bokuaka one shots

trains

(Don't freight hop, kids.)

A man sitting on the sidewalk.

Bokuto saw him before he got close, saw his wavy hair and ripped jeans and the sign in his hands before he even approached. He didn't bother reading it. He knew why the man was there.

Bokuto was going to ignore him. He was only here for gas, nothing else, really. Yet, he found himself buying drinks for someone other than himself.

He approached the man somewhat slowly, as if he might scare him away, holding out the bag. "Hi."

He looked up, setting down his cardboard sign- which was also his way of asking for a ride from passers-by. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes, despite the rest of his expression remaining unmoving. "Hey." The man stood, picking up his bag and looking at Bokuto expectantly. "Where are you going?"

Bokuto pointed a thumb left, down the highway where the small town ended. "That way. I'm not really going anywhere, though."

"What're you doing, then?"

Bokuto met eyes with him, somewhat taken aback by the immediacy in his tone, the way he spat the question out as soon as Bokuto completed his thought. "Just getting away. From my hometown, I mean. What about you?"

The man stared at Bokuto blankly. His eyes showed no emotion, yet were intense at the same time. "I'm homeless."

"But- why?"

He sighed, staring off at the clouds just past Bokuto's head, hanging against the blue sky. "You don't really wanna hear my sob story."

"I do. I have time."

Bokuto's stubbornness was not a popular trait of his. Especially right now, with the stranger who only wanted a ride to the nearest train station. "Okay, how about.... you give me a ride to the nearest train station that way," he mimicked Bokuto, pointing a thumb down the road, "and I'll give you my whole life story on the ride there? Deal?"

Bokuto grinned. "Yeah! My car is over there." The man's eyes followed the direction of Bokuto's outstretched hand to a small, beat-up pickup truck, paint faded with time and weather. "Oh, I'm Bokuto, by the way."

"Akaashi."

Bokuto nodded, repeating the name silently to himself as to not forget it. He was glad to have a new possible friend- especially one like Akaashi. Before, he would have ignored him completely. Now, he lived free.

Akaashi, on the other hand, was glad for the free ride. All he had to do, as far as he was concerned, was talk about himself and Bokuto, bless his innocent soul, would be satisfied. It would be far more easier and convenient than other rides from willing men.

A ways down the road, Bokuto made the decision that he couldn't stand the silence and began to speak.

"So, why're you homeless?"

Akaashi's eyes flickered to Bokuto from the rear-view mirror, studying the man quietly. "My partner. They weren't nice to me. So I left."

"You just left? What do you mean they 'weren't nice' to you?"

Akaashi stared at Bokuto blankly, his expression telling that Bokuto should have understood what he meant. "They weren't nice to me. That's all."

Bokuto nodded, assuming what he could with the somewhat vague explanation. His face read unsatisfied, though he didn't verbalize it.

"I travel on trains. Like, sneak on and go to the next stop," Akaashi continued.

"Isn't that, like, against the law?"

Akaashi rolled his eyes, resting his face in his palm and staring at the window, at the trees and grass and fences the passed. "I don't care."

His voice was soft and impassive. Bokuto couldn't imagine him raising his voice or getting angry. Maybe annoyed, as he seemed right now, but not enough to shout. Bokuto liked that. He nodded.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence, content with what words were exchanged, until they reached the freight grounds, the truck pulling into the grass and coming to a halt.

Akaashi gathered the little things he had and opened the door.

"Where does the train go?"

"Atami."

"By the ocean."

Akaashi nodded. "Thanks for the ride."

"It wasn't any trouble."

Akaashi stepped out of the truck, closing its door and leaning through the open window. "Thanks again, stranger."

Bokuto didn't feel like they were strangers, even if they really were. He wanted to be close with Akaashi. He felt like they had already met.

He told Akaashi to wait, scribbling his number down on the first thing he found: the receipt from the truck stop. "Call me when you get there." Akaashi promised he would, thanked Bokuto, and walked away, backpack slung over his shoulder.

As Bokuto watched him walk away, he decided where he would go.

He began his drive to Atami.

♡

Word Count: 790