Adrenaline sparked through his veins. In a rush of panic, Bokuto untangled himself from Akaashi and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him as forcefully as he dared. "Keiji?" he whispered, gut churning at the horrible, tearing screams and pleas coming from his boyfriend. "Keiji, wake up. Keiji!"
Akaashi's eyes snapped open, and his screaming cut off harshly and abruptly. Through heaving breaths he took one look at Bokuto, and with eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room Bokuto could see his face crease and crumple. His mind was still buzzing with fear and adrenaline, but it didn't take a clear mind for Bokuto to gather Akaashi into his arms and hold him tightly as he began to cry.
"Y-you had the gun," Akaashi said between sobs, clutching at Bokuto's t-shirt. "And you s-said my name, and you – you –" His voice choked, too thick with tears to keep going. Bokuto pressed his lips to Akaashi's forehead and redoubled his grip on Akaashi's t-shirt, damp with sweat. "I c-couldn't stop you, Koutarou, I couldn't…"
"Hey," Bokuto said shakily, rubbing Akaashi's back. The adrenaline had begun to ebb from his veins, and the repetitive movement was grounding to him as he soothed Akaashi. He closed his eyes momentarily "Hey, now. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. You got that, Keiji? I'm right here with you. Breathe, that's right. It was just a dream."
As he talked, Akaashi's sobs faded into sniffles and heaving breaths against his chest. Bokuto kept murmuring gentle reassurances even so, and it was only when Akaashi let go of his t-shirt and pushed back against his arms a little that Bokuto let him go. Akaashi sat up and rubbed at his eyes, drawing his legs up to his chest. Bokuto pushed himself to sitting as well, and leaned over to grab his phone. He pushed the power button and winced as the screen glared into life. 3:04.
"Mm? Time?" Akaashi asked. His voice was shaky and quiet. Scratchy. Scared.
"Three-ish," Bokuto said. He leaned over to replace his phone on the bedside table, and turned on the lamp. Akaashi squinted in the sudden light. His eyes were very red, and his face flushed from crying. Bokuto shuffled closer to him, and took one of Akaashi's hands in his own. "Hey," he murmured. "Are you alright now?"
Akaashi nodded, looking down. He bit his lip. "I'm fine. It was just a stupid dream."
Bokuto reached out and brushed his free hand under Akaashi's eye, wiping away a tear. "What was it about, Keiji?" He kept his voice soft and steady.
Akaashi's lip trembled. "It wasn't – I – it's…" He sniffed. "It wasn't real. I know that. It wasn't that – it wasn't. Real."
"Keiji." Bokuto rubbed his thumb in circles over the hand he was holding. "It – I dunno, it might help if you talk about it. Get it out." Akaashi said nothing, but as Bokuto watched another tear spilled down his cheek. He felt a pang in his stomach, and abruptly let go of Akaashi's hand, only to crawl over the bed to draw Akaashi into a hug from behind. Akaashi leaned back into him, and they sat there like that, breathing together in the yellow light of the lamp.
"W-we were in the garage with Kunimoto," Akaashi said after a minute, his voice quiet and yet eerily loud in the silence of the night. "You were standing there. With… with your gun at your…" His voice caught and his shoulders tensed. "And I couldn't say anything. I tried to stop you but I – I couldn't talk, I couldn't move and you said my name, and –" He sniffed. "And you… you…" Tears welled up in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks, and he bit his lip. His body began to shake again. "You…"
The words were like rocks plummeting down into his stomach, sinking and pressing with an awful, sickening weight. A shiver wracked Bokuto's body as the memory of the garage flashed dark in his mind. Adrenaline like none he had ever felt searing through his veins, sparking through his brain. The bitter taste of fear. Nausea, bile, as he looked upon the man who had dared to harm them – who had dared to try and take away everything Akaashi held dear.
The ghost of cold, cold metal against his temple. A finger, quivering on the rough surface of the trigger.
The shot.
(On that night, he had said Keiji's name, and then he had begun to count. He had started from five, and on four the sniper rifle had found its mark. Bokuto didn't know if Kuroo was just freaky good at knowing how Bokuto worked, or if he'd struck lucky with the timing.
Bokuto had hoped as much as he could that it was the first. He didn't trust fate not to reverse time and make everything go horribly, horribly wrong if he guessed otherwise.)
Bokuto pressed his lips to Akaashi's shoulder and kept his hold firm, willing his trembling arms to hold still. He rocked Akaashi gently, and as he did so the churning in his gut calmed and stilled.
"I'm here," Bokuto said. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. You got that, Keiji? I'm right here with you. I love you, and I'm not going anywhere."
Akaashi blinked hard and nodded. His face was screwed up, pressed together as if to stopper the tears, swallow his emotions until he choked on them. And Bokuto knew. He knew that feeling – equally, knew how terrible it was when there was nothing you could do to stop the emotions spilling over. When you couldn't hide.
"Keiji? Keiji, look at me. Come here."
Akaashi turned so he was facing Bokuto, face still caught in the struggle of remaining calm when he was anything but. Bokuto leaned forwards and embraced him.
"Kou – Koutarou?"
Bokuto kept his hold steady, taking comfort from Akaashi's breaths rising and falling against his chest. And as they stayed there, Akaashi relaxed in his arms. He began to cry again. His sobs echoed through the room for minutes, trembling through his body and pouring messily from his eyes and mouth. Bokuto rested one hand in Akaashi's hair, and rubbed slow circles on his back with the other.
He had lost track of the time, but when Akaashi went limp in his hold, Bokuto nearly dropped him in shock. A quick look at Akaashi's face showed that his eyes were closed, and his breathing was slower, calm. He was asleep.
Bokuto lowered him to the bed, kissed his forehead, then turned out the light and settled back down. He pulled the sheets and duvet over the pair of them, wrapped his arms around Akaashi, and closed his eyes.
Even though Akaashi was warm and breathing steadily beside him, it took him a long, long time to get back to sleep.
Bokuto blinked his eyes open. Sunlight filtered in through the blinds, landing in faint stripes on the floor and bed. He unhooked an arm from around Akaashi and reached backwards for his phone, twisting his body a little so he could see the time. 6:43.
Akaashi's eyes were puffy, and his face pale. Bokuto's stomach panged as he looked at him, and he leaned in to kiss Akaashi's forehead, running a hand gently through his tousled hair. Normally, even just these light touches would rouse Akaashi a bit – and while an awakened Akaashi was not exactly an awake Akaashi, it was something Bokuto was used to. But Akaashi slept on. He didn't even stir.
Bokuto eased himself out of bed, and gently tucked the covers back around Akaashi. He stroked his thumb over Akaashi's cheekbone, and sighed. The bags under his eyes were darker and deeper than they had been in weeks, and even in sleep Akaashi's face wasn't wholly at peace. He looked so very, very tired.
Bokuto showered quickly, towelled off, and decided to skip gelling his hair. Dropping his towel on the bathroom floor, he wandered back into his bedroom and opened the wardrobe, glancing briefly over at Akaashi. Still asleep.
He looked briefly at his jeans, raised an eyebrow at them, then reached up to the shelf with his pyjama tops. He pulled out the first thing he felt, and shook it out. And then he raised the other eyebrow at it.
It was a pair of blue and green plaid pyjama pants – pants he had never seen before in his life. Frowning, he brought them close to his face and sniffed. They smelt sort of musty, and quite a lot like his cologne, but there was a faint trace of unfamiliar washing powder beneath all that.
Keiji's. A warmth spread through his stomach, and for the first time that morning he smiled, wide and fond. He was about to put them back, and then he rubbed the material between his fingers. It was soft, comforting. Slouchy. Exactly the sort of thing to wear on a lazy Saturday morning.
And so he shimmied them on, surprised when they fit. He pulled out the waistband to check the label. It was a size bigger than Akaashi normally wore trousers in – Bokuto's size. He knew it was probably a coincidence – for physical comfort rather than sentimentality. But that Akaashi owned clothes in the same size as him at all made him smile.
Shrugging on a clean t-shirt, Bokuto meandered into the kitchen and started up the coffee machine.
It was nearly half-past seven when Akaashi trudged into the kitchen: still in his pyjamas, rubbing his eyes and with hair even more tousled than Bokuto had left it earlier.
"Morning," he said, the word half-muffled by a yawn.
"Good morning!" Bokuto said, smiling at Akaashi. "Coffee?"
"Um…" Akaashi yawned again, and stretched his arms out. "Maybe not. Think I'll have tea or something."
"I'll get it for you," Bokuto said. He got up, kissed Akaashi on the lips, and steered him over to a chair through half-hearted protests, planting his hands very forcibly on Akaashi's shoulders to make sure he sat and stayed sitting. Akaashi rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him. And then he sighed.
"One teabag, half a teaspoon of sugar, three minutes steeping, and –"
"And milk, I know, I know! Got it all under control!"
They fell into an amicable silence as Bokuto filled a mug with boiling water and jiggled a teabag about in it. Akaashi looked distracted, so Bokuto let him be. Stirring in the sugar and glancing up at the clock, he went to open the fridge and search for the milk. He heard a faint pattering sound, and peered out of the fridge.
Akaashi was drumming his fingers on the table very rapidly, chewing his lower lip. He looked up as Bokuto closed the fridge, milk in hand, and made his way back to Akaashi's tea.
"You didn't wake me up for our run," Akaashi said quietly.
Bokuto turned towards him from the counter and smiled at him. "I thought you could use the sleep! It's just one day, anyway – we can run further tomorrow to make up for it if you want!"
Akaashi snorted, and raised an eyebrow at Bokuto. "Somehow, I don't think even you would manage more than the distance we run already."
Bokuto shrugged. "I can give it a go, can't I?" He plucked the teabag from the mug, poured in a splash of milk, and brought it over to the table, placing it in front of Akaashi. "There you go! Just how you like it!"
"Thank you, Koutarou," Akaashi said with a faint smile, picking up the mug from the table and blowing on it. He took a sip, and closed his eyes. "It's good."
Bokuto plonked himself down opposite Akaashi and picked up his mug of coffee. For a while they sat there in silence, drinking and breathing and watching the room grow warmer with the growing sunlight streaming in from the window.
"Hey, Keiji?"
"Mm?"
"Are – are you okay after last night? Did you sleep alright?"
Akaashi stared at the table, hands curled around his mug. He was tapping against it with a finger, and one quickly escalated into several, beating out a rapid, erratic tattoo. He didn't appear to have noticed. Bokuto frowned.
"About that. I –" Akaashi faltered, swallowed, and spoke again. "I didn't mean to wake you up last night. Or the other night, on the phone."
Bokuto tilted his head at Akaashi, and then his eyes narrowed as realisation struck him. "That was a nightmare too, wasn't it."
Akaashi's face tightened, and he nodded.
"Was it the… um… the same thing?"
Akaashi shook his head once. "No. It wasn't… it wasn't very nice, though." His voice became even quieter. "I don't want to think about it, and I – I don't need to talk about it."
Bokuto placed his mug on the table, his coffee suddenly sour in his mouth. "Keiji," he said slowly, "you don't – you don't have to apologise for stuff like that. If you wanna talk about –"
But Akaashi shook his head and interrupted him. "It's my problem. You have enough to deal with already. It's been nearly six weeks, and I – I was fine." He dropped his gaze and clutched his mug a little tighter. "I thought I was fine."
Bokuto leaned on the table, face drawing into a frown as concern bubbled in his gut. "Keiji –"
"Look, I'm not saying I expected to be past it straight away. But I didn't think I'd still be affected by it this long afterwards.
"Look, I… I don't know a lot about this sort of stuff," Bokuto said, rubbing the back of his head. "I've never really read anything on psychology or nightmares or stuff like that, but I don't think it's… it's not strange that you're still not over it."
Akaashi stiffened. "I should be."
"It doesn't matter to me if you aren't!"
"It does."
"But it shouldn't –"
"But it does to me because this isn't something I want to bother you with, Bokuto-san!"
In a reflex jerk, Akaashi lifted his hands and brought them down as his voice reached a crescendo. But he was still clinging tightly to his mug, and it landed down sharply on the table. Bokuto jumped as it clanged against the wood.
Akaashi's voice had risen alarmingly in his outburst, tight and sharp. Very suddenly, his face was no longer calm. It creased, and there was something dark and frightening in his eyes.
But as soon as the words had escaped his mouth, Akaashi inhaled sharply. He blinked and dropped his gaze, a dark flush to his cheeks. Letting go of his mug, he pressed one hand to his mouth, the other clenching tightly on the table top. His breathing got very heavy, and there was a faint tremble to it.
All at once, Bokuto was reminded of the Akaashi of nearly two months ago – constantly on edge, exhausted to the point of collapse, tired and shaking and trying his utmost not to fall apart as a senseless, horrible person took everything he knew and loved and tried to destroy it.
And how he'd hated seeing that – wanting to help, to properly help yet not wanting to overstep his boundaries; wanting to hold him and comfort him from the beginning of the hurt and make promises that Akaashi might actually believe. That nothing would hurt him; that everything would be okay. Wanting to be that much closer for Akaashi's sake.
Akaashi didn't like being vulnerable. Bokuto knew that. And he didn't like being seen as weak. And yet – oh, how many times had Bokuto wished he could give Akaashi all the comfort he had so desperately looked like he needed in those awful, awful weeks.
Now, at least, he could. And maybe Akaashi would listen.
Bokuto reached out and unfurled Akaashi's fingers from their fist, and entwined their hands together. He squeezed gently.
"Keiji." Bokuto squeezed Akaashi's hand again, and it wasn't until Akaashi looked up at him that he continued. "I know you say it's not my burden. The… the thing is…" He chewed the inside of his cheek as he tried to figure out how to say the thing he knew Akaashi needed to hear.
"Thing is, Keiji, that's what I'd say too."
"What…" Akaashi sniffed, and rubbed his reddened eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Um…" Bokuto bit his lower lip, and his leg began to jiggle up and down. It was so, so much harder than he'd thought it would be a moment ago to say what he wanted to. Huh.
"Well, it's just… You weren't the only one there, Keiji. I was…" Bokuto choked out a laugh, dry and sort of desperate. "I was terrified. And I've had nightmares about it – hell, it'll be the middle of the day and I'll just remember his voice! Or…" His mouth went very dry, and he swallowed. "Or the gun. Against my head. It's kinda scary, 'cause I know nothing's there, but I can still feel it, y'know?"
Akaashi's eyes widened, and his hand unconsciously squeezed Bokuto's. "You haven't acted like anything's wrong. You never told me about this!"
Bokuto smiled sadly at Akaashi. "Guess that makes two of us, huh?"
Akaashi opened his mouth, his face screwed up and indignant – but after a couple of seconds, he relaxed, and averted his eyes away from Bokuto. "I guess it does."
"There's nothing wrong with having nightmares, Keiji," Bokuto said quietly. Akaashi's shoulders tensed, but Bokuto just squeezed Akaashi's hand again and kept going. "They're awful, but they aren't real! They can't really hurt you. I know it feels like they can. And they stop you sleeping and make you think all sorts of awful things, but they're just… memories. And you can wake me up if they happen, I seriously don't mind!"
"Koutarou, that's – that's not –" Akaashi stared at Bokuto with eyes darkened with – it looked like fear. But not quite fear.
"The – the thing – the thing is, I… I haven't been having them here."
"Huh?" Bokuto slackened his grip on Akaashi's hand. "Keiji, what – what do you mean?"
Akaashi sat up straighter in his chair and took a deep breath. His face settled into its usual calm expression – nearly. Bokuto noticed a set to his jaw that he'd very rarely seen before. His eyes seemed far, far away. "Most – most of the time, when I've had the nightmares, I've… I've been at my place. By myself. And I wake up and I'm alone and I forget, for a moment, that you're alive and that Kenma and Kuroo-san are okay and that no one died and that everything's fine. I just forget it, Koutarou. A-and normally I remember again, but sometimes I don't, I panic, and that's –" He faltered. And then he swallowed, and started talking again. "And that's why I called, the other night. I had to make sure. I don't think I'd have been able to sleep afterwards if I hadn't."
When he finished speaking, he didn't look down. He kept his chin lifted, but though his jaw was set, his lower lip was trembling.
Bokuto frowned and was silent for a few moments, trying to process something Akaashi hadn't said, but had so very much implied. "So… The nightmares are mostly when you're not… here? Not sleeping next to me?"
Akaashi blanched. And then he swallowed, and nodded, his lower lip clenched beneath his teeth.
"It's really stupid," he said quietly. "Really, really stupid, but I – I feel safer when I'm with you. I feel safer when we're together."
Unbidden, a warm, fuzzy feeling rose in Bokuto's stomach. He smiled. And then he got up, walked around to the other side of the table and pulled Akaashi into a tight hug, resting his face in his hair. "I guess you're gonna have to sleep over here a lot more, then. 'Cause I don't want you to not feel safe ever again."
Akaashi snorted. It was wet and sniffly-sounding, but it rang so much truer of Akaashi than he had seen that morning that Bokuto couldn't help but smile into Akaashi's hair.
"Koutarou, you can hardly prevent that from happening."
"Oh yeah?"
Akaashi didn't answer. But he wrapped his arms around Bokuto's waist and nuzzled into him. His breathing was calmer. And that was answer enough.
One conversation about it wasn't going to fix Akaashi overnight, and Bokuto was already thinking to suggest that Akaashi call Komi to try and figure out how to deal with it. But the tension and the fear had vanished. He could breathe easy again. Akaashi was in his arms, safe.
And Bokuto was there to hold him and reassure him – to love Akaashi and show him that he was loved – and there was probably nothing more comforting in the world than knowing that that was the case.
(Although, it wasn't for another couple of weeks that the idea of asking Akaashi to just move in with him even occurred to Bokuto.)
-fin-
A Very Silly Epilogue:
"Kuroo, where have you been? I haven't seen you since last Saturday! Last Saturday, bro!"
"Sorry, man."
"It's been four chapters, bro, and you've barely shown up!"
"Sorry, sorry! I… just… ooh, jeez, this is gonna sound kinda weird."
"Eh. I don't care."
"Okay, so you must know by now that I took Kenma home on Thursday 'cause he was pretty tired and looked like he was in pain, yeah?"
"Yeah…"
"But the next day, I had this feeling when I woke up. It was like… man, it was like if either of us left the apartment, something horrible was gonna happen to the both of us."
"Huh? How come?"
"Got no idea, Brokuto. It freaked me out, though. Almost like someone who liked me and had a place near and dear for me in their heart was out to make my life as hellish as possible."
"…Dude, that's a weirdly specific feeling. You sure you didn't have a few drinks and space out a little? Magic mushrooms? Broccoli?"
"I'm being serious here, Bokuto!"
"Did Kenma get that as well?"
"Meh. I don't know. He knows something is off with me, but I dunno what's goin' on in his head."
"Huh. That's… really strange."
"Yeah, don't I know it. I'm a nice guy, Bokuto! …Most of the time, anyways! Who'd have it out for me?"
"…How oddly specific are we talking?"
"Beats me. I mean, I got it after I'd had this dream where Kenma was jabbed multiple times with a butter knife and I was chucked into a swimming pool. Maybe it was that?"
"Maybe. That's a weird-ass dream, bro. Hmmm… you could try drinking warm milk before going to bed? With vanilla and sugar? Or just by itself, I dunno. Or tea. Akaashi swears by tea if he needs caffeine but also needs to calm down, you get me."
"Loud and clear, bro."
"And dude, I get that it's your gut and you always need to listen to your gut – but not when it's that weirdly specific."
"…Fair point."
"I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"
…
"Ooh, hang on a tick. Just got an email from… huh."
"Hm?"
"What kinds of flowers do you like?"
"Flowers? Eeh? I dunno… Ooh, I like bouquets with those little charms on sticks! Owl charms!"
"'Kay, I'll tell him that."
"Who?"
"Konoha."
"Huh? Why does Konoha wanna send me flowers?"
"Er… 'Yo Kuroo captain-san kinda showed me the light and kumiko and I are a thing now and captain-san deserves like a pony or something but I can't afford that I think so flowers it is what do you think he'd like.'"
"Aw, cool! Took 'em long enough – hey, wait! Was I supposed to know about him sending me flowers?"
"Oh. Prob'ly not. Oops."
Author's notes
The epilogue is very silly and not to be taken seriously. I do apologise. (It is also foreshadowing to the Crisis Converted sequel, Water and Brimstone, which you can read on AO3.)
Fun fact: This is the first multi-chapter fic I have ever finished. I am slightly astounded, but mostly immensely pleased. I've loved writing blue light, and especially because it's been for one of my friends.
Thank you to everyone who's read this, and especially to those that have favourited and followed this story.
And the biggest thanks must go to Aetherdrive - for letting me play in his universe, and for generally being a lovely person and a very good friend.
