Haikyuu One Shots

Akaashi x Harley (fluff)

(Quick A/N: The attached image has pictures of Harley and Tara's dresses. The top on is Harley's and the bottom is Tara's. Okay that's all, enjoy my first story.)
word count: 3.2 thousand

Harley's POV

I entered the Fukurodani gym at precisely 5:45 PM, fifteen minutes before the end of the year party was to begin, despite Tara's incessant nagging that we needed to be "fashionably late." My best friend always knew how to make an entrance, and typically I would agree, but I wanted to help with any final touches.

The coach and managers, Yukie and Kaori, had been working since around two o' clock to get the gym decorated. The boys had worked incredibly hard this year, as expected, but they deserved to know that their hard work has not gone unnoticed.

This was also going to be the last time this team will be together. The third years will be graduating sooner than we would all like to admit, so everything had to be perfect.

"Harley! Tara! What are you guys doing here? The party doesn't start for another fifteen minutes!" Kaori asked when she went to retrieve more napkins. Yukie was placing the candle centerpieces on the tables. The tablecloth was black with gold confetti sprinkled in the middle. The thick, white, pillar candles were set on small glass plates that had read "pour all your soul into each ball" in typewriter print in black letters. This was the same motto that was on their banner and there were enough plates for each player, the coach, and the managers to take one home; plus a few extras in the back in case something happened.

I smiled seeing that my tiny plate idea could be useful. I had personally painted the motto onto every plate, so seeing it all come together made my heart swell.

"We figured if we showed up early, we could help with the final touches! You guys have been working so hard. There's no way I couldn't help even a little." I told Kaori. Tara just marveled at the work that had been done. The gym was dark, lit only by candles and small, strung lightbulbs that emitted a soft white light. There was a home-made photo booth in the corner adjacent with the doorway, with about 12 different polaroid cameras sitting on the table that also held a variety of props. The end opposite the doors was where the food was. Six long tables (two rows of three) had more food than I had ever seen in my life. They knew the boys well because it was almost entirely meat, save for some bread, very small amount of salad, and the desserts. The walls were plastered with photos of the team from throughout the year.

My favorite was the one of Akaashi and me at the spring training camp. He had finished the game against Karasuno not long before and was a sweaty mess. I had just given him a piece of watermelon and he gave me the smallest smile when Tara took the photo. She knew how long I had been crushing on my other best friend, so she was always trying to give me a reason to tell him. This photo of him smiling was one of those reasons. "Harley, the only time I have ever seen him smile was when I got Bokuto out of his weird emo funk in the middle of a game. That's it. And honestly, that was barely even a smile. It was more like, well, I don't know, a small mouth corner raise as a thank you? Does he feel happiness? I genuinely am curious..." then she would ramble on about how strange it was to her that she never saw him convey his emotions. Whenever this occurred I had to remind her that not everyone was as expressive as her boyfriend. This conversation ended the same every time; she always told me that I would be sorry if I didn't tell him, that I would regret it later.

"You really didn't need to do that!" Yukie said as she approached. I just smiled at her and Tara complimented them on the beautiful job they had done.

Before I knew it, it was five o' clock, and the boys were starting to arrive. Of course, Bokuto and Akaashi showed up together, likely in Akaashi's car because Bokuto was a messy driver. I lost count of how many times Akaashi had texted me while in Bokuto's passenger seat begging me to pray for him or asking what I'll be saying at his funeral.