blue lights || bokuaka

keiji

The sea.

When Akaashi wakes up, he smells nothing but the sea.

He imagines a shipwreck and gold glimmering tokens just below the surface of the water in the distance. The birds ask him how he's doing as they soar above him, white feathers looking nearly silver in the decrescent light of the sunset. The waves gently coax him out of his sleep, spinning softly around his ankles as he stands at the shore, the sun warm.

He was warm.

The sunlight pours through his window, draped in white curtains that didn't really do much to keep the light out, but Akaashi never minded it. Pretty black shapes engrave themselves on his legs from the glass panes from where the sheets had ridden up.

Akaashi could barely see, but as he goes to reach for his glasses on the nightstand, feeling Bokuto in front of him, he remembers that he was here, in his arms, and yesterday was not a figment of his imagination, but a real thing that really happened.

And sometimes Bokuto did feel like a dream, but Akaashi thinks the realities of him were even better.

Little by little, he inches to pull his glasses from the top of the nightstand to try not to disturb him. He slowly slides them on with one hand, careful not to wake Bokuto up as he sleeps soundly against him, his fingers lazily curled into the fabric of Akaashi's shirt from the night.

Akaashi looks down at him once his frames were on.

His cheeks are pink from the cold of the room, a small healing cut on the apple of the right one. His hair is still wild from the night before, falling into his face with a few strands clinging onto his silver lashes. There are a few surface scrapes scabbing over on his chin, and Akaashi tries hard not to feel bad, telling himself that they would go away and Bokuto would be okay again.

He would be okay.

Akaashi stares at the small pout on Bokuto's lips, the same ones that would smile big like city lines and part the Red Sea to let a loud laugh out, a gentle fog over a calming seashell shore. A deep pink color that matched with the blush over his skin sat on the tip of his button nose, reminding Akaashi of the peonies that greeted him by the door of the flower shop every day.

Akaashi wanted to kiss him.

Bokuto was just as beautiful in the morning as Akaashi thought he'd be, as the daylight painted him in delicate porcelain, lit him up like constellations really were harbored beneath his skin, and made him truly feel like his whole universe.

There's shifting in the sheets, and Bokuto stirs, stretching his arms out against Akaashi's waist with a delicate shake before they fall right back over the curve of it. His eyes open, and gold showers Akaashi in curiosity and an excitement that seemed to reset before every encounter, looking over his face.

"Daisy! Good morning!" He says, hiding his face back into the crook of Akaashi's neck from where he was before.

Akaashi feels the heat seep into his cheeks at the name, and he hums, Bokuto's rib brace itchy against his own skin.

He lets himself roll onto his back, stretching himself out while Bokuto does the same, feeling the sheets on his skin.

Akaashi glances at Bokuto once, seeing his shirt riding up from the stretch, dark ink over a crease of muscle peeking out beneath the fabric near his hip, and Akaashi quickly looks at the ceiling, trying to subtly turn his face away from Bokuto as fuschia bleeds into it.

The duck plushie falls off of the bed and Bokuto juts his cheeks out in silent disappointment.

"Hi. How are you feeling?" Akaashi asks, his voice still heavy with sleep.