Chapter Text
Commissioned Artwork by NeonGin
Kōtarō bounced where he stood, rocking back and forth from his toes to his heels, watching the door at the opposite end of the rooftop.
He’d been waiting for this moment so patiently (well, as patiently as he could!) all day. He’d taken months to work up the courage to finally do this, and now that he had, he was finding it very very hard to stay still.
The note had been Kuroo’s idea, because of course it was. He’d finally gotten tired of Kōtarō waxing poetic about his smart, wry, patient, incredibly beautiful setter, and told him, essentially, that he needed to either shit or get off the pot.
Kōtarō decided to shit.
Not really, but… what was the word Akaashi would use?
Metaphorically. That was it.
Metaphorically he decided to shit.
It had taken him two weeks and six drafts to get the note perfect. It had taken him another three weeks to work up the nerve to put the note in Akaashi’s duffel. Because there were always people around, and Kōtarō didn’t want people to wonder what he was doing, going through Akaashi’s duffel! Because he wasn’t doing anything… not anything bad, anyway! Just leaving a confession for his favorite setter, his favorite person, and hoping against hope that his favorite person felt the same.
Oh, because he was in love with Akaashi. Like, head over heels in love. He had been from the first day that they met, almost two years ago, when Akaashi had walked into practice, introduced himself, and then proceeded to give Kōtarō such incredible sets! And then proceeded to stay after to continue to give him even more incredible sets!
Kōtarō had been hooked from that moment forward.
It also didn’t help that they worked so well together, either: not only were Akaashi’s sets made for Kōtarō, but he was like the yin to Kōtarō’s yang. When Kōtarō was hyped up about a match, Akaashi kept his cool and helped strategize. When Kōtarō felt down about his play, Akaashi always knew just how to pick him back up. The team had been missing a steady presence in Kōtarō’s first year, and Akaashi brought that in multitudes when he joined at the beginning of Kōtarō’s second year. It was no wonder that Kōtarō only thought of Akaashi for his vice-captain, and also no wonder that the rest of the third years agreed.
They were an unstoppable force, one that impacted the rest of the team, in all the best ways.
Now, though, they were approaching nationals, and Kōtarō was burning with the desire to do a lot of things:
Win nationals.
Go to a great college.
Get drafted by a professional team.
Confess to Akaashi.
All good goals to have, for sure. And he was confident in achieving all of them!
But right now, there was only one of those goals immediately reachable.
Kōtarō shivered in his volleyball jacket, and looked down at the bouquet of white roses in his hand. He thought back to the note he’d written, telling Akaashi how he felt and saying that, if he returned Kōtarō’s feelings, he should meet Kōtarō on the rooftop and that’s how Kōtarō would know.
He’d put the note in Akaashi’s duffel bag after morning practice. Everyone had been hustling to get in the showers and get cleaned up before school started, so Kōtarō took his chance and slipped it in then.
But! He’d been expecting Akaashi would read it at some point! And if he did, wouldn’t he react in some way?
He’d been unable to control his excitement and gone to see Akaashi at lunch. That was a fairly normal thing, since it was cold and the team couldn’t eat outside together like they normally did. Kōtarō needed his Akaashi fix during the day. He needed to have those sultry blue eyes on him, to watch how delicately Akaashi used chopsticks, to hear his gulp of tea as he swallowed. He needed to tell Akaashi all about his morning, and how hard English was, and how much he hated chemistry but Kuroo was going to tutor him.
So, he’d shown up at Akaashi’s classroom to eat, expecting a blush, a nervous tic, something that would give away that Akaashi had seen the note and was going to respond with a yes…
But instead, Akaashi had listened to Kōtarō’s ramblings, fingers deftly handling his chopsticks, lips opening to eat the delicately cut pieces of tamagoyaki and tsukemono. Kōtarō had been so busy watching Akaashi’s soft lips, he nearly missed Akaashi offering to help him with English, too.
And he’d offered without a blush, without a hint of anything, really, other than just being Akaashi.
So, Kōtarō wondered if Akaashi had seen the note at all.
Because they’d been in a hurry in the morning! Maybe he just shoved his practice gear in the bag and missed it! That was all—no big deal!
He’d definitely see it at afternoon practice, though.
Kōtarō was sure Akaashi would be acting weird. After all, he would have had to go through his bag, to see the note! Kōtarō didn’t put it that deep in the bag! It had been resting right on top!
But Akaashi was quite normal during practice: calm and cool as always, coaching the first-years and chiding Sarukui when he got overexcited and nearly spiked a ball right at Yukippe. He’d complimented Kōtarō’s spikes, for sure, but it was nothing out of the ordinary.
But weirdest of all!
When Kōtarō told him that he couldn’t stay for extra practice today, that he had something to do, Akaashi had just smiled, then nodded, and said, “Okay, Bokuto-san. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And turned around and left the gym without a second glance!
Kōtarō tore at his hair a little. The sun had long since gone dark in the sky, leaving only the floodlights on the rooftop to light his way. And Kōtarō had been standing there… a good fifteen minutes at that point!
Still no sign of Akaashi.
He’d thought that maybe Akaashi was even better at playing cool than Kōtarō thought? That Akaashi didn’t want to give away that he’d read the note, because Kōtarō had said, “if you return my feelings, please meet me on the rooftop after practice and I’ll know.” Maybe because he’d said that, Akaashi didn't want to reveal anything until then? Could that have been it?
But as the minutes ticked by, Kōtarō’s heart sank more and more. He tried not to lose hope, but every second that door didn’t open was another nail in the coffin of Kōtarō’s heart.
He couldn’t have been imagining it, right? The patience, the worry, the extra attention Akaashi paid him? He couldn’t have been wrong in thinking that meant something, right?
Right. Kōtarō was sure.
Kōtarō was madly in love with Akaashi, and he just knew that Akaashi had to feel something, anything, for him in return.
But fifteen minutes became twenty, and Kōtarō sighed. “Guess I was wrong,” he said to the flowers. “Guess confessing to him wasn’t the right thing to do, after all.”
He’d go home, do his homework, sleep it off. Tomorrow, he’d apologize to Akaashi. Had he made things weird between them? Did Akaashi not want to talk to him anymore? Maybe the note was too much; Kōtarō knew that Akaashi got lots of confessions from girls, and he also knew that Akaashi very gently turned each and every one of them down.
Even though they never talked about it, Kōtarō had suspected this was because Akaashi didn’t like girls.
But maybe, it was that Akaashi didn’t like anyone.
Kōtarō sighed again and picked up his duffel and his backpack, slinging them over his shoulders. Maybe his mom would like the flowers. He’d like to brighten her day, even if his day was fucking ruined.
But as he took his first step, the rooftop door creaked.
Kōtarō froze.
A sliver of light peeked out from beneath the door, slowly growing larger and larger until the door was open and the threshold filled with light. Kōtarō squinted and raised his free hand to shield his eyes.
A figure was there: tall, and lean.
A figure in track pants and a volleyball jacket, carrying a duffel bag.
Kōtarō’s heart, which had been sinking, thundered in his chest.
“Akaashi?” Kōtarō called out, desperate beyond all that was possible to know. “Akaashi, is that you?!”
The figure stepped out onto the rooftop; Kōtarō’s eyes squeezed shut as they tried to adjust to the light. The figure didn’t say anything, and as they approached, Kōtarō’s heart beat louder and louder. He pressed a hand to it, willing it to slow.
The door slammed shut; the figure was engulfed in darkness. Kōtarō blinked again as everything went dark and his eyes had to adjust a second time.
“No,” said a familiar voice, and where had Kōtarō heard it before? “I’m not Akaashi.”
Not—not Akaashi?!
How could it be not Akaashi?
How could someone else know? How could they be here?
Unless… no.
Wait. Yes!
Did Akaashi send someone to let him down gently?
Oh, gods, this was even worse than Akaashi ignoring him altogether!
“Look,” Kōtarō said, stepping back, “I don’t know who you are, but if you’re here to let me down gently on Akaashi’s behalf, I can do without it, thanks very much.”
The figure stopped.
And.
Laughed?!
They were! They were laughing! At Kōtarō’s poor luck in love!
He was gonna go home and yell at Kuroo a little. Maybe.
“No,” the figure huffed, “I’m not here to ‘let you down gently,’ you big oaf.”
The figure stepped under one of the floodlights, and Kōtarō gasped.
Shaggy blond hair. Light eyes.
A big old shit-eating-grin on his face.
“Konoha?!” Kōtarō nearly shouted. “What—why are you—”
Konoha—it was him, absolutely, like what the fuck how did he know?!—pulled an envelope out of his pocket. He opened the envelope, and, to Kōtarō’s extreme horror, he began to read:
“Dear Akaashi:”
“That’s a great beginning,” Konoha informed him.
“How did you—” Kōtarō started, but Konoha kept reading, right over him.
“I’ve been debating telling you this for a long time, but I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. It’s been a weight on my chest, even as it’s the best thing in my life.
Akaashi, I like you. I like you a lot.
I like the way you smile, and the way you say my name so patiently. I like the way you set for me, and the way that you always seem to know what’s on my mind. I like the way you eat with chopsticks, and the way your fingers press into a volleyball when you’re about to set for me.
I like everything about you, Akaashi. And I hope that maybe you like something about me, too.
If you do, and if you would like to return my feelings, please meet me on the rooftop after practice and I’ll know.
I promise that I will make you so happy, Akaashi! Because you make me the happiest person in the whole world. And I will be even happier if you want to be mine, and want me to be yours.
I’ll be waiting after afternoon practice.
Sincerely,
Bokuto Kōtarō”
Kōtarō stood there, mouth agape, body tense. How… how did Konoha…
“Really?” Konoha snorted. “You signed it Sincerely? That’s some romantic shit there, Bokuto.”
“How—how did you get this?” Kōtarō shouted. He couldn’t believe this! His eyes were wide and his heart, which had been hammering at the prospect of Akaashi coming out of the doorway, was absolutely pounding away now, but not for the right reasons. “How? I put that in Akaashi’s duffel! How did you get it!” The words were spilling out and Kōtarō was loathe to stop them now—not when fucking Konoha of all people had his love confession! “Did you go through his bag? Did you see me put something in there and decide for yourself to steal it?” Kōtarō’s free hand balled into a fist. “Because if you did…”
“Relax, Bokuto, I didn’t steal it,” Konoha interjected. He dropped his duffel and went to Kōtarō’s side, patting him on the arm. “You didn’t check to see whose duffel you put your little note for Akaashi in, did you?”
“It. It was his! I know it was his! I saw him put it down and walk away and…”
“No.” Konoha interrupted Kōtarō, raising a hand to silence him. “I don’t know what you saw, Bokuto, but when I came back to get my duffel to get ready for class, your envelope was sitting right on top.”
“And you—you read it?” Kōtarō was incredulous. “But it was addressed to Akaashi!”
Konoha shrugged. “I’m a curious owl. So sue me.”
Kōtarō groaned. “What am I gonna do?” he said to no one in particular—definitely not Konoha, the traitor! “I want to confess to Akaashi, and I fucked it all up! This plan was fool-proof: write my confession, put it in Akaashi’s bag, Akaashi shows up here, accepts my feelings, and…Bam!” Kōtarō pounded his chest.
“Bam?” Konoha raised an eyebrow. “You think that’s how feelings work, Bokuto? Just… bam?”
“Yes? No? I don’t know!” This was bad. This was so bad! “What am I gonna do now?” he wailed. “I gotta come up with another plan to confess to Akaashi, and not fuck it up like I did this time!” Kōtarō frowned. He wasn’t good at coming up with plans. That’s why he asked Kuroo to help him! But he couldn’t go back to Kuroo now and tell him what happened—the nosy old cat would never let him live it down!
“You really want to confess to Akaashi, huh?” Konoha’s voice was soft, thoughtful. Kōtarō looked up, nearly in tears.
“More than anything!” he exclaimed, unable to stop the tears. “I’ve been working up the nerve for almost two years, and I blew it!”
Kohona hummed, and Kōtarō wanted to… well, do something not very nice. He was falling apart here, and Konoha was humming?
“You didn’t blow it, Bokuto,” Konoha assured him, his honey-colored eyes glinting. He clapped Kōtarō on the shoulder.
“I—I did!” Kōtarō insisted, despair clutching his soul and holding fast. “I totally did!”
“You didn’t,” Kohona repeated, “because this time?”
His eyes gleamed. “I’m gonna help you.”
“So, lemme get this straight.” Konoha leaned over the side of Kōtarō’s bed, took a mochi, and jammed it in his mouth. He chewed loudly, making Kōtarō frown. “You’ve been in love with Akaashi for how long?”
“Since he joined the team,” Kōtarō said weakly. He took a mochi of his own and popped in his mouth. He thought of Akaashi taking delicate bites and chewing thoroughly before indulging more. Kōtarō sighed. What was Konoha doing here again, anyway?
He’d followed Kōtarō home, talking the entire way, then wormed his way into Kōtarō’s house, being so fucking polite to Kōtarō’s mother that she exclaimed, “How come you never bring Akinori around, Kōtarō? It’s only ever Keiji,” and oh the look Konoha had given him then!
Why, his mother was so taken with Konoha she barely acknowledged the flowers he brought home!
Now they were sitting in Kōtarō’s bedroom, a plate of snacks on the floor between them. Kōtarō sat against his desk, tossing a volleyball in his hands between bites of his family’s mochi. Konoha laid on Kōtarō’s bed, hanging off the side, shoving as many mochi in his mouth as he could.
“Mffmfflllmmff,” Konoha said.
“What?” Kōtarō exclaimed.
Konoha wiped his mouth. “I said,” he pouted, “that’s almost two years ago!”
“I know,” Kōtarō protested.
“So why wait so long?” Kohona shrugged. “I mean, Akaashi’s very clearly into you.”
“Because I—” Kōtarō stopped mid-sentence. What—what did Konoha just say?
His brow furrowed. Did Konoha say that Akaashi was… that he was…
“Into you,” Konoha repeated. “Very.”
“How—are you sure?” Kōtarō couldn’t dare hope, could he? He’d thought maybe Akaashi might feel something, but the way Konoha was talking…
“Without a doubt.” Konoha seemed resolute. “And since I can clearly see you’re both idiots for each other, who better to help you two lovebirds get together than me?”
Kōtarō hesitated. If Kuroo helping him hadn’t worked, why did Konoha think he would do any better? “You—you really think that you can—”
“Of course!” Konoha slapped Kōtarō’s mattress, the comforter rippling around his hand. “I know old Kuroo-san thinks he can help you, but who knows both you and Akaashi better? Your bestie and rival, or your faithful teammate?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call you ‘faithful’, Aki…” Kōtarō murmured, thinking of all the times Konoha had been impatient with him, had tried (quite literally sometimes!) to slap some sense into him when he was dejected about his play.
“I am! I’m the most faithful!” Konoha protested. “And I’m totally Team BokuAka, too!”
“You—you are?” Team BokuAka?
“Sure! You guys deserve to be together and blissfully, disgustingly happy. And we’ve all been watching Akaashi pine after you while you’ve been oblivious!”
“I haven’t been oblivious!” Kōtarō insisted.
“Then why did your note end up in my bag instead of Akaashi’s?” Konoha pointed out gently.
Kōtarō paused. He didn’t really have an answer for that.
“Listen, Bokuto.” Konoha slid off the bed to face him. “You like Akaashi. But you had no idea which bag was his!”
“I thought it was his!” Kōtarō whined. “I did!”
“I know.” Konoha leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on Kōtarō’s forearm. “And maybe you were meant to do that, you know?”
“Why?” Kōtarō wondered. “Because ‘Kaashi and I aren’t meant to be together?"
“No.” Konoha’s eyes sparkled. Kōtarō was starting to hate when they did that. “Because now you have real help.”
Kōtarō considered this. He definitely didn’t have the nerve to do anything on his own, and he was bad at coming up with plans without having someone to bounce ideas off of. That’s what Akaashi was for, after all! Yet another reason they worked so well together.
Having Konoha on his side, helping him…
Well, it couldn’t be worse than Kuroo, right? And Konoha was right there, at school with Akaashi and Kōtarō, all day long! Practices too!
Surely he’d have some better ideas of what Kōtarō needed to do!
Kōtarō exhaled a long time, until all the air was expelled from his lungs. He inhaled, then looked right at Konoha, who was watching him closely, trying to get a read on what he would say.
“O—okay,” Kōtarō agreed. “I’ll let you help.”
“All right!” Konoha pumped a fist in the air. “I promise, Bokuto, you won’t be disappointed! With me on your side, Akaashi’ll be yours before the week is out!”
Konoha seemed so sure, so confident, that the deep pit in Kōtarō’s stomach was replaced by a glimmer of hope, a hint of excitement. “I hope you’re right, Konoha,” he replied.
“I know I am,” Konoha told him.
Kōtarō nodded. “Okay, then.” He took another breath. “So,” he added, “where do you think we should start?”
Konoha looked positively gleeful. He rubbed his hands together, more evil villain than matchmaker. “Well, for starters,” he said in a low voice, “do you always have to wear those compression leggings to practice?”