Kōtarō Bokuto seemed to have inexhaustible energy. Perhaps it was the umpteenth time he celebrated after yet another perfectly executed spike, the result of both Keiji Akaashi's precise set and the attacker's own strength.

"One more, Akaashi!" Bokuto called.

Akaashi sighed and closed his eyes for the countless times.

Sweat had been dripping down his forehead for far too long, the ball had been touching his fingers, and Bokuto's palm had been cracking against it. The dry sound of the ball hit the waxed floor soon after, spreading through the almost empty gymnasium before disappearing between the high walls.

Still, once again the ball rose in a perfect arc, reaching the exact spot.

Bokuto jumped.

The spike exploded on the other side of the court, and the impact echoed through the gymnasium.

One more.

And another.

"That was perfect!" Bokuto commented.

"You've said that the last eight times." Akaashi just sighed, while Bokuto murmured in the background: "Because they were perfect!"

Footsteps entering the gym broke the repetitive rhythm of the training, making Akaashi look up towards the door.

That's when he saw you.

For a few seconds, even Bokuto was silent. Not because he had decided to be quiet, but because Akaashi was no longer paying attention to him. His eyes drifted to the clock hanging on the gym wall, and the hands seemed to move too fast.

"The appointment..."

Now he understood why that uneasy feeling of having forgotten something had been accompanying every lift for the last twenty minutes.

Akaashi had promised to take you to that place you'd wanted to visit with him for some time. A quiet place, one that matched both of your personalities, and which should have been visited that day.

Two hours ago.

Bokuto had called him to practice, and this time, Akaashi couldn't find an escape. When he realized it, the time had long passed.

He had completely forgotten.

"Akaashi! Let's go again!"

Bokuto's voice pulled him from his thoughts. The ace already held the ball, ready for another attempt, but Akaashi's answer came too quickly.

"No." The voice was low and firm.

"No?!" Bokuto stared at him, genuinely surprised.

Akaashi walked to the net, picked up his bottle, and took a few sips before looking at you again.

"I have to go."

He murmured the words as he slipped under the net and grabbed his backpack. Taking his phone out of his bag to check the time again, he found the screen full of notifications.

Messages.

Calls.

All yours.

Akaashi stared at the screen for a few seconds.

He hadn't noticed. Not even heard.

He quickly put his cell phone back in his bag and ignored Bokuto's protests behind him.

The closer he got, the more evident it became that you had probably been waiting for some time. His gaze dropped to meet yours, and for a moment it seemed that Akaashi was searching for some way to make up for lost time just by staring at the clock.

There was no way.

When he got close, he stopped in front of you.

His expression remained calm, but there was a small trace of guilt in his eyes.

"Sorry."

It was simple. Sincere. No elaborate apologies, no trying to shift the blame to Bokuto.

That's all.

"Akaashi!" Bokuto shouted from across the court. "We'll continue tomorrow!"

Akaashi looked over his shoulder.

"Tomorrow you'll leave on time."

And, before Bokuto could answer, Akaashi intertwined his fingers with yours and gently pulled you out of the gym. The air outside felt cooler after the stifling heat of the court. Behind you, you could still hear Bokuto's voice complaining about the interrupted practice, until the sound of the door closed and everything became quieter.

After a few meters, Akaashi glanced sideways.

"Are you angry?"