the jacket you never returned- Bokuaka

Part 5

  Here is the truth: It is hard to be in love 
with someone who is in love with someone else. 
I don't know how to turn that into poetry.

Clementine von Radics, Untitled

The wedding was beautiful. Akaashi managed to convince everyone that he's okay, suit straightened out, always at Bokuto's side.

Megumi, Bokuto's bride, was nice.

Which was bad, because Akaashi can't hate her. She's nice and she laughed at their jokes, holding Bokuto close, ring on her finger.

She was nice. Akaashi spent ten minutes in the bathroom.

"The best man has a gift for the newlyweds!" The host of the reception was really energetic, presenting Akaashi, who was standing in the middle of the platform, holding his violin. "Please give him a round of applause!"

The audience clapped, most of them excited--Kuroo raised a brow, but Akaashi just looked pointedly at him before turning to the married couple.

He swallowed. They look so perfect, like they're made for each other, and they're just staring at him, smiling, and he felt like he's going to cry, again. His hands felt clammy, chest thundering, heart beating too fast--he's approaching critical mass, but he forced himself to calm down.

He already lost him.

"I will perform a piece for Megumi-san and Bokuto-san," He said, talking into the mic, getting on position. "Though I suppose both of them are Bokuto-sans, now."

The audience laughed, but he felt his insides shrivel at the joke he just made.

So instead, he closed his eyes after getting into the position, then waited for the piece he picked for Megumi.

The pianist he asked to stand-in presses in the first few notes, and he started to to play on his mark. The whole place is silent, and they're all transfixed on him.

Spiegel im Spiegel.

Bokuto felt something shake in him. He felt a dull throb in his chest, gaze never being removed from Akaashi's form.

Megumi said something, but he can't hear anything.

He can't hear anything but this piece, which is so achingly familiar, and he can't see anything but Akaashi, playing it.

He suddenly cried.

"You always look like you're going to cry when you perform this piece," Bokuto called out, after Akaashi finished up Spiegel im Spiegel.

"...Do I?" Akaashi asked as he put away his violin. They're done for the day. "It's my favorite piece."

"Hm? Really?" Bokuto said ashe he stood up to stretch. "Why?"

Akaashi turns to him, smiling, and Bokuto suddenly forgot how to breathe. He just looked perfect standing there, sunset lights hitting him just where it should to make him prettier, and he just can't believe that Akaashi's him. All of him. His. His to love, his to be loved by, and he felt so, so lucky to have him.

"Because it reminds me of you, Koutarou."

Akaashi finished his piece. He got a standing ovation--some people in the crowd were even crying.

After bowing, he said a brief, "Congratulations, Bokuto-sans," and left the stage.

He prepared his pieces to play over dinner.

It was only when wet spots on his Silentium piece appeared that he realized that he was crying.

He wanted to hold him.

"Akaashi, thank you!" Bokuto ran up to his best man, grinning. "You're the best best man and best friend that anyone could ever ask for!"

And under the moonlight, with the lanterns over them, Bokuto just looked so nice, so nostalgic that his insides stirred and his heart threatened to burst. Akaashi made a split-second decision as to what to do. He wants to touch him. Even just once. For the last time, for keeper's sake. For the relationship that should've been--

He leaned over, kissed Bokuto on the cheek, and smiled bitterly, eyes watery.

He will never remember. Not now, not ever.

What they were will now forever be forgotten.

"You used to call me Keiji, Koutarou."