In another life

Chapter 21

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."