Chapter Text
The shrilling noise of curtains opening wakes Yaku from the dream that he can’t remember. Next thing he knows when he opens his eyes is the spiky-haired figure looming over him, blocking him off from the rays of light that cast down from the ceiling, but none are coming from the window.
“Wakey wakey!” Nishinoya shouts.“Morisuke!” He shouts once more, this time bending his knees to meet the man lying on the bed at eye level.
“Give me a few more seconds dammit,” Yaku grumbles, attempting to counter Nishinoya’s energy by shouting as loud as him. But he knows that they both know he is unsuccessful, so he rolls over to face the other side.
“The airplane’s flying away~ you’re going to be stuck here if you don’t wake up!”
“What time is it?” Yaku asks.
“Almost five.” He can sense that Nishinoya is getting impatient. A tinge of anxiety tightens Yaku’s chest, as he prepares for the inevitable.
“Shooooo the plane is crashing down~” Nishinoya crashes down onto Yaku’s bed and wraps his arms around the helpless Yaku, who still yelped despite the mental preparation. However it isn’t surprising anymore, as Nishinoya has been continuously more comfortable with squeezing himself into Yaku’s single bed, surrounding him with the scent of jasmine.
“Breakfast is on the counter, it’s very simple but an athlete can’t miss a meal can he?” He snuggles closer towards Yaku, attaching himself tighter against his back, allowing the delicate duvet to be their only barrier.
“Thanks.” He yawns, before gathering all his strength to sit up.
“Okay I’m awake.” Nishinoya isn’t budging one bit, sliding his arms down from his chest to his hips. The ticklish sensation prompted Yaku to poke at Nishinoya, continuously proding into his fair skin with his index finger, sinking in and out of his squishy cheeks. It is like proding jelly. No, like tofu. Good, nutritious, enticing… tofu.
“You can let go now,” Yaku says.
“You’re never not an awesome pillow to hold, I am gonna miss that.” Nishinoya says, rolling onto his back, almost falling off, but not quite.
“Is that what I am to you? A warm pillow?” he teases while continuing to poke at Nishinoya.
“Yes. An exceptionally grumpy pillow.” Nishinoya opens his eyes, smugly grinning at Yaku.
“I’m not grumpy.” He sticks his finger into his cheeks.“You are more grumpy than I am. I’m sure your co-workers will say the same.”
“That’s not fair, you don’t work there. And if you have to teach the newbies that don't respect you to work the ice cream machine, I’m sure they will know how much of a menace you are.”
“I’m sure I will treat them with compassion and patience.” He says it with the highest amount of serenity he can muster.
“Now you’re just bullshiting me, you’re not a good liar, Morisuke”
“I’m not?”
“Nope, you get worse at it each year” He says it with a grin. “Now let’s go, I don’t want to leave you behind in Japan.” Standing up, Nishinoya gives Yaku a hand before bouncing out of the room.
After saying the final goodbye to their apartment, they make their way to the metro station not far away. Navigating the different lines is easier due to practice and preparation, confusions remain inevitable, but hopping onto the JR that bolts directly to the airport when it is still dark outside, counts as a win to them.
When the sun ultimately rises, the train has left the city. He can’t blame Nishinoya for gawking at the view outside the window, with the mesmerizing dawn sky set as a backdrop against the shadow of the city skyline. The gradient of the sky shifts from violet to orange to crimson, however the most dominant shade is the orange, the vibrant color that exudes passion in the sky without a second thought, the same shade that Nishinoya wore in his Karasuno days. It shines on the fields of farmland they pass by and brushes it all into the same monotone gold-orange. Like a scene out of a Monet painting, the gentle morning fog envelopes the distant city, the haze of it all enriches the impressionist mood that is given by the ever moving train and its ever changing scenery.
“Wow, is that the Skytree? It’s so tiny from this point of view,” Nishinoya says, eyes remaining glued to the window and utilizing the window seat he chose.
“That is the Skytree, you’re right this time,” Yaku says, leaning towards the window and closer to Nishinoya. The tower is only the size of a toothpick, and from this angle, seems to make little to no difference to the scenery if it is never built.
“Yes! Finally~” Nishinoya clenches his fist with a bright grin illuminated by the sunlight.
Chuckling at the enthusiasm, Yaku’s mind goes blank as the train zooms by the suburbs of Tokyo. Despite Nishinoya blocking half of the window with his head, he doesn’t mind, as he decides to lean back into his seat.
“Yuu, do you like Tokyo?” He finds himself asking after a while, when he has already closed his eyes.
“Hmm?”
“I know I wasn’t much of a guide in the end, but I hope you had fun here.” He says it with as little strength as he can. The words coming out of his mouth don't solidify, ending up like a gust of wind.
Nishinoya is silent for a few seconds. Either the other man is pondering about the question with his hand on his chin, or still gawking at the dawn of Tokyo and didn’t hear a thing he said, Yaku can’t tell. He carries on his steady breathing as the pull of his seat lulls him to the precipice of sleep.
“There is never a boring day here. I think that is what I like about Tokyo,” Nishinoya says. Before Yaku can open his eyes, Nishinoya continues.
“At first I wanted to stay in Miyagi and work a full time job. However Asahi, Daichi and Sugawara convinced me to go to University first, even if it is a pre-U course.” He laughs. “I’m glad I did, I don’t think I could handle living abroad if not for these three years.”
It’s tough to wrap his head around the idea of Nishinoya not coming to Tokyo. Will he be able to travel around the world? He thinks he will, but will he be the same?
Although he has many questions, he still knows one thing.
“ You are probably the reason why there isn’t a boring day in Tokyo. I’m sure if you stayed in Miyagi it would be the same, heck I know for a fact that you’re going to find fun wherever you are.” He opens his eyes to see Nishinoya, but by doing so he lets the blazing sun directly shoot into his unadjusted pupil. So he shields his eyes with his hands, and cracks a smile when he gets the perfect angle to see Nishinoya’s face without blinding himself.
“Maybe you are right, but I wouldn’t have-
“This train is arriving at Haneda Airport. For the passengers…
“Nevermind, let’s go check in first,” Nishinoya says.
Yaku is tempted to ask what he wanted to say. But as the train slows down, he nods and stretches his limbs, before standing up to carry their luggages and backpacks off from the shelf above their heads.
He hands Nishinoya the single beige backpack he brought for the whole trip, the one he specifically saved up for. Yaku waits in the walkway while watching him slightly struggling putting on the backpack, which is mainly caused by the extra attachments of the air mattress and volleyball. Soon enough, before Yaku has a chance to tease him about it, Nishinoya successfully works his way around the backpack and stands up holding a big thumbs up, joining Yaku, who has two luggages and a backpack of his own.
“We’re going to the second terminal… so it’s this way.” Yaku points to the sign, after they hopped off their train.
“Let’s go!” Trailing behind him in a crowd of people, Nishinoya grins.
They finished fiddling around the check-in machine after they retrieved their boarding tickets and checked in Yaku’s luggages. Swiftly passing through the security check (the plant made the inspector question him a little, he made sure to prepare the papers beforehand), they choose a bench at the side of the pathway to rest and go over important items in their backpacks.
“Phone?” Nishinoya asked.
“Check.”
“Passports?”
“Yep.”
“Boarding tickets?”
“Right here.”
“The right one?”
“Uhhh yes. Do you have yours?”
“Of course! I have it together with my ID.”
“That’s it then. This went faster than I expected,” Yaku states, then yawns. “So are we just going to walk around now?” The pointers on his watch suggest that they have about one and a half hour left to kill before boarding starts for him, and another ten before Nishinoya’s.
“I have to go to the toilet first,” Nishinoya says. “Oh, and also buy some snacks before leaving. I’m thinking maybe some beef jerky, and ice pop if we have time to finish them.” Nishinoya’s eyes light up, probably thinking about how the frosty and sweet popsicle would melt in his mouth.
“Let me guess. Is it Gari Gari Kun ice pop?”
“They don’t sell those in Europe! I think…” Nishinoya frowns with a mix of disappointment and uncertainty.
“Alright. I’ll go look around to see if I can find anything interesting.” The shopping area of the airport is almost the size of a standard mall in Tokyo. Maybe he can buy some souvenirs as gifts for his new coach and teammates? Or get something to eat like Nishinoya? Though his instincts tell him that he will be eating some ice pop soon as well.
“I do want to check out the observation platform on the roof later. I’ve heard that the view is amazing.”
“How about we rendezvous here in… twenty minutes.” He realizes that an hour won’t be much, but it’s what they have left.
“Sounds good! Remember not to get distracted by the pretty shopkeepers again.” Nishinoya holds up his arm and pushes back his sleeve to flex his biceps on Yaku, dramatically squinting his eyes to glower at the other man. “Or else…”
Despite Nishinoya choosing to not be an athlete, his (relatively) short stature remains as robust as if not more than his highschool physique. He had told him before it’s due to the fact that he had to move a lot of heavy boxes as his job at the convenience store, and the mental image that springs up whenever he thinks about Nishinoya’s sturdy arms enveloping those boxes sends a tingle down his spine and into his legs. Now that he has seen in closeup what his bicep is truly capable of, he isn’t disappointed, not in the slightest.
Yaku’s thought is interrupted though, when the sound of laughter echoes in his brain and snaps him back into the airport, Nishinoya has already turned around, walking away. Apparently somewhere in between his thoughts, Nishinoya’s faux seriousness had morphed into laughter.
“Say that to yourself you bastard. If anything I will have to be the one to save your head from exploding like a TNT.” He yells so that he is sure that Nishinoya can hear it. His pursed lips also soften to a smile when he hears that familiar laughter, jokes or not, Nishinoya worrying about him getting “distracted” by other people is quite funny, it’s not like he wants to, or is capable of. The smile stays as he stares into the distance, until he can’t differentiate Nishinoya in the not-so dense crowd anymore.
Yaku carries his backpack around the airport, window shopping his way through. Nothing specific catches his eyes even when he circles back around. Duty free Jewry? Too expensive. Luxury watches? Also too expensive. Other shops like drug stores and restaurants are also all over the airport, which he doesn’t find particularly useful. He walks past an event that has gathered a decently sized crowd in the center of the airport, not paying much attention to what is happening over there.
Fifteen minutes have already passed since the last time he checked his watch, but just when he thinks that he is ready to meet up with Nishinoya, he walks by a souvenir shop he didn’t notice before.
A wide variety of different strains of tea packets are displayed among the shelves, next to the pre-packaged castellas and the delicious little dorayakis. Of course, there are also more conventional items like postcards, snow globes and tiny statues of famous landmarks. Out of all of them, the tea is the one he chooses to take with him. Not only because it’s easy to preserve, but also he might miss the flavor that comes with homegrown Japanese tea when he lands in Russia.
On his way to the cash register, he passes by the notebook section in the center of the store. Usually he wouldn’t bat an eye on them, especially not now when he is running out of time. However, in the corner of his eyes, there is one specific notebook that catches his eyes, that has a navy blue cover and an orange ribbon that wraps around the frame with a bow tie on the side. Did Tanaka also buy the scrapbook in the airport?
He couldn't find the same scrapbook though, only the one displaying on the shelf is present. The material inside of this notebook is different, obviously. But other than that, the design is nearly identical to the one that Nishi—they have.
He quickly flips through a few pages, the blank pages give nothing to reflect on, not even the ceiling lights. It has a certain charm to it, perhaps he can start his own journaling and fill in the blanks, though he doesn’t know if he actually has the will once he is alone. So he doesn’t have a plan for it yet, and that’s fine. Supposedly, he is the one that tells Nishinoya off on purchasing random things. However that has been proven useless once he sets his mind on that certain something, so why should he tell himself off when he knows that he wants to?
He tucks the notebook and the box tea packets into his backpack once he bought it, carefully organized next to the kalanchoe that is still alive and well. Ah—he might be able to make it back in time if he runs now, or else…
“What did you mean by ‘Or else…’?” Yaku asks while standing on the escalator going up to the observation deck. He was on the verge of learning what he meant with first hand experience and not with words. Luckily, they made it back to the bench at the same time. Whether it’s due to Nishinoya being late or Yaku being on time, he will just say he is thankful for the long line at the yakitori stand.
“I don’t know,” Nishinoya says, nonchalantly.
“You don’t know?” He blinks at the man who is a few steps above of him, who blinks back at him.
“You’re not going to be distracted either way so I didn’t think much of it. Am I wrong?”
“No, You’re not wrong about that. It’s…” He didn’t know that Nishinoya also knows that it’s an implausible threat. But then again he should’ve, given how loud Nishinoya’s laughter was when he finished that sentence. Though, does he really want it to be an empty threat only?
“Oi, are you asking because you want to gawk at my bicep again?” he questions with his shit eating grin.
It is impossible to cover up the heat creeping above his neck and burning into his cheeks, and he doesn’t try to. “So what if I do,” he says, looking directly into Nishinoya’s eyes.
Upon hearing his reply, Nishinoya also blushes ever so slightly. Perhaps it’s purely painted by his imagination, or a trick of the orange hued ceiling lights, he thinks. However instead of teasing him further, Nishinoya gazes over to the end of the escalator, where there aren't any people, and back to Yaku, then reaches out one of his hands towards him. “Here, we’re almost there.”
What should he do? Is he supposed to take his hand? What is he trying to do?
Nishinoya’s hand wobbles in front of him, urging him to hold onto it. And despite his doubts, he reaches his hand out to meet Nishinoya’s. Because what’s the worst he could do? Kiss him? That wouldn’t be bad, just not ve-
“Mind the steps, Morisuke!”
His hand, and subsequently his body, is yanked forward before he can finish his thought, throwing him almost off balance. Before any other thought, his athletic instinct kicks in, lifting his left leg and letting it land on the step above him. But it isn’t over yet. Nishinoya continues to bolt upwards, dragging Yaku up the escalator with a single arm, their feets pounded against the machine with each step forward.
In a near out of body moment, all he can feel is the rough skin of Nishinoya’s hand, grabbing him firmly.
“Don’t go so fast, damn it,” Yaku yells, when they have made it past the escalator and he can process what is going on again. They could have broke the machine easily if not for some dumb luck. But Nishinoya isn’t letting him dwell on these thoughts, although he has let go of his hand, he doesn’t seem to be slowing down.
To make his legs keep up with Nishinoya throughout the “chase”, the adrenaline is once more overflowing in his veins. It isn’t something bad, no. It’s the same excitement he experiences in volleyball games, the same thing that makes him want to chase Nishinoya over and over again. Perhaps that is why he is still running despite not being forced to.
They dash past the near empty hallway in an instant, and only stop when they finally make it to the door that leads to the observation deck.
“Look, Morisuke…” Nishinoya pants as he bends down, hands resting on his knees to support his upper body. “We’re here!”
Yaku is faring a bit better, considering his backpack isn’t as hefty as Nishinoya’s. But he still has to use the outer door frame to support him standing upright.
“Is running a… requirement to watch… some planes?” he asks.
There aren’t a lot of people here in the upper deck, he half expected there would be more, it certainly seems like the event down at the main area grabbed away the attention except for some photographers and the two of them. It’s a shame, because they are missing out on the great weather that is perfect for sightseeing.
“Having fun… is an important aspect of… enjoying sightseeing,” Nishinoya points out.
He won’t deny that it was exciting, the pounding in his heart is obvious evidence. “Don’t run on escalators though, I don’t want to worry about you breaking your bones left and right.”
The last time Nishinoya went impulsively dashing he ended up wounding his legs so badly that he couldn’t walk long distances for a while. It’s for a good reason, chasing a criminal, however a risky decision nonetheless. He thought Nishinoya had learned his lesson, either by his scolding or the pain of his wounds, but apparently not.
“Okay, senpai .” Nishinoya grins slyly as he looks up at him.
“I’m serious, Yuu.”
“I know, I won’t do that again.” The smile on his face softens as he stretches his arms above his head. “Unless you’re around,” he says half jokingly, and pulls out a bag of yakitori from inside his backpack. “A place to sit?” he asks.
Yaku hums in affirmation, the silver lining of running around is that he is once again hungry at the smell of the grilled chicken. Nishinoya is going to uphold that promise, he knows that, including the fine print, so he drops the previous “chastising” conversation in favor of searching for a nice seat.
They decide to narrow it down to one of the benches along the chain link railing, and choose the specific one that doesn’t have any other people nearby. The railing is as thrice as tall as them. Instead of feeling confined by the height, he feels at peace with the broad view it provides. The distant planes that roam on the runway, and the even farther houses or farmlands that make up the suburbs.
Nishinoya hands him a skewer of yakitori once they settle down. He already took a bite of his own, the enjoyment of it shows on his face like pure joy experienced by a puppy.
When Yaku bites off one of the chicken, the pepper powder and the tangy sauce melts in his mouth, along with the grilled flavor, skillfully creating an addicting combination that makes him stuff everything on the skewer into his mouth in a matter of seconds.
The taste reminds him of someone weirdly, explosive yet tactful, vibrant yet pure.
That person is not holding back either, grabbing his second skewer while his mouth is still full of meat.
It almost makes Yaku laugh, the urgent look on Nishinoya’s face, but he thinks if he does laugh out loud he would choke, so he suppresses it with unintelligible noises. Which makes Nishinoya want to laugh, which makes it worse for the both of them.
Luckily they didn’t die from suffocation, as they are both pros at the art of chewing with too much food in their mouth. Nishinoya pulled out another snack inside his backpack, this time it’s the predictable Gari-Gari kun ice pop. One is strawberry flavored and the other is lemon, the first for Nishinoya and the latter for Yaku.
He eats it leisurely this time, only sucking on it when his mouth is missing the sweet flavor. The spring breeze slides across his face, brushing over the curly hair of his. Will this be the last time he gets to feel this kind of wind? He asks himself. Is he supposed to be holding onto this right now? Because he doesn’t feel the need to, he doesn’t miss it yet. But can he say the same two weeks from now? Two months? Two years? He sucks on the ice pop once more, letting the lemon scent and the gentle wind dissolve his questions.
“Wait, hang on,” Nishinoya said, as the sound of him rummaging in his backpack is apparent.
“Wha-”
Click.
He turns around to see Nishinoya holding his polaroid in his hands, waiting for the picture to be printed. “A photo?” Yaku asks, leaning towards him to get a better look.
“Yeah, you looked very… just look, it turned out very cool.” His eyes are almost shining in excitement and anticipation, the same kind that he gets when playing the drum machine.
Nishinoya held the photo up once it stopped printing, letting the blazing sun shine on it. Yaku is in the forefront of this photo, with the half translucent yellow ice pop in his hand next to his half opened mouth, while other arm is placed on the back of the bench. His short curly hair floats in the wind, parts of the sandy blond color bleached into champagne blond from the sunlight. He should dye his hair again sometimes, he thinks, just not drastically this time. Other than that, there isn’t much out of the ordinary for Yaku in the photo. His brown eyes are as big as ever, glimmering under the sun along with the rest of his face. The background is the bright blue sky and the several white airplanes on top of the monotonal gray airway.
“Cool?” He is somewhat amused by the choice of words from Nishinoya.
“Huh?” Nishinoya’s eyes widens for a split second then returns to normal. Well, not completely, because a tint of pink appeared ever so slightly around his cheeks afterwards.
“Forget it. Can I borrow the Polaroid? I want to take a picture of you.”
“Sure. But I finished my ice-pop,” he says as he hands over the polaroid. The ice pop isn’t the main reason he wants to, but for another more self indulgent one.
“It doesn’t matter. You already look very cute.” He waits for the reaction to kick in, and then…
Click.
Nishinoya is very flustered.
Oh no.
“I… wouldn't say cute…” Nishinoya mutters.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have flustered Nishinoya like that. He knows what he is doing, but the opportunity is right there. And it’s too late to turn back now. So he tries to remain as blasé and neutral as possible when he replies.
“How about adorable? Or captivating?” He won’t say it worked, as he is on the verge of bursting out with laughter once he says those words. He is not a casual flirting master like Kuroo or a few of his other classmates.
“Cute is fine I guess.” Nishinoya chuckles, which makes Yaku laugh. The mixture of joy and lighthearted embarrassment is a weird sensation, but it can make both of them laugh aloud for a good while, until they realize the photo is finished printing.
Nishinoya is not cute in the polaroid, he’s damn gorgeous.
He is turned sideways facing the camera, sitting crossed-leg on the bench. Mouth also half-opened, but this time it comes from a different place. His dark eyebrows shot up making his eyes wider than usual, the pupil inside turned smaller from the shock but still shimmers. While his hand is scratching the back of his neck, the photo captures the sudden stillness in his movement. His hair looks so soft in the photo despite the hair gel he uses that it makes him jealous of the wind for grazing over it, and making it even more alluring than it needs to be.
And against the bright blue backdrop, his face is undeniably red, even crimson, enough to be caused by the heat that stems from his blood vessels, and not from the outside. Perhaps it’s just another one of Nishinoya’s “moments”, like what he experiences when he gapes at his old volleyball manager, or another hot clerk in a shop. But it’s extraordinary for Yaku, because it’s because of him, intentionally.
He hands the photo over to the other man once he is finished taking in the “view”. Nishinoya stares at it for a few seconds, face not red anymore, but blank. “You can keep it… If you want to.”
“There is no way that is going in the trash.” He laughs.
Nishinoya holds the first and the second photo up together in front of Yaku with a smile. “You know what? You can take both of the polaroids.”
“Really? You’re not keeping even one?” He doesn’t take the polaroids from Nishinoya’s hands, yet.
“Oi, I have a whole book of them, you should at least have two.”
“When you put it that way…” He realizes of all the possibilities, the only thing holding him back from taking it is himself.
Before he can take it, suddenly, NIshinoya sits up straight and his eyes light up, like he just had an epiphany of his own. “Do you have a sharpie?” he asks.
“I do.” Yaku stretches out the last syllable and narrows his eyes. But obliges, as he rummages around his bag, retrieving the sharpie he left in the day before.
“Thanks, Morisuke. Wait for me for a second.” Nishinoya bounces up the bench, walks up to one of the larger steel pillars in front of them, and puts the polaroid of himself against the side of the pillar where, from Yaku’s perspective, can obstruct the view of the polaroid. Nishinoya stares at the polaroid for a few seconds, clearly breaking his original promise.
“It’s already more than a few seconds, you bastard,” Yaku jokes. He stands up too, but doesn’t walk close enough to see what Nishinoya is writing. Puttinghis hands in his pockets to prevent them from fidgeting, he waits for what Nishinoya is planning to do.
Nishinoya’s focused gaze shifts from the polaroid to Yaku, and from Yaku back to the polaroid until he smiles and begins to write.
Yaku decides to lean his back on the chain-link fence in the meantime, watching the view of the airport building.
When Nishinoya walks over to face Yaku, his smile turns soft. “The handwriting is not perfect, but here you go, you can take these with you,” he says, with a fraction of the rambunctious energy as before.
The polaroids in his hand are the same on the front, the same color, the same background, the same Morisuke , the same Yuu . But-
“Do you want me to…” He glances up at Nishinoya, seeking for any hint of displeasure, suddenly realizing the close distance between them.
Nishinoya’s smile is rueful now. “If you want to,” he says, but the slanted brown eyes are saying please do .
If his intuition and understanding of Nishinoya is correct, he knows, at least the essence of, what he wrote. So he shouldn’t turn the photo over, so all of it can be contained in the box that is what if .
But he wants to know, and he wants to too.
With a steady breath and a best attempt at a calm, indifferent smile, Yaku turns it over.
大好きだよ is written in big and not-so messy handwriting.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say now that he backed himself into a corner. His body stiffens and eyes bore into the back of the polaroid. Another gust of wind scrapes by his head, he waits for something, anything, whether from himself or the other. Is Nishinoya nervous as well? If so then shouldn’t he say something to comfort him or confirm that he does feel the same way? He hasn’t been confessed in so long that he forgot what it is like. But doesn’t Nishinoya know the answer if it is only a confession? What do normal people do when you know that they know that you like them, and you know that they know that you know that they like you?
“I used to be afraid of a lot of things,” Nishinoya says, now standing close to him it’s almost loud, snapping Yaku out from the downward spiral of confusion.
“And I… still am scared to do a lot of things even after conquering many of my fears.” Nishinoya chuckles, genuinely.
“What my jii-san used to say when I got scared is “Behind every fear is a wasted experience.” At this point, I know I already wasted basically all of our time together.”
“I won’t say it’s wasted.” Yaku interjects. Sliding the polaroid into his pocket, he sets his eyes on Nishinoya again. Ha , he thinks. He is so beautiful under the sunlight.
Nishinoya falters for a bit, but continues, maybe because he can see through what Yaku is thinking.
“Perhaps not wasted but… not living it to the fullest, not experiencing everything that I can and wanted.” He pauses. Then something in his eyes changed, again. This time, all Yaku can see is the glimmer of confidence that suits Nishinoya the best.
“Because I knew and I still know that I have fallen for you.”
There it is.
“What I’m trying to say is… can I be with you for the last twenty minutes? As in, with you with you?”
“Not just roommates huh.” Yaku laughs, and subsequently lets out a breath that he knows he was holding.
“You and I both know we’re too far gone for that.” That rueful smile is back again, something that Yaku doesn’t want to see on his face again, especially not because of him.
“Tomorrow,” Yaku starts. “I’m not going to see you waking up, cooking breakfast, going to school or work, coming back home with another funny story to tell or another idea you want to try, cooking dinner with you, eating dinner with you, and sleeping next to you. And the day after that, and the next day after that. With all of… that, you still want to?” He asks, he offers, he pleads .
“I want to, do you?”
He thinks back to high school, where conditions strained them to remain in mere distant admiration. He thinks back to the first year, where the apartment is just a place to eat, sleep and study. To the second, where they reconnected as underclassmen and upperclassmen that lived under the same roof. To the third, where he can’t imagine a day waking up without breakfast by his roommate, and without the daily hijinks or impulsive ideas. And to the forth, where he doesn’t want to think there is anything between them, where he just wants to hold Yuu’s hands for a second longer, to be in his arms just one more time without the implications and guilt.
In this very moment, there is no pretense, no guilt, no underlying conditions. None of that matters anymore. Just a simple question made from one to the other. They aren’t in the same club from different schools, they aren't even roommates or upperclassmen and underclassmen.
Just two people. Both hearts, engraved with the same mirrored desire.
What an odd twist of fate.
He leans in. Before Nishinoya can react, he tilts his head downwards and closes the already short distance between them.
He may have bumped on Nishinoya’s nose from the excitement, but he doesn’t care. And Nihsinoya doesn’t seem to as well, as he freezes only for a split second before melting into the kiss.
It’s all a haze, from the hands on his hips pulling him closer, to his own hands on Nishinoya’s shoulders returning the favor. All he can focus on is the other man, whose lips are soft against his, who is currently kissing him breathless.
Somewhere in the middle he can feel Nishinoya smiling into the kiss, so he smiles too.
It’s not what he had imagined, what he will be doing on the final day, but has any day ever stuck to the plan ever since Nishinoya came?
Eventually he softens the kiss and pulls away to catch his breath, then immediately misses the warmth of Nishinoya’s lips. So he rests his head on Nishinoya's shoulder to make up for it.
“I wish that I had done this sooner,” Nishinoya says.
Yaku can feel the steady vibrations of his voice through their embrace, prompting him to laugh. “Me too.”
“So where do we go from now?” The hesitation in his voice is apparent. And Yaku knows why too.
“Aren’t there planes to catch?” he says, the only thing that he is certain about.
Nishinoya hums in agreement, vibrating through their beating hearts. “Fuck, I’m going to miss you.” Nishinoya’s grasp on Yaku is tighter, so tight that he can feel every shudder, and share every part of their warmth.
“Me too,” he only says.
They stay like that in silence for a while, neither the spring wind or the noise of the planes taking flight can tear them apart. He knows what Nishinoya is thinking, but he can’t do anything to help besides being here with him in the very end.
“What are you waiting for? You have a world to explore,” Yaku says, breaking the melancholic silence.
“And you have a whole team waiting for you,” Nishinoya says.
Then he gets an idea. Perhaps not changing anything of significance, but still a piece of his heart.
“Since you gave me the polaroids, you’re going to take what I bought earlier.” He pulls away from Nishinoya, having a glance at his bright eyes before walking over to his backpack.
He takes the notebook out and hands it over to Nishinoya. “You can journal about what you experience in the world. Perhaps the next time we meet you can show me what you saw.”
Nishinoya carefully takes the notebook from his hands, before suddenly leaning in to kiss him, this time it’s short and sweet, but more soft and graceful coming from Nishinoya. “Thank you, I’ll make sure to write everything interesting down.” His grin is dazzling, perhaps more than the sun this time.
“I look forward to it.” He grins as well, because he can’t help it. “Let’s go.”
The airport is twice as busy this time they enter, and more families are around now then the people in suits. The next time he comes back to Japan he should wear a nice suit, for no other reason than he likes the style of it.
“Persistence and long lasting…” NIshinoya says, as they are walking towards Yaku’s boarding gate holding hands.
“Do you still like it? The meaning?” he asks. Reminding himself of the time they got the plant. And reminding himself that he liked the now , he really, really liked the now , no matter how ephemeral it actually is.
“I do.”
Yaku hums in agreement. “This is it, I guess.” He stops walking as he sees the sign of his gate number.
“This is it.” Nishinoya stops as well, standing still by his side.
In a flurry of movements, Yaku embraces the other man, completely holding onto the remaining warmth that he can chase down, along with the faint scent of jasmine.
“I love you,” he says. The three words came out of his mouth with less stuttering and more natural than he thought it would, because he knows he is just stating the obvious. “And I’m really glad I met you again.”
“I love you too. You were the best… roommate I could’ve been with,” Nishinoya says, also holding onto him tightly.
“Not boyfriend… or partner?”
“But that means we’re breaking up.”
“Isn’t that what it feels like?”
“So you are my boyfriend for twenty minutes?”
“I would say we’re about three years deep into the relationship already.”
“Really? That long? More like one–no two–” Nishinoya is silent for a second, seemingly enthralled by the memories of their relationship. “Yeah, maybe ever since I slept on top of you.”
Yaku laughs. That was the first time he saw how flustered Nishinoya could be if he just pushed the right buttons, and maybe that’s when it truly began.
Phone calls and face chats are always an option, but he knows they can’t sustain the relationship to go further beyond friendship from now on. Either by the inconsistent cell service on Nishinoya’s part, the extra intense training that is the pro league for Yaku, or just the pure distance between the two of them.
He pulls back from the embrace as he hears the flight attendants calling their gate’s number for boarding.
“Stay in touch, Yuu. We’re still friends first and foremost.” They have been there for each other for so long, and he knows that it isn’t going to change no matter how far they wander on their own paths.
“But I don’t think long distance is going to work for…” Yaku gestures vaguely between them, “this.”
“I know. I’m sorry I can’t give you a date on when I’ll come back. It’ll be selfish of me to ask for you to wait.” And too painful for the both of them to miss each other as lovers. But it’s not Nishinoya’s fault, not in the slightest.
“Please, don’t be sorry about that. It’s your dream isn’t it?” he asks, as he pats Nishinoya on the shoulders. “Not even in my wildest dream would I want to stop you from chasing it, so don't feel sorry because of me. You promise?” It is natural for them to miss one another, even purely platonically, he is certain about that. It doesn’t mean there is anyone in the wrong, since the separation stems from both of their mutual decisions.
“I promise.” Nishinoya crashes in his arms and wraps his arms around Yaku’s waist. “And I’ll always cherish the time we had together no matter how far I go.”
“Then I have no regrets left. Farewell, Yuu.” He runs his hands freely through Nishinoya’s hair. It’s soft and smooth, despite their tangled emotions, it’s the same as what he thought it would feel.
“Farewell, Morisuke. And take care of yourself!” Nishinoya pulls back and beams, in his usual mesmerizing fashion.
He nods. All he can see is Nishinoya, and his hazel brown eyes that are more glossy than usual. Yaku forces himself to walk away before he does otherwise.
Right after he gets his boarding tickets checked, he finally gathers enough courage to look back.
Nishinoya is still standing at where they were, sobbing. And broken as it is, the grin he presents to him is beautiful.
Yaku smiles, and waves ecstatically at him. Nishinoya's grin only gets bigger as he waves back, the sheer bittersweet bliss is palpable across the room. Yaku tries his best to contain himself from breaking down at the airport, so that he won’t be an inconvenience to other people.
Goodbye Japan. Goodbye Yuu.
With a steady breath, he steadies his backpack and takes a step into the gate, making him one further step away from him.
After the take off, Yaku blinks at the reflection on the window that mirrors his own movements. Nishinoya is far away from him once again, and It’s the first time he can see the tears in his eyes so clearly. But he doesn’t try to wipe it away from his grinning face. What an odd twist of fate. He thinks, as he rests his elbow on the window still. Perhaps they can still meet again in the years to come. Who knows? Weirder things have happened. Like how he and Nishinoya had made it through University together, or somehow they managed to go above and beyond.
His mind floats through the familiar past and the potential future, their glimmering memories and mercurial dreams. And as of right now, soaring above the sea of clouds, he is so, so happy.
When one’s chosen path intersects with another’s, this thoroughfare they pass by is not endless. Conversely, someday the pair will inevitably diverge back to paths of their own, branching off to form their own destiny. Yet, when that spark of love shines true inside their hearts, intertwining as it flourishes, it can be one of the most dazzling and profound experiences both have ever witnessed.