One Heartbeat

He’s not here, he’s not here, he’s not here…

“Are you okay?” Tadashi asked gently.

“No.”

“We can try again later,” Akaashi said firmly, almost reverting back to his commanding tone when it came to making Kei do something.

“No.”

He’s not here, he’s not here, he’s not here.

“But he’s supposed to be here…” he whispered. Great. More tears. But this time, he let them fall. Slowly, he reached out and grasped the doorknob… and stopped again.

“We’ve been out here for ten minutes, Kei.”

“Akaashi!” Tadashi sounded offended.

“It’s fine,” Kei said quietly. “I know he’s doing it on purpose.”

“Sometimes, it works, too,” Akaashi chuckled. “Tetsu had a bad habit of being stubborn. You’re worse, though.”

“I am not!”

“You gonna open the door, then?”

“Well, not now that you’ve said it. We’ll just stand here until we die.”

“I’d rather not, thank you very much.”

They both smiled at each other, and Kei turned back to his door. Turning the doorknob, he slowly opened the door.

He’s not here, he’s not here, he’s not here.

But that didn’t stop the memories from assailing him. This room had been their world from the moment Tetsu moved in until the day he left, never to return. Tetsu’s laptop and phone were still on the desk, closed, but undisturbed. His clothes had been picked up off the floor and folded, placed at the end of the bed, which had been neatly made. Everything was clean and tidy, and one of the windows had been cracked open to let in fresh air. Undoubtedly, Mom had done it so that this moment would be easier, but a small part of him had wanted to see the mess it once was. Neither of them were neat freaks, but it hadn’t been a disaster.

He’s not here, he’s not here, he’s not here.

“But he’s supposed to be here…” Kei whispered again.

He moved into the room a step at a time, eventually ending up at the desk. He reached out and ran his fingertips lightly across the top of the red metallic laptop, and then picked up the phone. He pushed the power button, purely out of habit, and the phone lit up. It never occurred to him that his mom would also keep the phone charged, but she did. And then he focused on the lockscreen, nearly dropping the phone. The picture was of him, smiling and happy, holding up his hand and showing off his engagement ring. He swiped to unlock the phone, and the homescreen was a different photo. Both of them together, Tetsu had his left arm around him, with his hand over his heart, lightly grasping the shirt in his hand. Kei had reached up to hold his wrist. Both engagement rings were there, and you could see, and feel, the love they had for each other.

“Oh, god… Tetsu…” A fresh wave of tears started falling.

His hand loosened, and the phone almost fell, if Akaashi hadn’t caught it in time. He put it on the desk without looking at it, his attention full on Kei.

“Kei? Talk to me, Kei,” Akaashi commanded quietly. He reached out to steady his friend as he began swaying. Deftly, he turned Kei so that he’d fall to the bed once his knees gave out. “Tadashi, go get his mom, please,” he ordered quietly.

“Is he going to be alright?” he asked, but then quickly added, “Sorry. Stupid question.”

“No, it’s fine. And he will be okay. Eventually. I can explain later, just go get her.”

“Yeah, okay.”

But no sooner had Tadashi cleared the door, then Kei’s mom came hurrying in. She wrapped her arms around him just as soon as he sat down hard on the bed. “It’s okay, baby. Mama’s here. Shhhh… I’ve got you.” She gently rocked him, her hand cradling the back of Kei’s head as he cried. Akaashi picked up Tetsu’s phone, excused himself, and closed the door behind him, facing the two in the hallway.

“Finally,” Akiteru said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I was almost convinced it wasn’t going to happen at all.” He looked at Akaashi. “What triggered it?” Akaashi handed the phone over to Akiteru, who didn’t say a word after seeing the pictures on the phone.

“Wait. What are you talking about?” Tadashi was understandably confused.

“Not once has Kei really cried in the two years since Tetsu died,” Akaashi explained. “There might have been tears, like you saw when we first got here. But, he is a master at shoring up his defences, so those few tears were all that anyone saw.” He reached over and took the phone from Kei’s brother, who excused himself and went back to the kitchen, and then he passed the phone to Tadashi.

“And seeing these photos was what finally… broke him. For lack of better words,” Tadashi said quietly, after viewing the pictures. “I can’t remember ever seeing Tsuki, or Kuroo, as happy as they were that night. I’m glad someone took pictures of it.”

“I made a video for them, and sent it to Tetsu a few days before…” his voice broke, and he wiped away a stray tear. “It might be on the phone, and his laptop. I don’t know if he even had the chance to show Kei…”

Just as he said that, he heard laughter and playful banter coming from the room. Glancing at Tadashi, he opened the door, and found Kei and his mom watching the video in question.

Kei had a pillow in his arms, and he was completely absorbed in the video. His mom pointed at the screen every so often, quietly asking questions that Akaashi had no doubt she knew the answers to, but asked anyway to keep Kei engaged. Slowly, he made his way to the bed, and sat down next to Kei. Kei’s mom moved so that Tadashi could have her place, and she set the laptop on the desk so everyone could watch the video.

“Dinner will be ready when you are,” she said softly, ruffling her hand through Kei’s hair before she turned and left.

They sat there, watching the video and remembering the engagement party as if it had only just happened. And through it all, Akaashi noticed something he hadn’t before. In nearly every photo, every moment of video, Tetsu and Kei were never apart. In fact, a majority of the time, they were holding hands.

“It was always like that,” Kei said softly, reading the realization on Akaashi’s face. “Since the day we met, and then after we ‘met’ again, up until he passed away. We never even thought about it. It just was something we naturally did. It was as if we were each other’s lodestone.”

“Lodestone,” Tadashi repeated. “I always just thought it was because you loved each other so much.”

“Well, that was part of it too,” Kei replied. “I don’t think I can really explain how it worked. Life had a way of pulling us apart; moving away, school, work. Normal things that no one ever thinks about. But, for us, it was something visceral. Like something was missing. No… it was more like we were incomplete. Once we were together, everything was normal again… for us. We were whole again.”

The video came to the end, and Kei reached over to start it again. And with everything Kei had told them in mind, the video became that much more poignant, that much more special.

“Thank you for making this, Akaashi,” Kei said quietly, about halfway through. He leaned over and rested his head on Akaashi’s shoulder. “Thank you for being there for me. Bokuto, too.”