blue lights || bokuaka

damn kuroo

"Fifty-thousand?" Noya asks, counting the yen as Kuroo hands it to him, replacing the clipboard and pen he had in his hands as Kuroo writes his name beside Bokuto's.

And with that, Akaashi and Kuroo settle on the roof of the pitstop, squeezing beside Yaku and a couple of boys he didn't know. His ears buzzed as Bokuto and Daichi pass the crowd again, wincing at the loudness of the engine.

Now that his head was clear, that he was able to take in his surroundings freely without having to worry about missing anything, he began hearing them.

Akaashi knew about the shit-talking that was supposed to come with races, and he couldn't say he never heard it, but he couldn't help the slight irritation that constricted his chest once he hears Bokuto's name come from some other guys behind among the crowd.

Bokuto needs a fucking loss. I'm so tired of him winning. His car is so loose, it's like he's cheating or something.

He couldn't really do anything, considering this was normal, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't bother him.

Nothing but a Pretty Boy with no skill. No way he's got regular fuckin' tires on that thing.

He lightly lets the heel of his shoe bounce off of the wall of the ledge, trying to find something else to preoccupy him and let out a bit of that annoyance, little by little. There was nothing he could do. They were wrong, anyway.

You think Bokuto will win? I'm hoping he gets a flat and loses by default. That'll shit on his rep for sure.

Akaashi bounces his heel on the ledge a bit faster, feeling like he was set on fire, between the skid of tires around a curve and the cheering. There was a lot of noise tonight.

He doesn't think he'd ever get used to these.

"Hey, hey. Blue eyes."

There is a voice of black velvet behind him, and Akaashi kind of gets annoyed that it was directed at him. Out of the million people at this race, why him?

He and Kuroo turn over their shoulders to face them, and find a familiar-looking boy looking down at him. The moon sits gently on the grey dye in his hair, his hooded eyes curious as they trace Akaashi's face.

He immediately gets self-conscious and recoils.

"Yes?" He asks, and the boy kneels down right where he is, a small smile on his face.

But it wasn't one of those happy-go-lucky smiles, like the ones he'd gotten so used to from spending so much time with Bokuto. It was different.

Like the ones he sees on the faces of guys at the disco.

Akaashi squints.

"Yer Akaashi, right? The one who bet on me a few weeks ago?"

Akaashi nods once and waits for him to continue.

"I was glad to hear that someone as pretty as you had set money on me. Makes me even happier I didn't disappoint ya. I'm Miya Osamu. My friends call me 'samu, so, you can, too."

Akaashi swallows, hearing the engines of Bokuto and Daichi's cars pass by them again before they quickly draw faint, signifying another lap. He was missing the race talking to this guy.

He begins to kick his leg again, heel bouncing against the wall.

"Nice to meet you, Miya," Akaashi says, dully. "Is that all?"

Kuroo raises his eyebrows and turns back to the race, pretending he wasn't listening, trying not to react.

Osamu takes a breath, clearly not expecting Akaashi to be so blunt, but his lips form that same disco smile and he stands back up.