cinco (end)

Akaashi woke up to the feeling of sunlight against his face. It was warm on him, certainly something that one would find comforting, but as he stirred in bed, he was certain that something was off.

He kept his eyes half-lidded and his movements reserved, clinging onto the false hope that Bokuto wasn't moving because he didn't want to wake him. But Akaashi knew that this wasn't the case. He just didn't want to accept it.

Stretching out a trembling arm, Akaashi took hold of Bokuto's hand. He shut his eyes and squeezed his palm. It was cold. His hand trembled harder with each passing second, as if the movement would cause Bokuto to wake up. Akaashi's face buried into the crook of his neck. He nudged the bridge of his nose against the cool skin. His lips brushed against his collarbone in desperate search of that familiar warmth. Both hands had clasped around Bokuto's own now, quavering without pause. He couldn't find his pulse.

Devastation weighed down on Akaashi in that instant. It was a surreal feeling, one that he could never in one million years describe. It squeezed him, threatening to crush him from the inside out. The pain seared itself into his soul, hindering him, rendering him speechless to a point where he no longer knew what words were.

A sob wretched its way out from Akaashi's throat.

He tried desperately to hold it in. Tried so hard to keep himself together, but he knew he was too weak to pull such a bluff. Once the second sob had left him, he felt himself spiraling. There was no hiding it. He was undone.

His body jerked with each sob that was torn from him, his frame curling to bring himself closer. He held his face against the corpse's neck, just beneath the jawline, breathing in all that was left of Bokuto.

He had so many things he'd wanted to do with him, so many things he'd wanted to say, but all of those things seemed to have fallen away once the moment had finally come. Akaashi wanted to scream, but he couldn't find his voice. Not even a sentence could get past his suffering.

He kept himself against Bokuto and held onto him with what little strength he had left in him. He didn't get up to alert the nurses, or the doctors, or anyone in the hospital. He knew that once they found out, they would take Bokuto away from him.

So he stayed in place, holding onto Bokuto, taking in his company for one last time before he'd never see him again.

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.

It had been three days since Bokuto's passing, and surely enough, sleep did not come to Akaashi as easily as it used to. In the span of those three days, he had only acquired a little over four hours of sleep in total. On the first night out of the three, Akaashi flat out refused to get any rest in fear of suffering another night terror. But during the other two nights, he surely did make the effort to try and lull himself to sleep, but each time he did, he either found himself stirring awake from a strange dream, or lying wide awake in the middle of the night, half expecting to receive a message from Bokuto.

At times, Akaashi would look through the conversations that he'd shared with him. He'd scroll up, up, up until the first text, then would scroll all the way down again, waiting for the ellipse to appear on the lower left side of the screen. But always, he'd receive nothing.

That night was no different as Akaashi repeated this action for the twentieth time that day, his thumb scrolling up and down for minutes on end until he finally came to a stop. When he had, however, instead of shutting his phone off and trying to force a few hours of sleep upon himself, Akaashi stared at the phone screen longingly, and read the last messages that were sent between them.

Bokuto (Sent at 2:15 AM, December 20th):

[Hey! Akaashiiiii. Are you awake?]

Akaashi:

[Yes, I am. What is it?]

Bokuto:

[I'm excited for you to come over tomorrow!]

Akaashi:

[I visit you every day, though.]

Bokuto:

[I know! You never miss a day... Don't your parents ever ask why you come here so much?]

Akaashi:

[They think I'm interning. So they don't mind.]

Bokuto:

[Oh! Works for me. ٩( 'ω' )و]

Akaashi:

[I would hope so. It works for me as well. I'll be sure to bring my laptop when I visit. We can watch Cloud Atlas again.]

Bokuto:

[YES! PLEASE! Thank you, Akaashi!]

December 20th at 3:45 AM

[You probably fell asleep. Sorry for always messaging you so late. Sleep well, Akaashi! I'll see you soon.]

Akaashi frowned and felt that familiar pain pierce his chest. He re-read 'Sleep well, Akaashi!' and inhaled with frailty.

"I'm trying..."

He couldn't bring himself to read over the last four words of the text again and ultimately shut off his phone. He placed it on the counter near his bedside and buried himself into the blanket that he had so openly shared with Bokuto. Akaashi inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, his eyebrows knitting together as his brow creased. It still smelled like him.

Akaashi relaxed himself against his mattress and closed his eyes, a powerless yawn leaving him. His head eased into his pillow, and to his surprise, within a matter of minutes, he could feel himself slipping. It felt strange, not falling asleep against Bokuto's body, but Akaashi knew that he would have to get used to this form of sleeping by his lonesome once again. He just hoped that the night wouldn't bring him any malevolent dreams. All he wanted was to see Bokuto again, even if just for a second. An exhausted breath left him, and Akaashi finally fell asleep.

That night, he dreamt of the first night Bokuto had come over his home. He dreamt of how Bokuto had buried himself into the navy blue blanket to watch the movie that played on the laptop screen, and how he held Bokuto in his arms that night to aid him in his attempt to sleep. He could still remember the small details, like how Bokuto's starry shirt would slip off his shoulder every so often when he stirred in bed, and how the feel of Bokuto's weight on him would take his breath away. Akaashi could still feel the sensation of his wild white and black hair brushing against his cheek whenever he moved, and the warmth that came from him as he held him close. It was all still there, but there was something different about it all that puzzled Akaashi.

At one point in his dream, Akaashi looked out the window. The night sky had suddenly become a pale blue, and the warm orange glow of the sun slowly spread across the horizon. He turned his head slowly to look at Bokuto, and watched him as he lay in his arms. Akaashi said his name, and to this, Bokuto stirred awake. He turned his head and met Akaashi's gaze with weary, well rested eyes. He stretched and stifled a yawn, pushed a hand through the mess that was his hair, and relaxed his head against Akaashi's shoulder.

Sunlight broke into the room, cascading all along the walls and floor, and casting shadows all around. It lit Bokuto's face up just enough for Akaashi to take in those healthy features that were staring back at him. He felt his heart rate accelerate, and his throat tightened as his vision blurred. Bokuto beamed at him with a smile that spoke a thousand words, and his hand reached out to touch Akaashi's cheek. Akaashi felt his palm- warm, full, caressing the round of his face. He leaned into his touch, and his vision began to fade, his eyes welling with tears.

Bokuto leaned in and touched his forehead to Akaashi's. He was only a blurred shape now, but Akaashi knew he was still there. Bokuto spoke, his voice peaceful. Healthy. Whole.

"I found you."

A trembling, tender laugh escaped Akaashi. He smiled.

"You found me."

Notes:

Thank you for reading, it means a lot that you've read through my work! I hope you enjoyed this...

I researched FFI a lot actually, in order to get a better understanding of it. The side effects are heart wrenching however, resulting in me watering them down a bit... I couldn't put Bokuto through all of that. But that still doesn't make me a better person.

Again, thank you! Your interest is always appreciated.