𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 | bokuaka!

𝟏.

"You're crazy if you really thought we could last!" A sharp pain pangs my chest hearing these words come out of the latter.

"People have long distance relationships all the time!" I reason, voice strained from emotional stress and instability. My fists are clenched and frozen at my side, anger flowing through my veins under my rather calm yet faulty exterior.

"Guys don't have long distance relationships, it's not normal!" Bokuto emphasizes 'guys' as he hisses, tears brimming his golden eyes. I know he can't possibly think that way.

I stay silent.

"I have to go play on the national team, Akaashi. It's not my fault I can't take you with me, you still have your third year left."

"I don't want to go with you, I just want to keep in touch, Bokuto-san! You don't have to break off what we have, we can make this work," I practically beg in my disheveled state.

"And what do we have, Keiji?" He snaps.

We have an almost two-year-old relationship that has lasted through thick and thin. We have an indescribable bond that neither of us can deny and soul-binding tension. We have thousands upon thousands of memories waiting to be created, and millions more opportunities to explore together. We have a chance at a future together.

My throat grows dry.

"W-we're boyfriends..." I trail off, like every one of my thoughts was evident. Bokuto's raging attitude plagues the air around us, as I find myself wheezing when I breathe in the atmosphere. I'm choking on tiny sobs, ones barely audible and barely escaping my lips.

"Not anymore." I catch the look in Bokuto's eyes. Regret. But every single one of his actions did not line up with his uncertain gaze. He turns his back on me before walking out of my bedroom door.

I reach out to grab his wrist, gripping his porcelain skin tight enough to bruise the taller's. He glares at me out of the corner of his eye before ripping his hand away.

"I'm leaving," He says bitterly, yet his voice is slightly less harsh than it was previously. So I let him leave, I let him walk out of my house and out of my life. Because who was he to say that to me?

Well, that's the last thing he had ever said to me. He was so confusing back then.
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It's been so many years since that memory, yet it won't stop resurfacing in my mind like a seashell rewashing up on land in a never ending, continuous cycle. I groan in my bed, grabbing fistfuls of my hair and pulling as hard as I can. Tears prick my eyes from the dull pain, but I am feeling, so I don't mind the tears streaking down my cheeks.

"Dammit!" I curse, now gripping the ruffled beige comforter underneath me. Tossing and turning in my bed, I try to relax my mind but my head pulses with painful fragments of my memories. Some were happy, and some were cruel and sad, yet they both made me want to rip my heart out of my chest.