Marked (BokuAka)

4. Dutiful

Akaashi's POV:

Akaashi's fingers trembled. He stared at Bokuto's number, the glow of the phone hurting his head after staring at it for so long. He'd been switching between watching YouTube videos and staring at Bokuto's number since lunch, and the dark/light contrast was taking a toll on his eyes and sanity.

He knew it wasn't something amazing or miraculous. Of course, he had a phone number! And, Bokuto being Bokuto, he gave him his phone number almost immediately after Akaashi had announced his departure.

But there was something magical about this new link to Bokuto; those lovely nine digits stark against the white screen.

Should I text him? What if he thinks it's weird to text immediately after meeting up? But he doesn't have my number, so I should text him, and then he'll know, right? Fuck, why is texting so damn challenging?

A system of beeps echoed from the pin pad beside the front door. Akaashi leapt up, poking his head around the frame.

"Keiji!" His mother called, pulling black heels off her feet, "How are you? How was your team?"

"Hey, mom." Akaashi walked over, enveloping his mother in a hug. "I'm good. The team is nice and very welcoming. How was your day?"

"You wouldn't believe the day I just had. Okay, so," His mother ranted about someone named Suzuki, complaining about their incompetence and brashness. Akaashi tuned her out, this being an often occurrence, and he led his mother to the kitchen where he silently chopped vegetables.

"Honestly, though." Akaashi's mother tossed more carrots into the pot. "Why, oh why, would you argue with me? In front of everyone! She should've brought me off to the side and talked to me there." Akaashi hummed his agreement, placing a bowl of diced onions beside his mom.

He spent the rest of their cooking time with his mother describing her day, not a detail missed. Only once they had sat down, plates in front of them, did she take a deep breath and ask, "So, what happened with you?"

"Mm. Nothing much. Went out to lunch with some people on my team. Bokuto, Konoha, Sarukui and Washio. They are all second-years." Akaashi ate, holding back the urge to shove the entire thing in his mouth. "They're all nice. I enjoyed having lunch with them." His mother nodded, mouth full of food.

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, his mother randomly chiming in with throwaway comments about the weather, the food, and future events. Finally, the meal was over, and Akaashi pushed away from the table, ready to clean up and return to his room.

Sitting at his desk, his computer set up and ready to go, Akaashi couldn't think of anything to write. No matter how much he grasped at ideas and plots, they just kept slipping from between his fingers.

Akaashi checked the clock. 22:06. Already? He clicked his tongue and pushed away from the desk, disgusted with the progress he'd made in his book. I'll just make it up tomorrow.

"Keiji!" His mother shouted from downstairs. "Keiji, get down here right now!" Shit, I forgot. No, no, no, no, no, no. Not again.

Akaashi did a quick spin in the mirror, checking for any stray pen markings or cuts/bruises. Nothing. All clean.

"Keiji, I will not ask again!"

"Coming, mom!" He darted down the stairs, each step heavy and sending a jolt through his leg.

"Finally. Okay, put on these shorts." His mother arched her eyebrow. "Now!" Akaashi stumbled towards the washroom, putting on the shorts and stepping out of the washroom.

I'll never get used to this. Akaashi's cheeks burned in embarrassment, slowly spinning so that his mother could ensure there were no markings on his skin. I wish soulmates never existed. Then Mother wouldn't check every night to ensure I hadn't contacted them, and they hadn't contacted me.

"You're clear." She smiled, patting him on the shoulder. "Why don't you go get ready for bed?"

Those blessed words. You're clear. He passed the test, as he will pass the next one, and the one after that. She wouldn't punish him. Unless I deserve it. Yep. Never punished unless he'd done something wrong, terrible or dumb. And having a soulmate, and contacting them, went under all three.

There was one time when he'd just turned fifteen that his soulmate had written to him. Akaashi was ecstatic, thrilled. Someone out there just for him? What a miracle. His mother hadn't agreed.

The pain from a few days of lack of food still haunted the feeling of an empty stomach accompanied thought of soulmates.

But Mother had a reason to despise soulmates so much. She didn't want her son to go through the pain she did: a parent at sixteen, dropped out of school at seventeen, and her soulmate abused her and her son.

Only after Father—nope, he didn't deserve that name. Only once he had died from a car crash were they finally free, but even then, his influence didn't leave the house.

Her nightly checks, the insistence on his lack of a soulmate, the nights of hunger: these were all ways to protect Akaashi from his true enemy, the person he was to avoid at all costs.

His missing half. His soulmate. She asked for one thing.

And he was nothing, if not a dutiful son.