The sin of loving you(Bokuaka ff)

Chapter 5: The silence between us

Bokuto was used to highs and lows. He knew what it felt like to be on top of the world and what it felt like to crash hard. But this—this gnawing emptiness, this space where Akaashi used to be—was something different entirely.

It started slowly. Akaashi had always been quiet, reserved even, but this was different. There were fewer smiles, shorter conversations, more excuses. Bokuto noticed the change, felt the shift in their dynamic like a missing piece of his soul, but he didn't understand it. He replayed their last real conversation over and over in his head, searching for the moment it all went wrong, but there was nothing. One day, they were close, and the next, Akaashi had slipped away, leaving Bokuto grasping at straws.

He tried not to panic at first, telling himself it was just a phase, that Akaashi was probably stressed or busy. But the more he tried to reach out, the more Akaashi pulled away, and the more desperate Bokuto became.

Practice became a nightmare. Normally, Bokuto lived for the game, thrived on the adrenaline of spiking the ball into the ground, feeding off the connection he had with Akaashi. But now, every set felt off, every play disjointed. Bokuto knew the others could see it too, the way his spikes lacked their usual power, the way he seemed to fumble even the simplest plays. He wasn't just losing his connection with Akaashi—he was losing his connection to the game itself.

Bokuto's heart ached every time Akaashi dodged his gaze or left the locker room without a word. He tried to tell himself that Akaashi just needed space, but the silence between them felt like a chasm he couldn't cross. And the worst part was that he had no idea why. What had he done to make Akaashi pull away? What had changed?

"Bokuto, are you okay?"

The voice of one of his teammates cut through Bokuto's thoughts one afternoon after another miserable practice. He looked up, blinking away the fog of confusion, to see Konoha standing beside him, concern etched on his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Bokuto lied, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Just... tired, I guess."

Konoha didn't seem convinced, but he didn't push. "If you ever need to talk, you know we're here for you, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Bokuto muttered, feeling the weight of the unspoken words between them. But the person he needed to talk to was the one who wouldn't talk to him.

That evening, after everyone else had left the gym, Bokuto found himself lingering, his feet rooted to the spot as his mind churned with everything he wanted to say to Akaashi. He had tried so many times to talk to him, to figure out what was going on, but every time, Akaashi had shut him down, leaving Bokuto more confused and hurt than before.

He knew he couldn't keep going like this, couldn't keep pretending that everything was fine when it clearly wasn't. He had to find a way to break through the walls Akaashi had built between them, to understand why Akaashi had pushed him away in the first place.

As if on cue, Bokuto heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from the locker room. He turned to see Akaashi emerging, his face a mask of exhaustion and something else Bokuto couldn't quite place. Bokuto's heart skipped a beat, the urge to reach out, to grab hold of Akaashi and demand an explanation nearly overwhelming him.

But instead, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He had to approach this carefully, had to find the right words, or he might lose Akaashi for good.

"Akaashi," Bokuto called softly, his voice barely more than a whisper in the empty gym. "Can we talk?"

Akaashi froze, his eyes widening slightly in surprise before he quickly schooled his features into an unreadable expression. Bokuto's heart clenched at the sight—how had they gotten to this point, where even asking for a conversation felt like crossing a minefield?

Akaashi hesitated before finally turning to face him. "What is there to talk about?" he asked, his voice flat, almost resigned.

Bokuto took a step closer, searching Akaashi's face for any sign of the friend he knew, the one who had always been there, the one who had stood by him through everything. "What happened to us?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly. "We were so close, and now... it feels like you don't want anything to do with me anymore."

Akaashi's gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders tense. "It's not you, Bokuto," he said quietly, but the words offered no comfort. "It's me."

The confusion and frustration that had been building inside Bokuto boiled over. "I don't understand, Akaashi! What do you mean it's you? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Akaashi shook his head, still not meeting Bokuto's eyes.

Bokuto's chest tightened at the silent head nod akaashi gave him.What did Akaashi think he wanted from him? "All I want is to be close to you again, to understand what's going on," Bokuto said, his voice laced with desperation. "Why are you shutting me out?"

Akaashi finally looked up, and the pain in his eyes was like a punch to Bokuto's gut. "Because I'm wrong, Bokuto," he said, his voice trembling. "What you want, what I want—it's wrong."

Bokuto felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him. "Wrong?" he echoed, his voice barely audible. "How can caring about someone, how can wanting to be close to you, be wrong?"

Akaashi flinched at the question, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Because it just is," he snapped, his voice cracking with the strain of holding back whatever was tearing him apart. "I don't want to be... I don't want to be like this."

Bokuto stared at Akaashi, the words not fully registering. How could something that felt so right, so natural, be wrong? But Akaashi's pain was real, and Bokuto could see that whatever was hurting him was something deep, something that went beyond just the two of them.

"Akaashi," Bokuto said, his voice softening as he took another step closer. "Please, I don't understand. If there's something you're scared of, or something you think I won't accept, you don't have to worry. I—"

"Stop, Bokuto," Akaashi interrupted, his voice strained, as if he was holding back tears. "Just... stop. I can't do this."

Bokuto's heart ached at the sight of Akaashi in so much pain, but he didn't know what to do, how to help. "I don't want to lose you," he whispered, the fear of losing Akaashi overpowering everything else. "I can't lose you."

Akaashi looked at him, his expression a mixture of regret and something that looked like longing. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice so soft that Bokuto almost didn't hear it. "I'm sorry, Bokuto."

And then, before Bokuto could say anything else, Akaashi turned and walked away, leaving Bokuto standing alone in the empty gym, his heart shattered into pieces.