The sin of loving you(Bokuaka ff)

Chapter 7: A cruel awakening

Akaashi hadn't spoken to Bokuto in days. Each encounter with him, whether in the hallways or during practice, had become a painful reminder of the chasm that had grown between them. Avoidance had become his way of coping, even though it meant pushing away the one person who understood him the most. The weight of his secret was becoming unbearable, and home, once a place of refuge, was now fraught with tension and fear.

After another day of practice where he had deliberately kept his distance from Bokuto, Akaashi trudged home, mentally preparing himself for whatever confrontation awaited him. His parents had been unusually quiet but watchful, and their unease about his recent behavior was weird.

Entering his room, he dropped his bag and lay down on his bed, trying to calm his racing thoughts. His phone buzzed beside him, a message from Bokuto that he couldn't bring himself to read. He tried to shut out the world, but his anxiety refused to leave him.

The door creaked open, and Akaashi's parents stepped in, their faces set in hard lines. His mother held his phone in her hand, and her expression was a mix of anger and something akin to sorrow. His father followed, his face darkened with frustration.

"Keiji," his mother began, her voice trembling with emotion. "We need to talk."

Akaashi sat up, fear clutching at his chest. "What's wrong?"

"Don't play dumb," his father snapped, holding up the phone. "We saw the messages with Bokuto. We saw how you've been behaving."

Akaashi's heart sank. He had hoped to avoid this confrontation, but it was too late now. "I didn't mean—"

"Mean what?" his mother cut in, her voice rising. "Mean to betray everything we've taught you? To live a life that's against everything we believe in?"

Akaashi tried to find the right words. "I care about him. It's not just—"

"Care about him?" his father thundered. "You're letting this... this perversion consume you! It's not just a phase, Keiji. It's a sin!"

His mother's face was flushed with anger. "We've worked too hard to raise you right, and this is how you repay us? You've become a disgrace!"

Akaashi's breath came in short, ragged bursts. "Please, just listen—"

"No!" his father shouted. "We're going to the church later this week. They will help you understand why this is wrong. And until then, you'll stay home from school. You need to be grounded from these... these influences."

Tears welled up in Akaashi's eyes. "But why? I just—"

"And you'll hand over your phone," his mother said, her voice dripping with contempt. "You don't need distractions while we're trying to get you back on the right path."

Akaashi's hands shook as he took his phone from his mother and handed it over. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking.

His father's anger didn't subside. "Sorry isn't enough. You've been acting like a... a faggot," he spat out the word with disgust. "You're breaking our hearts with this. We won't stand for it."

The word felt like a physical blow, hitting Akaashi with a force that made him feel sick. He recoiled, feeling utterly crushed by their words.

His mother grabbed the phone and held it firmly, her expression hardening. "We're taking this from you. You don't deserve it."

Without another word, his parents turned and left the room, their anger reverberating through the house. Akaashi sat alone, the sting of their words and the weight of their judgment suffocating him.

The door clicked shut, and he was left in silence. The phone was gone, and with it, the last link to Bokuto and any semblance of comfort. Akaashi buried his face in his hands, the tears flowing freely as he tried to process the brutal reality of his situation.

He was isolated, not only from the world outside but from the one person who might understand him. His parents' harsh words echoed in his mind, each one a reminder of how alone he felt. The walls of his room seemed to close in around him, the emptiness and the weight of their rejection becoming nearly unbearable.

Akaashi lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the feeling of profound loss. The pressure to conform, to fit into a mold that felt increasingly foreign and suffocating, was overwhelming. He knew he had to face what was coming, but for now, he could only lie there, consumed by the darkness of his own thoughts and the harshness of his parents' judgment.