the jacket you never returned- Bokuaka

Part 1

"Huh? Keiji? Who's that?"

He's prepared for this, he swear. He already readied himself the moment they told him that Bokuto might forget some things, but please don't worry, we're sure he'll remember it. He knows and he braced himself, expected this, expected the worst, but the sudden pain and heaviness those words threw to him still caught him off-guard, and he can already feel his hands shaking, and there's a dull throb in his chest. He want out. This is too much, too much already, and it's only four words uttered by him, yet he's already breaking.

He feels Konoha's hand on his shoulders, and briefly catches Kuroo saying, "He's your boyfriend."

Bokuto laughs, but he looks so confused, afraid.

"Dude, I'm not gay."

He blinks, and tries not to cry.

He never broke my heart. He only turned it into a compass that always points me back to him.

Clementine von Radics, In Defense of Loving Him

It's been a week and he's still Akaashi to him. Not Keiji, no--just his setter, his "best buddy" that he's always with. All the "he was your lover" and "you really loved Akaashi" only resulted into awkward laughs and "really, that's a funny joke". It stopped after the third day, after everyone noticed Akaashi's uncomfortable and pained face.

That, too. He can't control his emotions anymore, now.

He thought things would be better after he convinced Kuroo to at least let Bokuto use his apartment first--their place is still clattered with memories and touches and everything that screams "them". The notes Bokuto puts on the fridge. The chore rotation they placed on one of the kitchen drawers. The bulletin board that they so ridiculously used to pin up pictures, schedules and notes--plans, see you at the restaurant, I love you. Calendar that littered with "Monthsary" marks and birthday marks.

Now, standing in the middle of them all, they all seem so big.

He imagines, for a second, Bokuto running around the apartment. Today is a Saturday. It's a free day for them, supposedly, and a movie night. He imagines both of them hunched over the stack of movies they have, cases all over the floor, marked with notes. Haven't watched yet. Recommended by Kuroo. The movie you wanted to see last week. Reminded me of you.

Then, he feels it, suddenly: it came up, then back down, crushing him. His eyes started to water, hand forming a clenched fist over his heart--he crouched down, gasping, looking on the ground, hot wet tears falling down. He can't even sob, can't even say anything, just ragged breath and whining, and oh god, it feels so good to let it all out, but it also feels heavy, feels like he had the whole ocean in him, like he swallowed one accidentally. His chest starts to hurt and his throat feels like it's being scratched up, and he bites his lip, hard, because everything just hurts, everything is just awful and it's all sucking him in, the past tenses, the used-to-be, the "Who's Keiji?", the pain and heaviness and--

He wants him back. He wants him back.

He does not want to be forgotten.