the jacket you never returned- Bokuaka

Part 3

It's now Kuroo who accompanies Akaashi in his violin practices.

"What's it today?" Kuroo asks, settling on a chair nearby, while Akaashi gets on position. Sleeves rolled and violin ready, Akaashi answered, "On Wings of Song, Mendelssohn."

Kuroo actually have no idea what that piece is, but hummed nonetheless. A nice, almost easy-going melody started to fill the air, and Kuroo stared at Akaashi's form. He was flawless, like a statue carved out by Bernini himself, and him playing the violin always makes him feel better. He doesn't feel anything special for the lad, per se, but there's something in him that makes you want to open up and just talk about all of your problems until you're okay.

When he blurts out, "Bokuto has a girlfriend," something resembling nails dragging down a chalkboard filled the whole room, and Akaashi stopped, looking at him. Kuroo nervously looked back, but he can't see Akaashi's expression--the setting sun is flooding the room, and Akaashi is too far. Pastel colors fills them in, and Akaashi just stands there.

Then, he clenched his violin and bowstring. Gets into the position.

This time, the notes makes him feel heavy. And he doesn't need to ask what he's playing anymore. He just turns to look at the window, letting Akaashi play.

After all, he's been playing this piece ever since Bokuto forgot.

Spiegel im Spiegel.

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"I'm not gay," is what Bokuto said to him when he got home, violin on hand.

Akaashi looks at him, surprise on face, until he sees the paper Bokuto is thrusting on him. He takes it, confused, and felt his stomach churn when he read what's in it.

Oh god.

It's one of his notes.

I love you, Bokuto-san, stay safe on the way to school today.

It's one of the earliest notes he gave; they're not even on the first name basis yet, but Bokuto was so ridiculously happy when he gave it, taping it on the coffee he made and pancakes he whipped up before going to his morning class. He can still remember it as if it was yesterday, and his heart jumps up on his throat. He feels sick. How did he find this?

"How did you find this?"

"That's not important," is what Bokuto says. "what is the meaning of that?"

And Bokuto looks so confused, lost, helpless, that Akaashi can't even tell the truth. He can't imagine what the other's reaction would be; but he had seen enough of his reactions to the previous attempts, and he's sure that saying the truth now would only make him either mad or disgusted.

He can't afford that. He can't afford to lose him more.

"It was a running joke between us," He says, putting the note in his pocket, before moving through Bokuto and inside the house. His hands are shaking, again, and he just wants to lie down on his bed. He wants to sleep forever. He wants to forget everything about this. "don't worry, Bokuto-san."

Bokuto blinked, then lightened up. "Ah, I see!"

"Yeah," was all that he can manage to say back, walking briskly to the hallways, hands covering his eyes. The tears hurt his eyes, a lot, and they're warm against his cheeks, and he just keeps on remembering what they used to be, how it used to be, because now this place is so cold and he's losing him.

He already lost him.

He leans against his door, looking up and tightening his grip around his violin.

"Yeah."