Chapter Text
Akaashi Keiji had never wanted to marry. At least, not in the way his parents had expected him to.
Born into a family of powerful magic wielders, he had been raised with the expectation that he would strengthen their bloodline.
And so, when he came of age, the whispers turned into pronouncements. His parents, their faces etched with the pride and expectation of generations, arranged for him to marry a young witch from another noble magical family. The union was meant to be advantageous, a strategic bond between two powerful clans, reinforcing their influence and securing their future. He knew the girl, Hana. She was beautiful, poised, and possessed a magical talent that rivaled his own. They had shared lessons, polite conversations, and the occasional awkward dance at formal gatherings. On paper, the match was perfect.
But Akaashi’s heart remained untouched. He didn’t love her. He couldn’t. The thought of spending his life with her, of sharing his magic and his future, felt like a hollow echo within him. Because Akaashi did not love women in the way his parents had hoped. He had known it for years, a quiet understanding blossoming in the hidden corners of his heart, a secret he guarded more fiercely than any spell. He had kept it buried inside, hoping, praying, that it would simply fade away, that he could conform to the expectations placed upon him. He had watched his male classmates with a different kind of interest, a yearning that went beyond camaraderie, a pull that resonated deep within his soul. He had tried to deny it, to push it down, fearing the consequences of its revelation. He knew his parents’ love was conditional, tied to his adherence to their traditions and expectations.
But the truth couldn’t remain hidden forever. When the formal betrothal was announced, the weight of his secret became unbearable. He couldn’t go through with it. He wouldn’t condemn himself to a life of quiet desperation, nor could he betray Hana by entering into a loveless marriage. He confessed his truth to his parents, the words trembling on his lips, each syllable a hammer blow against the image of the son they had envisioned.
When he refused the marriage, his parents saw it as a betrayal, an insult to their legacy. They told him he was being foolish, that his feelings were an affliction that could be corrected. But when he stood firm in his refusal, their disappointment turned to wrath.
Curses were not uncommon in magical families. They were punishments, deterrents, ways to ensure obedience. And so, Akaashi was cursed—doomed to remain eighteen until he found true love, a love that his parents deemed impossible. He was cast out, forced to leave behind the life he knew, and he wandered until he found a quiet village where he could exist without fear.
Centuries passed, but Akaashi never changed. He watched the world shift around him, magic becoming myth, villages turning into towns, and time leaving him behind. Now, in the modern world, he lived on the outskirts of a small town, wearing jeans and t-shirts instead of embroidered robes, blending in with those who didn’t know his secret. He had a house, with a garden full with plants and flowers.
He worked as a quiet presence in the community, a figure who never aged but never drew too much attention. People knew him, but no one questioned why he never changed.
And then, one day, a boy fell from a tree.
The first time Akaashi met Bokuto, the boy was six years old and had scraped his knee falling from a tree. Akaashi, even after centuries of wandering, still found himself drawn to the edges of human settlements. He was a ghost in their world, a silent observer, content to watch the ebb and flow of their lives from a safe distance. He’d learned early on the pain of attachment, the sharp sting of watching loved ones age and wither while he remained unchanged. So, he kept his distance, a solitary figure on the periphery.
But Bokuto’s wails echoed through the small forest clearing, piercing the quiet solitude that Akaashi had cultivated. The sound, raw and unfiltered, tugged at something deep within him, a primal instinct to protect, to soothe. It was a sound that reminded him of his own lost childhood, a childhood stolen by a curse and replaced with an unending present. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the simple joys and sorrows of youth until he heard Bokuto’s cries.
Unseen for the most part by the villagers – he had a knack for blending into the background, a skill honed over centuries – Akaashi had been drawn to the sound like a moth to a flame. He moved silently through the trees, his footsteps barely disturbing the fallen leaves, his senses heightened, searching for the source of the distress.
By the time Akaashi reached him, Bokuto was hiccupping between sobs, his small hands clutching at his knee as he sat in the dirt, his face streaked with tears and grime. He was a whirlwind of emotions, his small body trembling with the force of his distress. But the moment Bokuto’s golden, almost luminous eyes landed on him, the tears stopped as if a switch had been flipped. His mouth hung open, his breath hitched, his eyes wide with unfiltered awe. It was a look that Akaashi had rarely, if ever, seen directed at him. People usually looked at him with polite curiosity, or sometimes, a flicker of suspicion. But never with this pure, unadulterated wonder.
- Whoa… Bokuto breathed, his voice thick with unshed tears, completely forgetting his injury for a moment. It was as if Akaashi’s presence had momentarily erased all his pain.
Akaashi blinked, caught off guard by the boy’s reaction. He was used to being overlooked, to fading into the background. This open, unabashed attention was a surprise, a pleasant anomaly.
- What? He asked softly, tilting his head slightly.
- You’re really pretty. Bokuto blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush, his earlier distress forgotten. It was a simple statement of fact, spoken with the innocent honesty of a child.
Akaashi felt a flicker of amusement, a rare and unexpected warmth filling his chest. He was accustomed to the polite compliments of adults, the veiled appraisals, but this was different. This was pure, unadulterated admiration.
- Thank you. He said, his voice gentle as he knelt down beside the boy. That looks like it hurts. He gestured towards Bokuto’s scraped knee.
Bokuto blinked as if just remembering the sting in his knee. His lower lip trembled, and he pouted slightly, but nodded solemnly. The tears were threatening to return, but he seemed determined to hold them back. Akaashi placed his palm over the wound, a soft, warm glow illuminating his hand. He channeled a small amount of his magic, not the grand, dramatic spells of his family, but a simple, healing touch. Within moments, the broken skin knitted back together, leaving behind only a faint trace of dried blood.
Bokuto gasped so loudly that Akaashi nearly flinched. His eyes widened even further, sparkling with excitement.
- That’s SO COOL! He practically shouted, bouncing in place despite his still-tender knee. Are you a wizard?! Can you do other magic? Can you fly? Can you make things explode? His questions came rapid-fire, tumbling over each other in his eagerness.
Akaashi chuckled, the sound a low, melodic rumble in his chest. He hadn’t laughed in centuries, not a genuine, heartfelt laugh. Bokuto’s infectious enthusiasm had drawn it out of him.
- Something like that. He replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. Be more careful next time, alright? He knew he should probably move on, maintain his distance, but something about this boy, this bright, energetic spark of life, held him captive.
But Bokuto was already firing off more questions, his golden eyes sparkling with an insatiable curiosity. He trailed after Akaashi as he rose to his feet, chattering nonstop about everything he could think of, his words a torrent of youthful energy. And that was how it all began, a chance encounter in a forest clearing, a scraped knee, and a boy with eyes that saw something special in a wandering, immortal soul.
Over the years, Bokuto sought Akaashi out whenever he could, bounding into his life with unrelenting enthusiasm. He was a constant whirlwind of energy, a force of nature that swept through Akaashi’s quiet, carefully constructed existence. If he wasn’t getting himself tangled in tree branches, his exuberant laughter echoing through the woods as he tried to climb higher than he should, he was tumbling down hills, a blur of limbs and shouts, or running too fast and tripping over his own feet, his boundless energy often outpacing his coordination. Akaashi had long since accepted that he would always be patching Bokuto up. He carried small vials of healing salves and poultices, tucked away in the pockets of his worn trousers, a silent testament to Bokuto’s accident-prone nature. He’d even learned to identify the specific cries and yells that indicated a genuine injury versus a minor scrape or a moment of dramatic flair.
One day, when Bokuto was eight, he burst into Akaashi’s house, clutching something tightly in his hands. His face was flushed with excitement, his golden eyes shining with pride.
- Keiji, look! I caught a beetle! He exclaimed, holding out his cupped hands.
Akaashi, who had been peacefully drinking tea, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility, took one glance at the large, iridescent insect wriggling in Bokuto’s palms and immediately recoiled. His calm demeanor shattered, replaced by a flicker of something akin to panic.
- Bokuto—get that thing away from me. He said, his voice a strained whisper, backing away from the boy.
Bokuto blinked, his excitement momentarily dampened by Akaashi’s reaction.
- Huh? But it’s cool! Look, it’s got huge pincers and… He began, trying to show Akaashi the beetle’s impressive features.
- No. Akaashi said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He continued to retreat, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the offending insect. Outside. Now.
Bokuto, confused and slightly hurt, frowned. He looked down at the beetle in his hands, then back up at Akaashi, his brow furrowed. He’d expected Akaashi to be impressed, to share in his excitement. He’d never seen Akaashi react like this before. He was always so calm, so collected, so…unflappable.
For the first time in his life, Bokuto realized that Akaashi, the mysterious, seemingly unshakable mage, had a weakness. Beneath the surface of quiet strength and gentle magic, there was something that startled him, something that made him…human. And Bokuto, with the uncanny intuition of a child, recognized the significance of this discovery. A mischievous glint appeared in his golden eyes.
He never let him live it down. From that day forward, Bokuto made it his personal mission to remind Akaashi of his fear of bugs at every opportunity. He’d find particularly large and gruesome insects and chase Akaashi around with them, shrieking with laughter as Akaashi scrambled away, his usual composure completely abandoned. He’d leave dead beetles on Akaashi’s doorstep, or tucked into his books, just to elicit a reaction. It became a running joke between them, a playful torment that only strengthened their bond. And though Akaashi would always groan and roll his eyes at Bokuto’s antics, a small, almost imperceptible smile would often play on his lips. It was a shared secret, a reminder of that one moment when the stoic mage had revealed a chink in his armor, a moment that had humanized him in Bokuto’s eyes, and solidified their unlikely friendship.
One sunny afternoon, when Bokuto was nine and Akaashi, as always, eighteen, Bokuto burst into Akaashi's house, a wide grin plastered across his face. He held something behind his back, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
- Keiji! Guess what I found! He exclaimed, his voice ringing with playful anticipation.
Akaashi, who was reading, sighed and lowered his book. He already knew, instinctively, what Bokuto was up to. He braced himself.
- Bokuto, if it's another bug… He began, his voice laced with weary resignation.
- Nope! Bokuto interrupted, pulling his hand from behind his back. He held up a small, intricately carved wooden box. It's a… surprise!
Akaashi eyed the box suspiciously. He knew Bokuto too well.
- What's inside? He asked cautiously.
Bokuto wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
- You'll have to open it to find out!
Akaashi hesitated. He knew it was a trap, but he also knew that Bokuto wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. With a sigh, he reached out and took the box. He opened the lid slowly, peering inside. Nestled on a bed of cotton wool was a… perfectly ordinary, albeit rather large, ladybug.
Akaashi blinked. He looked up at Bokuto, a mixture of confusion and exasperation on his face.
- A ladybug? He asked, his voice flat.
Bokuto burst out laughing, clutching his sides.
- Yeah! A super scary, totally terrifying ladybug! Aren't you afraid? He teased, mimicking Akaashi's earlier panicked reaction to the beetle.
Akaashi rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He knew Bokuto was just teasing him, and honestly, he found it rather endearing. He reached out and gently picked up the ladybug, letting it crawl onto his finger.
- You know, Bokuto. He said, his voice dry. For someone who's supposed to be a fearsome ace, you're awfully fixated on bugs.
Bokuto grinned, his laughter subsiding.
- Hey, they're interesting! Besides... He added with a wink. Where's the fun in being all serious all the time? Gotta liven things up!
Akaashi chuckled, shaking his head. He knew Bokuto was right. Their playful banter, their shared jokes, their constant push and pull – it was all part of their unique dynamic. And even though he would never admit it, he wouldn't have it any other way.
At ten, Bokuto frowned at Akaashi over dinner. They were sharing a simple meal of rice and fish, a comfortable silence settling between them. Bokuto, however, was anything but comfortable. He’d been observing Akaashi for years, even before the beetle incident, and something had been nagging at him. Akaashi was always…the same. He never seemed to grow taller, his face never lost its youthful smoothness, and he never complained about aches and pains like some of the other adults in the village.
- Hey, Keiji, how come you never get older? Bokuto blurted out, interrupting the quiet. He poked at his rice with his chopsticks, his brow furrowed in concentration. He wasn’t trying to be rude, he was genuinely curious. It was a question that had been bouncing around in his head for a while, and he couldn’t contain it any longer.
Akaashi set his chopsticks down and regarded him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He’d known this question was coming, had anticipated it for years. He’d seen the dawning realization in Bokuto’s eyes, the subtle shifts in his gaze as he studied Akaashi, trying to decipher the mystery of his unchanging appearance. He’d hoped to put it off for as long as possible, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it forever.
He looked at Bokuto, at his earnest face, his wide, golden eyes filled with innocent curiosity. He saw the boy he’d come to care for, the boy who had brought laughter and light back into his life after centuries of solitude. He couldn’t lie to him, not outright. But he also couldn’t tell him the truth, not yet. The curse was a heavy burden, a secret he guarded carefully. It was a part of him, but it wasn’t something he wanted to share with a child, not until he was old enough to understand the complexities of it.
- I’ll tell you when you turn fifteen. Akaashi finally said, his voice calm and even. It was a half-truth, a delaying tactic, but it was the best he could offer at the moment. He hoped Bokuto would accept it, at least for now.
Bokuto groaned dramatically, throwing his head back and letting out a loud sigh.
- Fifteen? That’s ages away! He complained, his usual exuberance momentarily dimmed. He really wanted to know, he wanted to understand why Akaashi was so different. It wasn’t that he was scared or anything, it was just…weird. And Bokuto didn’t like things that were weird without explanation.
He looked at Akaashi, searching his face for any hint of what the secret might be. But Akaashi’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes calm and steady. Bokuto knew that arguing wouldn’t get him anywhere. Akaashi was always so…patient, so reasonable. He never got angry, he never yelled. He just…was. And Bokuto, despite his frustration, respected him.
- Fine. Bokuto said, finally accepting the answer, at least for the time being.
He picked up his chopsticks again and resumed eating, but his mind was still buzzing with questions. He glanced at Akaashi every now and then, studying him, trying to piece together the puzzle of his unchanging age. He knew he wouldn’t forget, he wouldn’t let it go. He would wait until he was fifteen, and then he would get his answer. And he had a feeling that whatever Akaashi told him, it would be something…extraordinary. He just didn't know how extraordinary. He just hoped he was ready for it.
Chapter Text
At twelve, Bokuto came barreling into Akaashi’s house, practically vibrating with excitement. The door slammed open with a resounding bang, and Bokuto burst into the room, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and breathless pronouncements. He was a bundle of raw energy, his golden eyes blazing with an almost tangible light, his face flushed with exertion and exhilaration. He’d clearly run all the way, his chest heaving with rapid breaths.
- I joined the volleyball club! He announced, his voice ringing with triumphant joy. He bounced on the balls of his feet, unable to contain his enthusiasm. He’d been obsessed with volleyball ever since he’d seen a group of older boys playing at the local park, their movements a blur of power and grace. He’d spent hours practicing on his own, mimicking their serves and spikes, dreaming of the day he could join a real team.
Akaashi, who was quietly tending to his small indoor herb garden, turned towards Bokuto, a gentle smile playing on his lips. He was accustomed to Bokuto’s bursts of energy, his sudden announcements and requests. He’d learned to anticipate them, to read the unspoken messages behind his exuberant pronouncements.
- I see... Akaashi hummed, amused by the sheer enthusiasm radiating from the boy.
He knew that Bokuto’s excitement always came with a request, a favor, a need for his assistance. He’d become a constant in Bokuto’s life, a steady anchor in his chaotic storm.
- I assume you’re asking me for something?
Bokuto grinned, his face splitting into a wide, radiant smile. He knew Akaashi understood him, knew that he could always rely on him.
- Set for me on weekends and holidays? He asked, his voice laced with hopeful anticipation. He needed someone to practice with, someone to help him hone his skills. And he knew that Akaashi, with his uncanny precision and calm demeanor, would be the perfect setter. He’d seen Akaashi’s reflexes when he’d dodged those fake spiders, and he knew Akaashi was capable of amazing things.
Akaashi sighed, but it was a sigh of affectionate resignation, not annoyance. He knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse Bokuto, not when he looked at him with those pleading golden eyes. He’d become accustomed to Bokuto’s requests, to the constant stream of favors and demands that came with their friendship. And he had to admit, he enjoyed it. It gave him a sense of purpose, a connection to the world around him.
- Alright. Akaashi said, nodding his head. Weekends and holidays.
Bokuto let out a whoop of joy, throwing his arms around Akaashi in a tight, enthusiastic hug.
- Yes! Thank you, Keiji! You’re the best!
And so their new routine began. Every weekend and holiday, they would head to the local park, or to the school gym when it was available, and practice. Akaashi, with his quiet focus and precise movements, would set the ball with effortless grace, sending it soaring towards Bokuto, who would leap and spike with explosive power. They practiced for hours, their movements becoming a synchronized dance, a testament to their growing bond. Akaashi, who had spent centuries observing the world from a distance, found himself drawn into the rhythm of the game, the thrill of the spike, the satisfaction of a perfectly executed set. And Bokuto, with his boundless energy and unwavering determination, pushed Akaashi to step outside his comfort zone, to embrace the joy of movement and the thrill of competition. Their practice sessions became a sanctuary, a shared space where they could be themselves, where they could connect on a level that transcended their differences. It was a new chapter in their unlikely friendship, a chapter written in the language of volleyball, a language of trust, teamwork, and shared passion.
One such incident occurred when Bokuto was fourteen. A particularly powerful spike sent the ball careening into a delicate, bluebell-like flower Akaashi had been nurturing for months. The flower snapped at the stem. Akaashi’s usually calm demeanor cracked. He scolded Bokuto, his voice sharp and laced with disappointment. Bokuto, usually so boisterous, shrunk under Akaashi’s gaze, his cheeks flushing crimson.
- I'm sorry Keiji. Mumbled Bokuto.
Bokuto, true to his word, didn’t forget about Akaashi’s promise. On his fifteenth birthday, he didn’t burst into Akaashi’s house with his usual boisterous energy. Instead, he knocked on the door, a rare show of restraint for him, and waited patiently for Akaashi to answer.
When Akaashi opened the door, he was surprised to see Bokuto standing there with an uncharacteristically serious expression. He looked older, taller, his features more defined, his golden eyes holding a depth that hadn't been there before. He'd grown into his lanky frame, the awkwardness of childhood replaced by a nascent grace.
- Hey, Keiji. Bokuto said, his voice quieter than usual. Remember your promise?
Akaashi nodded, stepping aside to let Bokuto in.
- Come in. Happy Birthday, Bokuto. He smiled softly. I have a small gift for you. He gestured to a neatly wrapped package on a nearby table. Please, open it.
Bokuto, a little flustered by the birthday greeting and the gift, managed a small smile.
- Thanks, Keiji. He picked up the package, carefully unwrapping it to reveal a beautifully crafted leather-bound journal and a set of fine pens. Whoa, this is amazing! He looked up at Akaashi, his eyes sparkling. Thank you!
- You're welcome. Akaashi replied. I thought you might enjoy having a place to record your thoughts, your… volleyball strategies, perhaps.
They settled in Akaashi’s living room, the familiar scent of old books and dried herbs filling the air. Bokuto sat on the edge of the worn sofa, his hands fidgeting in his lap. He looked at Akaashi, his gaze unwavering.
- So? He prompted, his voice a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. He'd waited five years for this, five years of speculation and curiosity. He was ready for the truth, whatever it might be.
Akaashi took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he’d been dreading for years. He’d known this day would come, had prepared himself for it, but it was still difficult to put his secret into words.
- It's a long story. Akaashi began, his voice low and steady.
He recounted his family history, the expectations placed upon him, his refusal to conform, and the curse that had been inflicted upon him. He spoke of his banishment, his centuries of wandering, his loneliness and isolation. He spoke of his fear of growing close to people, of watching them age and die while he remained unchanged.
Bokuto listened intently, his golden eyes wide with understanding and… something else. Something that Akaashi couldn't quite understand. When Akaashi reached the part about his parents' disapproval of his love for boys, Bokuto's expression shifted. He leaned forward, his gaze intense.
- I like you, Akaashi. Bokuto blurted out, his voice firm and unwavering.
Akaashi blinked, momentarily stunned.
Bokuto pressed on, his hands gripping the journal like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment.
- I like you. He repeated, more determined this time. I don’t know when it started, maybe it was always there, but I know it now. And I know you don’t think I understand what I’m saying, but I do.
Akaashi was taken aback by Bokuto's confession. He'd grown fond of Bokuto, had come to cherish their friendship, but he couldn't reciprocate those feelings, not in the way Bokuto desired. He saw the earnestness in Bokuto's eyes, the depth of his emotion, but he also saw the naiveté of youth.
- Bokuto. Akaashi began, his voice gentle but firm, I appreciate your honesty, but you don't know what love is yet. He saw the hurt flicker in Bokuto's eyes, but he pressed on. What you feel is strong, I won't deny that, but it's not love. You're young, you have so much to experience, so much to learn about yourself and the world.
- But—
Akaashi raised a hand, silencing him.
- I can't let you say those things, Bokuto. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. You deserve to experience love in its fullness, with someone who can grow alongside you, someone who can share a lifetime with you. I can't offer you that.
He saw the frustration and confusion swirling in Bokuto's eyes, but he held his gaze. He knew this was the right decision, even if it hurt them both.
- I value our friendship, Bokuto. Akaashi continued, his voice softening. And I want to continue being a part of your life. But I can't be what you want me to be. Not now, not ever.
Bokuto looked at Akaashi, his expression a mixture of defiance and heartbreak. He wanted to argue, to protest, but Akaashi's words held a finality that he couldn't ignore. He knew, deep down, that Akaashi was right. He didn't truly understand love, not yet. But that didn't change the way he felt about Akaashi.
- Fine. Bokuto said, his voice barely a whisper. He stood up, his movements stiff and awkward. I… I understand. He turned to leave, his shoulders slumped, the journal clutched tightly in his hand.
Akaashi watched him go, his heart heavy with a mixture of sadness and regret. He knew he'd hurt Bokuto, but he also knew he'd done the right thing. He couldn't give Bokuto what he wanted, couldn't offer him a future that he didn't have. But he could offer him his friendship, his support, his unwavering presence in his life. And he hoped, with time, that would be enough.
But just as Bokuto reached the door, he paused, gripping the handle tightly. His shoulders were tense, his head bowed slightly. Then, slightly turning around, he spoke—his voice lower, more intense than Akaashi had ever heard it.
- I want you to stop looking at me like a child. He said, his voice firm with conviction. I want you to look at me like your potential lover.
And with that, he walked out, leaving Akaashi staring after him, heart pounding and mind reeling.
At seventeen, he finally worked up the courage to ask him out. Again.
They were walking home together after one of their usual late-night practice sessions, the cool breeze ruffling Bokuto’s hair as he stole a glance at Akaashi beside him. The streetlights cast a soft glow over the quiet road, the world around them fading into a comfortable stillness.
Bokuto took a deep breath, gathering his nerves.
- Keiji. He started, voice unusually steady. Go out with me.
Akaashi didn’t stop walking, didn’t even falter. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his expression unreadable.
- No.
Bokuto stumbled slightly before catching up again, blinking at the blunt response.
- Huh? That’s it? No consideration? No dramatic pause?
Akaashi sighed, finally glancing at him.
- I’m not taking advantage of a minor.
Bokuto groaned loudly, throwing his arms up in frustration.
- Come on, that’s such a dumb reason! I’m almost eighteen. It’s literally just a few months!
Akaashi shook his head.
- It doesn’t matter.
- But it does! Bokuto huffed, stepping in front of him to make Akaashi stop. Why does it matter so much to you?
Akaashi looked up at him, and for a moment, something flickered behind his eyes—something unreadable, something hesitant. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual calm.
- Because you’re still growing, Bokuto. He said simply. Because I don’t want you to look back and regret this.
Bokuto’s heart pounded in his chest, frustration and something deeper bubbling up inside him.
- I know what I feel, Keiji.
Akaashi held his gaze for a long moment before exhaling quietly.
- Then wait. He said, stepping around him. If your feelings are real, they won’t change with time.
Bokuto stared after him, clenching his fists before releasing them.
He knew Akaashi—knew his stubbornness, his logic, his self-imposed rules. So he waited.
At eighteen, he stood in front of Akaashi with a triumphant grin.
- We’re the same age now! And I’m taller than you.
His voice was teasing, playful, as he casually draped his arm over Akaashi’s head.
- What’s your excuse now, short stuff?
Akaashi sighed, attempting to push his arm away.
- That’s not how this works, Bokuto.
But Bokuto ignored the protest, grin widening as he leaned in closer.
- I think it is. You said no because of the age thing. Problem solved! Now, go on a date with me.
It was meant to be lighthearted, another attempt to wear Akaashi down with sheer persistence, the way he always did. But when Akaashi didn’t respond right away, when his expression didn’t shift into exasperated fondness, Bokuto hesitated.
Akaashi’s gaze was distant, unreadable, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly at his sides. Then, in a quiet voice, he gave another refusal.
- I’m not worth it.
The teasing atmosphere disappeared instantly. Bokuto’s smile faded, his usual boundless energy dimming as he studied Akaashi intently.
- Keiji. He said, his voice steady but laced with something raw. You are worth everything. Don’t you see that?
Akaashi swallowed hard, looking away, his shoulders tense as though bracing for impact.
- You deserve someone who can grow with you. His voice was barely above a whisper.
Bokuto exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident but restrained.
- I don’t need someone who can grow with me. I need you. And I’m not going anywhere, no matter how many times you push me away.
Akaashi squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment before meeting Bokuto’s gaze again. His expression was composed, practiced, as if he had prepared for this. But something wavered, just slightly, in the depths of his blue-green eyes.
- Bokuto, I—
- You what? Bokuto interrupted, stepping closer. He wasn’t teasing anymore. He wasn’t being playful. His voice was low, serious, unwavering. You care about me? I know. You want me to be happy? I know that too. But stop acting like you’re some immovable piece of stone. You’re not cursed to be alone, Keiji. You choose it.
Akaashi flinched. Just slightly.
Bokuto saw it.
He softened, the sharpness in his voice giving way to something gentler, something that had always been there—an unshakable devotion. He reached out hesitantly, fingers hovering near Akaashi’s wrist before stopping himself.
- I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care how many times you say no. But I need you to stop thinking of yourself as something untouchable. His voice dipped, quieter now, steadier. Because I’m here. And I’m not looking at you like a passing phase or something temporary.
Akaashi’s breath caught.
He wasn’t sure what to say.
Because Bokuto was right.
He had spent centuries convincing himself that love—true love—was impossible. He had told himself that growing close to someone, letting himself feel, would only lead to loss. He had believed that to want was a foolish thing, that to desire was to set himself up for inevitable heartbreak.
But Bokuto had never let him keep his distance, had never allowed himself to be pushed away. He had barreled into Akaashi’s quiet existence like a force of nature, breaking through the walls he had carefully built, filling the empty spaces he had long since abandoned.
And it had been so easy, so natural, to tell himself that what he felt wasn’t love. That it was something else—fondness, attachment, the affection of someone who had watched a boy grow into a man.
But standing here, watching Bokuto look at him like this—like he was something precious, something irreplaceable—Akaashi felt his carefully crafted defenses crumble.
This wasn’t just Bokuto’s persistence.
This was love.
And for the first time, Akaashi allowed himself to feel it.
Over the next two years, Akaashi unraveled, piece by piece.
It started subtly—so subtly that he could almost pretend nothing was happening. Bokuto’s lingering touches weren’t new. But now, Akaashi noticed them. The way Bokuto’s fingers would brush against his wrist when handing him a drink, his touch light, fleeting, like a question unspoken. The way he would sling an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, leaning in too close, the warmth of his breath against Akaashi’s ear as he laughed. The way he’d press his palm against the small of Akaashi’s back when guiding him through a crowded street, his hand staying there just a little too long.
Every time, Akaashi told himself it was nothing. But his heart told him otherwise.
Bokuto wasn’t just touching him anymore. He was waiting. And Akaashi was running out of excuses.
Bokuto was nineteen. It had become unbearable. Akaashi had spent his entire existence mastering restraint. He had convinced himself that love—real, deep love—was something he could afford to ignore. But Bokuto had never let him ignore anything. Especially not this.
Especially not when he would pin Akaashi with that knowing gaze, golden eyes dark with something that left him breathless. Not when he would let his fingers graze over the back of Akaashi’s hand absentmindedly, as if he couldn’t help himself. Not when he would pull Akaashi into a hug the moment he'd step in Akaashi's house after a match, holding him just a second longer than necessary, his grip firm, as if he was afraid to let go. And not when Akaashi found himself wanting to hold on, too.
He ached.
For the first time in centuries, he ached for something more. But he was still afraid. Afraid that if he took what Bokuto was offering, it would slip through his fingers. Afraid that love, as much as he longed for it, was something he didn’t deserve. So he continued to do what he always did.
He held back.
Bokuto entered Akaashi's house and locked the door behind him before heading to the kitchen, where Akaashi was preparing a coffee. He stood in front of him, taller, broader, a quiet confidence in the way he carried himself. He was no longer the reckless, impatient boy Akaashi had met years ago. Now he was twenty.
He had grown.
But his feelings hadn’t changed.
- Guess what? Bokuto grinned, his eyes alight with something knowing, something sure. Now I’m older than you. If you don't turn nineteen this year, I'll be 2 years ahead of you.
Akaashi blinked up at him, heart hammering.
Because for the first time, he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.
The boy he had watched grow was no longer just a boy.
And the changes—both physical and emotional—hadn’t left him indifferent.
Bokuto’s grin softened, and when he spoke next, his voice was quieter, steadier.
- I know you’re scared. I know you feel stuck. But I love you, Keiji. I have for years. And I don’t need to move on or find someone else.
Akaashi trembled.
- Bokuto…
Bokuto took a step closer, reaching for Akaashi’s hand, pushing him back against the wall behind him.. This time, Akaashi didn’t pull away.
- You love me too. It wasn’t a question.
Akaashi opened his mouth, ready to deny it, to argue, to push him away again—
But he couldn’t. Because it was true. Bokuto squeezed his hand.
Bokuto’s golden eyes held an intensity that made Akaashi feel bare, exposed in a way that left him breathless. The way Bokuto looked at him—like he was something precious, something irreplaceable—made his chest tighten. He wanted to deny it, to push away the warmth spreading through his body, but then Bokuto leaned in, close enough that Akaashi could feel the heat radiating from him.
A feather-light touch. A whisper of lips barely grazing against his own.
——
The next chapter is the final part with the promised nsfw.
Chapter Text
Akaashi inhaled sharply. His body betrayed him before his mind could catch up, his fingers twitching at his sides as warmth pooled in his stomach. Bokuto’s lips barely touched his, a teasing brush that left him chasing after the kiss without realizing it.
The moment he leaned in, Bokuto pulled back just slightly, his lips curling into a smile.
- Keiji. He murmured, voice low, almost smug. You’re already leaning into me. Eager, aren’t you?
Akaashi scowled, fingers curling into the fabric of Bokuto’s shirt.
- Shut up.
But Bokuto only chuckled, his thumb stroking slow, deliberate circles against Akaashi’s hip.
- Oh? Getting embarrassed already? We haven’t even started, Keiji.
Akaashi’s face burned, but before he could form a proper retort, Bokuto dipped his head again, this time pressing soft, teasing kisses along his jaw. He took his time, enjoying the way Akaashi’s breath hitched with every slow drag of lips against sensitive skin.
Then, he moved lower.
Akaashi barely stifled a sound when Bokuto kissed just below his ear, lips grazing over the spot before he exhaled warmly against it. A shiver ran through Akaashi’s entire body, and Bokuto grinned.
- Oh? He mused, brushing his nose along Akaashi’s throat. You liked that.
- I did not. Akaashi said quickly, but the slight tremble in his voice betrayed him.
Bokuto hummed, clearly amused.
- Liar.
His hands slid lower, gripping Akaashi’s thighs before suddenly lifting him with ease.
- Bokuto—! Akaashi gasped, instinctively wrapping his legs around Bokuto’s waist.
Bokuto grinned, effortlessly holding him up.
- What’s wrong? I thought you weren’t affected?
Akaashi’s glare was weak, his hands gripping Bokuto’s shoulders for stability.
- Put me down.
- Nope. Bokuto carried him across the room with ease, ignoring Akaashi’s flustered protests.
- The door-
- I locked it when I came in.
He stepped into the bedroom and nudged the door shut with his foot before lowering Akaashi onto the bed.
Akaashi barely had a moment to process before Bokuto hovered over him, pinning him down with those golden eyes filled with mischief and something deeper.
- You know... Bokuto murmured, fingers ghosting over the hem of Akaashi’s shirt. I can’t believe you still see me as that little boy you patched up all those years ago.
Akaashi swallowed hard, breath coming unevenly.
- I can’t believe I’m letting that little boy I cured do these things to me…
Bokuto smirked, his hand slipping beneath Akaashi’s shirt, fingertips grazing over warm skin.
- Oh, Keiji. He whispered, voice dipping lower, I’m going to do more than these things.
Akaashi’s breath hitched, and before he could argue, Bokuto’s lips were back on him—this time firmer, more demanding. He kissed him deeply, coaxing a quiet moan from Akaashi before pulling back with a satisfied hum.
- You make the sweetest sounds. Bokuto teased, fingers tracing up Akaashi’s stomach.
Akaashi glared weakly.
- I—
His words dissolved into a sharp inhale as Bokuto’s fingers found his chest, brushing over a sensitive bud before pinching lightly.
Akaashi let out a strangled whimper, his back arching slightly.
Bokuto grinned, rolling his thumb over it, watching the way Akaashi’s body reacted.
- So sensitive. He murmured. I barely touched you.
- Shut up. Akaashi bit out, but his body betrayed him as another soft moan slipped past his lips when Bokuto switched to the other side, teasing it with slow, deliberate touches.
Bokuto chuckled, pressing a kiss to Akaashi’s throat.
- Not a chance. I love seeing you like this.
Akaashi squirmed, his fingers gripping at Bokuto’s shoulders as warmth spread through him, pooling deep in his stomach.
Bokuto smirked against his skin.
- See? You’re not the one taking care of me anymore.
Akaashi let out a shaky breath, his resolve weakening.
Bokuto pressed another lingering kiss to his lips, murmuring against them.
- Let me take care of you now, Keiji.
This time, Akaashi didn't resist. He leaned into Bokuto's touch, his body relaxing against the solid warmth of his. Bokuto's lips dipped lower, tracing a path down Akaashi's neck, nipping and nibbling, leaving a trail of flushed skin and blossoming hickeys. His body pressed flush against Akaashi's, the length of their forms aligned, the heat of their skin melding together. The subtle friction of their clothing heightened the sensations, sending shivers through Akaashi's body. Bokuto's hand moved down, his fingers tracing the curve of Akaashi's hip, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them. The feeling of Bokuto's hard chest against his own, the steady beat of his heart echoing in his ears, was intoxicating.
The air crackled with unspoken desires, the silence broken only by the soft gasps and whimpers escaping Akaashi's lips. Bokuto's hands, now emboldened, explored the delicate curves of Akaashi's body, tracing the lines of his waist, the swell of his hips, the gentle slope of his back. He pulled Akaashi closer, the friction of their bodies igniting a fire that burned brighter with each passing moment.
Akaashi’s hands, no longer gripping Bokuto's shoulders for support, now moved of their own volition, tracing the strong lines of Bokuto’s back, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt. He tangled his fingers in Bokuto’s hair, tugging gently, urging him closer.
Bokuto's lips left a trail of heated kisses down Akaashi's neck, lingering on the sensitive skin just below his ear.
- Keiji. He whispered, his voice thick with desire. You're so beautiful.
Akaashi shivered, his breath catching in his throat. He had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, yet so utterly safe. Bokuto’s words, his touch, were a balm to his centuries-old soul, a confirmation of the love he had dared to hope for.
Bokuto's touch grew bolder, his hands exploring the contours of Akaashi's chest, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin, pinching his nipples, eliciting soft moans from Akaashi. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Akaashi's, his breath warm against his skin.
- You're so responsive. He murmured, his voice laced with admiration.
Akaashi's cheeks flushed crimson. He had always been reserved, his emotions carefully guarded. But with Bokuto, he felt a freedom he had never known, a release from the constraints of his past.
Bokuto’s lips finally met Akaashi’s in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. It was a kiss that spoke of years of unspoken feelings, of longing and desire, of a love that transcended time. Akaashi’s hands moved from Bokuto’s hair to cup his cheeks, deepening the kiss, his own desires finally unleashed.
The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them, their bodies intertwined, their hearts beating in unison. The centuries melted away, leaving only the present, a moment of pure, unadulterated passion.
The kiss deepened, a silent conversation of longing and desire. Bokuto's hands, restless and eager, moved to the hem of Akaashi's shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly in their haste. He looked up, his eyes meeting Akaashi's, a silent question passing between them. Akaashi, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps, nodded, his eyes filled with trust and burgeoning desire.
With a gentle tug, Bokuto slid the shirt off Akaashi's shoulders, revealing the smooth, pale skin beneath. His breath hitched at the sight, his eyes tracing the delicate lines of Akaashi's body. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the hollow of Akaashi's throat, then trailed kisses down his chest, lingering on the sensitive skin.
Akaashi shivered, his hands gripping Bokuto's shoulders, his body arching involuntarily as Bokuto's lips grazed his skin. The feeling of Bokuto's warm breath against his bare skin was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through him.
Bokuto's gaze returned to Akaashi's eyes, his own eyes dark with desire.
- You're so pretty, Keiji. So, so pretty. He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of Akaashi's collarbone, then moved lower, exploring the contours of his chest.
Akaashi's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, yet he trusted Bokuto implicitly. He leaned into Bokuto's touch, his body trembling with anticipation.
Bokuto's hands moved lower, his fingers tracing the line of Akaashi's abdomen, dipping beneath the waistband of his pants. He paused, his eyes meeting Akaashi's, seeking confirmation. Akaashi nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and trust.
With a slow, deliberate movement, Bokuto unbuttoned Akaashi’s pants, his fingers lingering on the skin beneath. He slid the pants down, revealing the full length of Akaashi's legs. His gaze swept over Akaashi’s body, a mixture of awe and desire in his eyes. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Akaashi's thigh, then moved higher, his lips tracing a path up his leg.
Akaashi's body trembled, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had never experienced such intense pleasure, such raw vulnerability. He felt exposed, yet safe.
Bokuto’s hand found Akaashi’s, his fingers intertwining with his, their palms pressed together. He raised Akaashi’s hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to his knuckles.
- You’re so beautiful. He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. So perfect.
Akaashi’s cheeks flushed crimson, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked at Bokuto, his eyes filled with a love that transcended time, a love that had finally broken the curse that had held him captive for centuries.
Bokuto leaned in, his lips brushing against Akaashi’s, his breath warm against his skin.
- I love you, Keiji. He murmured, his voice a low rumble. More than words can say.
Akaashi’s lips parted, a silent invitation. He met Bokuto’s kiss with a fervor that matched his own, their bodies melding together, their hearts beating in perfect unison. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in a moment of pure, unadulterated passion.
Their kiss deepened, a seal upon the vows whispered in touch and breath. The world outside ceased to exist, replaced by the symphony of their bodies moving together, a dance as old as time itself, yet utterly new in its intimacy for Akaashi. Bokuto’s hands, having explored every curve and hollow, now moved with a possessive tenderness, cupping Akaashi’s face, tracing the line of his jaw, his thumbs gently caressing his cheekbones.
Akaashi, no longer the reserved observer of centuries, met Bokuto’s passion with a fervor that surprised even himself. His hands, once hesitant, now moved with a confident grace, his fingers threading through Bokuto’s hair, his palms pressed against the warm skin of his back, feeling the ripple of muscles beneath. He reveled in the scent of Bokuto, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against his own.
The rhythm of their movements intensified, a crescendo of sensation building between them. Soft moans and gasps filled the air, a testament to the pleasure they were giving and receiving. Bokuto’s name, a whispered prayer, escaped Akaashi’s lips, a sound laden with centuries of longing and newfound joy.
Bokuto, his eyes dark with passion, pulled back slightly, his gaze locking with Akaashi’s.
- Keiji. He murmured, his voice deep with desire. I want you. Completely.
Akaashi’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He nodded, his eyes filled with a trust that transcended time, a love that had finally set him free. He reached up, his fingers tracing the line of Bokuto’s lips, a silent invitation, a promise of complete surrender.
Bokuto’s touch, now imbued with a patient reverence, deepened. He knew this was a threshold for Akaashi, a step into uncharted territory, and he wanted to ensure every moment was filled with comfort and pleasure. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Akaashi’s temple, his breath warm against his skin. Neither of them had any clothes left. Bokuto opened the lube bottle which was in his pocket and put an generous amount on his hand before rubbing it with his fingers.
- Just breathe, Keiji. He murmured, his voice a soothing balm. I’m here with you.
His fingers, already exploring the delicate folds of Akaashi’s entrance, began to move with a slow, deliberate rhythm. He started with a single finger, gently stretching and preparing Akaashi, watching his reactions closely. Akaashi’s breath hitched, a soft moan escaping his lips. He arched his back slightly, his hips moving instinctively, seeking a deeper connection.
Bokuto paused, his eyes searching Akaashi’s, seeking confirmation.
- Is this alright?. He whispered, his voice laced with concern.
Akaashi nodded, his eyes fluttering closed.
- Yes. He breathed, his voice barely audible. Just… slow.
Bokuto nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile. He added a second finger, moving with a gentle, circular motion, slowly increasing the pace and pressure. He watched as Akaashi’s body relaxed, his muscles loosening beneath his touch. Soft moans and gasps filled the air, a testament to the growing pleasure.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against Akaashi’s ear, his voice a low growl.
- You feel so good, Keiji. He whispered, his words arousing a wave of heat that washed over Akaashi.
Bokuto added a third finger, his movements now more confident, more assured.
- Aah-!
Bokuto's touch grew more confident, his fingers moving with a practiced rhythm that sent shivers down Akaashi's spine. He focused on the sensitive walls within, varying the pressure and speed, eliciting soft moans and gasps from Akaashi. He paid close attention to Akaashi's reactions, adjusting his movements to maximize pleasure.
He traced the delicate folds, exploring their textures, finding the spots that elicited the most intense responses. He moved in small, circular motions, then shifted to long, gliding strokes, teasing and tantalizing, drawing out the exquisite tension.
Akaashi's hips moved involuntarily, his body trembling with anticipation. His breath came in ragged gasps, his hands gripping Bokuto's shoulders, his nails digging into his skin. He whispered Bokuto's name, a sound imbued with a raw vulnerability he had never before allowed himself to express.
Bokuto leaned in, his lips brushing against Akaashi's ear, his voice a low rumble.
- You're so tight, so warm. He whispered, his words sending a wave of heat through Akaashi's body. So perfect.
He added a fourth finger, slowly and carefully, stretching Akaashi further.
- HAAH! Ah- Kou-
He paused, his eyes searching Akaashi's, seeking reassurance.
- Is this too much? He asked, his voice laced with concern.
Akaashi shook his head, his eyes fluttering closed.
- No. He breathed, his voice barely audible. Just… keep going.
Bokuto nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile. He continued his ministrations, his movements becoming more fluid, more assured. He focused on the rhythm, building the pressure, bringing Akaashi closer to the edge. He could feel Akaashi trembling beneath him, his body taut with anticipation. Bokuto removed his fingers, pressed a kiss to Akaashi’s lips, and aligned himself at his entrance.
- Ready?
Akaashi blushed even more and turned his head to the other side. Bokuto chuckled and kissed again Akaashi. Then he intertwined the fingers of his right hand with Akaashi’s left hand fingers. Akaashi’s chest lifted rapidly.
- Shhh... relax baby.
Akaashi could not help but frown slightly, out of fear. Bokuto pressed a kiss on Akaashi's forehead.
- Relax my angel. Bokuto eased himself into Akaashi.
- Aaaah! Gnh Kou!
He stilled after pressing just the tip in. He gave Akaashi time to adjust, gently wiping away the few tears of stress and pain that had gathered at the corners of his eyes. Then, little by little, he pushed in fully, taking his time to be slow and careful, not wanting to hurt him.
- Koutarou...! It-
- Hey, I know it hurts baby. Try to relax darling.
Bokuto began to move, slow at first, but as the initial pain faded into pleasure, his thrusts grew faster. Adjusting his angle slightly, he easily found Akaashi’s prostate, teasing it with light grazes before finally striking it with precision.
Akaashi became a moaning mess beneath him, his body shuddering with each deep thrust.
- Oh my god! Kouta- haah! HAAAH! Ah ah ah! K- Kou-!
Akaashi was completely helpless against the overwhelming pleasure. Bokuto released inside him but didn’t stop, his continued thrusts causing his release to spill out. Akaashi felt the hot liquid inside him, along with the relentless friction of Bokuto moving against his walls and brushing his prostate.
Both of them were flushed, their skin damp with sweat, breaths ragged. Their half-lidded eyes met, Akaashi’s face streaked with tears of pleasure.
The pleasure radiated through him, his entire world narrowing to Bokuto—his touch, his presence, his heat. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his body thrumming with sensation. Every thrust against his prostate sent another wave of euphoria crashing over him, pushing him further into the haze of ecstasy.
Slipping his hand free from Bokuto’s grip, he reached up, both hands now gripping Bokuto’s back, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure overwhelmed him.
Akaashi instinctively clawed at Bokuto’s back, his body desperate to ground itself against the overwhelming waves of pleasure. His back arched, his head pressing into the pillow, while his toes curled, trying in vain to grasp the sheets.
Bokuto’s hands tightened around Akaashi’s hips, holding him in place, preventing him from twisting away—not that Akaashi truly wanted to escape. He just wasn’t used to this level of pleasure, his body trembling under the intensity.
Everything else faded away. There was no room for thought, only sensation, only Bokuto. The pleasure surged through him, consuming every inch of his being. Tears slipped down his cheeks, unnoticed, as his body surrendered completely. With a particularly rough thrust, Bokuto finally pushed them both over the edge, their shared cries of pleasure breaking the heavy air. Their bodies trembled, intertwined, as the aftershocks pulsed through them, leaving them breathless and spent.
Akaashi trembled uncontrollably, his entire body still shaking as he cried out into Bokuto’s shoulder, his hips quivering with the lingering aftershocks of pleasure. His release had been overwhelming, pushing him beyond his limits. As he gradually caught his breath, his hands remained on Bokuto’s back, his ragged breathing slowly evening out.
Bokuto whispered soft, reassuring words into his ear, helping him relax and regain control. Pressing a gentle kiss to Akaashi’s lips, he finally collapsed beside him. The two lay there, side by side, their bodies still warm and trembling as they caught their breath.
The air was thick with the afterglow of shared intimacy. Bokuto held Akaashi close, their bodies still intertwined, their breaths slowly returning to normal. He gently stroked Akaashi's hair, his touch tender and reassuring.
Akaashi leaned against Bokuto, his body relaxed and content. He felt a sense of peace he hadn't known was possible, a feeling of belonging that transcended the centuries that had separated him from true connection. He closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of Bokuto's embrace.
- Are you alright, Keiji? Bokuto whispered, his voice soft and gentle.
Akaashi nodded, his voice barely a whisper.
- Yes. He replied. More than alright.
Bokuto pressed a soft kiss to Akaashi's forehead.
- I'm glad. He murmured. I was worried.
Akaashi smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes.
- You don't have to worry. He said. I trust you.
They remained in each other's arms for a long time, the silence filled with unspoken emotions. Bokuto continued to stroke Akaashi's hair, his touch soothing and comforting. He wanted to ensure Akaashi felt safe and secure, to erase any lingering doubts or anxieties.
Eventually, Bokuto gently shifted, pulling Akaashi closer. He wrapped a blanket around them both, holding him close. He knew Akaashi had experienced a lot, and he wanted to provide him with the comfort and support he needed. He whispered soft words of affirmation, telling Akaashi how much he loved and cherished him.
Bokuto pressed one last lingering kiss to Akaashi’s temple before finally pulling away, his breath still unsteady. The room was filled with warmth, their bodies still buzzing in the quiet aftermath of pleasure.
Akaashi lay still, his chest rising and falling in slow, deep breaths. His body felt heavy, exhausted, yet strangely light at the same time. A faint shiver ran through him as the cool air touched his overheated skin.
Bokuto noticed immediately. With a soft hum, he shifted, brushing Akaashi’s damp hair away from his forehead.
- I’ll be right back. He murmured, pressing a quick kiss to Akaashi’s cheek before slipping out of bed.
Akaashi barely registered the absence, his eyelids fluttering as he fought the pull of sleep. But then, the bed dipped again, and the comforting warmth of Bokuto returned. Something soft and warm pressed against his inner thigh—a damp towel.
- Relax. Bokuto whispered, his voice soothing as he carefully wiped Akaashi clean.
His touches were gentle, unhurried, full of care. He didn’t tease, didn’t rush—just took his time, making sure Akaashi was comfortable.
Akaashi let out a slow breath, his fingers lazily reaching for Bokuto’s wrist, squeezing it in silent gratitude. Bokuto smiled at the touch, finishing his task before tossing the towel aside.
- There. He said softly, slipping back under the covers and pulling Akaashi into his arms. All taken care of.
Akaashi sighed against Bokuto’s chest, letting himself be enveloped in the warmth of his embrace. The steady thrum of Bokuto’s heartbeat was comforting, grounding. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to simply exist in the moment, safe in Bokuto’s arms.
Bokuto pressed a kiss to the top of his head, his voice barely above a whisper.
- I love you, Keiji.
Akaashi’s lips curled into a small, tired smile as sleep finally began to pull him under. He didn’t say it back—not yet. But the way he relaxed into Bokuto’s hold, the way his fingers curled gently into the fabric of his shirt, said enough.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Akaashi found himself falling deeper—though, if he was being honest, he had already fallen long before he was willing to admit it.
Bokuto didn’t rush him. He never did. He still teased, still lingered with soft touches, still looked at Akaashi like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. But he never pushed, never asked for more than Akaashi was ready to give.
And yet, the space between them kept closing.
Akaashi found himself reaching for Bokuto first—threading their fingers together absentmindedly, leaning into his touch instead of pulling away, pressing a kiss to his cheek just because he wanted to.
Then came the moments where words weren’t needed—where Bokuto would simply tuck Akaashi into his arms, running fingers through his hair as they lay in quiet contentment. Where Bokuto’s laughter was enough to make the weight on Akaashi’s shoulders feel a little lighter.
And then one night, under the soft glow of city lights filtering through Akaashi’s bedroom window, it happened.
Bokuto had been half asleep, his breathing slow and steady against Akaashi’s skin, when Akaashi whispered.
- I love you.
The words had left his lips before he could second-guess them. And for a moment, he held his breath, wondering if Bokuto had even heard him.
But then, Bokuto stirred, his arms tightening around Akaashi as he let out a sleepy chuckle.
- Took you long enough.
Akaashi huffed, pressing his face into Bokuto’s shoulder, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck.
Bokuto only laughed, shifting so he could tilt Akaashi’s chin up and kiss him—slow and deep, as if sealing the moment between them.
- I love you too, Keiji. Always have.
Akaashi sighed into the kiss, into the warmth, into everything that was Bokuto.
And for the first time in his long, long life, he finally stopped running from love.
Because maybe—just maybe—he had found the one person worth standing still for.
Bokuto understood. And for now, that was more than enough.
Then on the night of December 5th, for the first time in centuries, Akaashi truly had a birthday. Bokuto had decided to throw a giant party at his house, with his parents, his elder sisters, and the guys from his high school volleyball team who had met Akaashi when he helped Bokuto with tosses.
Snow dusted the streets outside, settling softly on rooftops and windowpanes, but inside, warmth pulsed through the air. Golden lights flickered, laughter echoed, and the scent of something sweet lingered from the massive cake Bokuto had insisted on.
Akaashi stood in the center of it all, caught somewhere between disbelief and quiet gratitude. He wasn’t used to this—to being celebrated, to feeling like he belonged in a moment so full of life. But as Bokuto grinned at him, eyes gleaming with something deeper than excitement, Akaashi realized he didn’t want to run from it anymore.
- For the first birthday you’ve had in centuries. Bokuto declared loudly, standing on a chair and holding up his glass. And for every single one after this! Because I’m never letting you pretend they don’t matter again!
Cheers erupted around them, and for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, Akaashi let himself smile—real and unguarded. Because maybe, just maybe, this was what it meant to finally start living again.
——
Let me know if you liked this! Ihope you enjoyed this au!
ShannNeko07 on Chapter 1 Fri 21 Feb 2025 11:30PM UTC
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Queen_Haikyuu on Chapter 1 Sun 23 Feb 2025 03:55PM UTC
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cawgeyamas on Chapter 3 Fri 21 Feb 2025 12:40AM UTC
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Queen_Haikyuu on Chapter 3 Sun 09 Mar 2025 09:19PM UTC
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aokasei on Chapter 3 Tue 04 Mar 2025 10:55AM UTC
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Queen_Haikyuu on Chapter 3 Tue 04 Mar 2025 10:29PM UTC
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