In another life ꧁bokuto x akaashi꧂

Part 18

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

Once Akaashi had left the hospital, he never looked back.

He walked home that day with a balled up blanket in his arms, a burgundy scarf around his neck, and nothing more from the hospital. He held them against his frame in the twenty degree weather, and though many people gave him strange looks and watched him side-ways, none of this affected him in the slightest. The cold was no longer a factor to Akaashi. He couldn't feel it. His mind wouldn't allow him to.

He made it home without so much as a hello to his parents who sat in the living room. They asked him questions. He answered blatantly. They asked about the blanket and the scarf, but they never asked about Bokuto.

Akaashi was glad. It was a good idea to have never told them about him after all.

He ascended the steps to his room, balled his - no - Bokuto's blanket up into a lump, and dropped it onto his bed along with the scarf. He reached into his pocket to fish out his phone, and pushed call on one of his contacts. He held it up to his ear and waited for the other line to pick up. Once it did, Akaashi was greeted with a, "Hello?"

Akaashi hesitated. He swallowed thickly and looked out the window.

"Hello. Kuroo? It's Akaashi. Are you busy?"

Kuroo's voice was reserved and reluctant.

"No, I'm not."

"If it isn't too much trouble, may I come over?"

Kuroo was quiet on the other end. He already knew. He inhaled audibly, and Akaashi could hear a scratching sound. After a moment, he finally spoke. His voice was solemn.

"Sure."

Akaashi sat at the edge of Kuroo's bed, and he stared out the window without focus. Kuroo spoke to him, and Akaashi listened and often responded. But most of the time, he only sat there and continued to watch nothing.

Kuroo would have been concerned if not for finding out what had happened earlier that day. He was much like Akaashi, sitting on the same side of the bed, a good distance apart from his visitor. Those yellow eyes of his would often dart to the floor, then to the ceiling, around the room, and back to the floor, but he would never look at Akaashi.

He feared that if he did, he wouldn't be able to keep his emotions at bay.

"How did he look?" Kuroo asked with a hushed tone.

It took Akaashi a while to respond.

"When I woke up?"

"Yeah..." Kuroo looked down.

Akaashi let out a half-assed grunt and continued to stare forward.

"Pale. Sick. Dead."

"How did you find out that he wasn't... There anymore?"

"His entire body was relaxed. His head rested on mine with the weight of someone's who's unconscious."

This time, Kuroo was the one to grunt, the sound coming from deep within his chest. He was slow to speak up again, but did either way.

"Are you going to his funeral?"

"No."

The answer came so much more quickly than Kuroo thought it would. It shocked him as Akaashi continued.

"I refuse to go. My last memory of Bokuto will not be of him sharply dressed, pale, stiff, and stuffed in a casket, surrounded by a countless amount of people who did not care for him at all until the day they heard about his death. My last memory of Koutaro is already with me, and it will die along with me."

Akaashi's tone was monotonous, but Kuroo didn't fail to detect the venom that lined each word prior to his last sentence. He understood where Akaashi was coming from and didn't even think of holding his icy tone against him. Kuroo was just as bitter. He, too, did not intend on showing up to any funeral. He'd be furious with everyone in there, and he knew that the same pain burned within Akaashi, too.

Kuroo leaned forward and joined his hands together. He stared at the wall and bounced one leg up and down as his emotions slowly started to reclaim him.

"You know... Um..." He looked down and rubbed his neck roughly, leaving behind deep, red marks. "Bokuto, he... He really liked- uh- cared about you... He talked about you all the time when he first met y-"

"Don't."

Kuroo froze. With his hand clinging to his neck, he slowly looked up to find that Akaashi was staring back at him with vacant eyes, void of all known emotion.

"Don't, Kuroo. Just... Don't."

He swallowed thick, and turned his head to stare out the window again. Akaashi laced his fingers together and dug his nails into the backs of his hands. He was redirecting the pain.

"Sorry." It was the last word Kuroo murmured before he stared forward as well, having nothing more to say.

They shared each other's company in silence for what felt like the length of five minutes, and in that time, Akaashi never once looked to the side to catch a glimpse at Kuroo. It wasn't until he watched Kuroo's form double over in his peripheral that Akaashi did glance in his direction, and when he did, he was greeted with a quietly sobbing Kuroo, his face having been buried in the palms of his hands. Though is was delayed, Akaashi moved on instinct and sat near Kuroo. He placed a hand on his broad back and rubbed gently, hoping to comfort him and to be the stronger of the two. But as each second passed, Akaashi could feel his own pain building up more and more within him. He wished he could fight it, but he knew there was no possible way for him to.

It wasn't long before Akaashi had leaned his head on Kuroo's shoulder, as he, too, fell victim to the sorrow that slowly ate him alive.