𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 | bokuaka!

𝟗.

"W-What the fuck are you saying, Kou...?" I stammer, gripping the sides of his face, craning his neck down so he meets my eye level. I search his face for an answer, I search his face for anything that might confirm what he's feeling.

My cheeks burn red but I ignore it when a tear slips past my eyes. I wipe it quickly with the back of my hand, the evidence of emotion gone as soon as it appears as if I'm clearing a clean slate.

He returns the gesture by cupping my own, much more gently as a tender action, pulling me closer to his body. Feverish eye contact ensues until he speaks up again.

"I mean what I said, I love you."
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The tension snaps as our lips draw near in an instant, colliding with passion, colliding with lustful desire; a longing. Our lips are in sync, nostalgia dusting my cheeks as I subconsciously draw even closer to the man in front of me.

Memories flood. Dancing along the streets of my mind, overriding my feelings, taking control.

Because oh, how although the flood has crashed and destroyed infrastructure, the rain of it all is still dazzling and the pitter patter of it still flatters my psyche and comforts my hearing. It almost makes up for the aftermath. Almost.

That same destruction seems alluring. Yet deadly.

And I remember. I remember all the moments we shared like this and the aching buried deep in my heart, to never be retrieved, or uprooted, stirs, because despite being so damn mad that Bokuto left me behind; it did not mean I wasn't longing for his touch. His lips on mine, his unruly spiky hair through my fingers, and for the love of god his hands around my waist.

I sigh into the kiss before pulling away shyly, overwhelmed senses paired with a hazy mind, I blink twice. Unconvinced this really happened.

"I...I shouldn't be..." I murmur, knitting my eyebrows as Koutarou looks down at me with those huge, golden, shining eyes of his.

"I need time. I'm sorry," I shake my head rapidly, stepping back as I can almost see Bokuto's own heart break in half feet away from me. He stands there a concoction of dejected, understanding, and down right crestfallen. His arms hang awkwardly as if he doesn't know what to do with them now that they aren't framing my face.

"Um, sorry, take as long as you need..."  The taller says, rather confused with how to comfort me; or what to even say. Of course he's confused, he has no idea what I'm thinking. I inhale deeply, turning away from him, slinging on a coat to wear. To protect against the cold night, I fasten the buttons as I face away from him. I feel his eyes stalking my back before I catch his gaze as I glance towards him.

We lock eyes for a moment, before I draw my attention to picking up my keys beside me from a small, cheap table.

"I'm really sorry, Bokuto-san, I really am. But I'll be back. I need to clear my head...Don't follow me, stay here..."

Leaving before the other can respond, the clamorous slam of my door erupts before I'm met with the dead silence of the outdoors. Nothing stirs, not even crickets and in the winter life is dead. About an inch of snow coats the ground, but nothing my boots can't handle, as the crunch of my steps seem to disturb the peace around me as I climb down the stairs.

The stars linger in the sky, to twinkle and to watch over my walking body as I trek down the sidewalk. And in all honesty the world is serene, and calming to my anxious, racing thoughts and the overflowing, tipping brink of my tears.

I stop at a small park, one that reeks of my childhood to dust off a swing, sitting. I can nearly see my breath made possible by the moonlight, aided by temperature as I take in deep breaths.

To prevent hyperventilating.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

My last exhale trembles, the sound waves shakily traveling a few feet disrupting the still air around me. It was more like an abrasive sigh.

As it all came crashing down, disrupting the shore, breaking the dam as it cracks, and cracks, and cracks until it's shattered. I'm left defenseless, my own tears sting as they roll down my cheeks.

And I have no idea what to think. No clue, no thought in mind, an empty, vast plane of nothingness envelops me, who am I to fight it?

I'm so stupid.

What is going on?

What is going on?

What is going on—

"—Akaashi?"

A hesitant voice calls out into the night that I can immediately recognize anywhere, the culprit of my pain, who indulges in my love, who is the reason I'm up every goddamn night praying that he'd come back to me. Now that he's here it is bittersweet.

Tears only seem to well up faster, as I remove my hands from the cold metal of the swing to cover my weary and flushed face.

"Y-You didn't have to leave to run away, Akaashi. I wouldn't of judged you for crying..." The owl-like boy looms meters away from me. And this makes me grit my teeth as I almost claw at my face, gripping it so brutally, sinking my features into my own hands harshly.

"I told you not to follow me..." I try to seethe but the anger behind my tone is belittled and weak as a fronting emotion, the real turmoil on my mind cowering behind it.

Breaking down is okay.

Breaking down in front of Koutarou is not.

No way in hell would I want Bokuto to see me like this. Just because the other had a breakdown, unraveling in front of me does not mean completely shutting down in front of him would feel acceptable. Hell, I can't even fathom appearing to be the more vulnerable one between us.

But here I am, in the middle of a child's play area at an unreal time of night, crying over my ex's love confession as he stands meters away, staring down at me with his annoyingly concerned eyes. Those same eyes gleam, seas of his worry thrashing violently, waves rolling under the ebony sky's illumination. And it's suffocating.

word count: 1094