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owlyflufff · 3 years

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Having an entire list of Bokuto's strengths and weaknesses, Akaashi takes it upon himself to make another list.

Only, it’s about him.

Sprawled along one side of his notebook, is a list of Akaashi’s strengths. Or at least, a mere five good things Akaashi can think about himself. Written across it is a long spiraling note of all of Akaashi’s weaknesses. The length difference isn’t much of a surprise to him.

Unlike Bokuto’s list, Akaashi doesn’t jot down his weaknesses based on which happened first then second then third. He takes note of it based on what he deems to be his first weakness, then his second, then his third and so on and so forth.

Akaashi has managed to write around twenty of his weaknesses (though he’s sure there’s more). His number one weakness though: remains blank.

It’s nearing seven in the morning by the time he finds himself in a standstill. It’s a weekend of all things too, he should really be sleeping more he ponders for a bit.

Tapping his pen against the table, Akaashi tries fishing out his greatest weakness from within his mind but comes out with nothing. Instead of agonizing on the thought and perhaps draining all of his energy on this sole dilemma, Akaashi retreats to his bed and plops right on it. Face first.

He buries himself into his blanket, thinking of a way to spend the rest of the day. Until a series of knocks lapse unto his thoughts. The knocking grows louder and louder. Drawing in by the second. The knob doesn’t turn slowly.

The door downright flings open.

And there he stands, the source of all the commotion.

“Akaashi!”

Akaashi raises his head and adjusts himself, surely he’s not here at this time now is he? Surely-

“Whoah! You got new books?”

No, he’s definitely here. Bokuto Koutarou.

Said person wastes no moment and approaches Akaashi’s bookshelf, his eyes scanning the new row of books Akaashi has made for his recent purchases.

“Nevermind the books, Bokuto-san what are you doing here?” It’s saving grace that Akaashi has stored away his notebooks. One could only imagine the many things he would feel if Bokuto figured out he had an entire list primarily on his weaknesses and strengths. All the more Akaashi’s own.

“You didn’t get my text message? I said I’d be coming over so we could take a morning walk together!” Bokuto redirects his attention over to Akaashi who’s already fumbling for his phone.

Akaashi take one look at it, and a small frown appears on his lips.

“Bokuto-san, you sent this at 6:58 a.m.”

“Yeah, I did!”

“And what time is it?” Akaashi peers up at Bokuto who’s already looking away. Finding some sort of escape as all of his initial confidence faded away in one fell swoop.

“...7:00 a.m.”

“Exactly.” Not a drop of disappointment laces Akaashi words. Because with Bokuto, it’s always been expect the unexpected. Moments like these are a pretty good show of it.

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna!” Bokuto explains with his arms, there are times Akaashi has to admit it’s, cute. Endearing almost. “ I just thought since it’s the weekend, we could hang out really.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind at all.” Akaashi takes Bokuto’s invitation kindly but there’s still more to it that lingers. “Though why didn’t you ask Konoha-san or Komi-san instead?”

“I did, but they said they couldn’t come.” Bokuto pouts and all Akaashi can give is “oh”. In fairness, who would want to take a walk at 7 in the morning?

Akaashi apparently.

“But that’s alright!” Bokuto spins around the room until he’s right behind the window. “Besides, I like hanging out with you the the most!”

Akaashi should really stop reading books packed with cliches, because just like that, the sun from behind rises to it’s fullest along with Bokuto’s lips as he does the one thing he’s best at:

Smiling.

For a moment, the gravity feels off in Akaashi’s hold. He almost stumbles at the way everything is timed. At the way the sun shines along Bokuto’s many features and facets. At the way it hugs Bokuto in a warm glow Akaashi can’t explain. It’s perfect, Akaashi thinks.

For all his flaws and unyielding energy, Bokuto is perfect.

And Akaashi doesn’t speak any further as they exit his room and prepare for the day ahead of them. They take a morning walk as intended, and the day runs smoothly all the same. They eat, they laugh, they talk.

With every passing moment, and for all the times their hands have brushed against each other, Akaashi starts to realize many. He’s entranced with it. Longs for the day to last longer.

But like all things, they must come to an end. This day being no exception.

The sun sets steadily as they walk back to Akaashi’s home. Footsteps greet concrete as they go on their way.

“I’m telling you Akaashi, you should try the strawberry popsicle!” Bokuto’s walking backwards, and it’s taking all of Akaashi’s willpower not to turn him around to save him from slamming his head into a metal pole and the likes.

“Matcha taste just as good.” Akaashi counters.

“But you always eat the matcha one. You should try the other flavors ‘Kaashi, try to broaden your horizons!” With the way that Bokuto produces a satisfied grin and turns around swiftly, Akaashi can only wonder whether he started this conversation as a means of using big words. It’s correct nonetheless and an ounce of pride swells in Akaashi at the thought.

Silence ensues once more. The houses along the road grow more familiar, they were close to Akaashi’s home. As the day passes them by, Akaashi takes a moment to study Bokuto.

He replays the little goofy moments that make up this enigma beside him. The way he laughs, the way he smiles, the way he simply gives much to Akaashi without asking for anything in return. It’s all these things that make up Bokuto that makes Akaashi’s heart race. It makes his whole being feel fuzzy and it’s ultimately something he can’t understand.

And Akaashi usually has the answers to everything.

“Hey Akaashi?” Bokuto cuts Akaashi off the deluge of his thoughts once more.

“Mm?” Akaashi responds almost immediately.

“Have you ever been in love?”

There’s no rock or anything to step on, but Akaashi almost trips at the question. For once, Bokuto is the one to answer his question. Love, of course. Everything Akaashi’s feeling at this moment is for one reason alone:

He’s in love with Bokuto Koutarou.

“...Once.” Akaashi answers. Feeling the pounding in his chest grow ten fold.

“How did it end?” Bokuto asks not too soon.

Again with the timing, Akaashi silently thinks because as Bokuto turns around to face him, the sun falls along with him. A sunset appears before Akaashi, and Bokuto being the very center of it all. The very center of Akaashi’s own orbit.

The edges that danced along Akaashi’s semi-formal, semi-polite wall crumbled down and softens. He smiles.

“It hasn’t.”

Akaashi can’t say whether Bokuto caught unto the hint. Though he wouldn’t be surprise, especially with the way the two of them have been holding their gaze at each other for long. Bokuto doesn’t say anything, but he does the one thing Akaashi adores so terribly much.

Bokuto smiles in return. He smiles until the night is covered in the deep navy blue and the last of the sun’s rays sputter out.

By the time Akaashi returns home, he writes a lone sentence in his notebook. Right at the very top of his weakness list:

Akaashi Keiji Weakness Number One: Bokuto Koutarou

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@bokuakaweek2021

Day 6: Sunrise/sunset and the incorrect quote of the day!

bokuakaweek2021

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pearlsephoni · 3 years

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BokuAka Week 2021, Day 6: Hanahaki AU

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: T

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: BokuAka

Characters: Keiji Akaashi, Kotaro Bokuto, brief cameo from Haruki Komi

Word Count: 2,662

Summary: Keiji Akaashi is forced to grapple with three new pieces of information: 1) He is in love with his captain. 2) Hanahaki disease is real. 3) He keeps coughing up cherry blossom petals.

A/N: CW mentions of blood and descriptions of pain. No violence, but Akaashi does go through it in this one, sorry (but there's a happy ending!) Further author’s notes can be read on AO3.

@bokuakaweek2021

The first petals came after practice.

Akaashi had long suspected that his feelings for Bokuto went beyond those of an underclassman in awe of his captain, or even those of a best friend. But the sight of damp cherry blossom petals sticking to the inner curve of his elbow after a coughing fit still made his stomach drop. He couldn’t tell if the ache in his throat was from the coughs or from his own panic pressing in, nor did he really care. His mind was too occupied with the realization that hanahaki disease was real, and that somehow, he now had it.

Which meant his feelings for Bokuto weren’t returned. He’d never assumed they were, but the confirmation in the form of pretty pink petals falling from his lips still made disappointment crowd in with his panic.

He didn’t realize what he must’ve looked like to the rest of the team, standing there in the clubroom with his eyes fixed on his arm, until Bokuto’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Akaashi, what’s with the cough? You okay?”

“Ah, yes,” he gasped, hastily crushing the petals in his hand before Bokuto’s arm could land across his shoulders. “I just need some water.”

“Oh! Here.” Akaashi took Bokuto’s proffered bottle without thinking, his focus fixed on making sure he didn’t wince at the foreign taste of flower petals mixing with the water.

He was fine as he and Bokuto walked together after practice, the tickle in his throat only returning when they parted ways with a bright smile and “G’night, Akaashi!” from Bokuto. A few more petals fell from his lips when he walked away from those warm eyes, but that was the last he saw or felt of the impossible flowers for the rest of the night.

Part of him hoped it was a fluke, like an overnight cold, something that would go away quickly. Maybe the universe or fate or whatever made this happen would decide it was a mistake and leave him alone.

Those hopes were dashed the next morning, when Bokuto’s shouted greeting and run to his side at the school gates made petals fall from Akaashi’s lips just as he pressed his elbow to his face.

There was no way to tell how long his feelings for Bokuto had been romantic. All that mattered was now that Akaashi knew, it was relentless. Love was a stubborn thing, making his heart ache with longing and his lungs ache with creeping branches. It panged whenever he was around Bokuto, which was almost every moment they weren’t in class.

Every shouted “hey hey hey!”, every high five, every call of his name on and off the court, every time an arm was slung around his shoulders and pulled him into Bokuto’s side, Akaashi ached and ached, until he wasn’t sure if it was longing or the flowers that choked him up.

Because that was the thing about hanahaki disease, Akaashi came to find out: it didn’t just worsen with time. His love acted like fertilizer to the flowers, making petals brush the back of his throat whenever Bokuto did something that made his heart clench. It felt like a sick joke that the flowers were hardest to hide from the very person he wanted to hide them from.

Not that he wanted anyone to know about them. He ended up getting into the habit of turning his back to people when he coughed, because that was the only way he could crush the petals in his hand before they would be spotted by anyone. The habit continued even when the petals falling from his lips became full cherry blossoms.

It shouldn’t have surprised him when Komi plopped down next to him and Bokuto during warm-up stretches and asked, “Hey man, have you been feeling alright?”

“Komi-san?”

“You’ve been coughing a lot lately, and your voice sounds kinda rough. You should probably let Coach know if you’re not feeling good.”

“Akaashi, you’re sick?” Bokuto gasped, hand shooting out to press against his forehead.

Akaashi managed to catch his wrist before his hand could reach his forehead. “I’m not sick,” he sighed, gently placing Bokuto’s hand back into his lap. “It’s just...allergies.”

“It’s June.”

“My mother has some late pollinators in her garden.”

There was suspicion in Komi’s eyes, but also genuine concern, and Akaashi could feel guilt at his lie creeping through him. “...Alright. Just take care of yourself, okay? We can’t have our star setter passing out on us!”

“Bokuto-san is the star.”

“But I can’t make my star spikes without your star tosses!” Bokuto pointed out, looking very proud of his logic. When Akaashi sighed, he could feel newly-bloomed petals rustling at the back of his throat.

——————————————— ———————————————

None of the paintings or stories or poetry about the disease had prepared Akaashi for the pain. The ache of his unrequited love was somehow surpassed by the scrape of branches and leaves and flowers in his lungs and tearing his throat, staining his mouth red and tainting every breath with the taste of copper.

But he kept playing volleyball. He didn’t know how he hid his affliction from his coach and teammates, how he managed to keep pushing himself to send the perfect tosses and calculate the perfect strategies on the court. The sharp pain in his lungs and throat simply faded into the ache of exertion, an ache that felt worth it whenever Bokuto beamed a triumphant smile and held his hands up for a high ten.

After every game, he could barely breathe because of the flowers crowding his throat. After every game, he kept his mouth clenched shut against the petals sticking to his tongue as the teams thanked their supporters and shook hands with each other. After every game, he somehow managed to duck away to the bathroom to cough the flowers into the toilet.

It went on for months, and he never said a thing, never told a soul. And then, one day, after another triumphant victory, a bloodstained petal snuck out between his lips and nearly stuck to Bokuto’s arm. Akaashi’s hand shot out and grabbed at it, but not before Bokuto’s sharp eyes caught sight of it. “Woah, what-?”

“Excuse me,” Akaashi choked out, hand fixed over his mouth as he ran to the nearest bathroom.

His mouth felt fuzzy with the flowers fighting to burst from his lips, until he couldn’t even lock the stall door behind him in his rush for the toilet. His first exhalation over the bowl was a stream of cherry blossoms, a bouquet of pink petals stained with his blood that was never-ending.

He didn’t know if he could breathe, didn’t know if his knees were bruised from how quickly he landed on the floor, didn’t know how long he was bent over with the force of his heaving coughs. He could only feel the brush and scrape of the flowers flooding out of him, until finally, finally, the only things in his mouth were the taste of blood and a few stray petals.

The flowers were no longer forcing their way out of his body, but he could still feel the coiled stems pressed in his lungs with each breath, and the brush of petals already creeping back up his throat. It hurt. Somehow he had ignored it during the game, but kneeling there on the tiles of the bathroom, the pain of his ruined lungs and throat and mouth reared to the front of his mind.

And with the pain came the tears. His throat closed tight around the flowers as he finally succumbed to the pain, his agonized sobs wracking his body and echoing around the bathroom until they were the only thing he could hear…except for the sound of the bathroom door slamming open and a familiar voice calling, “Akaashi?”

His sobs hiccuped in his chest, and he lunged for the door to the stall he was crouched in, but he was too slow. Before he could push it closed, Bokuto was standing in the way, eyes wide as he took in what must’ve looked like carnage to him: Akaashi on his knees, blood drying around his lips and mixing with the tears flowing down his cheeks, and a toilet bowl full of cherry blossoms floating in red. “Akaashi?!”

“Bokuto-san,” he choked out, voice so hoarse he could barely understand his own words, “please go-”

“Are you ok?! What’s going on? We need to take you to the medics, that’s a lot of blood, what’s with the flowers? Never mind, come on-” He had an arm around Akaashi’s waist and Akaashi’s arm over his shoulders before the setter’s pain-clouded mind could process his words.

“Bokuto-san, wait…stop…”

“Wait for what? ‘Kaashi, you’re bleeding a lot, and from your mouth! Were you coughing up blood?! You could die from that, we need to go-”

“Stop!” Akaashi shoved Bokuto away, the ace’s surprise working in his favor as he managed to escape his hold and send himself back onto the floor. “Just stop. Listen to me. The medic can’t cure this. Nothing can.”

“W…what?”

He’d never seen Bokuto at a loss for words before, but he couldn’t dwell on how wrong that felt. He had to take advantage of the rare moment of quiet. “I’ll…I’ll be ok. I just…need a few more minutes in here, by myself, and I’ll be back with the team.”

“Akaashi-”

The worry in Bokuto’s eyes made guilt and love clash around Akaashi’s heart, and made the flowers in his lungs expand with a new growth spurt. He could feel them begin to crowd back up his throat, the first few petals just tickling the back of his tongue and threatening to make him gag again. “Just go, please, I-”

Another sob tore out of him before he bent back over the toilet to release a fresh wave of cherry blossoms, the tiny flowers piling on top of the previous bouquet. He could just barely make out the sound of Bokuto’s gasp over his own pained coughs, and it was enough to make tears mix with the bloodstained flowers pouring out of him.

Then there was a hand on his back, rubbing wide, slow circles between his shoulder blades, and the familiar smell of Bokuto’s sweat and the detergent of their uniforms surrounded him. It was a show of quiet support that was both exactly what Akaashi needed and the last thing he needed, as the love that swelled in him made yet another set of flowers bloom.

“Don’t, don’t tou-” was all he could choke out before his words were replaced by cherry blossoms. But Bokuto understood, and the hand and comforting smell fell away until Akaashi could push himself from the toilet with a pained, rattling gasp.

Silence fell over the bathroom. He could feel Bokuto’s eyes on him, and he kept his own gaze fixed to the floor like a coward, nearly flinching at the droplets of blood on the tiles. It felt like it took both a second and an eternity for Bokuto to speak. “Who is it?”

“What?”

“You have hanahaki disease, right? Who…who gave it to you?”

Raising his eyes to Bokuto’s felt like the scariest thing he’d ever done. He didn’t know what he hoped to see, nor what he was so afraid of seeing, but he didn’t expect to find Bokuto crouched on the floor next to him, brows furrowed over eyes that shined with tears and lips that quivered.

Never in a million years did Akaashi think he would see so much fear and grief and care lining his first love’s face. Perhaps it was his surprise that made him tell the truth.

“You.” Bokuto’s eyes widened and his lips parted around a silent gasp, and Akaashi’s lips curved into a wavering smile that he could only hope looked reassuring. “It’s you, Bokuto-san. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry.”

“I know you don’t feel the same way, and that’s ok. I’ll be ok.”

“You could die.”

“I could.” He tried to stay calm, wanted more than anything to stay calm, but the thought of his death looming so close made his voice shake.

“Because you don’t think I love you back.”

“If you did, I wouldn’t have this disease. But it’s ok, Bokuto-san. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to shoulder the responsibility.” His throat burned with every word, but they poured out of him anyway in his desperation to ease the guilt in those golden eyes. “Please don’t blame yourself.”

The grief in Bokuto’s eyes changed into frustration...then determination...and then, before Akaashi could move, there were hands gently cradling his face, and lips brushing against his own in the softest breeze of a kiss. “I’m sorry, Akaashi. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Bokuto-san?”

“I love you, too. I didn’t say anything because I thought I would scare you away. I was happy being your captain and ace and best friend if it meant you would stay with me.”

In all their bad games, in all of Bokuto’s descents into his dejected mode, Akaashi had never before seen his eyes swim with tears the way they did now. He never wanted to see the sight again. “Please don’t. Don’t force yourself because of me, Bokuto-san, I couldn’t-”

“Akaaaaaashi, listen to me! I’m telling you the truth!”

“But the disease-”

“I think that was because you thought I didn’t feel the same way. But I do! I really do, Akaashi!”

Akaashi could only stare and hiccup with a sob. Words rarely failed him, but his shock made his tongue feel heavy and his throat seal up yet again. His disbelief must have still been clear on his face, though, because Bokuto let out a frustrated huff before he leaned in again.

This kiss was firm, more assured, and Akaashi could only grip at Bokuto’s sweaty jersey as the older boy kissed his top lip, bottom lip, the corner of his lips where blood had dried. He’d never imagined his first kiss would be like this, tasting of blood and aching with pain, on the floor of a bathroom after a game.

But with each press of Bokuto’s lips, he let himself respond a little more, kissing back, parting his lips on a soft gasp, letting his hands trail up to those broad shoulders. Every kiss sang with Bokuto’s true feelings for him, making love spread warm and true through his veins, and for once, the feeling wasn’t tainted with the pain and panic of flowers blooming inside him. Instead, the ever-present pressure in his lungs slowly eased, the scrape of branches and flowers faded, and he could feel the growth inside him shrink away. When he pulled away, it was to suck in a deep breath for the first time in months.

“Akaashi?”

He met Bokuto’s questioning eyes with a smile. “You really do love me.”

“Huh? Yeah, of course I do! That’s what I said!”

“I know, but...the flowers, Bokuto-san. They’re gone. I...I believe you.” One last cough escaped him, and with it came a dusting of petals...and then the ache in his throat was gone. His voice was still rough, but he couldn’t taste blood anymore, and there was no rustling of petals with his sigh. “I’m okay.”

Bokuto stared at him for a moment, eyes flickering around his face, before a wide smile finally split his face. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” He didn’t know that Bokuto could be so gentle, that his hands could be so careful on his cheeks. It was enough to nearly make him cry. But he swallowed back his tears as his hands covered Bokuto’s. “We should go. The team-”

“They can wait a little longer.”

Protests rose in his throat where branches and flowers used to be, but they faded away when Bokuto’s lips were back on his. He was right. The team could wait a little longer.

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