In another life ꧁bokuto x akaashi꧂

Part 11

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(a song that you can listen to so you'll be able to cry harder)

"Hey, Akaashi?"

"Hm?"

"When do you think it will snow?"

"I don't know... Snow falls at random."

"Yeah, but... Do... You think it will snow soon? Or maybe January?"

"I hope so. That would be nice. Tokyo needs a little more snow now and then."

"Yeah... Yeah. When it falls, I want to go out and stand in it."

Akaashi sat cross legged in the seat adjacent to Bokuto's bed. He looked up at the sickly one when he'd said those words, trying to meet his gaze, but ultimately finding no yellow eyes to look into. Bokuto had his head turned away.

He was staring outside at the white clouds that shrouded the skies, mesmerized by just how colorless it made everything seem. It was one of those "White days", as Bokuto liked to call them, so he paid much more attention to the world beyond the glass than he did to his own confined life in the hospital. Bokuto breathed in deeply, the sound filling the small space around them. The bedsheets crumpled beneath his hands.

"Are you sure you should be going out in the cold like that?"

"I think I can handle it."

Akaashi didn't want to bring up the fact that Bokuto probably would no longer possess the ability to walk by the time any snow did get a chance to fall, so he kept his mouth shut. He rubbed his hands together weakly and tilted his head to the side.

"I guess you can... Just as long as you're feeling better."

Bokuto scoffed. It was a quiet sound.

"I am. Stop asking already. That was six days ago."

"I know, but it was bad."

"It passed." Bokuto turned his head, the pillow crumpling under his neck. He looked at Akaashi with heavy lidded eyes. He was extremely pale, and somehow thinner than before, but he kept that same smile on his face. "I'm fine now."

Akaashi couldn't help but smile back at him. He leaned his chin against the palm of his hand and chortled.

"Or at least as fine as you can get."

Bokuto stared at Akaashi sharply. His lips quivered before he could form his words.

"Sh...ut up." A stronger laugh broke out from him, rattling his body as he lay down in bed. "I look... Like shit, I know."

Akaashi found himself laughing along with him. His quiet chuckle was louder than Bokuto's wholehearted laugh.

"You don't. You don't look like shit." He tried to hide his grin with his hand, but it was still visible from the gaps between his fingers.

Bokuto reached a hand out, aimlessly trying to swat Akaashi's own hand away. He tried to aim for it at the very least, but found it difficult to. Still, he continued.

"Don't cover that."

"Cover what?"

"Your smile."

"Why? It isn't anything spe-"

"I barely ever see it." Bokuto's fingers touched at Akaashi's knuckles. That was enough for Akaashi to remove his hand from in front his mouth slowly, moving it to rest it over his chin. He smiled down at him.

Bokuto's eyes stared forward with an engrossed gaze, his yellow hues taking a mental picture of what he probably would never see again. Many words dashed through his mind, but he could only think of three that would be best for him to say to Akaashi. He tried to open his mouth to say them, but he performed another action instead. Unconsciously, his hand grasped Akaashi's own, and he dragged it down with his lack of strength, causing both of them to startle. Bokuto's eyes widened.

"I- I thought you would... Hold it up-"

"It was sudden." Akaashi stifled a laugh. "It caught me off guard."

"I didn't mean... To..."

"It's alright." He smoothed his thumb over Bokuto's knuckles. "I'm... Holding it now."

Silently and almost in fascination, Bokuto stared at Akaashi once again, longer this time before he looked up, then down, then away. He turned his head towards the window, away from Akaashi. He couldn't face him.

Pursing his lips timidly, Akaashi ceased to speak. He studied the back of Bokuto's head, eying the messy strands of black and white hair that overlapped each other. His green eyes then fell to study his paling skin; his veins were easily noticeable now, and they bulged from beneath his flesh whenever he moved. Akaashi's eyes lowered, focusing on the arm that was attached to the hand that he was holding.

He studied the small needle that was lodged into Bokuto's forearm, eyed the thin tube that was attached to this, and followed it up to the bag of IV fluid that hung above his head.

Whatever was left of Akaashi's smile faded.

Ever since Bokuto's last panic attack, it had suddenly become more difficult for him to control his words, movements, and actions altogether. Such a task as easy as swallowing was now a problem for Bokuto, too, and after many failed attempts at keeping his food down, or getting it to go down in the first place, the nurses found it would be best if Bokuto received nourishment the only other way possible, and that was through a tube.

Over the span of the six days, Akaashi found that the only things Bokuto could manage to swallow were small snacks, like grapes, ice cubes, and Pocky Sticks that were specifically strawberry flavored. Other than those things, Bokuto found it nearly impossible to stomach anything else. His only other choice was to lie there and accept whatever it was the IV liquid had to offer him.

Looking back to Bokuto, he was relieved to see that he still had his attention on the window. At some time while Akaashi was spacing out, the blue blanket that surrounded Bokuto had been pulled up just below his chin, with only his arm hanging out to hold onto Akaashi's hand. Bokuto's breathing was quiet, and his hand never really remained still for a long time. It would shake every so often, and each time it did, Akaashi would squeeze lightly in response. This was their unspoken communication.

It was Akaashi's way of letting Bokuto know that everything would be alright, and this would always comfort him, no matter the situation they were in.

They both found it easier to believe in that lie than to accept the truth of what was to come.