Chapter Text
Bokuto remembers moving into the apartment building with his single mother, holding her hand as she struggled with a box in the other. he can recall the lift wasn’t working, the stairs were many and tiring for his young body, but he kept going because his mum didn’t need him troubling her as well.
The weird thing about this day, was Bokuto can very clearly, recall meeting you. The sharp contrast of your eye colour to your hair and the tone of your skin, the colour of your clothes.
Had he had not been so entranced for reasons unknown to him- you would have scared him.
Black, ripped jeans and tall military boots, a tank top and sleeveless denim jacket over the top, a soft grey hoodie buttoned on the top, arm warmers hooked to thumb to elbow, leather bands and rope bracelets, band pins and patches ironed to the jacket, logos hand stitched to the sides. Your hair was messy and streaked with (fav colour), something he hadn’t seen on someone since he had worked through the throng of Tokyo city streets with his mum looking for apartments.
Yeah you had been so scary, his mum’s hand had tightened around his the moment her eyes caught yours, narrowed and aggressive looking.
But Bokuto recalls everything had gone a little slowly, those sharp eyes softened as they widened, your posture slumping a little bit as shoulders drooped lazily and hands untucked themselves from pockets.
“Would you like some help with that? It looks very heavy.” You walked forward, smiling welcomingly, and winked at him.
“Ah um, thank you.” his mum had seemed unsure, but you took the box, clearly understanding your intimidating effect, and let your whole body relax, your full height, well above his mother, dropping down to only a little taller.
The muscles in your arms rippled as you took what he had thought to be heavy box from his mum without batting an eye, and you introduced yourself as his mum showed you to their new apartment.
“I’m (y/n) (l/n), I’m foreign though so please just call me by my first name. You must be my new neighbor?”
“Ah yes, it would seem that way, thank you for helping with the box, you can just put it there if you’d like.”
You put it down gently, not sure what was it in, and turned with a slightly unsure smile.
“Well, I’m Bokuto Nigiri, and this is my son, Bokuto Koutarou. We moved here to start at a new school, didn’t we my little owl?”
Even at that age he was aware enough to be a little embarrassed by his pet name- and made his thoughts known with a red faced pout and protest- but then you were crouched in front of him and smiling with confidence in your eyes.
Their depths were warm, the only thing in focus, “well, I think owls are cool, don’t you? they can turn their heads allll- the way ‘round and they’re really clever!”
He was shy at first, and remembers muttering that you have a funny accent.
You laughed, and his mum scolded him lightly, you invited them too your apartment, making yourself and his mother tea, and him something you called a milo.
“ah! Milo is from my country, you can have it like a hot chocolate or you can do this-“ milk and then spoonfuls of the chocolatey looking goodness on top. “-And you eat it up with the milk!”
He really, really, liked that drink –only it wasn’t chocolate, which was very strange he thought.
You helped unpack the car, and when his mother sighed over the fact they only had one futon and one blanket, you were quick to give them your third, waving it off as you apparently already had a spare.
“oh I have this really cute doona!”
“what’s a doona?”
“A big, warm blanket that’s extra comfy!”
You towered over him, he felt so so small in front of you. His hands shook slightly as he tried to bravely stare you down, standing in front of his Mother, in need of protection from scary strangers like you, whenever he saw you he repeated this action, not being able to properly gauge you. You only ever laughed, and stepped around him.
It took hardly a week before Bokuto saw something his mother had not noticed before, you refused to touch him, and recoiled slightly whenever you brushed against Nigiri. It was like every time you touched another person you were burned, sometimes he would see your eyes widen as you snatched your hand back and stuff it in a pocket, closing in on yourself. That mixed with his inability to properly read anything about you, from intentions to motivations to even reasons for actions you took, made him feel a little uneasy whenever he saw you. Because something really add up.
“Mum, (y/n) is weird.”
Nigiri peered up from her dinner, putting her fork down slowly. “what do you mean dear?”
Koutarou pondered it for a moment, humming thoughtfully, “I don’t know. She’s just weird.”
“I think I know what you mean.” His mum put the fork down, and instead leaned her chin into her palm. “Me and you dad met very quickly, Kou, I’ve told you about soulmates before haven’t I?”
He nodded, shoveling more food in his mouth as he regarded his mother with interest.
“Well, most people meet their soul mates very quickly, they wait maybe a few years at most, but sometimes..” she paused, and her eyes wondered to the wall connecting them to your apartment. “Sometimes Kou some people don’t meet their soul mate for a long, long time. So they get really old, but only in their mind. Their body doesn’t change. So really, (y/n) is probably a lot older than me, but looks younger. And that’s probably why you think she’s strange.”
“wouldn’t it be cool to be the same age for ages?”
“No Kou, it wouldn’t, you’ll understand it better when you’re older.”
“Kou?”
“yes mum?”
“Don’t ask (y/n) about her soul mate ok? It’s very rude.”
“Koutarou, will you give this too (y/n) for me?”
Hardly one to refuse his mother’s request Koutarou diligently took the dish from his mother, and marched all the way to your tightly closed door before he hesitated. He hadn’t had to knock on your door before, not by himself.
It took him a moment to swallow past the lump in his throat, and he kicked the door to gain your attention from inside the apartment, but at the sound o your foot fall he found himself shifting his weight nervously.
The door opened and you seemed mildly surprised to see him there.
“Mum told me to give this too you.”
“Oh, thank you Bokuto.” You leaned down and reached for the dish, and upon passing it to your much larger hands, he purposefully brushed against your own.
He watched as you flinched slightly, smile becoming forced, it twitched at the corners and the smile faded from your eyes. You looked anxious.
“You hate being touched, why?”
“uh.” You held the dish now, and invited him inside as you placed it on the bench top. “some people, Bokuto, don’t like touching things that they think they’ll ruin. I feel like if I touch someone like you or or mum, that I’m going to break you.”
“why?”
“Because, Bokuto.” You smiled sadly, and looked him in the eye, a boy who could never understand such issues, it was fruitless to try and explain it. “I am a broken person, and I don’t want my misfortune to rub off on you.”
“That’s stupid.”
You laughed dryly, having expected a reaction of that kind, “it would sound like it to someone like you, but people in their teens and adults don’t want it. They don’t want my bad luck so they avoid me.”
“It’s still stupid! You can’t catch bad luck.”
“superstitions, Bokuto,” you lead him to your door, and watched him get to his own door way before beginning to close the door. “sometimes they have merit.”
And then you’re gone from sight.
It was this conversation and the moments that followed, of your avoidance and disdain of being touched that made the memory of the first time you voluntarily touched him yourself without his own meddling.
The memory of you reaching down in a moment of happiness and ruffling his hair as you beat him in Mario kart was sharp. If he concentrated he could still smell the beef ramen you had on the stove, brewing away for an early dinner before you worked night shift at a local pub, the feel of the old blanket over his lap and against his arms, the wii controller in his hands, surrounded by a wheel for the game. He had peered up at you with wide eyes, both surprised and pleased. You had kept laughing, seemingly not even noticing the magnitude of your own actions in those fleeting moments.
But Bokuto didn’t think he’d ever forget, and from then on, you continued the small gestures of growing affections, the ruffles of hair and picking him up to forcibly move him somewhere else.
Each moment was a precious memory in itself.