Marked (BokuAka)

43. Watching

Akaashi's POV:

There were no words.

No way to completely encapsulate the pounding of his heart echoing through his head, accompanied by the rushing of blood.

No way to explain how time turned to honey and then molasses, Bokuto's words all but resounding booms, slow and incomprehensible.

No way to explain how Akaashi could see Bokuto's eyes swim—or was that his own?—as his mouth opened and closed, sending out deep bomb-like sounds,

No way to explain how Akaashi could only focus on the movements of his mouth, eyes glued to his beloved's lips.

No way to explain how statue-like he felt, unbuckling, unfalling, infallible. Emotionless and made of stone.

A statue out in the rain, salty water running down its face, dripping off every corner.

A statue in an earthquake, shaking, toppling over, but still attached to its pedestal, so it looked right side up if you tilt your head.

No way to explain. Which is to say, he could explain, just not aloud. Not to an audience. Not to anyone else.

Distantly, Akaashi could feel Bokuto patting his arm, enveloping him into a hug. But over his broad shoulders—a welcome symptom of his years of volleyball—the glass case was still in view.

Watching.

Waiting.

"I'm okay, Bokuto-san." Was he? Maybe. Definitely not. Almost. Barely. Yes, no. Multitudes of contradictions and 'No way to explain's seemed to accompany mixed feelings.

The world slowly fazed into focus, time speeding up to its normal drumming beat and Akaashi's heart reluctantly followed suit. "Akaashi," Akaashi turned to Bokuto to show he heard him. "What do we do?"

His heart contracted, speeding up again, more painful than last time. "I... I don't know." Helplessly, he gestured at the glass display case. "This is evidence. It has items from every victim." He sighed. "Let's close this. We can discuss in my room." Inching their fingers across the wood, Akaashi found a small heart carving and pressed on it. The glass case retracted, the shelves moving to hide it once more.

Akaashi let out a cackle, high-pitched and manic. "Of course it's hidden by a heart!" It was just chance he'd hit it. Bokuto's eyebrows pinched together. Akaashi stomped out of the room before slipping on a spare high heel, hitting the floor with a hiss of pain. Tears swelled in his eyes, but he swiftly stomped them down, pouring them out of him like you would a glass of water. "Stupid shoe!"

Bokuto opened his mouth, about to speak. He's probably going to ask what the fuck is wrong with me. Honestly, I don't know. "Can I pick you up?"

"Huh?"

"Well, uh..." He flushed, rubbing at his neck. "You seem stressed, and I wanted to carry you. Back to your room, I mean."

Akaashi narrowed his eyes, trying to detect any tricks or ploys. Oh no. What am I doing? This is Bokuto we're talking about. He wouldn't. But his entire system was in danger-mode, and even though he knew nothing would happen, he was terrified. But against his own wishes, his mouth formed the word, "Sure."

Bokuto scooped up the slightly shorter, much more agitated boy into a princess carry, causing Akaashi to burst into tears. Why does this happen whenever someone hugs me when I'm sad?

He petted Akaashi's hair, not even trembling under his weight. "'Kashi." He was sad, that much was certain. Where his arms weren't trembling, his voice was, buried under many layers of misery.

"I'm sorry, Bokuto-san." Akaashi rubbed at his itchy eyes, smearing the tears all over his face.

"For?"

Akaashi blinked, the question making him uncertain, confused. "For... crying?"

Bokuto looked equally confused, bushy eyebrows drawing together into a line. "But, why?"

Why? Why?! Because I'm strong. I don't cry. His soaked face and leaky eyes said otherwise, but Akaashi refused to acknowledge it.

Wait. If his mother had created that whole elaborate system to hide her trophies, who was to say that she hadn't...

"Shit!" Akaashi flailed as Bokuto hugged him, shocking the latter into jolting away. "She might have cameras! She's probably watching us right now!"

Bokuto carefully placed him down, looking concerned. "Who? What? Akaashi, what's wrong?"

"Look, she might have cameras placed around the house. We have to check the closet again." Akaashi stomped over to the closet, Bokuto following close on his heels. Once again, they scoured the closet.

And there it was, a tiny camera in the jewellery box on the windowsill, with a full view of the room. A wire slipped through a minuscule hole underneath the box, travelling through the walls. "I told you! Bokuto, this is really bad. What if it recorded everything? She's going to kill me!"

He was so riled up, he forgot to add the honorific he so often used. Bokuto gave him a hug, arms covering Akaashi's mouth and silencing his thoughts for a few seconds.

"She won't kill you." Bokuto whispered. "Tied forever in life, as the soulmate books say. I plan on living for many more years, therefore you will too. Live together, die together, Akaashi."

Such an immature look on love and life, and yet it was comforting still. Complicity isn't always better, it seemed. And Akaashi didn't miss the correct pronunciation of his name, a reminder of the severity of the situation.

"I love you, Bokuto-san." He whispered, voice muffled by the arm in the way.

"What did you say?"

He couldn't form the correct words, so he tried another set. "Thank you, Bokuto-san."

A/N: Thank you for your patience! I've been trying to finish this chapter for a while, and I'm so glad to finally have it out!