Chapter Text
The restaurant that had caught Bokuto’s attention was located at the entrance to a rather old neighbourhood. Its name, Crossroads of Worlds, intrigued the two young men who immediately entered the establishment.
The atmosphere there was oh-so-soothing, with its walls of a pale yellow and its dark wooden floor. The restaurant was composed of a room in the middle of which was the kitchen — this way, you could look at the cooks working. The back of the establishment opened onto a small building garden, laid out as a greenhouse that could be admired from your table thanks to the large bay window that made it visible. Under the glass ceilings, various plants basked in the sunlight : lilies, narcissi, tulips and daffodils, awaiting their flowering season. The subdued lighting from the room's lamps made it seem so secluded that it seemed as if the place was cut off from the rest of the world — perhaps that was where its distinctive name came from.
Boktuo and Akaashi were now sitting in front of a table that wasn’t far of the greenhouse. The raven-haired man was observing the pink petals of a chrysanthemum that stood proudly among his fellows in the earth, while Bokuto was looking at him, admiring his beautiful face as well as the soft look it had, and his gaze turned to the exterior of the place.
”Do you know what flower is this ?” Akaashi suddenly asked, tearing Boktuo off his daydream.
”The pink ones ? They’re chrysanthemums,” he replied.
”Yes, I know this one. It's the ones behind that intrigue me,” the bassist specified.
”Oh, I thought you talked about the ones in the front, sorry. These ones, huh, they’re…”
”Streptocarpus.”
The two men turned to the person who had just talked.
A girl who seemed to be around ten years old was standing in front of the table, holding a huge cat in her arms. She was wearing a yellow apron, a white tank top and brown trousers with a red belt. She seemed to be a bit in the clouds, with her two pigtails that weren’t at the same level and her jaded look.
”The small ones over there ?” Akaasih asked.
”Yes.”
”That’s a difficult name for such a small flower,” Bokuto commented while looking back at the greenhouse. ”Do you know much about gardening ?”
”My mom is a florist. Grandma and grandpa own the restaurant, and I take care of the flowers with them,” the young gril explained.
”Well, that’s impressive,” Akaasi said, smiling.
”I’ll take you to the greenhouse when you will have eaten if you want to. What do you want to eat ?”
”We’ll have-”
”Write your order here, grandma never remembers the dishes if it’s not written somewhere,” the girl cut him off, handing him a slate and a chalk stick.
Boktuo nodded and wrote their order and the little slate.
”Did I write the right dishes ?” He asked, showing it to Akaashi.
”Yes, with a cup of tea if that’s possible.”
”Two then !”
Bokuto scribbled the end of their order on the slate and handed it back to the little waitress.
”Okay,” the girl said, reading what he had written. ”Here,” she continued, holding out the cat she'd been carrying, which seemed a bit heavy for her.
”Um… Thanks ?” Bokuto said, picking up the cat, who yawned once he was in his lap.
”I let Shosho with you while you wait for your meal. He will probably make a nap on you if you keep him on your lap. Just make sure he doesn’t eat anything in the plates.”
With that, the young girl fled to the kitchen, where she was heard reciting the order aloud to an old woman who began to prepare the food. The little girl placed the slate on the counter where her grandmother could see it.
”It looks like he likes you,” Akaashi commented, laughing.
Bokuto lowered his head and saw Shosho who was snuggling up against him, rolled into a ball on his knees. The huge cat with sand-coloured fur tucked its paws under its belly and began to doze.
”He’s funny,” he giggled.
He brought a hand to the cat and pet his soft fur.
Akaashi stood up to approach the cat too. With a grimace, he crouched down in front of Bokuto's chair and rubbed Shosho's head with his fingertips.
”He’s so fluffy !” he exclaimed.
”Yes…”
”That’s adorable,” Akaashi continued.
He took out his phone from his pocket and turned the device on. He took a picture of the cat lying on Bokuto's lap, a tender expression on his face.
Boktuo felt a sudden rush of affection for the bassist Seeing him act like a child with this cat was awfully cute. Generally speaking, all it took was for him to lose his calm, unshakeable air, and it seemed as if his heart would swell and threaten to burst out of his chest. Bokuto couldn't take his eyes off the raven-haired man, whose entire attention was focused on Shosho, who was quietly taking a nap.
Akaashi lifted his head and his gaze met Bokuto’s. He had a silly smile plastered on his face.
”I’m sorry, I just love cats…”
”Do you want to take him on your lap ?” Bokuto asked.
Akaashi shook his head.
”He’s fine here. Besides, my clothes aren’t the right colour to do so.”
”You’re not wrong…”
And so Bokuto kept Shosho on his lap, while Akaashi, sitting on his knees in front of the young tattooist's chair, continued to pet the cat’s fur. Boktuo was starting to feel a little embarrassed ; it had to be said that having Akaashi at his feet — in the literal sense of the word — wasn’t anodyne, and his mind was racing dangerously, making his cheeks flush without the black man paying any attention.
Fortunately, that was the moment the young girl came back to their table, a bowl in her hands. She put the container in front of Akaashi’s seat, coming back with the second dish a few seconds later. She made a third journey to their table to provide them with cutlery.
”Shall I take Shosho back ?” she inquired.
”No need to, he’s not bothering us at all. He’ll just leave whenever he wants.”
”As you wish. Enjoy your meal !” she said before slipping away.
Akaashi, who had straightened up when she arrived, went back to his seat. Both men began eating in silence, each savoring their dish.
”How do you like it ?” another new voice that used them to turn their heads again.
An old woman stood next to them. She was holding a plate on which were a teapot as well as two cups. She should be the girl’s grandmother, who had vanished from the kitchen.
”It’s delicious,” Akaashi answered first. Bokuto nodded in approval.
”I’m glad,” she rejoiced. ”Time hasn't been kind to my husband and me, but at least our cooking hasn't suffered. Miwa served you, I hope she didn't give you any trouble ? I see she's entrusted Shosho to you.”
”Don’t worry, your granddaughter is really kind !” Bokuto exclaimed, giving her a smile.
”She’s a brave young girl, she helps us a lot despite her young age,” the woman explained. ”Her father works abroad, and her mother doesn't take much care of her, but she loves them both very much. She's very intelligent and knows lots of things.”
”She seemed to know. Flowers well…”
”Indeed ! That’s because her mother is a florist… Oh, but I must be boring you, chattering away like this, forgive me. I'll let you get on with your meal, but if there's the slightest problem, don't hesitate to tell me.”
”Thank you very much,” Akaashi replied as the old woman went back to the kitchen.
The raven-haired man grabbed his chopsticks Ian a hand. He turned his attention back to Bokuto, who was smiling as usual.
”It's a really special place. I like it,” he said with a hint of mischief in his voice.
Bokuto nodded. The room fell quiet again as they resumed eating their meal. They finished their meal almost at the same time and were largely satisfied, their stomachs full.
Akaashi looked over his shoulder. Miwa had been staring at them for a while now, a strange look on her face. She seemed to be… impatient ?
Seeing both men put their chopsticks on the table, she stood up from the stool she had been sitting on for half an hour, and hurried to their table.
”Can I show you the greenhouse now ?” she asked, suddenly excited.
”Why not ?” Akaashi accepted. ”Or maybe you want to leave now ?” He asked Bokuto.
”Let’s go see the greenhouse,” he said as he stood up, holding Shosho in his arms who he put on the ground.
The brutally awakened cat seemed to glare at him.
They followed Miwa to the entrance of the greenhouse, which was a glass door in the restaurant’s large bay window. They watched her opening it before they all went inside the greenhouse.
The girl strolled through the alleys with ease, knowing the place by heart.
”This,” she said, showing yellow flowers, ”is mimosa. And here,” she continued, gesturing to a plant that looked like grass, ”is ipheion, but they bloom later. We have a cherry blossom tree, and winter jasmine too !”
She led them to the purple flowers that had caught Akaashi’s attention.
”Here are the streptocarpus rexii. Some more colorful varieties exist too, like the streptocarpus saxorum, and some varieties also have larger petals. ”
”Interesting…”
”Oh, I have blue flowers to show you ! Come this way !”
Miya fled in one of the alleys, forcing the two men to jog and follow her.
She was waiting for them, in front of a flowerbed they easily recognised.
”This is forget-me-nots. It blooms during the warmer seasons. This one will soon fret, it had been able to keep its flowers for a longer time thanks to the greenhouse’s warmth. In flower’s languages it symbolises the memory, it’s even the symbol of the fight against Alzheimer’s disease, but it also represents eternal love.”
”You know a lot of things about flowers, that’s impressive,” Akaashi praised the little girl while kneeling down to take a better look at the flowers. ”I didn’t know it meant all those things at one…”
While saying this, he turned his head to the side to plante his gaze in Bokuto's, a gaze that seemed to imply something.
The young tattooist found himself embarrassed for an unknown reason.
”It does, they’re great to make bouquets !” Miwa continued. ”You can convey a lot of messages through forget-me-nots. Grandpa uses a lot of them, I’m growing them for him !”
”What does he do with them ?”
”Well, he puts them in some dishes. They’re edible.”
”Oh, really ?” Akaashi asked.
A terribly mischievous smile played across his thin lips, and he continued to stare at Bokuto.
”Yes, it tastes good !”
”Perhaps we should try it sometimes then…” he murmured, his gaze never leaving Bokuto who blushed as he understood a very well disguised innuendo from the bassist.
”If we come back here, then yes, why not…”he stuttered, looking away.
Akaashi laughed at his reaction. He stood up.
”Thank you for showing your plants. You are an amazing gardener,” he said to Miwa who blushed at the compliment.
The little girl led them back to the restaurant’s inside, where they payed the bill — Bokuto insisted to pay, after all, he was the one who had invited Akaashi. They left the establishment around 1.30pm, which left the whole afternoon for us to spend together.
So far, October has been rather mild. The sun rays were coming through the very fews clouds that adorned the sky and fell in the streets, falling on threes and passerby. The cool temperatures weren't a problem thanks to the light and its warmth, and the wind rarely made an appearance. The rain fed the plants at night, and the morning dew made the meadows and gardens sparkle.
The breeze of this Saturday’s afternoon softly glided along the two men’s skin who walked side to side, making the younger one shiver.
”You really are delicate, aren’t you ?” Bokuto giggled.
”And yet you saw nothing…” the bassist muttered.
”Is it truly that terrible ? The way you're all talking about it, it sounds like it’s hell.”
”Apart from the fact that I get sick at least once in a month, that people make fun of me when I accidentally hurt myself — that is to say often — or that I barely stand physical contact, it’s alright. Ah, in spring I get pollen allergies. Like, big allergies.”
”You have trouble with physical contact ?” Bokuto was surprised.
”…Yes ?”
”That’s not the impression you give me…”
”Haha, that doesn’t mean I don’t want it,” Akaashi said, smiling. ”It depends on the person actually. Take Oikawa-san : he loves physical contact, but with him I have to focus on keeping my cool. He's too clingy and brusque, you know what I mean ? On there other hand,” he continued as he moved closer to Bokuto and took his arm, ”with you, that’s the opposite, I love it…”
Bokuto didn't even try to fight the blush that appeared on his cheeks. Akaashi stared at him as he looked away, redirecting his gaze towards the road.
”What impression do I give ?” Akaashi curiously asked.
”What do you mean ?”
”You said you didn’t see me as the tactile type. I was wondering how you see me, then.”
Bokuto swallowed. How could he word that ?
”Well,” he began to talk slowly, ”when I see you I feel like I'm looking at someone I can't reach. I mean, you look so calm, it seems impossible to disturb that tranquillity. I was struck by it the first time you came to the parlour. You seemed immersed in your reading.”
”So to sum up I look like I’m giving the cold shoulder to everyone ?”
”No ! You’re not being cold or something, it’s more that you give off more of a serene aura. And that’s not the only thing about you. When you’re playing, for instance, you look totally different. You seem… passionate, devoted to your music and your instrument. This is beautiful to see that, by the way…” he admitted.
”According to Atsumu, if my bass was human I would be sleeping with it all the time.”
”I’m sorry ?” Bokuto stammered.
”That’s a way to say that you’re not the only one who thinks that,” he explained while laughing. ”But very few people notice how music moves me. I'm delighted that you're part of it.”
”But it’s evidence ! You know, your concert was the first one I’ve ever seen, but I never doubted that you liked playing. That seemed… obligatory.”
”It is. Who would go on stage up on stage against their will to play a song that doesn’t reach their soul ? It just doesn't make sense.”
The young tattoo artist didn't answer, but he was of the same opinion as Akaashi. He opened his mouth to speak :
”And you, how do you see me ?” he timidly asked.
Damn it, my voice sounded weird, he mentally cursed. He kept looking in front of him while waiting for his response, curious to hear his opinion.
”You ? Let me think… When I look at you, I see a kind and genuine man, who seems to enjoy life a lot. You look like care a lot about people and love to communicate, but at the same time you seem to restrain yourself from saying everything you think. For example, it looks like you watching your behavior around me. And you seem much more keen on physical contact than I am.”
”Am I really that easy to read ?” Bokuto asked, surprised that he knew so many things about his personality.
”A little,” Akaashi admitted while smiling. ”But at least we know that we can trust you, that you‘re not hiding your true self behind a mask of innocence. It's nice to know you're not being judged by others, isn't it ?”
”I guess so…”
That should be great, indeed…
”You know,” Akaashi said, ”if you want to tell me about something, you can. I’ll listen to you talk about anything.”
”But I’ll end up deafening from ho-”
”Of course not. That can only be interesting.”
”Even if I talk about music ?”
”Especially if you talk about music.”
Bokuto opened his eyes wide and couldn’t help but to turn his heard toward Akaashi. God, he was close, too close. Their heads were only inches away from each other, their faces almost touching. Akaashi smiled to the tattoo artist who was stunned by what he had said. Boktuo could contemplate the soft features of his interlocutor, his cheeks rosy from the breeze. His own face was coloured by embarrassment and love. His hear pounding in his chest.
”Do you know that this is one of the most adorable things someone ever said to me ? Nobody can hear me talk about it any more, they've all reached saturation point...”
”Consider that I have no information whatsoever on the subject. I'm a blank paper. Anything you tell me will be useful to me, so write until there's not a space left on your paper.”
”Akaashi…”
”Mmh ?”
”You’re too kinddddd….” Bokuto said, stretching the last word.
The bassist laughed. He let his hands glide along Boktuo’s arm and put one in the tattooist’s hand. He intertwined their fingers together and Bokuto instinctively tightened the grip.
”See, you are tactile, but you’re always holding back,” Akaashi giggled. ”Say, I've been in this neighbourhood before, and there's a place I'd like to show you. I don't know if you had anything else planned...”
”We can go anywhere you want,” Bokuto happily answered, speeding up a bit. Akaashi laughed and caught up with him, their hands still laced.
♬
Bokuto would never have suspected for a second that Akaashi could take him exactly where he had thought of bringing him.
The huge fan of music he was knew most of the record shops of the city, and Crossroads of Worlds held one of the best.
A Pair of Keys was a building divided in several sections, spread over two floors. On the ground floor, you had access to a wide selection of score books in all genres on shelves — classical, contemporary, arrangements and so on. Numerous CDs were grouped together by artist in large boxes on the floor, themselves arranged in alphabetical order. In the basem*nt, all the instruments a musician could dream of were on display, with the added bonus of being able to try them out. Finally, there was also a collection service for old compact discs, which were resold second-hand at lower prices to keep everyone happy.
As he entered the shop, Bokuto recognised the sales assistant at the checkout. The man, who came from a Central European country, should have been around fifty years old. He had a funky look, with his colourful jumper and his jeans that were mended with the weirdest, oldest patterned cloths. Although he didn't have any hair at all, he had carefully combed his reddish-brown moustache, which stuck out at the end. Despite his wrinkled features and slightly stooped back over the years, he had retained a contagious good mood that he passed on to each of his customers. He was a completely offbeat person, in perfect harmony with his surroundings.
The old man saw the white-haired tattooist from the checkout which was located at the back of the room. He stood up from his 80s bar stool and went greeting his regular customer at the entrance of the shop.
”Bokuto, it's been a long time now !”
”Marlo !” Bokuto exclaimed as he jogged to his level.
The old man gave him a radiating smile, his eyes wrinkling. He raised an arm and put a hand on Bokuto's shoulder.
”You found a better place than my shop for you to come so rarely ?”
”Come on, I came here a month ago !”
”Oh really ? Well, that’s strange, it doesn't ring a bell... Son, you should come more often, so we can have a little chat. I've got treasures to show you ! I’ve found this Kalomnia cassette tape, a neat recording of one of their concerts ! I've got to go and get it from the store room for-and if it isn't Akaashi ! I thought you'd forgotten all about me !”
”Good afternoon, Marlo,” the raven-haired man said as he went to the old man’s level. ”I didn’t know you and Bokuto-san knew each other.”
”You bet your ass I do ! I've been supplying him with records for years ! Two of my boys, that makes me happy ! What brings you here ? Do you know each other ? Ahhhhh, I get it !”
Needless to say Marlo was an eccentric.
The old man chuckled to himself as he looked at them, a smile full of innuendo on his face.
”I’m honored you thought of coming to my shop for your date !”
”Marlo-”
”Akaashi, you’ve got good taste ! Great choice, really. No, but look at my Bokuto,” he exclaimed, slapping the white man's chest, ”tall, handsome, muscular... He’d almost measure up with me, the rascal ! And our bass player's not bad either ! Honestly, all you'd need is a jumper like mine and you'd be making everyone’s hearts capsize, maybe even mine !”
”Marlo…”
”Mmh ? Oh, I’m being bothering, aren’t I ? Gah, go look at the merchandise then, I’ll go back to the checkout.”
”Alright, thank you,” Akaashi replied as Marlo walked away in a determined gait.
”Ah, the youth, if you ever need some flirting advice you know you can ask me ! I was a Don Juan when I was young…”
”Marlo !”
”I’m just proposing, you never know !”
He sat back on his chair and waved at them, telling them ‘Go and look at the articles’, not forgetting to wink at them in a particularly unsuccessful manner.
Bokuto sighed. Akaashi rubbed his temples with his fingers. Both exchanged a knowing glance.
”He’s tiring, isn’t he ?” Bokuto whispered.
”I know more than a few people like him, but he's on the podium,” the bassist laughed.
He walked to the large boxes, on the right when you entered the shop. Bokuto followed him and crouched down to dive his hands into the coloured plastic boxes. He pulled out a first disc.
”Magg ! I can’t believe it, he found a supplier for them, he’s incredible.”
Akaashi rummaged through tan apple-green box and took out a white sleeve — ‘White isn’t Empty’, the third album of Fake Portraits, an independent band.
”He really does have everything, that’s insane.”
”He surprises me each time. I can’t even imagine how he manages to get them. He must know a lot of people.”
”Probably… Oh, Joy’s Bottle.”
”You got one of their albums ?!” Bokuto shouted, leaning towards the disc in question. ”Oh, it’s their last one, I think I already have it.”
”You’ve already been here, from what Marlo said, didn’t you ?” Akaashi asked.
”Yeah ! His shop is amazing. I come here often to see if he has new articles that could be interesting.”
”I see… I thought I'd introduce you to this place, but I've missed out.”
”Come on, I’m so happy you brought me there ! I'm delighted that you wanted me to discover a place like this… Thanks, Akaashi !”
Bokuto offered the bassist a large grin, causing the latter’s cheeks to turn pink — something the tattoo artist didn’t notice.
Bokuto resumed looking at the boxes, deeply focused. He mumbled the names of artists or albums in his corner, thinking aloud, wondering if he already had this or that record. Akaashi watched him, amused.
The black-haired man eventually left him on that side of the shop and ran off for a few minutes towards the sheet music. He came back empty-handed — the collections he was interested in had already been snapped up by the clientele. He did, however, find a few interesting scores in an orange folder with flaps, scattered among the second-hand items.
When Bokuto left the CD section, he was holding at least four of five articles in his hands — metal, jazz, pop as well as Magg’s album. He joined Akaashi who was waiting for him, leaning against a wall, not far of Marlo’s checkout. They paid their articles and stoded them in Bokuto’s rucksack, who suddenly felt heavier.
As the tattoist put his bag back on his shoulders, he felt a look come over him and stare at him. Marlo gave him a stern look.
”My cassette, you forgot about it ?”
”Oh, yeah, that’s right. Akaashi, are you coming ?”
”I’d like to go see the basem*nt, if that’s okay with you.”
”Of course ! Come and tell me when you've seen what you wanted !”
The bassist nodded before walking away. He took the wooden stairs just beside the cash desk and disappeared downstairs.
Marlo called out to Bokuto, who couldn't take his eyes off where Akaashi had been standing a second before. He finally turned his head towards the old man who had a mocking smile.
”Alright, son, over here !”
The room was rather cramped, but that was mainly due to the amount of objects crammed into the room — the old man and the tattoo artist definitely had a lot in common.
Marlo pulled the cassette he had talked about from a dusty, wooden chest. He put the tape inside an adapted player and turned the device on.
Bokuto’s eyes widened. Despite its age, the sound was of a surprisingly good quality, and you could ear each instrument distinctly — the person who had recorded it must have been at a great spot during the concert.
He let Marlo show him a few extracts, sitting on a wicker chair, before he stood up, ten minutes later.
”It’s really cool, honestly. Great find.”
”Right ? A gold mine.”
”Marlo, I’m gonna join Akaashi, you don’t mind, right ? I’ll listen to the rest another time.”
”No worries, go and find your love ! Gahh, youth, so innocent and passionate… Are you guys a thing ?”
”No…” Bokuto mumbled, his facing red from embarrassment.
”Don’t wait too long, or he’s gonna fly away. You’d better confess first !”
”We’ll see for that… I don’t even know if he wants something serious.”
”Akaashi ? He could easily find one or several partners if he wanted to… That’s why you should hurry up ! Make him fall head over heels for you, boy, don't wait for the end of the world !”
Bokuto muttered something incomprehensible before exiting the back room of the shop.
”If you guys are not being official next time you come here I’ll f*cking beat you out of here ! Marlo yelled from the stock room. ”There’s that guitar, an old model that I’ve got, I’ll give it a second life here…”
Bokuto fled o the basem*nt of the shop, feeling kind of humiliated. He was pretty sure he heard the laughter of other customers as Marlo's words echoed through the shop. Two by two he descended the steps of the old, cracked wooden staircase.
The shop’s other floor was of a completely different atmosphere than the ground floor. There, it was a mess : between the boxes on the floor, the second-hand bric-a-brac and the sheet music strewn about — the result of some disrespectful customers’ behaviours — the place could look a bit repulsive. But when you ventured down the stairs at the back of the room, you discovered a completely different aspect of Marlo's shop.
The basem*nt was more for musicians than music fans in general. With its various guitars aligned on stands or hanged on mural brackets, the two pianos — electric and upright — saxophones or a synthesizer, there was enough room for everyone to find something interesting. A space was reserved for orders if one of the models appealed a customer. There were also other 'secondary' items : picks, sticks, capodasters, amplifiers, distortion and other pedals, metronomes and so on. The room was rather spacious, so much that chairs, stools and a sofa had been set up there, and the atmosphere was completely different from above, with the neon lights hanging on the walls.
You only had to step inside this place to realise that, for a musician, A Pair of Keys was a paradise, a little refuge still unknown to the crowd.
As he went down the stairs, Bokuto immediately saw, well, rather heard Akaashi. The raven-haired man was sitting on a chair oriented so as to turn its back on newcomers. He held a blue bass guitar in his hands, which he had borrowed from the stands. The melody he was playing was unknown to Bokuto, who supposed he was only improvising something. The bassist let his fingers glide along the neck of the instrument, searching for the right note, the right tone, and the sound the reverberated caused Bokuto’s entire body to shiver. He seemed that time slowed down in the room and followed his music’s rhythm.
Bokuto made a step forward, moving a little further into the room, guided by his senses, attracted by the melody reaching the hollows of his ears. The parquet floor slightly creaked under his feet, causing the music to stop. Akaashi turned his head towards the newcomer.
”It’s you… I hadn’t heard you come here.”
”I think I’ll never get enough of you playing, it’s splendid…”
Bokuto stopped net in his tracks. Why did he keep speaking without thinking ?
The young tattooist stopped himself from melting on the spot when he spotted the crimson hue on the raven-haired man's cheeks.
”And I can’t get enough of your compliments…”
Akaashi stood up from his chair and put the bass back on its stand. Bokuto thought he saw him wince as he straightened up.
”Are you alright ?” he worried, walking towards him.
”Yes, it’s nothing… The tattoo. It heals slowly.”
”I see. That’s totally normal, there's a whole phase where it's very sensitive, it lasts a few days. Are you hydrating your skin well ? That's the most important thing, to help it heal.”
That was it, Bokuto had gone professional.
”Yes, I pay attention to it,” Akaashi replied. ”That’s still a bit of a handicap. Well, I’ve agreed to put up with the pain.”
”Yeah, I know exactly what it feels like, it's very unpleasant. My first tattoo was painful too… Worst is the itching phase, you must refrain from touching the tattoo at all costs !”
”You have a tattoo ?” Akaashi was surprised.
”Yes, is that weird ? That’s pretty common when you’re a tattoo artist.”
”Yeah, but since I never saw it, I had assumed you didn’t have any at all,” Akaashi explained.
”Well I’ve got one !” Bokuto exclaimed, smiling. ”But it’s not always visible, especially during winter.”
”Where is it ?”
”In my back. Sometimes I think I should have done it somewhere else, because apart from in the mirror I can't really see it.”
Akaashi didn’t answer. He approached the tattooist.
”I’d be curious to see it… Anyway, don’t worry about it, I’m following your advices, it’ll have heal in no time.”
Bokuto nodded, a smile adorning his face.
They left Marlo’s shop a few minutes later, and resumed their stroll through the town.
♬
As they wandered through the streets of the capital, they eventually reached a district that was livelier than the one they had left. Bokuto was thrilled to see this, as he loved rubbing shoulders with passers-by and admiring the shop windows. As he chatted with Akaashi, he would stop in front of a shop and look at the window display. The raven-haired man didn’t mind, he found it funny to see him interested in a variety of rather mundane products.
”Akaashi, are you feeling hungry ?” Bokuto suddenly asked.
”Not really. Are you ?”
”Oh, no, just wanted to know if you wanted to stop and grab something to eat.”
”I’m all good, thank you,” the bassist softly answered.
Silence settled between the two men. The taller one observed the sky, fascinated by its clouds that formed ever more extravagant patterns in the blue immensity.
He snapped out of his contemplation when he noticed that Akaashi had abandoned him a few metres behind.
Akaashi was looking at the entrance of a bookshop. You could see the shelves full of books behind the transparent glass. There wasn't really a window, the view was blocked by the large shelves — perhaps to encourage customers to enter the shop.
Akaashi turned his head to Bokuto who retraced his steps.
”Sorry, I didn’t war-”
”Do you want to go inside ?” Bokuto interrupted him.
”That’s fine. I can go another time.”
”Why wait ? We’re here ! Come on,” the tattooist declared as he grabbed the younger’s wrist.
He dragged him inside the shop, tinkling the bell hanging above the door.
”Welcome,” a voice said, coming from the checkout.
They greeted the shop assistant, seated on a chair. They went straight into the aisles of the shop.
The alleys were rather narrow, with huge shelves on which hundreds of books were aligned. The shimmering colours of the blankets seemed to give the place a comforting atmosphere. The old light bulbs hanging from the ceiling partially illuminated the shelves, adding a touch of mystery to the paper-covered room.
Akaashi seemed to be in his element. He browsed the alleys, grabbing this or that book, reading their blurb, even allowing himself to have a look at the first pages. He swiftly went from a spot to another, as if searching for a precise area.
At the far end of the room, he found a corner dedicated to poetry. The authors were not all familiar to the raven-haired man, who was delighted to find that there was a chance of finding texts here that were different from those he had already looked at, assemblies of unfamiliar words that could give him new inspiration.
Within minutes, he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, studying every book under every angle. Bokuto let him do so ; he loved more than anything to see the raven-haired boy fully engaged in something. In this case, he was so concentrated in his reading that it was touching. He read the words written in black ink, tapping his chin with his left index finger. His breath was inaudible, and he was almost motionless. You could have taken him for a statue, a part of the decor. Bokuto was losing himself in his contemplation of the man, admiring his ebony hair, his porcelain skin illuminated by the lamps of the alley. He seemed so small just like that, hypnotised by the book he held in his hands.
Bokuto suddenly felt the need to protect Akaashi at all costs. He wanted to do everything he could to make him happy, to ensure this happiness, to accompany him in his life, to support him through good times and bad... In such a short space of time, he had become such an important part of his life, and for the young tattooist there was no way he could let him go now that he was here.
He noticed that the bassist had been holding on to a book for a good ten minutes. The book was rather thin, with a white cover studded with pink spots. He couldn't read the title from where he was. In any case, Akaashi seemed to like the book and continued to stare at it in silence.
Bokuto approached the raven-haired man gently and patted his shoulder with his hand.
”You like it ?”
”Oh… Yes, it seemed interesting. I just read a really beautiful poem. I’m sorry, I was looking at the other pages.”
”What are you apologizing for ?”
”You have to wait because of me.”
”Don’t worry about this, I can wait a minute !”
”I’m done with looking at the books anyway… Wanna leave ?”
”Alright, we’re leaving !” Bokuto exclaimed.
He held out his hand to the raven-haired man to help him up. Akaashi thanked him as he stood up. They retraced their steps to the front door of the establishment. They left the bookshop.
”Gee, I had forgotten about that !” Bokuto suddenly shouted.
”What’s the matter ?”
”Last week was my mom’s birthday and I still haven’t got her a gift. I know what I want to buy her, right ? But it had totally slipped my mind.”
”Do you need to go somewhere in particular ?”
”Akaashi, please wait here for a minute ! She wanted a book, I'll go and get it and be right back !”
He re-entered the bookshop under the astonished gaze of the raven-haired man.
Then, as he had said, left the shop a minute later, putting his bag back on his shoulders.
”Phew… Thank god I remembered, I would never have bought it otherwise.. Thank you for waiting !”
”That’s nothing…” Akaashi answered, a little confused.
They resumed walking in silence. Bokuto was smiling as he looked straight ahead. He would say something to Akaashi from time to time, make a comment on a passer-by’s outfit — which were always nice — or stop in front of a shop to look at the articles in display behind the window.
Time was flying by, a lot more than what Bokuto had expected. He was surprised to see the sun began its descent below the horizon.
”What time is it ?… Almost six ?! It's going to be getting dark soon ! I didn't realise it was so late already... Akaashi, you must want to go home, don't you ?”
”It’s okay, I like to walk at night. But I do have to go home now.”
”I’ll walk you there !”
”Are you sure ? I can walk home alone.”
”No, I’ll go with you. That’s no good to be alone outside at night, I would feel better knowing you’re safe at home rather than in the streets.”
Akaashi didn’t say anything. He gently approached the young tattooist and took his hand. It seemed to Bokuto that a tingling sensation ran through his whole forearm.
”Thank you…” the bassist said, his voice low.
”For what ?”
”Worrying about me. You’re too kind.”
”But it’s normal to take care of the people you love ! I do the same with my parents, it’s nothing, really. It seems inconceivable not to do that.”
”Still, that’s very caring of you.”
Bokuto turned his head to the bassist. He offered him a tender smile.
”I’m telling you, this is the least I can do for someone I love.”
Akaashi's cheeks turned pink as he nodded slowly. He squeezed the white-haired man's hand a little tighter in his own.
♬
Thirty minutes and an underground journey later, the two young men arrived in front of Akaashi's house. The bassist lived in a district that seemed rather recent, in a building of five or six floors.
The younger walked to the front door of the building. He turned to face Bokuto as he took his keys from the pocket of his jacket.
The day was drawing to a close, much to their dismay.
Still, Bokuto was delighted to have spent time with the bassist. He smiled.
”Thanks a lot for today, Akaashi !”
”I should be the one thanking you,” he answered, giving him his smile back.
He looked at the door whose handle he was holding. He was about to enter the building when he heard the young tattooist calling him.
”Please wait.”
Akaashi turned his attention back to the man who had called him. Bokuto was staring at the ground, looking uncomfortable. He had his hands hidden behind his back and wasn't saying anything.
Without warning, he threw himself towards the raven-haired man and hugged him firmly. Akaashi tensed, startled by the sudden gesture, but quickly relaxed. He slipped his arms behind the taller man’s back, holding him close. He coud feel his breath warm against his neck, his hands resting on him, the warmth of his body pressing against him. God, he felt so good right here…
”That way an amazing day,” Bokuto murmured against his ear. ”I’d like to spend more time with you like this, if you are okay with it…”
Saying these words, he gently released the raven-haired man, but before releasing him completely from his embrace, he grabbed his hands and placed an object in them.
When he moved away from him, Akaashi lowered his head to look at the object in question. His eyes widened.
”You did not-”
”I gotta go, it’s getting late,” Bokuto cut him off, ignoring his reaction. ”See you soon ! Oh, good luck with your rehearsals !”
He walked away from the building, leaving Akaashi absolutely stunned by what had just happened. The raven-haired man looked again at the object in his hands. Despite the half-light, he could make out the pink spots on the thin cover.
