Archive of Our Own

Here’s the thing.

Bokuto knows he’s a lot. He’s heard it from virtually everyone he’s ever known, from his parents to many of his recent teammates. It isn’t breaking news despite how often people seem to think they’re the first one to ever inform him that he’s Too Much.

Bokuto knows. He knows quite explicitly. The problem is he doesn’t know how to stop.

Bokuto Koutarou has ADHD. It doesn’t really bother him but it’s apparently quite the bother to everyone else in his life.

He’s never been medicated, largely due to how difficult it is to get prescribed the medication that would treat it, and the difficulty of taking a stimulant as a professional athlete. His coaches warned that it would likely impact his chances of getting picked for the National Team and going to the Olympics as well.

Bokuto Koutarou has ADHD and it’s like his brain is full of bees, constantly pulling him towards a thousand different things all at once all the time. But volleyball… Volleyball is the one thing the bees can agree on.

So he forgoes the medication, and the equally stigmatized therapy option, and dedicates himself completely to the only two things in life that matter to him: volleyball and his amazing, wonderful boyfriends.

Bokuto considers himself the luckiest guy in the world. He’s on the short list to qualify for the Olympic team, and he’s spent the last several weeks training with the National Team to prepare for just that. He has an apartment with two men he’s been with since high school. He gets to wake up every single morning before his pre-workout run and see Kuroo and Akaashi’s beautiful, sleeping faces.

They’ve been nothing but supportive of him despite the long, several day trips away from home, and they moved all the way to Osaka after high school just so they could all be together.

Bokuto could want for nothing else from the world, except…

The bees. They’ve been awfully waspish as of late.

He’s always been prone to episodes of depression and anxiety, even as a teenager. In the years since then, the people who have known him from middle or high school always remark that he’s become so mature as an adult. No more emo mode, no more spiraling into self loathing and despair anytime something bad happens. You’ve grown up, Bokuto, they’ll always say.

But he hasn’t. Not really, anyways. Bokuto still has those same thoughts and feelings as he always did, perhaps with even more intensity than he used to. He’s just gotten better at hiding it.

Because here’s the thing. When your natural personality is typified by being Too Much, you start to notice the way things slowly change in how people treat you.

People you considered close friends will start ignoring your texts. The sinking, aching realization that your conversations have probably been muted will haunt every relationship you have moving forward. You’ll grow too attached to someone or someones who will eventually become tired of having to deal with you.

There’s a word for that. A hyperfixation. Bokuto has always known that he’s fixated on volleyball, but he never realized you can also fixate on people as well.

He’s been hyperfixated on Akaashi ever since the younger joined the volleyball team. By some miracle the intensity of Bokuto’s feelings and the Too Muchness of his personality have yet to drive him away in the last decade.

It’s a little lonely though, realizing that the people you attach yourself to will likely never feel that same frightening, overwhelming sense of need for you in the way you do for them.

Bokuto comes close to burning Akaashi out near the end of his third year, and then Kuroo enters their relationship with an unexpected, but not unwelcome, heartfelt confession.

Kuroo brings a sense of balance to their relationship that they hadn’t realized they sorely needed at the time. He’s prone to periods of quiet like Akaashi, but he’s used to loud, brash personalities with teammates like Yamamoto, and so he takes Bokuto’s Too Muchness in stride and often manages to match his endless enthusiasm.

Despite all the odds, they work.

Or at least they used to work.

Lately Bokuto has been… well, he’s been feeling insecure.

It hits him on a random Tuesday afternoon out of the blue. That sudden feeling of Knowing. The icy rush of realization sinking into his bones.

It starts with a teasing jab from one of his teammates.

In all respects just a harmless joke. A side comment meant to rib at him but not actually cause harm.

“Y’know Bokuto, I think for every message one of the rest of us sends in the group chat, you’ve already sent ten. I don’t know how your boyfriends even handle you.”

Bokuto knows he’s a little overenthusiastic. He’s always thrived off group chats and getting to talk to other people, so perhaps he’s gotten a little carried away in the chat that everyone on the National Team made to keep in touch and get to know one another. In the privacy of the bathroom after practice, he checks his phone and sure enough the last several messages are all from him.

Scrolling back further he realizes that his teammate hadn’t even been exaggerating. Walls of chat bubbles from Bokuto, sharing videos and funny pictures he saw online, or cool photos of the team that fans had posted on Twitter. Articles about volleyball and news about the upcoming summer games.

Things that get occasional conversations from others but for the most part it’s just… Bokuto. Loudly shouting into the wind and not realizing his volume.

It’s an ugly thought but Bokuto realizes he’s apparently gotten too comfortable with them. Let too many of the bees out of the carefully wrapped box he’d built in his mind after high school.

It’s okay though. Now that he’s aware of it he can put the Too Much spilling out back into the box where it belongs.

He vows to be less annoying to his teammates and opens his group chat with his boyfriends to let them know that he’s done with practice and comes to a sudden, horrifying realization.

It looks the same.

The conversations look the same.

Walls of speech from Bokuto, with only the occasional responses from Akaashi and Kuroo, usually only if he’s asked them a question that requires an answer. Their answers are always delayed, too. Often by hours.

He tries to remind himself that they’re busy adults now. They have work and their own lives and they can’t always answer him right away.

And he knows this. He knows this.

But the shadow that snuck into his mind through the door opened by his teammate’s thoughtless comment whispers in his ear that they’ve muted him. That he’s annoyed them so much with his constant messaging and videos and pictures that they purposefully ignore him.

So then he’ll just have to be less annoying for them, too. Too much Too Muchness.

Bokuto can make himself Less for them. He’s had a lot of practice after all.

He starts by closing his phone without texting them. Surely he’s being bothersome by always messaging every time he’s out of practice, so he’ll start down this new path by limiting how often he blows up their phones. Bye bye constant stream of annoying videos and photos, hello peace and quiet.

By the time he gets home he’s feeling quite proud of himself for controlling his usual impulsivity. Part of him wants to tell them about his decision to stop bothering them constantly, but he has a feeling they wouldn’t quite feel the same about it as he does. They’d probably insist he’s fine, because they’re kind and caring and Bokuto is so lucky to have them, but Bokuto knows better.

He’s Too Much, but he’s going to try harder to be better. They’re worth it.

“I’m home!” Bokuto crows delightedly when he enters the kitchen, brimming with excitable energy after such a good practice.

And there it is again. That funny feeling in the pit of his belly when he watches as Akaashi winces faintly at his volume. It’s just a small thing. A twitch around his eyes that would be barely noticeable to most anyone.

At least, to anyone that isn’t sensitive to the signs that they’re being an inconvenience.

“Sorry, Keiji,” he mumbles, visibly drooping. Akaashi sighs and reaches out to ruffle his hair, unstyled since it was only a regular practice day.

“It’s okay, Koutarou. You just surprised me is all. When we didn’t get your text to say you were on the way back we assumed practice was running late,” Akaashi murmurs, frowning slightly. “We already ate without you.”

Oh.

“I made you a plate though, it’s in the fridge if you’re hungry. You can eat in the living room with us?”

Bokuto smiles and nuzzles against Akaashi’s cheek, breathing in the smell of strawberry shampoo. He must have already taken his bath, too. Maybe even with Kuroo, but without Bokuto.

“It’s okay. I’ll eat in here so I don’t make a mess,” he replies, despite how much he wants to be near them right now.

“Is Kou home?” Kuroo’s voice rings out and he appears from around the corner, looking surprised to see Bokuto standing there but not openly displeased at least. He leans in for a kiss and Bokuto relaxes into it despite the stressful evening he’s had, melting a little when Akaashi sweetly kisses the back of his neck.

“You didn’t text us or else we would have waited to eat until you got home,” Kuroo points out with a pout, and how is Bokuto supposed to parse feeling bad about texting them too much and not enough?

“It must have just slipped my mind,” he lies, offering Kuroo a small smile. “I’ve been so busy with practice lately, I guess I’m a little tired.”

Kuroo clicks his tongue against his teeth sympathetically while Akaashi retrieves the plate of food from the fridge for him.

Spam musubi with roasted vegetables and an actual mountain of rice. The spam isn’t quite on Bokuto’s strict diet plan but he thinks he’s earned a bit of a treat.

“You should take a bath after you eat,” Akaashi hums, cocking his head at Bokuto when he turns around to look at him. “It’ll help you sleep better.”

It’s only after they leave that Bokuto realizes he should have taken them up on their offer to sit with them because now he’s alone with his thoughts again, and that’s apparently a dangerous thing to be right now.

The ringing cacophony of sound in his own mind is nearly deafening, as if an entire marching band is sitting at the table with him and sounding off every single instrument all at once. He opens his phone and clicks on Youtube, finding a random volleyball game in his bookmarked videos and hitting the play button.

It doesn’t silence the swarm completely, but it distracts them enough that Bokuto can concentrate on eating at least. He’s seen this game a thousand times before but it’s volleyball and that’s all he needs to be able to focus on it. Nothing else seems to hold his attention for very long but volleyball… Volleyball is always there for him, even if no one else is.

When Bokuto climbs into bed with Akaashi and Kuroo, he forces himself not to touch them lest he accidentally wake them up. They have their own early mornings to get ready for their respective jobs. They’re not up quite as early as Bokuto is, but he doesn’t want to disturb them by attempting to cuddle.

He lies awake until the wee hours of the morning as the shadow taking up residence in his mind tries to convince him he doesn’t deserve it anyways.

“Can you teach me to be less annoying?” Bokuto asks suddenly, startling some of his teammates as they sit in a cross legged huddle on the gym floor while they eat their lunch between practices. Sakusa squints at him, then looks sideways at Atsumu and Hinata, currently battling to try and steal food from each other’s plates.

“I’m not sure this is the best crowd to ask for that,” he answers, and the other men snicker into their meals.

“Why are you even asking? Has Tetsurou said something stupid again?” Yaku snorts, shoving an enormous bite of pickled radish into his mouth.

Bokuto shakes his head and looks down at his mostly untouched lunch. Lately it seems like everything turns his stomach, even though Akaashi had made one of his safe foods for him. He’s never been able to resist barbecued meat over rice but right now the thought of eating even one bite makes him nauseous.

“No, I’m just… trying to be a better boyfriend I guess,” he sighs and snaps the lid back on his lunchbox. Maybe he’ll feel up to eating it later.

Maruo laughs and leans over to slap Bokuto on the back, his expression bright and cheery.

“That’s the spirit!”

Suna studies him through narrowed eyes, curious and considering in his usual intense way.

“Have you considered just talking to Akaashi-san and Kuroo-san about whether there’s something you’re doing that bothers them?” he asks slowly, raising a silent eyebrow. Bokuto shrugs an awkward shoulder.

“No? I mean, wouldn’t the question in itself be annoying?” he responds, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He’s a grown man, he shouldn’t always have to ask them for reassurance in their relationship, right? A normal adult would be able to figure this stuff out without having to pester their partners with constant questions.

Asking them directly is definitely out of the question.

“I guess you could try talking less?” Nishiura offers, and Bokuto’s heart both leaps at the suggestion of something to improve upon, and sinks at the realization that this must be something he does that also bothers his teammates for it to be the first idea.

“Yeah, that might be a good place to start!” Maruo agrees, grinning broadly at him. “I’m sure the coaches won’t complain either.”

Thankfully the whistle blows for them to get back to practice, so Bokuto doesn’t have to pretend that he wasn’t just cut down to his very core.

It’s his own fault. He had been the one to ask them for advice, but the realization that his Too Muchness has been bothering his team is a heavy one. He knows he talks too much. He always has, unless he was in one of his mid game downward spirals from high school.

So starting today he will talk Less. He will be Less.

He expects it to be a lot more difficult than it ends up being. Maybe it’s the funk he’s in, or the exhaustion from the constant practices and long days at the gym, but he doesn’t actually feel like talking for most of the day. If anyone notices the change in his behavior they don’t say anything, and Bokuto wonders if that’s reassuring or depressing.

They must be enjoying the absence of his non stop chattering.

When Bokuto checks his phone after practice is over there are zero unread messages from his boyfriends too. He’s been doing his best the last several days to keep up with the decision to not bombard them with constant messages, and it must come as a relief because neither of them have mentioned the sudden absence of Bokuto based noise either.

Tsuetate claps him on the shoulder as he goes by, smirking at him in a way that makes Bokuto’s stomach squirm uncomfortably.

“Good job being quieter today. I could actually hear myself think for once,” he teases, and Bokuto forces a smile to his face that immediately drops the instant his older teammate walks away.

He didn’t mean anything by it, Bokuto thinks to himself later as the subway car sways from side to side.

He didn’t mean anything by it.

Didn’t he though?

Bokuto is a distraction. His volume, his enthusiasm, his constant need to feel heard, are clearly too much for his team to handle. It’s a miracle he hasn’t been kicked off yet if that’s the case.

Kuroo is still at work by the time he gets home but Akaashi is sitting on their bed working on his laptop, so Bokuto crawls across to him and lies down with his head on his lap, burying his face against his belly so he doesn’t have to see the world.

One of Akaashi’s hands makes its way into his messy silver hair to absently stroke it, still scrolling through whatever he’s got on his laptop.

“Long day at practice?” he asks in a soft voice, though the question sounds distracted.

Bokuto shrugs a shoulder, and Suna’s suggestion from earlier pops back into his mind. Just talk to them, ask them what they think.

“Just doing this new thing where I try to be less annoying,” he murmurs, testing the waters to see how Akaashi might react. But Akaashi just hums faintly as if he didn’t really hear what Bokuto said.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Kou.”

Oh.

Akaashi closes his laptop and looks down at Bokuto, scratching his fingers into his scalp.

“I’m gonna go make dinner before Tetsurou gets home. Why don’t you take a nap? You look tired,” he suggests, leaning down to press a kiss to Bokuto’s forehead before lifting his head off his lap and slipping out of the bed.

Bokuto watches him leave with a mounting sense of dread in the pit of his belly, filling him with a twisted, upsetting realization.

“You were supposed to say that I’m not annoying,” he whispers at Akaashi’s retreating back, curling his fingers around fistfuls of blanket. But then, why would Akaashi say something that’s so obviously untrue?

When Akaashi comes to get him for dinner later, Bokuto pretends to be asleep so that he doesn’t have to face him. It would be too hard to explain his swollen, red rimmed eyes and puffy face.

Bokuto is exhausted.

He always sleeps poorly when he has a lot on his mind and this week has been no exception. The teasing at practice has only gotten worse the longer his silence drags on, and many of his teammates have taken to joking about starting a betting pool on how many days Bokuto can continue his quiet streak.

It isn’t that he doesn’t talk at all. It would be impossible to be completely silent during practice, when he needs to call for the ball and interact with his teammates for the purpose of the sport. But otherwise he tries to be as mellow as possible, keeping to himself during meals he halfheartedly picks at and dressing in one of the bathroom stalls after practice ends.

Yaku, Atsumu, and Hinata have now noticed his increasing melancholy and keep trying to coax him into goofing off with them, and as tempting as it is to slip back into old habits again, he manages to refrain every time. Even Sakusa has been trying to engage him in conversation, and on more than one occasion Bokuto has caught Ushijima and Kageyama staring at him, their gazes heavy and considering.

It’s fine. He’s fine.

Besides. Tonight is Date Night.

It’s a once monthly event he and his two boyfriends had agreed upon a while ago, when they realized that their hectic, differing schedules often made it difficult for them to all spend time together as a trio. One night every few weeks where they make time to do something with one another and ignore work and everyone else.

Bokuto doesn’t feel much like going out so he picks up a small feast of food from Kuroo’s favorite Chinese food restaurant on his way home from practice, positively chipper when he finally gets home. Maybe for one night it’ll be safe to be himself, just for a little while. Surely it won’t be too annoying to his partners if it’s only for a single night.

But when Bokuto steps into their shared apartment and sees Kuroo and Akaashi getting ready to leave, all his previous happy thoughts flee him in an instant.

“What’s this?” he asks dumbly, watching Akaashi pull his coat on from where he’s stalled just inside the front door. Akaashi looks up and notices the bags of food in Bokuto’s arms, then grimaces when he must remember what tonight is.

“Shit, Koutarou. It’s date night isn’t it?” Kuroo groans, rubbing his palms against his face when Bokuto jerkily nods his head.

They forgot about date night? But Bokuto had been looking forward to it all week.

“We’re so sorry, Kou,” Akaashi sighs softly, crossing the small genkan and leaning up to kiss his brow. “I have that exhibition event for work I’ve been talking about. I’ve just been so busy that I didn’t even realize it was the same night as date night.”

Bokuto deflates, all his earlier excitement draining out of him like the air from a balloon.

“I can go get ready? Shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes,” he offers weakly but Akaashi shakes his head, gently patting his cheek as if comforting a child.

“No, no. You should go eat and go to bed. You’ve been so busy with practice and I don’t want to drag you to stand around at some boring event when you could be resting,” he reassures him, then glances at his watch.

“We’ll be back late, but I swear we’ll reschedule date night soon okay?”

Bokuto wordlessly bobs his head, then slowly moves aside so Akaashi and Kuroo can leave. Kuroo gives him an apologetic look on the way out, and then they’re gone, leaving him standing in the doorway with an armful of Chinese food and a fresh crack on his heart.

“But you promised…” he mumbles to the closed door.

He feels detached as he makes his way into the dining room with his bags, settling them down on the table before he sinks into one of the chairs, staring blankly ahead while he tries to process what just happened.

They forgot about date night. They forgot about date night and made plans without him.

Is he really that much of a bother?

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, Bokuto tears open one of the bags and grabs the first white carton he sees. Kuroo’s favorite pork fried rice.

He eats every single bite of it, then moves onto the next carton. Then the next. He eats until he feels sick and then eats some more.

And then he stumbles his way into the bathroom and vomits it all back up again until there’s nothing left but bile. He sits down heavily on the bathroom floor and leans against the wall, feeling the tears and sweat dripping down his face and not bothering to wipe it away.

It’s been years since the last time he did this and there’s some distant, self aware part of his mind that’s furious with himself. He’d promised Akaashi he wouldn’t eat to make himself sick anymore after the first time he had caught him back in their third year of high school, and for the most part Bokuto had kept that promise, barring a few slip ups in the early, stressful years of joining the Black Jackals team.

Until tonight.

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath, scrubbing the back of his hand across his mouth. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He brings his knees up to his chest and buries his face between them, trying to calm his panicked, rasping breaths. He fucked up. He fucked up so big and Akaashi is going to be so angry at him.

Unless he doesn’t find out.

The swarm of wasps in his brain settle for a moment as he considers that. He had promised Akaashi to always tell him if he binged again, but then again Akaashi had promised Bokuto to always make it to date night.

Why should Bokuto be the only one that has to keep his promises?

Besides, it isn’t like he’s going to do it again. It was just a momentary slip up. An accident because he was upset, that’s all.

So when Kuroo and Akaashi sneak into bed beside him long after midnight, giggling from alcohol and hushing each other with kisses, Bokuto stays silent and pretends to be asleep.

Nobody needs to know.

The frustrating thing with having ADHD is that it is a multi pronged, multi faceted, multi tiered amalgamation of a million little struggles that Bokuto has to deal with on a daily basis.

The main one he struggles with is the emotional dysregulation, and of course the hyperactivity. But there’s another, more frustrating side of it that he often doesn’t think about and that is the executive dysfunction.

Put plainly, if it isn’t about volleyball then Bokuto just does not think about it. He’ll remember when he has to go to practice and how many spikes he landed yesterday and how many service aces he hit three weeks ago.

But when it comes to things like remembering to do the dishes after making breakfast, or taking the laundry out of the washing machine and moving it to the dryer, or cleaning the little hairs off the sink after he shaves in the morning, Bokuto admits he isn’t always the best.

Today is no exception.

It’s a rare day off for him while Akaashi and Kuroo are working, and Akaashi had asked him to do one simple task: please pick up the few things on this list at the grocery store so he can make dinner when he gets home.

Easy peasy. Bokuto can remember to do that. He kisses them both goodbye and then he has the apartment to himself.

The day starts with good intentions. He manages to get their quilt into the washer and the dryer, and the bathroom is practically clean enough to eat in once he’s through with it.

He runs into a snag however when he decides to take a break and grab his tablet off the kitchen table.

Volleyball. It is both a benefit and a struggle to be so completely enamored with something like this. On the one hand Bokuto has something he can indulge in any time he needs a pick me up, but on the other, it can be a terrible, terrible distraction.

He tells himself he’ll just watch a few videos. 20, maybe 30 minutes tops before he puts his shoes on and goes to the store like Akaashi asked him to.

But when 30 minutes comes and goes though and he’s still watching videos, it feels like he’s rooted to his spot on the couch. There’s a part of his brain that is yelling at him that he needs to get up, that he needs to go to the store and take the laundry out of the dryer so he can remake the bed.

And yet he can’t stop. He stays on the couch and watches another video. Then another. He tells himself just one more and then he’ll get up and finish what he needs to do.

Bokuto is still sitting there when the sound of keys in the doorknob suddenly shocks him back to the present. He looks at the time and is shocked to see that hours have passed since he sat down, and now Akaashi is home and Bokuto never did the shopping.

He drops his tablet on the coffee table in a panic and scrambles after Akaashi, only to stall in the entryway to their kitchen when he sees Akaashi looking confused at the lack of groceries in the fridge or on the counter.

Akaashi gives Bokuto a questioning stare and Bokuto shrugs sheepishly, twisting his fingers into the front of his t-shirt.

“I got distracted and forgot,” he admits and when Akaashi’s expression drops into one of resigned frustration he feels the tears starting to well up behind his eyes.

“Koutarou… I asked you to do one thing,” Akaashi sighs, scrubbing his palms across his face. He looks so tired and Bokuto’s stomach squirms with guilt and shame. How could he have forgotten something so easy and minor? Akaashi had been counting on him and he let him down.

“I’m sorry, Keiji. I can go right now?” he offers lamely but Akaashi just shakes his head and turns his back on him.

“It’s okay, Kou. I’ll just pick them up on my way home from work tomorrow.”

But Bokuto takes a step towards him with a growing pout on his face.

“No, really! I’ll just run out and-”

“Koutarou, I said it’s fine.”

Akaashi’s voice is tight and strained, silencing whatever hopes Bokuto might have had of salvaging the evening. He closes his mouth and awkwardly stands there, not sure what else to say or do to make this better.

“I think I’m going to go lay down for a bit. I’ve had a migraine all day anyways, so if you want to choose something to order for takeout then we’ll just do that for dinner instead. Tetsu should be home in a few,” Akaashi murmurs, and Bokuto winces.

“I, um.. Hold on, I just need to make the bed really quick,” he says, rushing out of the kitchen but not before he sees the annoyance flashing across Akaashi’s face.

He grabs the bedding from the dryer and hauls it into the bedroom, flinching when he hears the bathroom door close with a crisp sounding snap. Akaashi is mad. He’s made Akaashi mad because he’s a screw up who can’t even do one simple thing right.

The shower hisses to life and Bokuto sags forward, forcing a ragged, strained breath into panicked lungs.

Why is he like this? Why couldn’t he just make himself get up off the couch and go to the store like he promised he would? Bokuto muffles a low sob in the freshly washed quilt and part of him wishes Kuroo was home so he could try to explain himself. Growing up with Kenma gives him a better understanding of the ways Bokuto’s brain sometimes sabotages him despite his best intentions.

He isn’t lazy or purposefully forgetful, sometimes he just… has a harder time than a normal person.

But Kuroo isn’t here right now and Akaashi is upset because Bokuto broke his promise. Bokuto is a bad boyfriend.

He forces himself to pull it together and reassembles the bed, making sure to leave the blankets pulled down so Akaashi can slide into it a little easier. He’ll run out to the store anyways and get the things Akaashi needs so he doesn’t have to get them tomorrow when he’s already tired.

Bokuto makes sure to leave before Akaashi gets out of the shower so he can’t say any more dumb things and upset his tired boyfriend further, and he spends the entire walk to the store mentally berating himself for being the reason why he’s upset. He’s been working so hard lately on being better, on being less annoying and less bothersome, and then he threw it all down the drain with this nonsense tonight.

On his way home from the store he picks up sushi from Akaashi’s favorite place and hopes it’ll be enough to make him less angry with Bokuto.

Kuroo is home too by the time he quietly steps into their apartment and when Bokuto enters the kitchen he sees him hugging Akaashi, rubbing his hand up and down the length of his back in a soothing motion. The shame and frustration with himself only grows stronger and Bokuto looks away, awkwardly setting the food and grocery bags down on the table.

“I picked everything up so you won’t have to do it tomorrow, Keiji,” he mumbles awkwardly, staring down at his feet so he doesn’t have to see their upset faces. “And I got sushi from that place you like. M’sorry I forgot to go earlier today.”

He can hear Akaashi sigh softly and resists the urge to flinch when a palm is suddenly cradling itself against his cheek.

“It’s okay, Koutarou. I know you’ve been working yourself hard lately and I should have been more patient. It isn’t the end of the world that I couldn’t make katsu curry tonight instead of just making it tomorrow. I had a long day at work and it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you,” Akaashi soothes, and some of the tension bleeds out of Bokuto’s body.

“I appreciate that you cleaned the bathroom and washed the sheets today even though it’s the first day off you’ve had in weeks.”

Bokuto bites the inside of his cheek to keep his lower lip from wobbling, then leans forward to hide his face against Akaashi’s shoulder instead. He feels a little better hearing Akaashi say that but it does nothing to assuage the guilt that still sits heavy in the pit of his stomach. Akaashi and Kuroo work hard too, they shouldn’t always have to do everything to pick up his slack.

“I’ll remember better in the future I promise,” he mumbles, pulling away from Akaashi and fidgeting uncertainly.

“I’m actually really tired though so I think I’m just going to go to bed. But enjoy dinner, I made sure to get extra sauces and stuff like you like.”

Kuroo frowns at him, his expression uncertain as he studies Bokuto.

“Kou, are you okay?”

Bokuto forces a smile onto his face and nods at his boyfriend, but it’s hollow and strained.

“I’m fine, Tetsurou. Just tired. Have a good night.” The lie tastes bitter on his tongue but he leaves the kitchen before he can dwell on it too much, feeling drained and wired all at once as he changes into his pajamas and climbs into bed.

His stomach growls in protest at another meal skipped today but Bokuto ignores it. He just wants to be alone right now.

Bokuto doesn’t sleep a wink that entire night.

Despite himself, Bokuto misses his boyfriends. It’s day two of the volleyball boot camp, in which the entire National Team had traveled far to the south for a series of practice games against an assortment of players from the Division 1 and 2 leagues. It’s weird to be facing some of his old MSBY teammates from across the net, but it’s a good way for the coaches to gauge which of the National Team members play best with one another.

Four days since Kuroo and Akaashi kissed him and wished him good luck before he boarded a train.

He’s itching to call them. Or text them. Literally anything to get their attention. But he finds the longer he doesn’t talk to them, the easier it seems to get to just… keep not talking to them.

It’s been three weeks since he last bothered them or his teammates with a wall of text bubbles and people are complimenting him on his newfound maturity.

There’s a strange sort of emptiness to realizing that your entire personality is based on being an annoyance to the people around you. That even when it’s so painfully obvious that Bokuto is Not Okay, everyone is too busy being relieved that he’s less of an inconvenience to them to even notice he’s struggling. It reminds Bokuto of the times in middle school when his former volleyball teammates used to wait for him to get far ahead of them and then purposefully ditch him.

Or the only girlfriend he ever had dumping him because all he wanted to talk about was volleyball. Or his exhausted teammates in high school groaning because there goes Bokuto again, sulking over something ridiculous and minor.

It hadn’t been ridiculous or minor to him.

But it’s okay, right? Not everyone is always going to understand the things that upset other people. That’s normal.

It’s okay.

Lunch comes and Bokuto feels too nauseous to eat so he contents himself with grabbing two bottles of electrolyte water and going to sit by himself under the shaded safety of a tree. They had been practicing outside today and the heat of the sun is starting to get to him a bit. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t eaten much of anything since the training camp began, and he knows he’s approaching the limits of what his body can safely endure.

But it’s hard to make himself eat when the constant worry that he’ll lose control and binge again is buzzing at the back of his brain. He can’t do anything stupid like that and risk his place on the team. Not when it’s been his dream for so long to make it to the Olympics.

“Can I join you?”

Ushijima’s deep baritone interrupts his mental downward spiral and Bokuto considers saying no. He doesn’t really feel like talking to anyone right now, but Ushijima doesn’t wait for him to answer before he slowly sinks down to sit beside him in the cool grass.

He has a plate piled high with chicken and rice, along with a handful of bananas and protein bars that he must have grabbed from the table. Ushijima blinks placidly at him, then down at the drinks in his hands, and then offers him two bananas and a protein bar.

“Trade you for a water? I forgot to grab one.”

Bokuto stares but nods at him, accepting the food and handing over one of the water bottles.

He supposes it’s safe if he just sticks to these couple things right?

So he peels one of the bananas and takes a cautious bite, chewing slowly as the bees start to buzz warningly. But when he swallows, nothing happens. The earth doesn’t crumble to dust. He doesn’t throw up. And he doesn’t think about wanting to binge until he gets sick.

He takes another bite. Then another. He finishes the first banana and starts on the second, then washes it down with a large gulp of water from his bottle.

They sit there in comfortable silence while they eat, and when Ushijima offers him some of his chicken and rice Bokuto accepts the chopsticks and takes a few bites. Ushijima doesn’t try to speak to him again, and Bokuto doesn’t say anything either.

They just… exist in one another’s space while they eat. And Bokuto didn’t realize how much he needed that until just now.

When the coaches call for them to return to the court again Bokuto stops Ushijima with a hand on his elbow, feeling awkward as his dark haired teammate studies him curiously.

“Um. Thank you,” Bokuto mumbles, gnawing nervously at the inside of his cheek as he waits for Ushijima to ask him what he’s thanking him for.

But Ushijima just nods at him, olive eyes almost… soft around the edges.

“Anytime, Bokuto-kun.”

It doesn’t stop with that first time either. Ushijima starts to eat with him for every meal, and his hulking presence has become a strange sort of comfort for Bokuto. He never tries to press Bokuto for anything more than the quiet sharing of space that they had enjoyed on the first day, but by day four of the training camp Bokuto has grown comfortable enough with him to actually start talking.

Mostly they talk about volleyball. Ushijima is just as obsessed with volleyball as Bokuto is, and he easily matches up with him in a conversation no matter how minutely detailed it becomes. By lunchtime on the fifth day, Bokuto realizes he’s slipped back into his bad habit of annoying babbling when he notices Ushijima staring down at his plate and not speaking, and he snaps his mouth shut in the middle of a sentence with a sudden hot flare of anxiety.

“I’m sorry. I’m talking too much,” he whispers, horrified that he’s already managed to alienate his new friend after only a few days of acting like himself.

Ushijima glances in his direction and Bokuto notices not for the first time that he doesn’t quite meet his gaze when he looks at him. He’s always just a little bit off to the side, like he’s staring at his eyebrow or his nose. Bokuto notices because he does the exact same thing. It’s a trick he had learned in middle school, to make it seem like he’s making eye contact so people would stop asking him about it.

He’s never seen it mirrored back to him before.

“Not at all. I enjoy listening to you talk. It reminds me of Satori,” Ushijima hums quietly, looking back down at his food.

“Some days are just… harder than others. So I like being around people who can talk without needing me to talk back.”

Bokuto blinks owlishly at him, trying to understand what that means.

“So you don’t mind that I’m babbling?” he asks cautiously, watching Ushijima poke at a few stray grains of rice left on his plate.

“I like it. It makes me feel less homesick for my husband.”

Oh. Well, that’s.

So Bokuto resumes his play by play of the game he had watched on his phone last night. Cautiously at first, then gaining confidence as Ushijima continues to listen contentedly. By the time the coaches are calling them back again he’s enthusiastically waving his arms around, beaming at his lunch companion.

When he and Ushijima are walking towards the mess hall for dinner later that night, Bokuto realizes that his new friend also makes him feel less homesick too. His calm demeanor reminds him of Akaashi and Kuroo, and he supposes that’s part of why he feels so comforted by his presence.

Normally they join one of the tables where other members of their team have crowded together, but Bokuto finds them an empty table in the corner this time. He can tell Ushijima is curious about this unexpected decision, and Bokuto shrugs at the unasked question as they settle into their seats with trays full of food.

“You said you didn’t feel like talking to anyone today.”

Ushijima stares at him and while he doesn’t say it, Bokuto can feel his gratitude.

It’s not until breakfast the next morning that Ushijima speaks to him again, but what he says is anything but expected.

“I’m autistic.”

Bokuto stares across the table at him, his chopsticks still halfway to his mouth as he digests what he’s just been told.

“It doesn’t impact my ability to play volleyball. But it sometimes makes it… difficult to connect with people. I never even knew this until I met Satori. Satori has ADHD and he noticed the ways I would act and the things I would say that people always just chalked up to me being abrasive, or rude. He’s the first person that ever truly understood me, and rather than try to fix me he’s always met me halfway. He was there for me when my Mother refused to even talk about it. She always felt that me being autistic would damage the family legacy, I suppose. Or maybe she just didn’t want to acknowledge that her son was different in more ways than just the left handedness.”

Ushijima takes a sip from his bottle of water and Bokuto watches the way his eyes sweep upwards as if he’s about to meet his gaze, only to see him looking just a little off to the right again. Not quite looking Bokuto in the eyes, but just enough that it might seem like it to anyone who might be offended if he didn’t look at them while he spoke.

Bokuto realizes now why he does this too and it feels… deeply comforting to know there’s someone on his team who understands him. Who shares some of his experiences, and his struggles, with fitting into a society that does not always accept him.

“I have ADHD, too,” Bokuto blurts out suddenly, unable to keep the secret contained any longer.

It’s a relief, weirdly enough. Akaashi and Kuroo know of course, and the coaches, and some of his former teammates from high school, and he’s pretty sure Sakusa has noticed there’s something about him that makes him different from the rest of the team, but otherwise he’s tried his best to keep people from finding out. He doesn’t want anyone to treat him weirdly, or act like he’s any less capable than they are just because his brain is wired a little differently.

But telling Ushijima feels safe. Especially because he’s married to someone who also has ADHD.

Ushijima bobs his head in a silent nod, popping the yolk on his egg and watching the sticky yellow sink into his rice.

“I guessed as much. You and Satori have a lot in common with how you act,” Ushijima hums softly, cocking his head slightly to the side.

“And I figured that probably meant you also have similar struggles and insecurities.”

Bokuto feels heat filling his cheeks and hides his face in his hands, suddenly embarrassed by how he’s been acting. It’s one thing for his teammates to think he’s just trying to be more mature, but this feeling of being perceived is mortifying.

“I’ve just been trying to be a little less… Much,” he mumbles under his breath, dropping his hands with a sigh.

“But why?”

Ushijima’s question is blunt, but fair. Bokuto winces anyways and swirls his spoon through his oatmeal as he considers how to answer.

“I don’t really know,” he says finally, and it’s the most honest he’s been to anyone about his feelings in several weeks, including himself.

“Sometimes I just have these bad thoughts about myself. I worry that I’m being too much, or that I’m going to annoy everyone around me into eventually leaving. I’ve lost friends that way in the past and it’s just. It’s always stuck with me that I’m a drain on everyone in my life, and that if I don’t try to act more normal then I’m inevitably going to end up losing them.”

Ushijima studies him quietly for several long moments and then sets his chopsticks down, folding his hands neatly together on the table in front of him.

“When you say ‘them’ I assume you mean Akaashi-kun and Kuroo-san,” he murmurs, and Bokuto’s shoulders tense at hearing their names.

He nods, slow and tired.

“I’ve been trying to bother them less lately, but I don’t think it’s helping. I’m always messaging them all day long, even when they don’t answer me back, and I’ve tried so hard to only message them when they message me first, but then they only rarely message me so it ends up with us just not talking to each other,” he admits dejectedly, dropping his spoon against his bowl with a soft clatter.

“Lately it feels like they’ve just been happier without me in their space so much. They keep going out and leaving me, constantly telling me to stay home and rest. But I don’t want to stay home and rest. I just want to be with them.”

A hot, angry tear slips down his cheek and Bokuto scrubs it away with his sleeve, embarrassed to be crying in front of his friend.

Ushijima mulls over what he’s said for several moments while Bokuto tries and fails to compose himself. He’s just grateful that most of the rest of the team still hasn’t stumbled in for breakfast yet and they have the dining hall largely to themselves.

“Have you considered that they’re just worried about you, Bokuto-kun?” Ushijima asks, and that gives Bokuto pause. Why would Akaashi and Kuroo be worried about him?

“You’ve been working hard at practice, and I assume going to the gym on our days off. And I’m sure they’ve realized that you’ve been messaging them less. Perhaps they are just genuinely worried that you should be resting in your down time instead of going out with them.”

Bokuto frowns down at his bowl, feeling himself drooping the longer this conversation goes on.

“I just want to be with them. I’m never too tired to spend time with my boyfriends,” he mumbles awkwardly and Ushijima hums sympathetically, picking up his chopsticks again.

“I suggest that you try telling them that then once you get home.”

Grimacing faintly, Bokuto acknowledges that there may be some merit to that suggestion, as much as he really hates the idea of having to be so vulnerable. The bees buzz quietly at the back of his mind and he looks back up at his friend, uncertainty etched into every line of his face.

“But what if they say I’m Too Much? What if they’ve just realized how nice it is not having me bothering them all the time and that’s why they’ve been pushing me to stay home more?” he whines, running a hand through his messy hair.

Ushijima watches him thoughtfully, chewing his mouthful of egg and rice as he considers his answer.

And then he says something that shocks Bokuto to his very core.

“You’ll never be too much for the people who can’t get enough of you, Bokuto-kun.”

Bokuto swallows thickly and opens his mouth to say something, though he doesn’t know what, but he’s interrupted by a familiar voice calling his name from across the dining hall.

“Koutarou!”

It’s impossible.

But sure enough, when he looks up to see who had been yelling for him, it’s Kuroo and Akaashi standing by the doorway of the dining hall. Golden eyes go wide with surprise and he feels strangely detached as he gets up and crosses the room to get to them, unable to believe what he’s seeing.

They look relieved to see him and Bokuto doesn’t resist when they both pull him into their arms in a crushing hug.

“Am I dreaming?” he asks numbly, shivering when the familiar rumble of Kuroo’s laughter vibrates against his chest.

“Not a dream. Just Tetsurou pulling a few strings so we could come and visit you,” Akaashi murmurs, pressing a kiss to Bokuto’s jawline before pulling back to get a look at him. He cups his palms around his face and tuts faintly, his eyebrows knitting together.

“You look like you’ve lost weight. Have you been eating properly?”

Bokuto gnaws his lip before nodding, allowing his boyfriends to lead him out of the dining hall and away towards somewhere more private beneath the shady branches of a tall tree.

“Why are you here?” Bokuto can’t stop himself from blurting out, twisting his fingers awkwardly in front of him while his boyfriends gawk at him. Kuroo huffs softly and reaches out to grab his wrists, stopping him before he starts to pick at the skin around his fingernails like he always does when he’s anxious.

“We’re here because we’ve missed you. You’ve been so busy with practice that we’ve barely gotten to see you lately, and you never text anymore. We just wanted to see you, so I made a few calls and asked if I could come see the National Team practicing against the division teams,” Kuroo sighs, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Unless you don’t want us to be here?”

Bokuto stiffens.

“No!” he protests, throwing his arms around Kuroo and clinging to him as if afraid that they’ll both evaporate on the spot if he lets go. “No, I... I want you to be here, please don’t leave me.”

Akaashi touches his shoulder and when he draws back he sees his boyfriend is frowning at him, his expression soft and concerned.

“Koutarou, are you okay?”

And Bokuto…

Bokuto shatters.

A hot, fat tear slides down his cheek, followed by a second, then a third. Before he knows it he’s full on sobbing and when Akaashi pulls him in against his chest he doesn’t resist, burying his face in his sweatshirt and curling his arms tight around him.

They sink down to sit in the grass and Bokuto cries while Akaashi and Kuroo rub his back and shoulders, allowing him to get it all out. By the time his tears start to slow Bokuto admits he does feel a little better, a bit like a stone washed smooth by the ocean.

“Koutarou… Can you tell us what’s wrong?” Akaashi asks softly, drawing back so he can cup his hands around Bokuto’s cheeks and wiping away the remnants of tears with his thumbs. He looks so worried and it makes Bokuto feel awful.

“Am I annoying?” he mumbles, sniffling when Kuroo’s hands pauses its soothing up and down motions against his back. Akaashi’s frown deepens and the hands against his face tighten their grip slightly.

“Who told you that? Was it someone here?” he demands and that gets a small, watery laugh out of Bokuto.

“I’m just… I know I’m Too Much. I talk too much and I’m too loud and too annoying. I’m always bothering you both when you’re at work or when you’re busy and I’m.. I’ve been trying really hard to do less of that, but it’s been so hard, and I’m just so scared that you’re going to get sick of me one day like everyone always does eventually.”

He’s babbling but it’s like the flood gates have been opened and he can’t stop now that he’s started. Kuroo sighs, but it’s a gentle sort of sound, and he leans in to press a kiss to the top of Bokuto’s head.

“Is that why you haven’t been texting us? We thought you were tired from practice and we didn’t want to bother you about it. You should have just asked us, Kou,” he murmurs, combing Bokuto’s bangs back from his sweaty forehead.

“If you had then we would have told you that you’re wrong, and that there’s nothing you can do to make us sick of you.”

Bokuto’s brows draw together as fresh tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. A voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Ushijima’s coaxes him to tell them what he needs.

“There are gonna be times when I won’t be able to ask, though,” he admits quietly, casting his gaze downwards to where his fingers are twisting together on his lap.

“When my brain tells me that I can’t ask. So can you just… Can you just tell me that sometimes? That you like me even though I’m too much? And maybe just… remind me every now and then that you don’t think I’m completely annoying?”

Akaashi pinches his cheek to make him look up again and his expression is fraught with distress.

“Koutarou, you know it’s more than that, right? We don’t think you’re annoying, not at all, not ever. And you’ll never be too much for us. I know your brain sometimes tries to tell you that you are but you aren’t. There’s no ‘we like you even though you’re too much’. There’s just ‘we love you’. Period. No strings. No conditions. We love you, Koutarou. And I’m sorry if we’ve been doing a bad job lately of making sure you know that,” he soothes, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Bokuto’s upper lip.

“We’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, Kou,” Kuroo agrees in a low rumble, resting his forehead against the back of Bokuto’s neck. “We love you because of who you are, not in spite of it.”

Bokuto starts crying again. Ugly, messy crying that soaks the front of Akaashi’s cute sweater with tears and snot. But Akaashi doesn’t seem to mind as he continues to stroke Bokuto’s hair through it all, nor does Kuroo when he finally steals Bokuto from Akaashi’s arms for his own turn at comforting him.

He’s a few minutes late to practice because he desperately needs a shower to scrub away the evidence, but Ushijima is there to greet him with a nod when he finally jogs out onto the field. Atsumu and Hinata make a delighted noise when they see him and tease him for being late, and Bokuto smiles at his friends for what feels like the first time in a thousand years.

“Are you okay?” Ushijima asks softly as they start to set up for the next practice game, and Bokuto glances off to the side where Kuroo and Akaashi are standing with the coaches. They catch him looking their way and beam at him, and Bokuto gives them a little wave.

“No,” he admits, and it feels good to be honest with himself. He’s not okay, and he’s not magically better just because he finally talked with Kuroo and Akaashi about what he’s been struggling with. He still needs to come clean with them about the binging episode, and the intrusive urges to do it again that haunt him from time to time, and he knows he needs to work on the insecurities that made him doubt their love for him in the first place.

But he feels better now that he’s told them the truth. Lighter. He feels more like himself again than he has in weeks.

He looks at Ushijima and smiles, grateful to have a friend like him in his life. Ushijima offers him the volleyball in his hands and Bokuto takes it, squeezing the familiar, reassuring shape between his palms.

“But I think I will be.”

Bokuto knows he’s a lot but he’s starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.