on… ask why."

Rolling his eyes, Akaashi can't stop the smile that follows, "Why?"

"Because you've done it at least seventeen times before, based on my count," Bokuto says, nodding.

Count? He… counted? Akaashi's mouth slacks open slightly. Opening his eyes, Bokuto smiles deviously, leaning forward and letting go of Akaashi's hand. The frown that overtakes him is pure instinct, his fingers instantly becoming cold. Bokuto lifts his free hand in between them, sticking out his pointer finger and keeping it in front of his face. "It's just one jump. One jump and everything will be set right."

Akaashi looks at Bokuto and then down at his finger. Just one jump? Sounds too easy, but it won't be. His biggest hurdle was still ahead of him. But seeing Bokuto's determination, his confidence in Akaashi's success, he has no option but to attempt and agree.

Lifting his now empty and cold hand, he sticks out his own pointer finger and touches it to Bokuto's, "One jump."

"Only one! Easy!" Bokuto grins, eyes closed, nose scrunched up. The sight alone removes all knots in Akaashi's chest. Oh, how he had missed this boy. Once they both lower their hands, Akaashi begins to worry about what would come next. He didn't want to let go, didn't want Bokuto to leave. But it seems like neither did he. He sits quietly in front of Akaashi, looking down at their hands, both of which go back to being intertwined again. It was peaceful, perfect. Akaashi allows this moment to exist. Neither saying a word, not for some time.

Slowly, their intertwined hands transition into fingers gently playing together, moving one way, then the other. Mixing in their own special dance. Intimate and silent, yet filled with more words than they could ever utter. Akaashi wants Bokuto near, for as long as he can get him. To make up for the two weeks of loss. An idea forms in his head; he hopes the answer will be yes, and somehow he knows it will be, but fear still lingers. He doesn't say it right away, unable to tear apart this moment. Though in the end, Bokuto speaks first, voice quiet, "I'm thinking of giving up this trick I've been practicing."

Akaashi doesn't stop his fingers, but he looks up at Bokuto, "Why?"

"I can't get it right. No matter how much I practice, I just keep… failing," Akaashi watches as Bokuto's hair almost seems to droop. Watches as his bottom lip goes into a pout. Notices how he hunches sadly in on himself. It was such a jarring sight from what the boy usually looks like that it startles Akaashi into stillness, fingers stopping their dance. Bokuto looks up, a little alarmed.

Shaking away his fascination with this new visual, Akaashi says, "Don't give up."

"Why not? It's not like it'll be much use in an active game. You said it yourself, it would only work under very specific conditions."

"Don't listen to me."

"How can I not? You're very smart, Akaashi. I trust your judgement."

Shaking his head, Akaashi wants to explain in all the ways he is a complete and utter idiot. But it would be of no use; Bokuto would just argue against it. What he needs to do is bring the boys' spirits up somehow. Thinking for a moment, he finally says, "Trust me, I know a thing or two about failure. But when it comes down to it, when that important moment comes, you'll get it right." Akaashi looks deeply into Bokuto's eyes, "I've seen your skill. I know what you're capable of. You'll get it when it matters."

Bokuto looks back, eyes staying focused on each other. And then, Bokuto's eyes glance at Akaashi's lips, sending him grasping for air. He didn't move, didn't lean in, just sat there, staring intently before finally looking down completely and straightening up. A bit of his usual happy demeanor makes an appearance again. "You're right. I got this."

Akaashi breathes out a quiet, "Yeah." Skin still tingling with the prospect of a kiss. Of the fact that Bokuto wanted to kiss him. Feeling his whole body begin to get hot, Akaashi desperately wants to change the subject before Bokuto feels his clammy hands. "Are you busy today?"

Looking up quickly, Bokuto's eyes sparkle with anticipation, "No."

Swallowing, Akaashi asks, "Would you like to come over? Have a sleepover at my house this time?"

It's as if Akaashi uttered all the right words, a magic spell that took over Bokuto's whole mood. His smile turns brighter than the sun shining above their heads. Eyes closed, nose scrunched, he clenches Akaashi's hands tight before shuffling then around. "Yes! Yes, I'm so down for that!" He exclaims loudly.

Akaashi breathes out. Everything finally feels right again. Bokuto does his happy shuffle for a little while longer before suddenly sprinting up to his feet and dragging Akaashi up with him. He stumbles upwards, not quite getting his footing right. "Bokuto, please."

"Sorry! I'm just so excited!" Bokuto laughs, grabbing Akaashi by the waist and stabilizing him, making sure his feet are solid on the ground before letting go. "Can we stop by my house so I can grab some clothes?"

"Of course," Akaashi steps back, feeling slightly hot in the face.

"Perfect!" Bokuto claps his hands, "Oh! You can meet my sisters!"

Glancing up, Akaashi's heart stops momentarily, "Your sisters?"

"Yeah! They're still home for the next few days." Bokuto turns to go back on the ice to grab all his items, "Oh, this is so exciting!" He exclaims before skating away and collecting his gear, leaving Akaashi stumbling around uselessly. With everything that happened recently, his sisters were sure to know how awful Akaashi truly is. He couldn't meet them. That would be terrible. He's already made the worst impression he could, and he hasn't even faced them. No, no, he couldn't meet them. Not today. Not ever. Akaashi anxiously waits for Bokuto to come back to the surface and tell him just that.

Before his feet even touch the snowy ground, Akaashi speaks, "I don't think it'll be a good idea for me to meet your sisters."

Bokuto stumbles forward, "What!? Why not?"

"Did you tell them about our argument?"

"Well, yes. I was sad, and they asked, and I told them," Bokuto raises his brow as he shoves everything into his bag. "But I didn't make it seem like you were evil or something! I told them it was my mistake because it was!"

"Still, they probably think I'm some dumb kid that doesn't know how to control his emotions," Akaashi says, crossing his arms and biting on his nail a bit. "No, it won't be good to meet."

Not quite looking at him, Akaashi hears Bokuto laugh, "Kash, you're so silly."

"Mmm," he seems to hear that phrase more often these days.

"My sisters don't think badly of you! No one in my family does," Bokuto says, approaching Akaashi and placing a hand on his shoulder. "They understand why you reacted that way. They're aware of your relationship with skating."

"They are?"

"Well, yes, I told them," Bokuto says, looking away shyly, "I didn't mention too many details but… It's not like your past is a total mystery. I mean, it's still up online."

Akaashi frowns, "Yeah, I suppose it is."

"Listen, my family is very forgiving." Bokuto says, moving to stand right in front of Akaashi, "And my oldest sister used to skate too. She understands. I understand. Everyone does. No one is angry or thinks badly of you. I swear!"

Akaashi looks at him, trying to find the truth in Bokuto's eyes. Of course, it was always there. When he did lie, he was terrible at it. Like really terrible. Sighing, Akaashi agrees. It was worth a try. Maybe if he explains himself in person, it will be better. Bokuto beams and picks up Akaashi's bag for him, handing it over. As they walk, they catch up on all the days they missed. Akaashi skips over all the terrible moments and tears; Bokuto didn't need to know all of that, and only mentions the good moments. Time spent with his family, his father's museum, the gift exchange he had with his friends, and the book he started recently. He also mentioned watching the Barbie movie. This propelled Bokuto forward into pure joy, "Really!? Did you like it even more the second time around?"

"It was about the same, I'll be honest," Akaashi says, skipping over the fact that he found great comfort in watching it.

"I think you liked it even more this time around," Bokuto teases, hitting his shoulder into Akaashi's, "You know, I think you'll really like Barbie Mariposa! The main character loves reading about adventures and then gets to go on one herself."

"Sounds interesting," Akaashi admits.

"Movie for tonight?" Bokuto leans in, smiling.

"Yeah," Akaashi smiles, "Movie for tonight."

Bokuto, in turn, catches him up on his own endeavors. He talks about his family and everyone that met up, though he mentioned that his family drove out of town to visit some others. This explained why Akaashi hadn't seen him around the lake. Knowing Bokuto, he would've been there every day had he had the chance. It seemed like during their time away, his family went skiing and snowboarding. Only he and his middle sister were snowboarders while the rest of the family preferred skiing, though he was actively recruiting his pre-teen cousin.

"Do you ski or anything?" Bokuto asks.

"No, never had the chance to try," Akaashi says. He was always curious about it, though.

"Maybe you can join my family next year! It'll be so much fun! You'll fall a lot at first, though," Bokuto nods to himself, probably remembering his first time.

Akaashi feels warmth take over his heart. The prospect of next year sat comfortably and happily in his chest. He wouldn't mess this up, not again. He would be better. For Bokuto. For himself. For both of them.

As they approach Bokuto's house, though, his heart rate picks up. Slowing down a bit, he finds himself a few paces behind his friend. Turning back after unlocking the door, Bokuto laughs lightly, "Oh come on! They don't bite… too often."

Akaashi gives him a very solid 'don't joke' look before sighing and shaking off the anxiety. Stepping into the house felt foreign yet more familiar than he'd liked to admit. They both take off their shoes before stepping deeper inside. Akaashi abandons his bag near the front door while Bokuto carries his with him. The first person they notice is his mother, who walks out of the kitchen, carrying with her a mug. As soon as her eyes land on Akaashi, she smiles brightly, "Keiji! Oh, it's so good to see you again." She places her mug on the counter before walking over and giving him a warm hug. A bit of Akaashi's anxiety melts away at the greeting, though not for long. In moments, one of the Bokutos sisters appears.

"Well, hello there!" she says loudly. Her hair is cut short but styled, matching the black and white Bokuto wore himself. She has round cheeks, more freckles than her younger brother, and no dimples. Her eyes shine the same golden color. In many ways, she was a close copy of Bokuto and his dad.

"Kaashi, this is Himari, my second sister," he says happily, bouncing over to her and wrapping his arm around her, "My not-so-official twin!"

"I can't tell you how many times people have assumed we were twins," the girl rolls her eyes, "Especially after this one grew and caught up in height. Oh, the comments were endless."

Bokuto just laughs at her side, "Kash, Himari was the one who made that painting!" He says, pointing back at the dining area where the large portrait of the lake hung on the wall. Akaashi turns back, glancing at the beauty before looking at the siblings again.

"It's very beautiful, you captured the lake very well," he comments softly. His words felt jumbled and distant to him. He places his hands behind his back, hoping the sweating will cease soon.

"Well, thank you very much! It was hard to get it all down from memory, and the more I look at it now, the more I notice everything I've missed, but oh well," She says, running her hand through her hair, "No going back now. I've already sealed the painting."

"It's perfect!" Bokuto says loudly into his sister's ear. She attempts to shove him away, but his grip holds. Laughing at her attempt, he asks, "Where's Dad and Niko?"

"They went out to the store," his mom responds, picking up her drink again, "They should be back soon."

Bokuto nods, "Alright then, I'll go pack up my stuff in the meantime."

"Where are you going?" his sister asks, finally free from his grip.

"Kaashi and I are gonna have a sleepover at his house!"

"Oh, that's nice," his mom says, sitting down on the armrest of the couch.

"Yeah! Okay, I'll be right back," turning away from the group, Bokuto starts making his way towards the stairs. Akaashi quietly nods to the women and turns to follow suit. Noticing, Bokuto smiles as he stops at the bottom of the staircase, "Kash, stay here, I'll be quick."

If Bokuto noticed the pure panic in his eyes, he didn't comment on it. In fact, Akaashi is certain he laughs at him before running up the stairs without waiting for a response. Asshole, Akaashi thinks. Taking a deep breath, he turns back towards the living room where the two women were sitting. They look at him smiling, sending his heart rate into the atmosphere. Alone. With Bokuto's family. A situation couldn't be more nerve-wracking. Though he reminded himself that he managed to have an early-morning conversation with his mom after their first sleepover. As terrifying as it was at first, he hoped this interaction would go over just as well.

He didn't know what to say, but thankfully, someone else beat him to it. Bokuto's mom finishes with her sip before asking, "How were your holidays, Keiji?"

Akaashi awkwardly stands next to the kitchen counter, playing with his fingers behind his back, "It went well. I spent a lot of time with my dad and some extended family."

"That's lovely!" she says, smiling, "Koutarou mentioned that you're related to Hajime from his team. Is that right?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's my cousin. Mom's side."

"That's nice."

The conversation lulls slightly, and panic rises in Akaashi's chest. He should ask a question. He should be more interactive with them. Bokuto mentioned skiing; maybe he can ask about that. Before he could, though, the woman speaks up again, "I'm glad to see you two made up."

Blood drains from Akaashi's face, remembering instantly that Bokuto had shared their… argument with his family. Was it an argument? A misunderstanding? A terrible reaction on Akaashi's end?

"Uh, yes. I'm quite happy about it too," Akaashi's voice was small, hesitant. He looks down at his feet, feeling shameful for the whole situation.

"Thank goodness for that," Himari suddenly chimes in, leaning on a cushion, "He was distraught for days. At some point, he was acting just a little like himself again, but it was so obvious he was still sad." She shakes her head, "And we all know Kou's moods can be devastating."

"I'm really sorry," Akaashi mumbles out. His hands begin to shake, the guilt of it all sitting with him.

"Oh, sweetheart, don't worry. No one is upset," Bokuto's mom says, placing her cup down and walking over to Akaashi. She stands at his side, holding his shoulder gently, "It was just a misunderstanding."

"I should've reacted better. I was too quick to get angry," Akaashi admits, unable to look up and see their faces.

"Hey, no one is perfect around here," Himari says, "Kou especially. He should've known better. I mean after everything you went through… the conversation probably should've played out differently."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Keiji," the woman says, squeezing his shoulder slightly, "I'll tell you exactly what I told Kou. Yes, it would've been better if the conversation had gone differently or you had reacted differently, but none of that can be changed now. It happened, you two have now talked it out, and all seems to be well again, right?" Akaashi nods, biting at his lip.

"Keiji, give yourself some grace. You two are still teenagers. You are going to make so many more social mistakes," she laughs lightly. "Hell, even I still make those kinds of mistakes! With my husband, my kids, friends, and every new person I meet. I'm probably gonna make some kind of social interaction mistake with you one day, too!" She pulls on Akaashi gently, giving him a quick hug before moving away and making him look her in the eyes, "You're okay. Everything is okay. This is all part of maintaining relationships. Such situations will always happen. In the end, it all depends on how you handle them, which will determine the outcome for those relationships. But, lucky for you, you seem to know how to handle that just fine."

She let go of him, still standing nearby, "Be gentle with yourself, sweetheart. I can see how much of a toll this has been on you." Akaashi's lip quivers violently, but he uses all his concentration to keep his tears back. When he hears the front door unlock, he uses that moment of distraction to look away and breathe in deeply. Some conversational noise drifts into the living room where the group was gathered. As Akaashi looks back, he sees Bokuto's dad and another woman walk in. She has the same matching white and black hair that every Bokuto sibling seems to wear, but her facial features are vastly different, matching more with her mother than her father. Her eyes were a deep brown, rosy cheeks and long hair held up in a half-up hairstyle. She looks graceful and kind. She smiles warmly when she notices Akaashi in the room.

"Oh, hi!" Her voice was loud but not demanding of attention, not like Bokuto's or Himari's.

"Keiji! What a pleasant surprise," Bokuto's dad announces, "I was hoping we'd see you again."

"Hello, sir," Akaashi says politely, shoving down all the built-up emotion.

"Keiji, this is Niko, our eldest," their mom says as she extends her arm.

"It's so good to finally meet you! I've heard so many lovely things from Kou," She smiles sweetly, keeping her hands in front of her.

Akaashi looks down, feeling too much attention on himself, "It's a pleasure meeting you. Bokuto has mentioned you two a lot."

"Oh no, what did he say? Was he complaining?" Himari interjects, resting on her extended arm. Now draped comfortably on the couch armrest.

"He mostly mentioned all of your dress-up games," Akaashi says, thinking back on their conversation on the lake. The statement makes Himari laugh out loud. Niko, too, snickers a bit behind her hand.

"Oh, we used to torment that boy," Niko says after she's done.

"He deserved it," Himari says.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto's booming voice suddenly makes an appearance. "Everyone is here! Perfect!"

"Speak of the devil, we were just telling Keiji about how annoying you are," Himari teases.

"Annoying!? Excuse you! I'm an angel," Bokuto argues, making his way to Akaashi's side. His mom, now long gone, was chatting with her husband in the kitchen area. "Kash, wouldn't you agree?"

Akaashi smiles, looking at him from the side, "I don't know about angel…"

"Hey!" Bokuto whines loudly, "I am a blessing dropped down from the heavens themselves."

"Most would argue," Himari raises her brow.

"Who!?"

"Me."

Bokuto shakes his hand in front of himself, shooing her statement away, "So mean!" The two laugh at each other.

"Keiji, are you sticking around the house?" Niko asks, stepping a little closer.

"Actually, we're going to Kaashi's house for the day!" Bokuto answers for him, "We're gonna have a sleepover." Just to emphasize his point, he lifts his packed backpack.

"Ah, well, let's plan for something still! I'd love to get to know you," she says, nodding in understanding. "Why don't we go out on a little stroll around town before Hima and I leave?"

"Invite your father too, Keiji," Bokuto's mom interjects from the kitchen.

"Oh, okay. We'd love to join." Akaashi says, feeling slightly overwhelmed by all the noise. He always prepares himself for so much family when it comes to holidays, but today still felt like a shock.

"Perfect! We'll plan it, and Kou can give you all the necessary information," Niko says. "Well, I won't hold you guys up. Have fun!"

"Thanks!" Bokuto says before hopping over to everyone and giving them all a goodbye cheek kiss, one that Himari tried her best to avoid, before coming back to Akaashi's side. "Ready?" Nodding, Akaashi follows him towards the front door. Putting on their shoes and grabbing their bags, they both step out into the cold afternoon. Akaashi breathes in deep, reeling in the quiet.

"So… what'd you think?"

"I think you're the devil for leaving me alone like that," Akaashi says flatly.

"Wha— hey! It didn't go bad, did it?" Bokuto asks, alarmed.

"No. But that was still evil," Akaashi points out. "First time meeting your sisters, and you just run away? Awful."

Bokuto whines, getting closer into Akaashi's personal space, "Kaash, you're not actually mad, are you!? We just made up, too!"

Unable to keep the facade, he smiles softly before saying, "No, I'm not mad. It was still evil of you."

Bokuto whines some more but relaxes back into his position. "Seriously though, what did you think?"

Akaashi hums for a moment, "I think both of your sisters are very beautiful and share their own individual energies while mixing nicely with the rest of the family. Himari definitely shares your hyperactive qualities. You two even have a similar voice, raspy and pitchy. I can see why people assume you two are twins. Your oldest, Niko, seems very put-together and polite. Someone who holds authority when needed. And I share her sentiment, I'd love to get to know them better, too."

Bokuto smiles as he listens, "Wow, you really do analyze people. I thought you'd say something like 'They seem nice' or 'I can see that you're the best sibling now, Bokuto.'"

Akaashi gives him a deadpan at that, "I'd say your oldest—"

"Don't even finish that sentence!" Bokuto cuts off, jumping in front of Akaashi, "I'm the best, I know you agree. I don't need to hear you confirm it."

"I wasn't going—"

"Sh! Shh!" Bokuto goes back to his walking pace, closing his eyes and interrupting Akaashi any time he wants to speak. Giving up on the ordeal, Akaashi lets Bokuto believe he has won. Though, of course, he was very biased towards his friend, he did believe that both his sisters were something special too. It seemed like the whole Bokuto family was full of well-rounded individuals. It was quite fascinating to observe. As they finish off their walk towards Akaashi's house, Bokuto rambles on about their ski trip. About how he almost broke his arm, and the glimpse of what he truly believed was a bear somewhere in the mountains. Akaashi couldn't quite agree; he thought the resort would be too busy for there to be much animal life during the day, but Bokuto argued that he saw several animal paw prints around. As they approach the house, Akaashi steps forward to open the door. He walks in first, stepping out of the way and letting Bokuto come in behind him. The boy is still talking, and the continuous string of noise alerts his dad.

Stepping out of the kitchen, his whole demeanor lights up as soon as he spots Bokuto, "Koutarou!"

"Hi, sir!" Bokuto smiles brightly.

"Oh, it is so good to see you again, kiddo!" He says as he approaches and gives Bokuto a hearty hug, which is returned with equal force. Akaashi scootches past them and into the house, waiting for the reunion to end. "How've you been? How's your family? What did you do over the holidays? Here, come inside," His dad lists off his questions while slowly pulling Bokuto deeper into the house.

"I've been good! Much better now, though. Family is good as well. My sisters are actually in town! And we went to visit family outside the state, plus did a quick skiing trip all together!" Bokuto answers as he shuffles his way in. Commenting on the cute Christmas decorations between each answer.

"Oh, skiing! That's exciting," his dad muses, "I've gone once, way back in the day, but haven't tried recently. Keiji is yet to attempt it himself."

"I invited him next year to join my family! Why don't you come with?" Bokuto exclaims.

"Oh, that's very sweet of you! Make sure to actually check with your family on that first," his dad laughs, patting Bokuto on the back, "Somehow I have a feeling that you didn't ask them for confirmation just yet."

Bokuto looks away, smiling sheepishly. Seeing the two of them interact again sends a warm feeling through Akaashi's chest. How natural and happy it all seems. His dad turns away from Bokuto, glancing at Akaashi and giving him a warm smile before asking, "You kids hungry? I just started cooking, but I should have enough for the three of us."

As if on cue, Bokuto's stomach growls, "Uh… I could eat." He laughs softly, caving in on himself a bit. Akaashi nods in agreement, thanking his dad quickly. He smiles in turn, clapping his hands together.

"Perfect, I'll call you out when the food is ready. Feel free to rummage through the snacks while you wait," nodding once before walking back into the kitchen.

"Want a snack?" Akaashi asks.

"I have water, I should hold up until food is ready," Bokuto nods, placing his hands into his pockets. Leaning slightly to his side, he smiles devilishly, "I wanna see your room."

Akaashi gives him a look before sighing and leading the way. Thinking quickly about the state he left it in. It wasn't dirty, but he had a few clothes scattered around. He is grateful for the fact that he usually tries to keep his space clean. Opening the door cautiously, he scans the space before opening it wider for Bokuto to come in. Turning on the lights, those attached to his lamps and fairy lights, the room wakes up, coating everything in a warm yellow glow. Bokuto slowly inches his way into the space, eyes sparkling against the fairy lights, smile ever-present.

"You know, the sheer amount of books on your shelves shouldn't have been a surprise… but," Bokuto laughs, placing his backpack on the ground and observing the stacked shelves. "Have you read all of these!?"

"Oh, absolutely not," Akaashi says, watching the boy move around in his space. It was jarring to have someone new look at what he considered his private sanctuary, but at the same time, it felt exciting. He wanted to show Bokuto everything, wanted to talk about every small decoration. "Most of these I haven't read. I have a bad habit of buying faster than I read."

Bokuto nods as he continues looking over the shelves, laughing lightly to himself when he notices the few small trinkets there. A small figurine, a few sticky notes from old homework that he should really throw out at this point. "You like whales?" Bokuto asks, noticing the large number of whale figurines and small postcards. Picking up a small metal whale off the shelf, he holds it gently in his hands.

"A bit," Akaashi says, "I think they're fascinating creatures."

"Where did you even get all of these?" Bokuto asks, placing the figure back on the shelf.

"My dad runs a museum, so most of these are from there," Akaashi sits down on the end of his bed. "And one year, they had a huge whale display for a few months, so most of these little knick-knacks came from that time."

"You know, it somehow fits that your dad works in a museum," Bokuto huffs a laugh, turning back to Akaashi. "You're both a little nerdy."

Akaashi deadpans him, "I could kick you out of the house, you know."

Bokuto just smiles in return and moves to look at other things. He glances at a few of Akaashi's posters, most of which were of marine life. Making his rounds about the room, he gasps as he notices the new flower lamp. Akaashi explains that it was a gift from Oikawa during their exchange. And then, to his horror, Bokuto gets vastly interested in the single plushie that lay calmly on his bed. "Is that… a shark stuffed animal?"

Akaashi looks behind him, already feeling the comments that were about to come, "It's a hammerhead shark, yes."

Bokuto doesn't say anything, just smiles and looks at Akaashi. Eyes small and happy.

"Yeah. Yeah. I have a stuffed animal I sleep with, what of it?" Akaashi says, standing up and reaching over to pick up his toy. Suddenly feeling very protective of it.

"Hey, I'm not judging!" Bokuto says defensively, still smiling like an idiot, "It's very cute, actually."

"Oh shut up," Akaashi looks down at the shark, "He fits perfectly under my chin, it's comfortable."

Bokuto giggles in return. To prove his point, Akaashi stands up and places the shark under Bokuto's chin, pushing for him to rest his head. Which Bokuto does, and his eyes immediately widen, "Oh damn, that is perfect." He grabs the toy and hugs it to his chest, resting his head in between the shark's eyes, "I'm taking this guy with me."

"Like hell!" Akaashi says, snatching the stuffy away, "Get your own."

"Where!?"

"At the museum. Assume that anything marine themed is from there," Akaashi says, throwing the shark back on his bed.

"Noted," Bokuto says, smiling brightly. He continues rummaging through some of Akaashi's things before settling down and feeling satisfied with his search. "Oh! I have something for you," he says after a moment. Reaching over, he picks up his backpack again before pulling out a small wrapped box. "Your Christmas gift!"

Akaashi stares at it for a few seconds, unable to move. Though their argument happened only a day before Christmas, he had assumed he wouldn't receive anything from Bokuto. Luckily, he was just as prepared. Before taking the extended box, he shuffles over to his closet and pulls out a holiday bag. "And this is yours."

Bokuto's mouth hangs open a bit before he smiles and grabs it. Neither move to be the first to open their gifts. "Kash, come on, I gave it to you first!"

"Yes, but you deserve to open yours first after what I did."

Bokuto sighs, "How much longer are you going to blame yourself for that? We were both wrong, right?"

Akaashi's heart isn't in it, but he nods anyway. It was easier than continuing to argue the same point. He would just let Bokuto believe that statement.

"You open yours first because I gave it to you first," Bokuto says, crossing his arms.

Breathing out, Akaashi chooses not to argue over this either. He carefully peels the wrapping paper back to reveal, well, a box. Simple and brown. He finds the top half and carefully lifts it, revealing in it a beautiful print of a painting as well as a little handmade wooden owl. The sight of it made him smile; it was the same type of owl that sat in Bokuto's gift bag, waiting to be revealed. The owls from the display stand at the Nutcracker performance. "He's very cute."

"Isn't he!? I found it on one of the stands when you went to the bathroom during the intermission," Bokuto explains, "I was so excited about it, I almost gave it to you in the moment."

"Ah, that explains the stupid grin you had when I came back," Akaashi smiles, "I knew you were hiding something."

Bokuto just moves side to side cutely, like a boy getting complimented. Akaashi shakes his head, but the fond smile can't seem to leave him. He looks back at the box and gently picks up the print, which turns out to be a few prints. All of the various landscapes and, of course, one of the lake during winter. It was beautiful, and his sisters' brush strokes were familiar and just as stunning on the small scale. Akaashi examines each card with care and patience, trying to absorb every detail. She was such a skillful artist, her individuality shining through every portrait. "These are incredible. Thank you so much."

"Of course! I'm glad you like them," Bokuto says, observing Akaashi. "I have many more at home if you want them. Hima brought a bunch."

"I'd love to take a look at them," Akaashi says honestly. He walks over and places his presents on the desk, looking over at his poster wall and trying to decide where to add the pictures. He was definitely going to put these up. Moving away from the area, he turns back to find Bokuto watching him, a soft smile on his face. "Your turn now."

Snapping out of his gaze, he looks down at his bag. He shuffles the stuffing paper out of the way before digging in, finding the big and heavy item first. He lifts it out of the bag and observes it, reading the words on the front cover, "Dictionary?"

"It's the one my uncle got for me," Akaashi says, hoping Bokuto remembered that conversation, "It has several markings and annotations on it from when I used it, though, I hope that's okay. I just know that you're interested in learning new words, so I thought this one would be of more use to you than me." The more he talked about it, the more he felt a little silly that this was his present to Bokuto. Maybe it was too simple, or maybe Bokuto's interest in words was a one-time thing. Though when looking up, Akaashi notices Bokuto's gaze, how gently his fingers move over the now open book.

"Kaashi, this is amazing, thank you so much." his voice was soft and earnest. "This is so thoughtful of you! Are you sure you don't want to keep it?"

"I'm sure," Akaashi says, breathing out easily, "Besides, I'm hoping you won't stray too far away so I can always borrow it again." He says the last bit quietly, too afraid to confess his desires so soon. Bokuto, however, had no such reservations.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says boldly. Giving the book one last look, he closes it and places it back into the bag, leaving Akaashi's heart hammering at the confession. He briefly gathers his courage to let Bokuto know that there is one more present inside. Gaping slightly, the boy squats down, places the bag on the ground, and digs into it. Finding a new item, he lifts it out, taking a split second to realize what it is before bursting into laughter. "No way!"

"I got it when you went to the bathroom before the performance started," Akaashi says, smiling happily.

Bokuto continues laughing, looking over his little owl, "This is so great! I was a bit sad that I was going to give away the little guy. But now we each have one!"

"That we do," Akaashi confirms.

Smiling softly at his owl, Bokuto says, "Thank you so much, Kash. I love this!"

"I'm glad," he says, looking over Bokuto, still crouched on the floor. Gently moving the little wooden creature in his hands, observing every detail. Akaashi was a fool for trying to run away from this boy. His fear got the best of him as it always did. He wouldn't allow it to win so easily again. Wouldn't allow his mind to convince him of terrible things. He wanted Bokuto near, wanted to feel even for a brief moment, a bit of that warmth and joy. Bokuto made it clear he had no intention of going anywhere, and neither did Akaashi. He wouldn't run. Not again.

Placing the little figure back in the bag, Bokuto lifts his head and stands up, "So, movie?"

Akaashi smiles, nodding and leading the way out of his bedroom and back into the living room, "Sorry for the lack of a movie room." He says, teasing Bokuto slightly.

Picking up on the tone, Bokuto sadly droops his head, "Ah, so sad. Whatever shall we do?"

"The only thing we can do," pulling out his phone, Akaashi continues, "Squint." That gets a hearty giggle out of Bokuto as he drops himself on the couch.

"Only if you're willing to hold the phone up the whole time," he says, placing his arms on top of the couch cushions.

Putting his phone down, Akaashi sits on the couch and bends forward to grab the remote. As he turns on the TV, he clicks through a few sections, looking for the movie Bokuto had mentioned before, "You said it was Barbie Mariposa?"

"Yeah! Or if you want, we can watch one of your movies," Bokuto says, "I feel like I've been deciding for us too much."

"Twice is not too much, but we'll be watching what I pick next then," Akaashi says, finding the movie on the screen and pressing play. A somewhat familiar feeling reaches him again. Though he has only watched one Barbie movie in the past, there was a certain type of magic that was present in them. The beginning portions had him squinting in confusion, though.

"We're technically way out of order here," Bokuto laughs as he notices Akaashi's expression, "This is one of the final Fairytopia movies."

"Fairytopia?"

"Yup! Don't worry about it, you'll still understand this movie, even out of order."

Akaashi just hums in response, leaning back and getting comfortable on the couch. He shuffles closer to Bokuto, hoping to share the space without quite touching each other. The movie is beautiful, quite magical, and fun. Akaashi is very much a fan of the butterfly-style fairy wings. He even enjoys the main character. Intelligent, shy, and somewhat doubtful of herself. He saw a bit of himself in her, and watching her become the hero of the story was quite satisfying. Once the movie finishes, Akaashi feels Bokuto's eyes on him, "Well?"

"It was lovely," Akaashi admits, "I liked the visuals, the night fairy city is very beautiful. The story and the message it told were both quite nice. The characters were fun and pretty interesting."

"You even complained less during this one," Bokuto comments, tilting his head in a teasing sort of way.

"Yeah, well, there was less ridiculousness to it," Akaashi crosses his arms, staring at the TV but not quite able to hide his smile.

"I knew you'd like it!" Bokuto nods, "Okay, find the movie you want to watch, and I'm gonna quickly run to the bathroom." Standing up, he stops to look back for just a moment, "It's that room there, right?" He asks, pointing to the door in the hallway between Akaashi and his father's room. He nods in response, and Bokuto runs off to it. Before finding the movie, he quickly makes his way into the kitchen to check in on his dad.

"Hi, do you need any help?" he asks.

His dad suddenly glances over his shoulder, moving a small earbud out of his ear, "What was that, love?"

"Do you need any help?"

"Oh! No, no. I'm alright, thank you. It shouldn't take that much longer, I promise," he says, continuing to stir the food. The fan above the stove muffles his voice a bit.

"No rush, I'm just checking," Akaashi says. His dad smiles in return before going back to finishing off the meal. Akaashi lets him work in peace, moving back into the living room and queuing up the new movie. Just as he's done preparing it, he hears Bokuto exit the bathroom, though he doesn't emerge from the hallway for a little while. When he does, he doesn't move too far from it.

"Is that your mom?" He asks, leaning against the wall.

Akaashi looks up, staring at him, "What?"

"In the photographs here. The figure skater. Is that her?"

"Oh," Akaashi breathes out. He had seen those portraits there for so long that his own mind began filtering them out. He had almost forgotten they were there. Standing up, he quietly walks over to the hallway, turning on the light as he enters the space, and looking at the portrait he knew Bokuto was talking about. The boy stands at his side as they both observe the picture. It was probably the most beautiful photograph of his mother that existed out there. She was still a high schooler at the time, her hair much longer, held in a ponytail, flowing behind her, the speed of her skating allowing for such movement. Her eyes were closed, smile bright and big, as if what she was doing was the most joyous thing in the world; and to her it was. She and Akaashi share the same black hair and a great variety of beauty marks. Her beautiful dark blue and gold outfit flows behind her in the picture. He took so much inspiration from her without ever truly trying to.

"You look just like her," Bokuto whispers, staying close.

Akaashi's breath hitches slightly, "I think I got a decent amount of her features, though if you look close enough, I very much look like my dad."

"No, I meant… when you two perform. You look identical," Bokuto's eyes don't leave the picture as he says this.

Small tears well up in Akaashi's eyes. Holding them down, his voice is breathy and short as he speaks, "Many people said that she made them fall in love with the sport even when they didn't care for it." Smiling softly as he speaks, "One of those people was my dad. He once told me his grandpa forced him to go watch; he was so resistant to it and had a somewhat unpleasant time until my mom came on stage. Then, suddenly, to him the sport felt worth the attention."

Bokuto smiles, "That's so sweet." Breathing in deeply, he says, "Oh man, I wish I could've seen her perform."

Akaashi bites his lip lightly before confessing, "You can."

Bokuto turns to him quickly, "What?"

"There aren't many, but my grandfather taped a few of her performances. We have them here somewhere." Akaashi says, his voice small, "If you want to see."

"I would love to!" Bokuto exclaims, before stopping himself suddenly, "But, only if you're fine with it. I don't want to stress you out."

Akaashi smiles softly before saying, "I'll be alright." He nods his head and leads Bokuto out of the hallway and back into the living room. As Bokuto makes himself cautiously comfortable on the couch, Akaashi walks over and kneels in front of the TV cabinet, opening the little doors and looking around. They didn't have many CDS, not as many as Bokuto's family, so it was fairly easy to find the handwritten labels and coverless disk holders. He picks up the small stack, looking through the options before asking Bokuto, "Do you want to see them all from the beginning or just her most popular performances?"

"Up to you, Kash," Bokuto says, playing a bit with his hands.

Nodding, Akaashi settles on the popular performances. He didn't think he could handle watching all of them today. There was only so much strength left in his heart. Placing the CD into the player, he stands up and turns to grab the remote. Actively ignoring Bokuto's staring as he clicks through a few buttons, finally reaching the correct screen, pressing play, and settling down next to Bokuto. The first few notes of Hot Stuff by Donna Summer start playing, and Akaashi immediately smiles. His mom loved 80s pop, and that love rubbed off on him. As the preppy beat echoes from the speakers, the two watch as the teen girl on the screen begins her performance. Moving effortlessly with the music, twisting and twirling.

"Her moves remind me so much of Suga's!" Bokuto smiles brightly as he says.

Akaashi grins at that, "He once said she was his biggest inspiration. She always seemed to have fun when performing. That's what he wanted to do too." As they continue watching, slowly her fun and erratic moves transform into more skillful ones. Harder twirls, bigger, more powerful jumps. Her long braided hair moving quickly behind her. Fake little flowers that were attached to her hair shone brightly in the video, their color vibrant and bold. As hard as grandpa tried to keep up with her movements, every so often, he lost her. Every time she was too fast for her dad's reflexes, Akaashi huffed a laugh. Bokuto giggled next to him, understanding the situation.

"Alright, you two, sorry for the wait—" His dad says suddenly, coming from the kitchen with two bowls in hand. He stops in his tracks when he notices the music and what is playing on the screen. His lips part in shock before he smiles softly. "Oh, hi gorgeous." He takes another moment to watch the TV screen before turning to the two boys and handing them their bowls. Akaashi looks at his dad, silently asking if he wants the video to stop. He had no intentions of making his dad sad today. However, his dad just smiles softly at him and goes into the kitchen, coming back with his own bowl in hand. "That was the performance I first saw from her. All the other performers were good, sure, but kind of boring. I didn't expect Hot Stuff to play while I was sitting at that rink." He laughs a bit as he takes a bite out of his food.

"Did you go to her other performances after this one?" Bokuto asks through a mouthful.

"Oh, every single one," His dad says, emphasising each word. "I couldn't get enough. She had me completely hooked. I actually tried talking to her once after a performance, but I guess my intentions weren't very obvious cause when I complimented her, all I got in return was a happy 'thanks!' before she walked away without sparing me another glance!" His dad laughs at his own memories. "She was amazing."

The three of them continue watching the performance in silence, only the sound of their chewing breaking through the music. His mom's bright smile doesn't falter even once, joy radiating from her in massive, overwhelming waves. Akaashi couldn't remember the last time he felt that good while skating. It was a distant memory now, one that barely lasted. He did feel it the first time he landed his quadruple axel. He remembered the happy screaming from himself, his friends who were watching him practice, and even his old coach. She was the one who truly believed he could do it, so she let him work on it until he landed it that first time. The room was flooded with support and joy. His victory motivated the rest of his friends to get up and try as well. Falling to the ground over and over again, laughing at their own failures. It was incredible. After that, it all seemed to fade, memories becoming dimmer, less… happy. The music suddenly stops, focusing in on the screen again, Akaashi observes as his mom keeps her final pose for a few seconds. Chest rising and falling fast, the smile ever-present. She was beautiful.

Bokuto puts his plate down on the coffee table and gives a few soft claps. Akaashi's dad laughs and joins in. Shaking his head, Akaashi can't deny them this, and so he claps lightly with them, pretending he was in that stadium, watching a woman who skated with passion, change everyone's day.

"One more?" Bokuto asks, turning to Akaashi.

Looking at Bokuto's bright, excited eyes, Akaashi couldn't deny him this either, "Of course."

They pick out another CD, putting it on and watching a new performance. This time, it was more emotional, much more similar to what Akaashi used to dance to. A song that started out calm yet transitioned into something intense. The feeling of being immersed and completely consumed by the magic of the moment. It was the type of performance that you couldn't look away from, couldn't even blink out of fear of missing a piece of the story that was being told. So different from just having fun with music, so emotional and personal.

After the performance was done, it was as if everyone in the room finally had the chance to breathe out. His dad's soft voice broke the silence in the living room, "I remember she told me she performed this just a few weeks after her uncle passed away due to cancer. Said she made this performance dedicated to him and all the feelings she felt while watching him lose his life." Smiling sadly, he adds, "She said it was really hard not to cry during it, but she was happy she stayed strong in the moment."

Bokuto breaths out, leaning back into the couch, "That was very emotional, almost made me cry too if I'm honest."

Looking over, Akaashi wants to see how much of that was the truth and how much of it was just Bokuto adjusting to the emotion discussed in the moment. However, when Akaashi notices his glossy eyes, he knows for certain that Bokuto felt that performance and all the emotion it was charged with to his very core. A sensitive boy, through and through. Something about that made Akaashi feel a sudden warmth in his chest. How kind someone had to be to almost cry over a performance that had no words to it. How gentle and caring. Bokuto was truly something special. Akaashi was eternally lucky to have met him. He will not be letting go so easily as he almost did.

"Skating is an incredible sport," Akaashi's dad says as he wipes his glasses with his shirt, "So much communicated with so little." Sighing deeply, his dad places his glasses back on and slowly makes his way towards the TV cabinet. As he does so, Akaashi stands and picks up the empty plates.

"Need help?" Bokuto whispers to him, lifting himself up from the couch.

Akaashi just shakes his head, taking the three empty bowls and carrying them to the kitchen. He turns on the tap and allows them to soak in water for a few moments.

"Why don't we watch something a little more fun?" his dad's voice yells out.

Akaashi lets the bowls sit in water as he walks to the kitchen entrance, leaning against the frame and watching his dad shuffle through the CD's on the floor, "Like what?"

"Hm, let's see," His dad says, pulling a few cases to his face, reading the titles. "Oh! Ohoho, how about this one?" His dad says, smiling devilishly. Akaashi was now quite concerned about what the tape had. He remembered that his parents used to film him growing up. Knowing his luck, Bokuto might end up watching Akaashi's first bathing experience. The mere thought of that sent shivers down his spine. Bokuto did not need to see chubby baby Akaashi splashing about naked in a tiny baby tub. "First time you saw snow."

Akaashi's shoulders ease a bit; at least he had the comfort of knowing he would be fully clothed in that one. "Sure."

"Am I about to see baby Kaashi!?" Bokuto exclaims loudly, leaning in closer to the TV. His dad just laughs in return and places the CD into the player. Sparing himself the embarrassment, Akaashi walks back into the kitchen and begins washing the dishes. He hears some noise from the video starting to play, Bokuto making excitable noises. He smiles to himself. What a silly situation to be in. Just as he's finishing up with the final few dirty items, he hears both Bokuto and his dad explode in laughter. Quickly rinsing off the soap, he places the items to dry, wiping his hands on the towel before walking back into the living room. He looks questioningly at the two, both sprawled on the couch, laughing hysterically still.

"What's happening?" Akaashi asks, alarmed. Neither responds for a while, still attempting to catch their breath.

His dad is the first to somewhat recover, "I completely forgot that this happened!" he says through small fits of laughter. "Oh, your uncle is such a fool, Keiji. This is unbelievable."

Looking questioningly at the screen, he sees a red blob of sorts surrounded by snow. A few arms going into the frame to grab at the thing on the ground. He raises his brow at it before turning to his dad. Bokuto sits in a funny position, wiping at his eyes. At his questioning look, his dad rewinds the tape and presses play. Akaashi watches as the red blob is now in someone's hands, his uncle's hands. And as it turns out, the red thing was just baby Akaashi all bundled up with super-padded and warm clothes. As he watches, he hears Bokuto's little giggles behind him.

"Miyazawa, why are you holding him like that?" a woman's voice says in the video. Akaashi straightens at the sound of his mom's voice. So familiar yet foreign at the same time.

"How else should I hold him?"

"Not like he's a bomb, you idiot!" his mom groans, "Jeez, no one would believe me if I told them you already had a kid of your own!"

"Zawa, why don't you lower him to the snow?" his dad's voice echoes in the video, just behind the camera that he was holding.

"Okay," his uncle says as he, for lack of a better word, tosses baby Akaashi into the padded snow. A loud chorus of 'NO!' follows the drop as several hands launch to the now crying baby while his mom begins slapping her brother around.

"The hell was that!? Are you trying to kill my baby?" she yells out with each slap.

"You said lower him!" Akaashi's uncle protests as he hides from her hits.

"Yes! Exactly, you doofus! Lower, not toss!"

Akaashi hears his dad laughing behind the camera screen, "It is a miracle that Hajime survived for two years now. Bless that boy for having thick skin." The camera briefly pans over to a bundled-up baby Akaashi as his aunt, who has taken on the responsibility of calming him down, wipes away his tears. Round, chubby cheeks poking out from the scarf wrapped neatly around his head.

"Oh my god, you're so cute!" Bokuto squeaks out from the couch. Akaashi turns towards him, watching as he curls in on himself, giggling at the TV screen. Akaashi's cheeks grow slightly warm. This was ridiculous. Why were they watching his baby videos?

"I'm so gonna yell at your uncle about this," his dad laughs, "No wonder Hajime is so solid. He has been tossed around by his dad his whole life!"

Akaashi shakes his head, smiling, "Ridiculous." Looking back at the screen, he watches the last few moments before the video ends. Just as his mom jumps on top of her brother, still knocking him with her arms.

"Firecracker that woman," His dad smiles fondly at the screen before getting up from the couch and going to the cabinet to shuffle through more CDs. Akaashi sighs, accepting his fate, and sits down next to Bokuto.

The boy looks at him, Akaashi could tell from the corner of his eye. Not quite wanting to give him the satisfaction of turning, he just asks, "What is it?" while staring at the TV.

"You didn't have all of your moles yet when you were younger," Bokuto's voice is gentle.

That's when Akaashi turns, looking at him directly. Bokuto sits comfortably, looking over Akaashi's face, not bothering to make eye contact. Feeling somewhat flushed, Akaashi looks down at his hands, "Well… they developed afterwards, I guess."

Bokuto hums in return. His dad makes a satisfied noise as he places the new CD back into the player, "There we go. This is the one I was looking for."

Looking up at the screen, the familiar sight of the lake hits him. His dad scootches his way back to the couch before pressing play, "It was your first attempt at skating."

"Oh." Akaashi looks at the video with open, wide, unblinking eyes. There was only ever the briefest memory of this day that followed him. An echo of his mother's words. He didn't remember the visuals, didn't remember why his mom said what she did, didn't even really remember that day. He was so young then, but it must've been important to him. Important enough to never forget her words or even the sound of her voice. Sometimes, that was all he had left of her. That sound. So distant after so many years. That voice always came back when he began to forget what she used to look like; no picture could ever capture her life.

The video started with his dad moving the camera around wildly, probably pressing some buttons on it, fixing up the settings. His voice, somewhat muffled, said, "Okay, it's ready." The camera pointed down where his mom was kneeling in the snow, tying up little Akaashi's skates.

"How old was I?" Akaashi asks, his voice sounded far away and quiet. He felt like he was floating above himself, not quite present anymore.

"You were three at the time," he says, leaning back into the couch, "Mama wanted to get you on the ice as soon as possible. Always said she felt some spark in you, whatever that meant." He laughs lightly. Akaashi didn't laugh; he just kept watching.

"Alright baby, you're all ready," his mom says as she lightly taps his little skates. She leans over, kissing his forehead before standing up and helping Akaashi do the same. They watch as his toddler legs wobble at weird angles because of the skates. And as soon as they hit the ice and he begins sliding in all the uncomfortable ways, his little cries start up. "It's okay, baby! You'll get the hang of it!"

"Go, Keiji! You got this!" His dad cheers behind the camera, staying put on the ground at the edge of the lake. Little Akaashi turns to him, distress and fear in his eyes as his foot slips and he goes tumbling down. The cries get louder, more insistent as his mom picks him up, cradling him gently.

She rocks him up and down, trying to calm his fear, but Akaashi just cries louder in her arms, "Oh, oh, such a little cry baby," she says with affection, smiling as she hugs him. "Always so many tears."

"Is it time for a break already?" his dad asks, moving the camera a bit as he adjusts his grip.

"Oh no," his mom says, pulling Akaashi away from her shoulder so she can look into his eyes, "We're only getting started!" At that, Akaashi whines. She laughs at him before saying, "Oh, don't give me that! I know you want to try. You've been begging since you saw Mama dance on the TV, isn't that right?" Akaashi makes some grumbled noises at that, not quite admitting that she was right but now quite denying it.

She smiles brightly, her cheeks rosy from the cold, "Our Keiji is brave, and I know that for a fact! So… why don't we dance, then?"

At that, like a magic word that took all the fear away, little Akaashi hugs her, wrapping his arms around her neck before attempting to slide out of her grip and back into the ice. She laughs as she lowers him to the ground, "Okay, the floor is very slippery, but you know that already. I'll hold your hand the whole time, but make sure you keep your legs apart; it'll help with balance."

Akaashi, wrapped in his bright red winter jacket, does as he's instructed. Looking down at his feet and moving them away from each other. "Not so much, baby, a little closer. Yeah, there you go!" As he gets into the correct position, his mom skates in front of him, grabbing both his hands, "Okay, keep that stance, mama will pull you." As she begins skating backwards, she pulls Akaashi with her, helping him glide on the ice. In almost an instant, his concerned expression changes into one of pure joy. Eyes bright, sparkling against the reflective ice, a wide smile, and an unbelievable amount of giggles. It was joy unlike any other, a passion being born.

"Seo, love, put on some music, please! We shall dance properly now!" his mom yells out. The camera shakes and shuffles around as his dad fishes out his phone and scrolls through it. Putting the volume up as high as possible, he allows the melody to play through the speaker. Next to Akaashi, Bokuto gasps, drawing him out of the moment, out of the memory.

"That's from a Barbie movie! The twelve dancing princesses! Akaashi, you listened to this as a baby and didn't even know it!" he cheers happily, leaning forward with his whole body.

Smiling at his excitement, Akaashi continues watching the scene in front of him. The song plays as his mom pulls him around the ice. His dad gives out a few encouraging cheers every so often. Eventually, feeling confident enough, little Akaashi starts pulling his hands away from his mom's grip, wanting the freedom to skate on his own. "Oh? Alright, but be ready to fall, baby." His mom laughs as she moves out of the way, allowing little Akaashi to awkwardly shuffle his feet as he attempts to go forward. He doesn't move much, just kind of moves around in place, eventually having his skate catch on the ice, tumbling down. He whines loudly before getting himself up again. "Good job, baby! That's how it's done," his mom cheers from the side, "How amazing, you already have the strength to keep trying. That's my boy!" Little Akaashi huffs against the layers and the work it takes to stand up properly on the ice again. But he does it. And when he does, he's more confident this time.

"Watch me, baby," his mom says, going in front of him, "Slow movements, don't shuffle your feet." She glides slowly in front of Akaashi, showing him how it should be done. He watches intently, staying still on the ice, keeping his balance. After a few examples, she moves out of the way, allowing Akaashi to try it himself now. Which he does, moving better than before but still not as well. But it didn't matter in that moment because even the smallest bit of success had his parents cheering loudly and proudly. This only boosted Akaashi's confidence, making his little legs make bolder moves. When attempting to turn back around, he accidentally does a sudden, and pretty frightening spin, keeping his upright balance but letting out a gasp even still.

His mom laughs happily, "Yes! Dance, my Keiji! Dance!"

Little Akaashi looks up, a big smile on his face as he continues gliding. Making the scary turn again, and again. At some point, his mom tells him to move his arms like he does when he dances at home. Slightly wobbly at first, Akaashi does so, moving them up and down. Looking like a bird attempting to take flight. The layers that covered his body didn't show the gracefulness he was attempting at, but it didn't matter. He was dancing. He was dancing and laughing, and his mom circled him happily, mimicking his moves. Laughter echoed loudly behind the camera, a constant string of encouragement and support, music completely drowned out by the success and joy of the moment. Akaashi watches unblinking, not quite aware of the tears that slide down his face until a single wet drop hits the hand that was resting on his knee. Just as suddenly, the video stops. The room is drowned in silence, the echo of happiness present in his ears. Akaashi stares at the paused screen, trying to remind himself how to breathe again.

He doesn't quite know what to do, what to think. This video is both revolutionary and so ordinary. His whole future was built in that moment, that one day changed the trajectory of his passions, his skill, his devotion. It was all right there, yet that moment would never exist again. That moment would not shine as brightly as it once did, now a sad memory of everything he once had. He feels his brows scrunch sadly as more tears flow out, moving down to his chin and falling quickly. It wasn't fair. These moments should exist again. He should be able to make more memories with his mom. He should be happy again. He wanted to be happy again.

A sudden touch draws him out of his mind, gentle fingers brushing against his chin, wiping away the tears that collected there. Akaashi blinks, looking over to the person next to him. Bokuto's sad yet sweet smile greets him. Affection in his eyes as his fingers continue wiping away the tears. Akaashi didn't need to say anything; Bokuto already knew his pain. He knew what his mouth never dared to utter.

"My love?" his dad's voice cuts in. Looking away from Bokuto's eyes, Akaashi glances at his dad at the end of the couch. "How about some warm tea?"

"Okay," his voice was raspy and harsh. Emotion being held down just at the tip of his throat. His dad nods, smiling sadly before leaving the room and walking back into the kitchen. Akaashi's eyes trail after him, not wanting his dad to leave just yet, afraid he would never come back. Hearing some shuffling next to him, he looks over, watching Bokuto lean forward and grab a few tissues out of a box on their table. He moves back into his seat and extends the tissues to Akaashi. Taking them, he wipes at his eyes, then his nose. But emotion sweeps at him again, making him scrunch up his face, tears falling once more. Bokuto hands him more tissues before grabbing the whole box, holding it between them. Eventually, Akaashi gives up on taking more and just holds one to his face, body trembling as every terrible thing holds him captive. The tremors start small, but they start, and that terrifies him. He didn't want to lose it, not now, not ever. But these moments of weakness, of pain, felt so constant now. So present and painful.

"Can I hug you?" Bokuto asks suddenly, voice so soft and quiet that one loud sob would drown it out. Akaashi lets out a deep breath. He doesn't answer, not really, just starts leaning into Bokuto, who abandons the tissue box and wraps his arms tightly around Akaashi. Holding him with all his might. Akaashi digs his face into the crook of Bokuto's neck, letting his body tremble and shake, letting the tears soak his shirt. He wraps his own arms around Bokuto's back, holding on like a desperate man holding on to his last lifeline. Bokuto was his lifeline in this moment. His reason for not drowning. He wanted to stay in his arms for as long as the boy would let him, forever if possible.

As they sit together on the couch, arms wrapped around each other, Bokuto starts moving one hand in big, soothing circles. Allowing Akaashi's tremors to pass, sharing his warmth in an attempt to calm him. It works; slowly, it helps. Akaashi's breathing begins to even out, becomes more gentle and steady. The tears no longer flow out, his face now covered in dry streaks. His own hands, slowly losing their strength, slide down Bokuto's back and rest lower on his body. Bokuto doesn't stop the motions, only hesitates for a moment when the kettle in the kitchen screams out, alerting everyone that the water has become too hot to handle. Akaashi, now peacefully resting in safe arms, doesn't move, his eyes closed and heavy. Bokuto shuffles his body slightly, "Kash? Are you asleep?"

Breathing in, he slowly pushes himself up, "No, I'm just… resting."

"You can sleep if you want," Bokuto says, not quite ready to let go. His hands hold Akaashi's arms, keeping him from leaving. An anchor.

Before he answers, his dad enters the room, two mugs in his hands. Hot steam dancing in the air, "Here you go. I was going to make you chamomile, but I know you like black tea better, so I think comfort wins this one."

"Thank you," Akaashi says, grabbing his small mug. His fingertips brush his dad's.

"Thank you, sir," Bokuto says, finally letting go of Akaashi and grabbing the other mug.

"Of course, enjoy you two." Once his hands are free, he brushes a bit of Akaashi's hair out of his face, leaning down to kiss his son on the forehead. "Why don't you two watch something more lighthearted?"

"Agreed! Kaashi, you had a movie queued up, right?" Bokuto says, gently putting the mug on a coaster and grabbing the remote to skip through the channels. Before he looks back at the screen, Akaashi stares at his dad, sadness in his eyes. His dad holds his cheek, moving his thumb gently over it.

"I'm sorry I made you cry, sweetheart," his dad whispers very gently, barely audible, but Akaashi hears it. His frown deepens.

"You didn't make me cry," he whispers back, "I needed to see this. I'm just… sad. That's all."

"I know," his dad's eyes gloss over behind his glasses, "I'm sad too." Giving Akaashi another long forehead kiss, his dad smiles sadly and walks out of the room. Briefly walking into the kitchen to grab his own drink before making his way into his bedroom down the hall and out of sight. Akaashi watches the empty space for a few moments, eyes becoming wet and blurry, before blinking away the emotion and glancing down at the mug in his hands. His dad used his favorite one, the one that used to belong to his mom. A tall pink mug with the words "I Love You" written in white. It was chipped at the rim, and the handle had to be glued back together, but Akaashi would never trade it for anything in this world. He moves his thumb over the words. Feeling eyes on him, he looks over and comes face-to-face with Bokuto, who's observing the cup in Akaashi's hand. The hot liquid in the mug warms Akaashi's palm to the point of burning. So intense yet welcomed, a painful, comforting sensation.

Once the boy registers that Akaashi's attention is back on him, Bokuto smiles deeply, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Not like when he's at his happiest. Akaashi has seen that smile, has relished it. Eyes that squinted to the point of closing, deep, defined dimples, and a cutely scrunched-up nose. His smile now only held a ghost of that expression. "Movie?" he asks quietly, not breaking eye contact with Akaashi.

He nods in return, giving Bokuto the go-ahead to play the movie of his choice. Bokuto, however, doesn't take that. "What do you want to watch?"

"Something… good," Akaashi says. Bokuto gives him an exasperated look. "What? I don't watch that many movies if you can believe it."

Bokuto groans, "So I'm responsible for picking the movie!? This is a lot of pressure, Kash."

Akaashi huffs a laugh, bringing the cup to his lips and taking a sip of the hot liquid. He feels it traveling down his chest, warming it in the process. "Don't be dramatic. This is barely any pressure at all."

"Lies!" Bokuto exclaims, but starts browsing anyway. After several minutes of clicking, he settles on Night at the Museum. Akaashi is pretty happy with the choice. It's silly enough to keep him distracted for a few hours. They spend a lot of time lounging on the couch, watching one silly movie after the other, their tea cups empty and abandoned on the coffee table. Akaashi isn't quite sure how or when it happened, but eventually, toward the end of their third movie, he found himself fully leaning against Bokuto's shoulder. His head rested easily on Bokuto's body. And it wasn't until the fourth movie that Akaashi realized how far the two had drifted on the couch, lying sideways, legs extended and sprawled out. Only now noticing suddenly that half his body was resting against Bokuto's. He didn't dare move, didn't want to acknowledge their closeness for fear of ruining it. He loved the warmth that emanated from Bokuto's chest. Loved the feel of his head rising and falling with each breath the boy took, the subtle thumping of his heart, calm and reassuring. He didn't pay attention to the movie, couldn't really. And about halfway through, Akaashi had drifted off so far that he was skipping between consciousness and unconsciousness. He felt Bokuto's arm resting on his back, and everything was safe enough in this one moment. After minutes of fruitless fighting, he drifted off; the rhythmic breathing of the boy beneath him sent him into dreamless slumber.

It seemed like only a few seconds had passed before there was movement again. Opening his eyes, he feels Bokuto shuffle under him. "Kaashi," the boy whispers, "Let's go to bed." Not quite having the voice to answer, Akaashi allows Bokuto to pull him up and out of the couch, holding his hand as he guides him into his bedroom. Akaashi, familiar with the layout of his room, steps his way in the dark and drops onto his bed. Bokuto, not quite as versed in the space, stumbles his way towards a lamp. Feeling for a switch, he gasps as the light comes on and blinds him temporarily. The lamp he chose, lucky for him, had a small nob that allowed him to adjust the brightness. Through half-closed eyes, Akaashi watches the light dim in the room, allowing for soft ambient warmth to take over. Satisfied with the setting, Bokuto turns and walks out of the room. Akaashi watches him go, wondering for a moment if the boy is choosing to sleep on the couch for the night. His bed wasn't as large as Bokuto's; it would be a tight fit if the two of them decided to share it, but Akaashi had hoped that would be the case. He wanted to keep Bokuto close, wanted to fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart. Lazily watching, he hears some shuffling around. Seeing Bokuto walk into the dark kitchen for a moment before walking out and going back into the living room. Akaashi's vision is obscured by a wall, but he observes as the room dims slightly before being completely engulfed in darkness. Ah, he went to turn off the lights, Akaashi thinks.

Once the room past the hall was dark, Bokuto walked back into Akaashi's bedroom. Squatting down, he unzips his bag and pulls out some clothes, "I'm gonna go change in the bathroom. You should change into PJs, too." He doesn't wait for an answer, just gives Akaashi a sweet smile before walking out and closing the door behind him. Not wanting to move, Akaashi wastes a few moments lying in his bed, watching the door. Trying to shove down his resistance to movement, Akaashi drags himself out of bed. Shuffling slowly to his closet, he finds a sleeping shirt and some shorts. He strips his clothes one by one, pulling on the oversized sleeping shirt first before wiggling his way out of his jeans. Relief finally reaches him as his legs become free of the confinement. As he folds up his jeans, the small incling of fear starts nipping at his toes. His sleep has recently been absolutely horrid, nights filled with nightmares and memories. He has opted out of sleeping more than once, finding himself napping briefly throughout the day to make up for it. The prospect of lying in a completely dark room filled him with dread. Even the possibility of Bokuto staying close didn't ease his worry. Putting his folded jeans away, he grabs his sleeping shorts. Just as he's leaning down to put them on, his bedroom door swings open. Bokuto stops in his tracks, watching Akaashi with wide eyes, "Uh, need another minute?"

Akaashi rolls his eyes, quickly pulling on the shorts and adjusting his sleeping shirt over them. The shirt ends up being longer than the shorts, but he couldn't care in the moment, "No. I'm done."

"Right. Okay." Bokuto moves his gaze away, shoving his folded clothes into his backpack. The dim light in the room may have been deceiving, but Akaashi thought he saw deep red patches on Bokuto's ears.

Trying to ignore the fact that his legs were very exposed now, probably for the first time around Bokuto, he asks, "Did you bring your toothbrush?"

Without looking over, Bokuto says, "Yup! I was just looking for it." He then victoriously lifts it above his head. Akaashi nods and walks out of the room, entering the small bathroom and turning on the light. It was harsher and brighter with no way of adjusting it. Groaning loudly, Akaashi blinks away the pain as he goes to grab his own brush. Bokuto joins his side, this time having no choice but to stay close to Akaashi, unlike back at his own house, where there was plenty of space to fit a whole group of people. Getting into old habits and not quite in the mood to fight the exhaustion, Akaashi leans on his elbow on the sink counter as he loses himself in the continuous motion of brushing his teeth. Fatigue takes over, and his eyes briefly close. He hears Bokuto's electric brush behind him. After a few minutes, he feels that he has cleaned enough. Opening his eyes, the first thing he notices is Bokuto's intense gaze in the mirror. The boy moves his arm as he brushes his teeth still, but his eyes stay focused, deep and unblinking, staring at Akaashi's reflection. By the looks of it, he started leaning against the closed door, observing. Whenever Bokuto's eyes got this intense, it always unnerved Akaashi. It was both exhilarating and alarming. Looking away, he leans over and spits out the toothpaste before turning on the water and washing away any residue. Once done, he moves out of the way and allows Bokuto to do the same.

After drying their faces, they walk out of the cramped bathroom and back into the dimly lit bedroom. Whatever was present in the bathroom left a thick, tense atmosphere between them. Neither really looked at each other, yet stole glances every chance they got. Akaashi's throat felt dry, but he needed to speak, to break the silence somehow, "Sorry, my bed is much smaller than yours. I can look for our sleeping mat if you want."

Bokuto huffs and crosses his arms, "What, afraid to get close to me?"

Akaashi rolls his eyes, "Ya ya whatever. You're gonna sleep next to the wall."

"Wha— no!" Bokuto whines, "Kash, don't trap me like that! I have long limbs, I need movement."

"You're acting like I'm any shorter than you," Akaashi leans on one leg, crossing his arms.

"You're tiny! You can fit next to the wall," Bokuto argues, not being able to hide his smile at the false accusation. "I'm serious, though. I get super uncomfortable being squished in spaces like that. Can I please sleep on the edge?"

Sighing deeply, Akaashi accepts his defeat, "Fine."

"Thank you!" Bokuto hops his way over to the bed, tossing the blanket over and preparing to get into the covers. His checkered pants are a stark contrast to Akaashi's simple sheets.

Shaking his head, Akaashi turns to face the lamp. As he's about to turn it off, his hand hesitates in the air. He stands there, frozen for just a moment too long, because Bokuto quickly notices that something was off, "What is it?"

Akaashi shakes his head, still not quite able to bring himself to shut off the light, "It's nothing. I just… I haven't been enjoying total darkness lately." Feeling foolish as soon as he stops speaking, he turns off the light suddenly and makes his way to the bed. Having to climb from the end of it now that Bokuto was blocking the entrance. As he's settling into his spot, he feels eyes trailing him.

"We can keep the lamp on if you want," Bokuto says quietly.

"It's alright, I'll survive."

Akaashi lays his head down on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. Bokuto continues sitting, now looking distantly at the shut off lamp, "Why don't you like the dark?"

Akaashi doesn't want to answer but he knows Bokuto won't let it go, not when it comes to something that bothers him, "I've uh… I've been having a lot of nightmares recently. The dark and quiet just unnerves me, that's all."

"What kind of nightmares?" Bokuto's voice was barely above a whisper, as if he was scared to startle Akaashi.

"Memories that have been twisted into something worse than what they once were," Akaashi states simply. There was no need to go into depth; it would just make things worse.

Akaashi's eyes have adjusted enough to the dark by now that he could see Bokuto gently nod his head, "Does anything help?"

"I don't know," Akaashi admits. It's not like he has looked for solutions. His main remedy has been simply ignoring it and not sleeping. Avoiding the situation as a whole rather than confronting it. That seemed to be his solution for most things that brought him discomfort.

Bokuto hums quietly before turning to Akaashi and saying, "Well, if it comes up tonight, then wake me up, and I'll make you laugh until you forget all about the dream."

Akaashi huffs, "I don't think that'll fix it, Bokuto."

Finally leaning back and resting his head on his own pillow, Bokuto turns his head to face Akaashi and says quite earnestly, "I'm not trying to fix it, I doubt I can. I just want to ease the pain, even a little bit."

Pursing his lips, Akaashi wants to look away, but he doesn't. His eyes search Bokuto's face in the dark, features blurring in the midnight glow. There was so much affection stored in his words, his voice. Akaashi feels a gentle hand brush against his own, and he doesn't want to resist, doesn't want to fight the need to stay close. Turning to his side, he shuffles his way closer to Bokuto, keeping his cheek just close enough to briefly touch the boy's shoulder, arms tucked under his chin. Bokuto doesn't move, doesn't turn his head, in a way, he even stops breathing. Their faces were close, comfortable. Minty breath escaping gently with each inhale and exhale. Akaashi looks over Bokuto's face, over his brows, nose, and lips. When he glances back at Bokuto's eyes, he finds the boy staring intently at his lips in turn. Akaashi swallows slowly, hoping it's not heard in the silence of the room.

"Goodnight, Bokuto," he whispers.

"Night, Kaashi," his voice sounds raspy and dry. His gaze doesn't move from Akaashi's lips, though his eyelids flutter a bit. Closing his eyes, Akaashi is unable to relax for quite some time, painfully aware of the warm body so close to his. After a few minutes, Bokuto shuffles even closer, his arm made available to be rested on. Akaashi accepts it, fully resting his cheek on the boy's shoulder and slowly moving his hand down Bokuto's arm, intertwining their fingers under the warm sheets. Bokuto grips him tightly, a constant anchor. As Akaashi looses himslef to sleep, he is unable to avoid the nightmares that torment him each night. But when he wakes up, Bokuto's reassuring presence eases his nerves enough to close his eyes and try again.