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Rain pattered lightly against the window on the lazy Saturday afternoon, an ease set over the city. The only thing that stood out was the blinking red lights of the building across the way. Even the yellow lights of neighboring apartments appeared hazy under the warm rain. Although the outside might have been warm, the apartment was freezing. Akaashi curled himself under the blanket as he sat on the couch, the fabric soft and ridged in design.
Long, delicate fingers turned the next page of the novel he held in his lap, but his eyes didn't take in a single word. They all jumbled together into one large knot, twisting together and becoming nothing but darkness on the yellowing pages.
This was one of his favorite books, so it was not as if he needed to read the words anyways. Every pattern, every curve of the letter, they were all committed to memory, learned. After years upon years of reading, it was to be expected. It was the same every time, so why did it matter?
While turning the next page, Akaashi heard a tear from the fragile paper between his thumb and index finger. It was expected; the book was old, worn, and it was flimsy at best in the first place. Akaashi knew this, he did.
So why were tears rolling down his cheeks?
The droplets continued to fall onto the book as shaking hands reached to touch his face, trying to rub them away. No matter how many times he forced the tears away, they continued to fall. The harder he tried, the more profusely they poured. Akaashi moved his legs out from under him, causing the book to fall onto the ground, but that wasn't the priority for him at the moment. After a vigorous battle against the fat tears, noises started to wrench from his mouth; ugly and broken.
Aside from his wails, there was no other sound. No soft footsteps, no hushed words that would come from loving lips, the ones that would kiss his cheeks, the ones that would stay in one place on his skin, muttered assurances. Maybe Akaashi should have let go more often, Kuroo was good with these sort of things, he should have appreciated it more.
But that was too late. Three days too late.
That day was raining too, and it had started off just fine, amazing, really. What started the downfall probably wasn't even from that day, or maybe it was, Akaashi couldn't tell anymore. Somewhere between the call from Akaashi's older brother about some wedding with his family and Kuroo leaving the damn plate in the sink, they cracked open.
As the storm picked up in intensity, the couple followed in suit. Akaashi would reply coolly, rationally, or what he thought was rationally, and that appeared to make everything that much worse. Unfortunately, neither of the two were controlled by their emotions, making the exchange tense with unresolved anger.
It started off as a single argument, but then it transformed into something more destructive and unorganized.
“Why don't you want to go? Is it because of me?”
“Why can't you just put things away instead of leaving them out? It's not my job to look after you.”
“Are you ashamed to admit we're together?”
“Can't you just drop it?”
“Don't you feel anything?”
“No, I guess not.”
Time had frozen for that moment. It might have been only seconds, but the chilled air between the two made it seem endless. They stood across from each other, already regretting the poisoned words that left their mouths, and as Kuroo had opened his mouth to most likely apologize, Akaashi cut him off.
“You should leave.”
Looking back, he couldn't understand why he had said that. That was the last thing he wanted, but apparently hurting each other was more important than being sensible. What made it worse was when Kuroo had simply left; no other questions, no more arguments.
The rain hadn't stopped.
Akaashi really hated the rain.
Curling forward, Akaashi had stopped trying to wipe away his tears, and instead chose to rake his fingers through his hair instead. Had it really taken him three full days to start coming undone? Maybe he really couldn't feel anything.
No, that wouldn't make sense. If he wasn't able to be feel, then he shouldn't be able to tell that his heart was trying to escape through his lips in broken sobs. Akaashi's entire body was working against him, attempting to expel his pain and regret and sorrow all at once.
Fumbling around, Akaashi searched for his phone, the weight of the device keeping the back of his hand against the fabric of the seat. He should probably call Kuroo, to tell him he's sorry, to ask if he forgives him, to just hear his voice. Pride was telling him to let it all go, that this was giving up whatever fight he was waring, but the only war he was waging was against himself. Akaashi's fingers typed in the number, moving by muscle memory alone, and then placed the phone to his ear.
Those few drawled out slowly, the sound shaking his bones.
As Akaashi waited, he could have sworn there was a shrill sound assaulting his other ear. Ringing. Tearing the phone away, Akaashi listened to the other sound the came from the other side of the door.
His feet moved before he could even fully acknowledge what was happening.
Phone still in hand, Akaashi threw the blanket off of his legs and sprinted towards the door, throwing it open. Standing there was Kuroo, his clothes soaking wet, wide eyed and wet. His normal gravity defying hair was plastered down save for a few clumps that would never be tamed, and his eyes that were usually sharp with wit and mischief were now red with exhaustion and misery. He looked awful, but Akaashi knew he did not look any better.
Water dripped onto the carpeted floor of the hallway from the tips of Kuroo's hair as both men remained unmoving. When it appeared that Akaashi would not be the first one to speak, Kuroo opened his mouth. “Keiji...” His voice was still thick with tears, cracking over the first syllable.
Akaashi couldn't take it anymore. With one more choked sob, the shorter man threw his arms around his shoulders, dragging Kuroo inside. Into the shoulder of Kuroo's shirt, Akaashi began to weep, his noises almost completely drowned out by the rain that began to pick up outside the window. Kuroo buried himself into the crook of Akaashi's neck, his arms wrapping securely around him while murmuring apologies. Gripping onto the Kuroo's back, his sopping wet shirt twisting under his fists, Akaashi followed him in kind, blubbering his own apologies while Kuroo gently nudged the door shut with his boot.
“Tetsurou, Tetsurou I'm so sorry,” Akaashi gasped, the name satisfying his tongue, as if he had almost forgot how it felt. Pulling away to look up at him, Akaashi started again. “Tetsurou, I-” he was cut off by Kuroo's lips connecting with his own, causing him to sigh contently into the kiss. His eyes fluttered shut, reveling in the coolness of Kuroo's lips that moved against his without any hesitation. Akaashi's hands moved down to the center of his lover's back, holding him close. With each second, Akaashi could feel the tension that had built up in his shoulders melt away.
Slowly, Kuroo pulled away, his eyes opening so that he could take Akaashi in in full. “Keiji,” he breathed out, his hands moving up to cup under Akaashi's jaw, “I love you. Oh god, I love you. I could barely function without you around. I stayed with Bokuto for the past few days and I never knew how fast dishes could pile up. I should have just put the dish in the dishwasher, I know.” Akaashi attempted to cut him off, but Kuroo was obviously not done. “And then I asked him what I should do and he said I should do a big gesture, that you would like that. I wanted to get you flowers or a stuffed animal or something but nothing was good enough. Plus the flowers would have been ruined by the time I got here. God, I just-” Clapping his hand over his mouth, Akaashi finally got Kuroo to stop rambling.
“Kuroo,” he started, a soft, tired smile growing over his lips, “I don't care about flowers or anything like that.” What he did care about was having Kuroo back here, at home. Although his mouth was covered, Akaashi could see Kuroo's eyes crinkle as he smiled.
“I love you,” he said, muffled by Akaashi's hand.
“Hey, that's my line,” Akaashi teased, watching as Kuroo placed his hand over the one over his mouth, flattening it out so that he could kiss Akaashi's palm.
“Mm,” Kuroo hummed, “sorry, you can say it now.”
Laughing softly, Akaashi looked up to Kuroo. “I love you, Tetsurou.”
“I know.”
Akaashi pushed him away playfully, but Kuroo was quick to react by wrapping his arms around the smaller man's waist, keeping him close. Nuzzling himself into Kuroo's shoulder, Akaashi laughed, taking in the feeling of being back in Kuroo's arms.
The heavy aroma of fresh rain still hung on Kuroo's jacket, and maybe, as long as this was how it would always smell, Akaashi could learn to love the rain.