Akaashi Keiji's hands flew to his face, clasping his cheeks as his jaw dropped. His deep blue eyes widened, but yet again, feigning awe had proven more difficult than usual. His eyes still held little emotion.

Akaashi had about ten minutes left to finally perfect his facial expression for after the presentation of Bokuto's song.

"Dammit," He groaned, sliding his hand through his black hair.

He leaned forward, placing his palms on the sink. He stared at water droplets scattered about, his small amount of anxiety beginning to draw his eyebrows closer and closer together into a scowl. His ever present frown only deepened.

Akaashi stopped, took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, you got this. No need to be nervous. You just always have to keep Bokuto a happy five year old instead of a sad one. Easy-Peasy." He stared at himself in the mirror, searching his own intelligent eyes for some sort of answer on how the hell he would keep Bokuto happy.

"God, the shit I do to keep that loser happy." He grumbled, pushing himself off the sink to pace the small bathroom awkwardly. That beautiful white haired loser known as Bokuto.

"Fuck!" He yelled furiously, slamming a drawer before remembering his composure. He glanced at his black and silver Rolex, a gift from his dearest Bokuto. "Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck." There was less than three minutes left before the ever so punctual Bokuto arrived.

And that moron was surprisingly never late, much to his dismay.

Akaashi's momentary panic began to subside as he took deep breaths, and counted to ten. There was always only one person in the entire world that always managed to ruffle Akaashi's feathers, to drag the emotions out of him, and that single person with that single power was Bokuto Koutarou.

His normal expression melted back onto his face easily. He straightened his school uniform, adjusting the tie at his neck. The blackette couldn't seem to get the face of surprise correct and it concerned him.

He attempted at swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, but found himself more and more unsuccessful as the clock ticked away.

One minute until the 17 year old ball of energy exploded into the door after grocery shopping for dinner with his mother to give Akaashi his "surprise." He remembered six month before, how Bokuto's mother pulled him aside to confide in him.

"Akaashi, sweetie, come help me in the kitchen?" She said sweetly. He always saw how his mother and Bokuto contrasted, and how the mother and himself compared. Her voice, always calm and cool, often soothed Bokuto in his fits of emotion. She cooed to him softly and embraced him, gently patting his hair. She was far more vocal than Akaashi.

Bokuto's entire personality was thanks to his father. However, his father was hardly ever around, or even in the country. His job kept him bound to South Korea, with little visitation time. However, the job benefits were beyond superb, and allowed for insane luxuries.

"You needed me to help with something? Do you want me to cut the vegetables?" The blackette slid into the kitchen quietly.

"No, no," Bokuto's mother waved at him, as if waving away the idea and her hands returned to the kneading the dough before her. "Look, my Kou has begun playing the piano. Ever since you told him you played violin and played for him he's been obsessively asking for me to find him some sort of classical instrument to play. He said he was captivated by how you played." She babbled quickly, using her hands to emphasize as she spoke.

Akaashi's heart warmed, but he said nothing.

"Anywho, I decided on the piano." The kneading stopped and she began to arrange it. "Pianos are beautiful, and we have plenty of room for one, so much room honestly we could buy two. And how could you go wrong with piano." She paused, her face somewhat distasteful. "Right?"

He wasn't sure if it was a rhetorical question of somesort, or if she needed reassurance. He held his tongue because she began to speak once more.

"I mean, piano is just a bunch of keys and patterns and I believe Kou will possibly get the hand of it. But he wants to write you a song, and play it for you. Please, if even if my little Kou doesn't quite have the hang of it, don't let him believe that for one second. We both know it'll crush him. I want my baby to be happy."

Akaashi responded before he really thought about it.

"I wish for that as well."

Then he blushed profusely, his face becoming warm and the tips of his ears brightened.

"I mean, I for Bokuto-San. I wish for him to be happy." He said, and fake coughed. He looked down, and turned. "If you'll excuse me, Bokuto-San is calling for me." He lied and rushed from the kitchen. If only he'd seen the smile on Bokuto's mother's face.

Moments later he left his pacing revere, only to hear the door fly open, and bounce off the wall. He could hear a bit of scolding and sheepish apologies, and loud heavy footsteps bounding quickly towards him. He could still feel the pounding of his own heart far more than the trembling ground beneath his feet. But Bokuto would never notice what lied beneath the surface. Akaashi himself hardly did half the time.

"AAAKKKAAAAAASSSHHHHIIIIIIIIIII-SAN! I'M BAAAAACK!" Bokuto bellowed for the blackette, and Akaashi took a deep breath.

"Show time," He muttered softly. He grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open, and walked out casually. He kept his eyes to the ground until he was completely out the door and fully braced to look at Bokuto without drooling over him. "Hush Bokuto, you'll disturb your mother unnecessarily. You need to learn that it's useful to have manners even in your own home."

"Akaashi I told you to call me by my name." Bokuto pouted as he passed by, moving to the room they had been "renovating" ever since about six months ago. "C'mon, we don't have all day, you slow poke, I wanna show you so bad it hurts." Bokuto whined, grabbing Akaashi by his hand.

The blackette bit the inside of his cheek and stared at the way his own hand molded into the others, engraining the image in his minds eye.

They traveled up stairs, and from room to room, before the reached the guest room down the hall from Bokuto's room. The grey haired boy released Akaashi's and raced down the hall.

"Are you ready, are you ready, are you..-" Bokuto repetitively exclaimed, before Akaashi cut him off.

"Yes, Bokuto, I am ready." Akaashi said coolly as he sauntered up. He heard Bokuto mutter something about, 'That's not my name, Akaashi' under his breath but, oh well. He was anxious to get this over with. He was beginning to doubt he could manage to deal with how terrible it could be, he didn't know that he'd be able to withstand the assault on his ears pending to happen.

"Alright, then I'm opening the door." Bokuto said, as he dramatically turned the knob and flattened his palm against the door. He pressed and it swung open.

It was truly a transformed room. Everything now turned chocolate brown in color, almost black, and the walls were a darker creme color, rather than a sky blue as before. Akaashi's eye brows rose, but it wasn't the walls that changed his facade, it was the antique grand piano before him.

He knew, as Bokuto led him in, that it was a hand carved piece of art. It was so old, the piano keys were ivory. Akaashi ran his fingers along them, a soft melody playing out as he noted it was perfectly in tune.

"It's breath-taking." He said quietly. He could hardly tear his eyes away from the beautiful piano.

"So you like it?" Bokuto asked sheepishly. Akaashi only noticed then that Bokuto's eyes had followed him and never once left.

Akaashi nodded. "Yeah, I love it."

With those words a bright smile erupted upon Bokuto's face, and he clasped his hands together. "Then, I hope you'll love this, too." He said, and motioned for Akaashi to sit as well as he plopped himself down on the hand carved stool.

"I've been practicing, for a really long time. I really worked really really hard, Akaashi. Just for you, I wanted to make this beautiful for you. Because I know you love music a lot. When you played your violin for me, I couldn't take my eyes away. You seemed like you were taken up by the music, and you made a face I'd never seen before. You seemed... Content, to say the least. But I just really want to see my pretty Akaashi smile like that again." Bokuto gave him a closed eyed grin.

Akaashi blinked, once, twice, thrice, and then blood rushed to his cheeks and ears like white on rice. His eyes darted to the keys, and his heart skipped beats. Did he not realize what he said at all?

"Bokuto, I-"

"Koutarou." Bokuto corrected. "You don't need to say anything. Just listen." His face held really no expression whatsoever, and his voice carried no laugh in it. He was very serious, indeed. "I'm going to play now for you."

Bokuto swiveled on the bench and faced the keys. "I have to do my warm up exercises, I can't just rush into playing, y'know?" He asked rhetorically.

If only he thought that about volleyball, thought Akaashi.

Bokuto's fingers brushed against the keys for a moment, simply feeling the smoothness of the piano keys. When he pressed down slowly, the magnificence of the noise filled Akaashi's ears. The melody was nothing special, it was rhythmic and repeating up and down the keys, however the piano itself made beautiful sounds. He leaned back a bit, tilting his head back, closing his eyes. He held the seat with his hands between his knees.

"Okay, I'm done, I'm gonna actually play now, if that's okay?" Bokuto asked tentatively.

Akaashi smiled gently. "Of course you may begin." Is Bokuto nervous? He's so quiet and timid, it's downright unnerving. The behavior of Bokuto in the face of nerves was unnatural and strange. Akaashi innocently decided he should try physical contact to relieve his stress.

(Here's the song https://soundcloud.com/nigliospiano/ponte-roxo , and if that link doesn't work all you have to do to find it is search Ponte Roxo Niglio's Piano and it's the first link on Google to souncloud.)

Akaashi scooted toward Bokuto slowly, unsure of his movements as Bokuto began the song. At first the music was slow, and almost choppy, but in a purposeful way. Soon he began doubling notes and adding a wonderful tone to his over all song. It was repetitive, and ever so slowly began to become more and more intricate, as he wove more and more keys in. When he paused, Akaashi thought he was done, but he wasn't. Akaashi's finger tips brushed the small of Bokuto's back, and his palm gently found itself flat against the dip of his spinal cord, the other gripping the seat of the bench between his knees so tightly his knuckles colored white. He rested his head on Bokuto's moving shoulder, his dark hair undoubtably tickling the ear of his friend.

Friend.

What a peculiarly incorrect word.

Soon, Bokuto's fingers were a flurry of movement and the sounds meeting his ears were so much more than he expected, his heart squeezed in his chest. His eyes burned and his throat closed up. He felt almost close to tears. The momentum of the piece grew and grew, more and more, and ever so sweetly, his ears were enveloped in the music of his almost lover, his childhood friend.

Bokuto seemed to reach the climax of the song, for it began to slow down, and deepen. It was over so soon. He wished for an encore.

They stayed like that. It seemed like an entire eternity, where Bokuto kept his hands on the piano, and Akaashi rested his head, and his hand had crept around Bokuto's waist, completely unbeknownst to him.

Akaashi didn't dare to breathe, and neither did Bokuto. It was as if a single movement, and breath of misplaced air, could shatter everything found in the minutes between them.

But they couldn't stay like that forever, no matter how much they craved to sit just like that.

"Bokuto, you are..-" Akaashi broke the silence, but before he could manage another breath, Bokuto had swooped in to catch the following words with his lips.

Akaashi's face twisted from tranquility, to confusion and surprise, to consent, his eyes were wide, as Bokuto deepened the kiss somewhat. Akaashi's eyes slipped shut soon, and Bokuto's tongue brushed against the blackette's bottom lip. Akaashi opened his mouth a bit more, allowing for Bokuto's tongue to slip in and massage his own. The kiss was not hungry, it did not crave and lust for the others body. It was simple, sweet, gentle.

Bokuto's hands slipped into Akaashi's plush hair, and he removed his tongue, and to Akaashi's dissatisfaction, his lips as well, creating a spit-trail kiss. They stayed there for a moment, Akaashi's beautifully dark blue optics wide and focused on Bokuto's own golden browns. His brows were drawn, and his mouth wide open, and still in his hair was Bokuto's late hand.

His hand slowly found its way to his lips, and he shut his mouth. He could still feel his kiss on his lips, and his face turned beat red once again.

"Koutarou. I told you, Akaashi, we're far more than friends since childhood. The least you could do for me is call me by my name." Bokuto said, a broad smile on his face.

Akaashi's own mouth curved, and braced it's very own tentative smile. Bokuto really did surprise Akaashi sometimes.

"Alright.. Koutarou."