Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Monday’s morning practice before classes started like any other. Well, the recent ones in which Satori’s absence was commonplace. While the red-haired boy had mentioned the possibility of showing up to school not many of them truly expected him to after seeing his deterioration over hospital visits.

Wakatoshi had arrived particularly early to get in extra laps and practice spikes with Eita, along with the goal of giving as many pointers to his kouhais as possible. Exams were creeping up on the third years now and they really had to use their time wisely. Afterwards, when all the tests had been completed, would be when they weren’t actually considered a part of the Shiratorizawa volleyball team anymore–something about being 'academically graduated.’

Between Eita’s sets he was sending to Wakatoshi, the third year setter would be giving tid-bits of wisdom to Kenjiro when it came to syncing with teammates on the court for a perfect toss. Wakatoshi thought he was finally starting to catch up on what everyone meant by Kenjiro’s starry eyes for Eita. Had his own beginning to an awakening triggered some type of radar? He didn’t know. But Kenjiro definitely had a crush on Eita at the very least.

Is this what me and Satori look like? he vaguely wondered. But he quickly shut the rising fantasy down with the shake of his head before it got too out of control at a practice. He cringed when he still felt the heat on his cheeks, not wanting to give anything away.

Jin had taken it upon himself to schedule more last-minute team activities with the coaches before graduation while Reon helped with the younger wing spikers. The vice captains knew Wakatoshi wasn’t as good when it came to organization if the matter pertained less to the actual sport, and the ace didn’t regret his decision on making them his right hands.

However, he would be lying if he said he never wondered if he wasn’t stepping as much as he should be by pushing those responsibilities on his friends.

Akakura was still stretching in a corner while waiting for Hayato to arrive, lifting and pulling his arms and legs in steady rhythms. Yu seemed to be anxiously talking to Taichi, waving his arms in the air to overly express what he was feeling. Wakatoshi couldn’t really make out much of what was being said, but he could guess it was related to Satori. Little Yu, despite the reassurance he’d received from the red-haired boy, was still worried.

Wakatoshi understood that feeling well enough, though he wasn’t as openly expressive about it compared to the first year middle blocker Satori had taken under his wing. And sometimes Wakatoshi did find himself wishing he were more expressive.

The ace thought maybe things would be easier, that he would be more convincing and warm. Perhaps even more free-spirited and able to do something as a mere hobby like everyone else; because Wakatoshi was obsessive. He was a perfectionist and he had to get stronger to prove himself. Wakatoshi didn’t know how to live any other way. And well, if he were to be honest with himself, the idea of contentedness with Satori slightly frightened him for that very reason.

He longed to see the red-haired boy relaxed in his pajamas while watching his art films or reading epic fantasy novels. He longed to stare at Satori’s face in earth-toned kitchens, overhead stove lights washing over ivory tiles, while they shared their deepest emotions with each other; ones they felt no one else could understand. Maybe it was because on some level they both recognized the other’s bravado. It just showed itself in different ways.

Still, Wakatoshi wasn’t sure if his hesitation to be enveloped in that comfort was from himself or some outside source. He could only hope to figure it out before it was too late and Satori was gone, far away enough to never hear the words uttered from Wakatoshi’s own lips.

The ace shook his head once more to clear the thoughts of Satori away. No, he thought, I can’t be focused on him right now. Yet it seemed the more he stood around and did nothing the more Satori’s smiling face would force itself into Wakatoshi’s mind.

“Shirabu,” he said, and the second year setter paused the conversation he was in the middle of with Eita. “If Semi is okay with it we can do some practice sets while he watches you. He could probably give you better pointers actually seeing the areas you could improve on.”

Kenjiro took a moment to think before saying, “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I’m guessing you want them on the higher side as usual?” Wakatoshi nodded and they turned to look at Eita for his permission. He also seemed to consider it for a moment, though in a different way than Kenjiro had.

“I can definitely try,” he replied finally. “I’m not as good a setter as Shirabu though, so I don’t really know if I’ll be able to give any meaningful advice. However, I’m not opposed to seeing if I can spot something.”

Kenjiro scowled, though it was more bittersweet than angry. “Doesn’t matter who’s a better setter, Eita.” And wait, when had Kenjiro started calling the third year by his given name? Well, Wakatoshi would have to question it later. “What matters is you have more experience with syncing than I do, and any other player on this team could tell you that. When it comes to performance, one of our middle blockers could probably even give me a few pointers if they tried. Stop doubting yourself.”

Despite what could be interpreted as harsh words, everyone in that gymnasium knew that was the closest thing to Kenjiro’s love language: prodding frustrations that if you read into them just enough would reveal his care for you.

Eita knew Kenjiro more than anybody did. If Wakatoshi were to guess who could even come close to measuring up to Eita when it came to the stubborn second year it would be Satori. Then again, he may have just been biased in his opinion.

But Eita smiled at Kenjiro, and Wakatoshi already could tell the grey-haired boy wouldn’t refuse after that. Eita sighed, hands on his hips and dropped his head to look at the floor before shaking it in what almost seemed to be relief. The smile on his lips also seemed to widen momentarily before he just nodded, syndicating a yes. Kenjiro held his head high and had a bit more pep in his step as he picked up another ball and passed it to Eita.

“Then toss it to me, music boy.”

They all took their positions on the court and Wakatoshi blocked out the rest of the world around them. On those polished wooden floors of gymnasium is always where he’d felt most at home, and therefore by association, his teammates did, too. It was an inhale and an exhale, simple and steady breaths which honed his sights on the ball.

Eita swung his arms downwards and Wakatoshi sprung into a running position. He watched as Kenjiro placed his feet to the floor in finality and reached to cushion the ball in the palms of his hands, signaling Wakatoshi’s time to jump. The ace looked up and over the net now. He placed his trust in Kenjiro, in the teammates beside him. With the bat of one strong left hand and a loud echo bulleting throughout the gymnasium, it was over. And yet the ace would never get used to the feel of flying.

It was exhilarating and just what he needed. So much of what he needed that he didn’t even hear as the front entrance doors swung open.

Yu ran as soon as the two figures were revealed, a wide-eyed Taichi not that far behind. Akakura seemed to hold back from doing the same among seeing Hayato standing next to who they’d all been secretly waiting for.

Wakatoshi only turned to look when he first heard Yu yell out Satori’s name. He couldn’t believe it. No, when he’d turn to the heavy metal doors all who would be there was Hayato. No, there was no possibility of it actually being Satori. But right there, and standing right next to Hayato, was the red-haired boy.

He wanted to move, to greet Satori in the same excited manner in which everyone else was, but his feet felt as if they were planted onto the floor. All Wakatoshi could do was stare. Satori was walking in, which was a good sign, but the ace didn’t miss the still present tiredness plaguing his Guess Monster’s face.

Yet despite Satori’s clear tiredness, the boy didn’t miss the chance to excitedly greet his teammates as if their schedule was going to go back to normal.

– –

Satori still couldn’t believe that he was back. Well, somewhat.

Being told by a reluctant Nurse Rina that he’d be able to return to school that Monday morning had made him almost skyrocket off the hospital bed before getting a painful reminder of the aching in his legs. Luckily enough, his mother had been there at his side to half-catch him, but her scolding didn’t dull his overwhelming relief.

Of course there were worries he’d have to deal with later, things Satori and his mother would have to figure out on behalf of his neurologist. But the red-haired boy had pushed those thoughts away for the moment, opting to revel in the more positive emotions that came with not being cooped up in the sterile hospital room any longer (seriously, one more headache from those bright ass walls and he would’ve gone insane).

When Satori had texted Hayato that same night he returned home and asked the third year libero to walk to school with him for his first day back was when Satori really felt the nervousness settle in his stomach. What if he got overwhelmed? What if his performance didn’t match up to before? What if his teachers were unsatisfied with his work? These were all questions that plagued his mind.

After a while of tossing and turning in his sheets he even found himself unable to sleep, so had begrudgingly taken some melatonin to fall faster. Satori never liked taking it unless he had to since it made him all the more drowsy the next day, and he really didn’t need that if he was going to perform the best he could at morning practice. Coach Washijo was known for his relentless ways.

Still, when he woke he tried not to think of it. If anything Satori more felt himself spaced out, on some kind of auto-pilot mode as he ate and brushed his teeth that morning. Hayato had come to his residence, much to Satori’s gratitude, and soon enough the two were on their way towards the front gates of Shiratorizawa Academy.

And honestly it might’ve been half of an excuse to get to morning practice a bit later than planned, but when they passed the convenience store he often visited with Wakatoshi he told Hayato to wait outside while he went to the refrigerated area. For a moment Satori just stared at the wall of flavored drinks before grabbing two familiar bottles and paying at the cash register.

He didn't let Hayato see them, placing the small bottles into his schoolbag, adding even more weight to his shoulder, fearful of the teasing that would ensue if the libero saw.

The sky was still dark in color as Satori became all-too aware of the camera weighing down his schoolbag. It was only a small Sony his mother had leftover from adventures during her days in the red light districts and, thankfully, she had made sure to remove all those photos and videos which Satori would rather die than gaze upon in his life. Dr. Makoto had practically ordered them to film Satori at one of his volleyball practices, at the very least.

He didn’t know why, but the thought of having to ask for permission to film, having to explain why just felt so off-putting to him. It felt embarrassing and he could already feel all his teammates’ eyes burning into him from behind.

“You’re nervous.”

The sudden break in silence made Satori flinch violently into the air, greatly frightened momentarily before his brain registered the voice as Hayato’s. Quickly, the red-haired boy tried to disagree with his friend’s statement but the smug look on Hayato’s face seemed to already be painting out how he’d practically jumped out of his skin. He sighed.

“You can talk to me about it, you know. If you want to,” Hayato offered gently. “You were just in a hospital for, like, ever, so I get it if–” Satori didn’t mean to cut Hayato off with yet another huffed sigh but he couldn’t help it.

“It wasn’t forever,” Satori half-laughed. “Though it sure did feel like it, didn’t it? Always does.” Hayato’s smile towards him turned a little bittersweet but neither of them commented on it. “I’m just… Well, I guess I’m just scared.”

“You say ‘just scared’ as if it’s not that big a deal.”

“Because it’s not,” Satori somewhat snapped. He didn’t like to be questioned about things like this. At least not ones that weren’t from Wakatoshi who always had a way of making him feel as if no matter how he answered everything would be alright, understood even.

“Well I think it is,” Hayato countered, though not with as much aggressive wit Satori had from drawn-out exhaustion. The red-haired boy silently thanked him for it. “Going into this scared and not backing down, no matter how much I know you’re telling yourself you’re being dramatic about it right now, is a brave thing to do.”

Satori couldn’t help but laugh then, it was his default to uncharacteristic seriousness. “You sound like some philosopher, Hayato-kun!” he sputtered. “Life’s not some Pixar movie.” Satori was vaguely aware of how his sudden, stumbling words were meant to distract from the real conversation being had, but he really didn’t want to acknowledge it.

When a silence loomed over them for a few seconds Satori started to panic slightly. He knew the libero was seeing right through him and he would’ve appreciated it on any other day, possibly, but at the moment he hated it.

And Hayato didn’t downright acknowledge Satori’s avoidance, and didn't force some kind of straight answer from Satori afterwards. Instead, Hayato slung a comforting arm over his shoulder, only slightly awkward from their height difference.

“Well, either way–whether you’re scared or not–it doesn’t matter. I will still be by your side to fight them off if they make you too overwhelmed.”

Satori couldn’t help how he immediately relaxed at the words with an intake of air. A part of him wanted to cry and sob into his friend’s shoulders right then and there, to not move a step more until he was sure Hayato knew just how much he just appreciated his presence these last few weeks.

The red-haired blocker was stupid. He knew it hadn’t been easy for Hayato either, all this stress, and having to lie to the team because he couldn’t just get over his own fears. Satori knew he hadn’t been fair to his friend, even if he was justified in keeping his disability between them for a little longer since Hayato had been made to lie. Hayato hated lying. Yet, here the boy was, still by his side with seemingly infinite reassurance.

“Yeah, yeah,” would be all Satori said though. There was a silent but mutual agreement between the two of them that nothing else of value really needed to be said as they finally walked through the school gates and towards the gymnasium. “Now let’s get this embarrassment over with.”

As predicted, when they push through the metal doors of the gymnasium a fair amount of their teammates rush to the entrance to greet them–or more, Satori–in terribly hidden shock. Yu, Satori’s first year underling, practically jumped into his arms before forcing himself back upon seeing his still tired form. Right behind him was Taichi, where Kenjiro followed and then Eita.

“Tendou-san!” Yu greeted excitedly. “I’m so glad you made it! I know you said you might but I wasn't sure.”

“I know. I wasn’t so sure I was gonna be able to show up today either, but the hospital gave me the clearance last night when I got discharged.” Satori tried to smile but he could feel that it wasn’t necessarily reaching his eyes. He was happy, don’t get him wrong, it had just been a while.

“Well we’re all relieved just to have you back,” Eita assured while standing next to Taichi. “We’ve been missing our Guess Monster, you know.”

“Yeah,” Satori huffed.

“I was just setting some spikes to Ushiwaka,” Kenjiro said. “Are you gonna block for us?” Satori stilled and looked over the second year setter’s shoulder to meet Wakatoshi’s gaze. The ace was wide-eyed and flushed at the top of his cheeks, and apparently shell-shocked into place. Satori didn’t blame him. He was aware of how unexpected this was.

“I can help with the blocking if you need help today, too,” Taichi piped in, warily scanning Satori over. “Just so you don’t push yourself.”

“Oh!” Yu jumped. “I can help, too, Tendou-san! Are you–”

“Guys, calm down!” Hayato suddenly voiced a little too loud. “You’re even creeping me out.” And when the frantic first year started to mutter his apologies Satori felt guilt wrack his stomach as he focused his vision back onto the teammates who were in front of him.

“Shibata,” Satori interrupted, “it’s okay. I’d actually really appreciate the… help, from both you and Taichi.” He tried not to voice the word like it was poison on his tongue. “Shirabu, I’d love to block for you and Ushiwaka. I just… have to talk to Coach first.” Kenjiro and Eita looked to be side-eyeing him for a second before the second year finally muttered his okay, and Satori rushed out of the small semi-circle which had formed itself around him.

Jin had quickly caught sight of the red-haired boy hastily making his way over to the corner where the vice captain was conversing with the coaches. Jin made eye contact with Reon from across the room, the two nodded to each other, and then he bid a small farewell to his coaches before walking away. He didn’t seem to miss the relieved expression that painted itself on Satori’s face.

“Coach Washijo, Coach Saito!” Satori attempted to greet in his usual sing-song voice they were all used to.

The red-haired blocker didn’t miss how Saito tried (and failed) to sneak an apprehensive glance to the more diligent of the two. Still, Satori ignored it, opting to pretend nothing was bothering him at the moment despite being in the hospital not even twenty-four hours beforehand.

“I needed to talk to you about something.” The two men stiffened at how suddenly Satori’s voice had dropped into a cautious whisper, obviously envisioning the worst case scenario already. “It’s nothing serious,” Satori assured, “just… embarrassing.” Thankfully, that seemed to calm them.

“Whatever it is, we'll try our best to accommodate, Tendou,” Coach Saito spoke quietly. Washijo didn’t say anything, but with a small yet noticeable nod made sure Satori knew he had the man’s attention.

“Uh, well…” Satori paused. Shit. How was he supposed to explain this again? Like, yes, it wasn’t that complicated and all, and he was sure his coaches would understand the why in it, but that reason wouldn’t stop the unrelenting sick feeling stirring in his gut. “My neurologist requested something from me, and it would require something from our practices as well.”

“Oh, well what is it?” Saito asked. “As I said, we’ll accommodate to the best of our abilities, and that includes making you more comfortable in whatever this request from your doctor is.” Satori smiled even though the quiet man’s words of affirmation weren’t entirely enough to completely get rid of his nervousness.

“He requested that I… film some practices, you know, to see if… strenuous activity is having any effect on it.” And Satori knew he didn’t have to refer to his PME as ‘it’ anymore but it still felt taboo to say in such an open-feeling area. It was kind of funny. Satori always preferred to be ‘open’ in more closed-off spaces, away from prying eyes and ears he couldn’t control.

“Okay,” was all Coach Washijo said casually, as if it was the most nonchalant thing in the world. “Is that all?”

“Um, yeah, actually. Wait–aren’t you gonna ask more questions about it?”

“No. It seems well-intentioned enough.”

Satori just gawks at the man, somewhat aware of Saito’s amused look on his face and the pairs of eyes starting to glance their way.

“What is it, boy? Do you need help setting it up or something?” The sharp questions shook him out of his stupor and Satori clicked his jaw shut. For a moment he took the time to search his coaches eyes for any hints of hesitation, but only found their blanketed trust he’d become so familiar–and so comforted–with. Satori shook his head no.

“Not at all. I just wanted to get your permission beforehand.”

Coach Washijo then motions for him to get along with it, muttering under his breath little encouragement. The gymnasium felt as if it had doubled–no, tripled–in size as Satori made his way over to an empty containment cart. He then flipped the plastic cube over before reaching into his schoolbag and pressing the record button on the Sony camera.

Briefly, his hands had grazed the two bottled drinks in his bag and Satori felt his cheeks flare up in heat. Right. He’d gotten those, didn’t he. Satori had to ignore the impending urge to turn to the ace right then.

– –

It took a surprisingly long time for anyone to question Satori about the camera obviously placed to film them.

The morning practice went like any other, although Satori did notice the easier drills and tried to ignore them to the best of his ability. It wasn’t like they were particularly different, but with the lack of Coach Washijo’s booming voice yelling at them to ‘Force it,’ or ‘Run harder,’ it was very easy to point out. Luckily, however, no one on the team did, opting to just be thankful for the lack of forcefulness by their most stern coach.

Laps around the gymnasium and out through the abandoned back of the main school building were slower, with less of a numbing burn aching their calves, but Satori can’t help but be paranoid anyway.

Yes, he knew before this that physical exertion could make epilepsy symptoms flare–could even trigger some of Dr. Makoto’s epileptic patients’ seizure activity–but Satori had been lucky enough to ignore that personal possibility. He cooled down when he had felt like he needed to, went to the bathroom if he ever felt an aura (which he was convinced wasn’t from volleyball), and took care in taking his medications on time each day.

He was not triggered by physical exertion. He was not triggered by volleyball, by his paradise. So, goddamnit, why was he so paranoid now?

Leave it up to Dr. Makoto to put yet another fear into his head, another barricade between him and living free. Satori hated how at each stop he wondered if that was going to be the moment he dropped and he caused fear to erupt. He wasn’t deserving of that. Couldn’t make them watch. It sizzled his brain more than any seizure could.

Practice ended with no symptoms other than the already present healing from his previous seizures. At least, that Satori knew of or could make any actual negative impact. They’d been dismissed to showers when it was finally brought up.

“Hey, Tendou, are you getting footage to promote the volleyball team for next year or something?” The question from Yunohama was attempting to be ambiguous, though Satori knew what lay beneath. The red-haired boy could see how Hayato went to strike the line down but he interrupted first.

“It’s for my neurologist,” he said, opting for the truth. “But if you second years want some of the footage for that then that’s okay, too. It’s not a big deal.” Yunohama and all the other second years shook their heads in acknowledgement.

It seemed to be enough and if anyone had any other peeking questions they didn’t ask them. Satori thought briefly about how if this was how easy it was when he told the truth, then he really should’ve started doing it sooner.

– –

Changed out of their morning practice clothes into school uniforms and hair still slightly damp from the showers, Satori was fixing gel through red locks while waiting for Wakatoshi.

No matter how weird it may sound, Satori often found this time in his days he’d recently lost to being stuck in a hospital bed relaxing. It was a way of centering his focus to a single point while not being alone, teammates and friends surrounding him and doing their own thing at the same time. It was peaceful. It was Satori’s paradise.

When his hair was stuck up in the air with no signs of moving out of place Satori placed the hair gel back into his locker and shut the metal door. He’d let out a puff of laughter through his nose upon seeing Umeda scolding Tsutomu about properly drying his hair only to grab the towel from the first year and do it himself. Yeah, he loved this place. He didn’t ever want to leave.

Suddenly Satori felt eyes on him and turned to make eye contact with the same boy he’d been waiting for. Wakatoshi looked at him as if Satori was the only one in the room but at the same time was so unreadable with what he was really thinking it made the red-haired boy shiver.

“Are you okay, Satori?” the ace asked, and yet another wave wracked itself through the boy’s spine. Right. Wakatoshi had started calling him by his given name. Not that big a deal. So why was he panicking now?

“Uh, yeah. Of course. Guess it just feels a little surreal to be back.” Wakatoshi then scanned over Satori’s expression at an easy pace. The red-haired blocker could feel his hands getting clammy at his sides at the attention, especially since the Miracle Boy was the only one he seemed to never be able to read back. That was his specialty. So why couldn’t he use it?

The ace’s eyes steadied once more on Satori’s. “Okay. I was only making sure. You seemed a little… skittish? No. Perhaps cautious. Sorry. I don’t quite got the word for it at the moment.”

Satori stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, silence between the two of them palpable as the locker room stayed in its constant organized chaos, before Satori simply laughed. Not mockingly or sadistically like he did on the court, but just laughed. His cheeks hurt at the stretch of his smile and eyes swell into tiny slits.

“Did I say something funny?” Wakatoshi asked, genuinely curious when Satori seemed to somewhat get his bearings after the fit.

“No, no, it’s not that.” Satori rubbed a hand over his face in exhilaration, the smile still plastered on his lips. “It’s just, ah. Honestly, I don’t really know. But I liked it. A lot. It made me feel a lot better.” He wiped at his left eye before finally standing up straight again. Cute, Satori thought, seeing Wakatoshi’s little head tilt. “Thank you, Ushiwaka. You always make me feel better, you know.”

Wakatoshi’s cheeks fluster and Satori fucking chuckles, trying not to acknowledge the whole thing for what it is. And they both definitely ignore how the whole locker room, especially Hayato and Jin, are now looking at them with smug ‘I told you so’ expressions on their faces.

– –

The third years got to their hallway and Satori didn’t miss how there was the usual circle of admirers waiting for their chance to spot Wakatoshi at the corner.

In some ways, this made him proud. It made him proud in the sense of people acknowledging his Miracle Boy’s talent and determination for what he was passionate about. However, in other ways, bitterness seeped into his consciousness. Because they only saw him at open practices where they only watched, or at games where they ogled his popularity among the crowds.

But Satori? Satori had seen Wakatoshi smiling warmly in contrast with being drenched in cold rain. Satori had seen Wakatoshi in care, when the ace wouldn’t hesitate to perform dialogue from a novel when Satori was still in the hospital. Satori had seen Wakatoshi not even hesitate to pick out their favorite snacks and drinks after school at their usual convenience store every day with a comforting smile on his face.

“Did you get all your schoolwork done alright?” Satori vaguely heard Jin ask from beside him.

“Yeah, but it was a pain in the ass,” he replied mindlessly, focusing more on unzipping the schoolbag over his shoulder.

Wakatoshi was starting to turn his attention to Reon and Hayato, since the three of them were in the same class together, but Satori not-so-quietly called for it once again. The ace (and consequently, the group of admirers) looked at the red-haired boy.

“Is something wrong, Satori?” Wakatoshi asked, and suddenly the blocker’s previous jealousy-induced confidence washed out of his system at the contact.

“No. Nope, as I’ve said, uh, nothing’s wrong.” Satori inwardly cringed at how many times he paused in what should’ve been a straight-forward answer.

However, instead of making the moment even worse for himself, he continued to lift the flavored drinks from his schoolbag and into the light of day. Wakatoshi watched these movements carefully, as if he didn’t then Satori would disappear right in front of him and all of this would’ve been fake. Satori couldn’t help but find the set yet soft gaze incredibly endearing.

“Hayato-kun and I passed by our store on the way to school this morning,” Satori explained, as if he really needed to. Satori then separated the two drinks to hand over the passionfruit flavored drink into Wakatoshi’s hands. “Uh, I thought I… you know,” Satori stuttered as he felt heat fill his cheeks. Shit.

Wakatoshi’s lips parted in what looked to be shocked fondness towards the clear blend of gift giving and act of service.

If Jin and Reon were having a silent conversation through eye contact that no one else was a part of, no one would comment on it. And if Hayato and Eita were staring at the hopelessly-romantic-but-not-romantically-involved pair, no one bothered closing the mouths which were almost on the tiled floors.

“Oh, thank you!” Wakatoshi said a little more loudly than normal once he was out of his lovestruck stupor. The ace cradled the drink as if it was a fragile glass doll–something expensive and actually of value and something not given from Tendou fucking Satori. It made flattery stir in the red-haired boy’s chest.

Wakatoshi’s mouth opened again but the school’s warning bell rang through the halls. Always getting interrupted one way or another, huh.

“Come to my house after school.” And Wakatoshi didn’t know what forced those words out of his throat at the last second as Reon and Hayato half-dragged them into their respective classroom, but he didn’t regret it.

Mouths still somewhat agape, the three boys were terribly, distinctly aware that they probably looked like dead fish friends that had washed up on a lake shore. Eita was the first to move, though nothing becoming of comprehensible words really left his lips. Who could blame him though? The two biggest hopelessly in love idiots he knew–who were constantly making everyone on the volleyball team scream with cringe at how they openly flirted with each other–were suddenly not so hopeless?

To Satori’s dismay, however, the first of them to find their words was Jin.

“Oh, my sister’s gonna love hearing about this later,” he teased with his chin now resting on Satori’s shoulder. The red-haired boy squawked and quickly turned around to glare at his friend, only to pathetically fail at the endeavor. Eita laughed hysterically while Jin just put up both hands in surrender.

“Soekawa!” Satori all but whined.

– –

Classes were a drawn-out ordeal. Well, even more so than usual.

In the past Satori had always been the most criticized of his classmates for not paying attention, almost constantly being in his own made-up world when the important intruston wasn’t actively in motion. Still, even with the already predetermined short attention span, his teachers didn’t fail to notice his more than usual wandering gaze out the windows.

Some of them were kind and gentle with bringing Satori back to the classroom, whether it was with a soft call of his name or a grounding hand on his shoulder. The red-haired boy appreciated them more than he could effectively voice out in the moment, especially when it came to going over the extremely confusing schoolwork due to being absent the last few days while in a goddamn hospital.

However, of course, some others were not so forgiving with the boy, and it made Satori feel overwhelmingly embarrassed. The calculus teacher, an older man with slipping squared glasses that sat awkwardly on his nose, had seemed to have a particular vendetta against Satori because he hated young people who ‘never wanted to work.’ Yeah, sure, old man, how about you check some of those dated newspapers? That quote is never new.

Satori just tried his best not to cower. It doesn’t matter, he thought. He doesn’t matter, this old geezer doesn’t fucking matter. He doesn’t know anything.

Still, the reassuring thoughts he’d try to give himself didn’t seem to work and Satori spirals through the rest of the old man’s calculus class. Anxiety creeped in at the edges of Satori’s senses and blocked out any other person in the room, pushing him into hyper-awareness. He felt every tingle left in his body of his exhausted limbs healing from the back-to-back seizure and then from the morning practice activity Satori had forced upon his body.

At some point, when the older man had left and their calculus class had ended, Eita turned around in his seat to nudge Satori out of his own head. The pain didn’t go away (unfortunately), but it made the self-deprecation at least mingle into the background. Looking up slightly more, Satori saw Jin across and to the right of him asking him the silent question of if he was okay with the team’s on court hand signal.

Satori’s shoulders and thighs relaxed–which he didn’t even realize he’d been clenching–and allowed a soft smile to plant itself on his lips. He gave a thumbs up as an indication he was going to be okay and Jin let it go. Eita passed him a piece of notebook paper with a silly face messily drawn through the lines–something the setter knew Satori liked.

Yeah, maybe classes weren’t going to be the best for him that day, but everything was still going to be okay. Something bad–terrible even–could happen, yet Satori could feel at peace in his friends’ arms. He loved his friends.

– –

Through the absolute emotional pigsty that was his classes, Satori still hadn’t completely forgotten what Wakatoshi had shot in his face, words clear and unmistakable, but it didn’t fully sink in until that evening’s practice after school was let out. And even before, the ‘nerv-cited’ anticipation was definitely building in his gut and just waiting for permission to implode him from the inside-out.

Locker rooms and locker room showers were gross, sure, but Satori couldn’t help the longing glances made at slightly chapped lips that belonged to his peculiar Miracle Boy.

It’s embarrassing. It was all so embarrassing. It was embarrassing how he couldn’t do what he usually did when he got like this and just let out a silent yet thrashing scream into his pillows at home, feet kicking up into the air like some sort of Disney princess. But now there was nothing to scream into, not if he wanted to continue to appear at least half-sane (which he definitely was not).

Either way–screaming into some decade-old pillow or not–Satori found he probably wasn’t doing the best job at hiding the urge to let himself fall into whatever warmth Wakatoshi wafts from his lips.

Fuck Hayato and his goddamn ‘risque’ eyebrows.

Satori had made sure to send a quick message to his mother that he was going to be home later than usual, but would be back before it was too late to take his medication. The red-haired boy may have been half out of his mind but he knew that he couldn’t bargain too much in changing his end of the day routine with his increasing seizures.

It was too risky. Satori did not want to hone in on that thought for long.

The cement walkways beneath their feet felt all-too consuming as the two boys began their way to Wakatoshi’s house. The never-ending sky above them was too far away to touch, too beautiful and, in some sick and twisted way, it’s humbling. They’re only these miniscule specks in the vast space that was the universe, and here Satori was, fretting over Wakatoshi inviting him over to his house; not even a first time thing.

Briefly, Satori thought to himself that he didn’t even care about this concept. No fear came to him with this repeated realization. He’d be perfectly fine with sinking into the earth, and become a part of its life. It would be even more than perfectly fine if Wakatoshi was there with him.

There was no hesitation in either of the boys’ movements as they both diverged to pick up some snacks from their favorite convenience store, along with the flavored drinks that filed themselves with the other so effortlessly. It was known by heart by then; Satori was always mango, Wakatoshi was always passionfruit.

Wakatoshi’s house wasn’t too different from how Satori remembered it. Shaking their shoes off at the genkan, the two boys semi-quietly made their way to the kitchen, where Satori spotted a woman with a clip in her hair standing. He recognized her as Wakatoshi’s mother.

“Ah, Tendou-kun,” the woman greeted in faux-politeness. She didn’t hate the red-haired boy her son had become so attached to by any means, but had always been more cautious. Satori tried his best to not be affected by it. He ignored it, understood it even.

“Okamoto-sama,” he greeted with a bow. It seemed to please the traditional woman enough, and relief flooded Satori’s senses.

The woman then dismissed them soon after with warnings to make sure that their schoolwork was finished before the next day’s classes. Wakatoshi had given his mother solace in that he always made sure it was before they were disappearing into the ace’s bedroom.

Satori tried to ignore his heart thrumming in his chest as if it were going to rip through flesh and bone and muscle, just to spite rationality and give over completely to the ace. And unbeknownst to the red-haired boy, Wakatoshi was having his own dilemma. Wakatoshi hadn’t felt totally conscious when he’d asked Satori to cme over after school, but now they were in his room and there was no going back.

Don’t act weird, he thought to himself. This is normal. We’ve been to my house alone before.

“I’m nervous,” Satori said suddenly, honestly. He pushed out a small laugh with a wobbly smile. It was his safety net: blatantly honest truth to get everyone’s guard down. It worked on the court. Why couldn’t it work anywhere else?

“Me, too.” Wakatoshi’s eyes were scanning the floor. They got hooked on what he knew. A plump volleyball there, just waiting for them to cope with. But the ace swallowed, and imagined contemptment instead. “We can go out to my backyard. It’s mostly out of view from the rest of the house so it’d be private, too.” The boy’s cheeks flushed when he realized his words could’ve been taken as an insinuation before adding, “Just while we talk.”

Satori felt comparatively awkward, lean figure against Wakatoshi's olympic-levely trained body sitting on the porch leading to well-maintained spring grass. The slight purple hues bleeding into the edges of the sky were starting to make the plants’ usual green look like a downcasted periwinkle. It was something beautiful, and Satori vaguely remembered seeing a similar sight the first time he’d come around here in their first year. They’d have to take more advantage of Wakatoshi’s backyard.

“Why did you ask me to come here?” he asked in a desperate attempt to break through the silence that wasn’t the cicadas chirping in the distance.

“Did you feel obligated to come with me because I didn’t give you time to answer in the hallway? If so then I apologize.” Satori huffed and nudged the ace’s shoulder with his own lightly.

“No. I never feel obligated by you,” he said. And in his mind he added, Never in a way I don’t wanna be, before shaking the stupidly cheesy thought away. “Only curious, you know? Kinda came out of nowhere. Though, we’ve been friends long enough to where you could sneak into my room at night and I probably wouldn’t question it when I woke up in the morning.”

Satori had a teasing expression on his face before he even turned to look at Wakatoshi. And when he did, the ace had what Satori guessed was his equivalent to a warning glare. He’d only seen it aimed at him a few times, but it never failed to make Satori laugh at cracking the Miracle Boy’s exterior.

That ‘random’ example of their friendship hadn’t been so made-up.

“The only reason I did was because I got locked out of the house that night,” Wakatoshi protested.

“You mean because you locked yourself out that night.” Satori pursed his lips and Wakatoshi flustered in humiliation.

“Doesn’t matter,” Wakatoshi quickly responded, a small smile playing on his lips as Satori laughed at his suddenly childish attitude. He took a deep breath in to steady his voice. Satori still looked tired, so he’d have to go slow. “How are you feeling?” he asked finally, after what felt like minutes of waiting.

Satori’s head tilted to the side, considering, before looking out into the yard and up at the sky. Wakatoshi cursed himself for visually outlining the details of the red-haired boy’s face. He could only wish they were here on better terms; perhaps in the aftermath of a long date or baking sweet treats in the kitchen all morning.

Those fleeting fantasies coursed a huge dose of dopamine through the ace’s veins, but Wakatoshi ignored how much his breathing seemed to increase. That wasn't important, at least not right now. What was important was making sure his best friend (who he was in love with?) was okay.

“I’m…” Satori paused. “I think I’m doing alright. I mean, it hasn’t all really set in yet, you know?”

“How so?”

“Well, I know I’ve been having more seizures than usual–more severe ones, too, but it’s been hard to actually be aware of the seriousness of it. Like, I don’t want you to think I’m dying or anything–I don’t think that at all. But, you know. It’s hard, and I’m always so tired, though I have nothing to show for it! I don’t know. That’s probably one of the hardest parts about it.”

Satori made sure he didn’t tell Wakatoshi about the scars atop his shoulders. They were faint enough to play off as stretch marks now that he was practically a lean giant, he wasn’t going to take his own completely believable excuse away.

“Bet it sounds crazy, but sometimes I just wish that if I was gonna be born with this thing then the least it could do would be to make me stronger. Make me… have a sense of purpose along with it. I don’t though. It does what it wants, it doesn’t leave anything of value behind, and I’m stuck trying to figure out why.”

“Okay,” was all Wakatoshi said. The ace couldn’t deny how the confusing, unfamiliar words were whirling around in his head, but in some weird way he could still understand Satori on some level.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I will not claim to know exactly what you are feeling, or what you mean by those words since I have no experience of my own, but I will comfort you the best I can by being able to hear them anyway.”

And for a moment Satori only sat there in blank stillness, too shocked to move before taking in a lungful of air. Satori’s eyes burned. Shit, when had his vision started to blur?

“Satori?” Wakatoshi asked, hesitant worry lacing his voice. The red-haired boy attempted desperately to blink the watery tears prickling at the corners of his eyes away. He almost sobbed when he felt Wakatoshi’s hand on his shoulder, small amounts of body heat radiating from the pads of the ace’s strong yet gentle fingers. Satori forced himself to face his best friend since first year.

“I just, um.” Satori swallowed. No, he wasn’t going to be sappy. “Appreciate it, Ushiwaka. I appreciate it.” He forced his voice not to wobble and danced his fingers in a steady rhythm in front of his face. The best way to distract was always to tease. “Always trying to take care of me, aren’t you, Ushiwaka?”

But surprisingly, Wakatoshi doesn’t immediately shut down into some kind of blubbering panic mode like usual, a funny contrast with the ace’s stoic demeanor. Instead, all he said was, “Why wouldn’t I?” and Satori was falling even further.

– –

Unfortunately, the red-haired boy found himself running to Wakatoshi’s bathroom once to calm his body while visiting.

Satori had noticed the ace’s wandering eyes once he’d brung a supporting hand to the left side of his chest, carefully monitoring the breathing occurring underneath his fingertips. It was a symptom Satori felt every once in a while; shortness of breath sucked like a bitch, too. Always made itself known when he was particularly exhausted.

But it didn’t matter. Most of the time, as long as Satori managed to not hyperventilate during one of these spells, he was perfectly fine. If anything, him getting unnerved by it at all was quickly noted as being dramatic, which tended to shut the boy up pretty fast.

Satori could only be thankful that the tattoo on his chest was now beginning to really heal since before then whenever he’d touch the area unprotected a sting of pin would flicker over his skin. He smiled thinking about how the design would always be on his body. And while Satori had heard of people regretting their tattoos, he couldn’t see himself regretting this one, no matter how ‘face value’ some may have considered it to be.

To make sure Wakatoshi didn’t get too suspicious or overly cautious, Satori checked himself over in an appropriate amount of time. He still wasn’t surprised to see Wakatoshi’s perspective gaze upon him once he stepped out though. He turned on his phone to look at the time.

18:30.

Despite himself, Satori felt his shoulders sag as he sighed in slight annoyance. He would probably have to start walking home within the next hour to keep his medication rounds in check at the least. And even then Satori could see his mother scolding him for getting home after dark now that they were heavily monitoring his intake times.

At that moment, Satori missed having the freedom he could only barely grasp in his memories. But maybe that was also dramatic. Satori never knew when he really was anymore, so why voice it at all?

“I won’t be able to stay long,” he said instead. “Medicine.”

“Oh?” a feminine voice unexpectedly spoke from beside them. The boys turned to see Wakatoshi’s mother casually carrying a pot of water which she sat on a nearby counter. “What medicine do you take, Tendou-kun?” Her eyes were beedy, like she suspected she had just caught him red-handed. It made Satori’s stomach drop in humiliation.

“Mom, it–”

“Supplements. That’s all they are,” Satori said quickly under his breath. He hated that he was lying again, but he knew that Wakatoshi wouldn’t get upset over this and couldn’t help the overwhelming sense of defense that took over his mind. He knew Wakatoshi’s mother didn’t like him. Probably thought he was a bad influence on her son. And honestly, to a fault, he understood that. Rumors about his own mother hadn’t done himself much justice in his early years.

“Oh, well those don’t sound too crucial. Missing supplements isn’t that big a deal, is it?” Something in her tone nagged at Satori’s being. It was familiar to him after all, it was the same one he used against opponents on the court; a teasing coo with pursed lips, and such an evil look in his eyes.

“I feel I’ve overstayed my welcome. My mom’s probably wondering where I am anyway.” Satori moved to gather his things from Wakatoshi’s room.

“Wow, Yaeko of all people cares when her son gets home? I didn’t take her for a strict mother.” Wakatoshi gave his mother a betrayed look. Why was she saying all this, and why was it slipping through the cracks like it had some kind of other implication?

Satori felt his own eyes go dark and glazed over with evil intent. She could insult him and be cautious of him all she wanted, but his mother?

His mother, who lost her older sister in the midst of an exhausting drug addiction which wracked her body? His mother, who went to counseling and sobered up to make sure he wouldn’t get taken away? His mother, who even though she wasn’t perfect, always held his hand on train rides home from the hospital when she didn’t know what to say?

The red-haired boy would never put her on a pedestal. Because he was still angry. He was aware of that, and he didn’t doubt that his mother knew it, too. But that was their stuff to work through. Alone. Without unprofessional outsiders’ opinions.

Satori swore on everything he had that if his father were to show up on their doorstep the next day with the biggest and ‘best’ things to the man’s name he wouldn’t go with him. Because when push came to shove, his mother was there, and in his mind that fact alone already made Satori five times the man his father ever was.

“She cares a lot, actually. I just think when she asked for help in the past no one liked to answer her. So she took matters into her own hands. If anything, I’d say that’s even more admirable. Wouldn’t you?”

Wakatoshi’s mother swallowed the poison down in one harsh gulp. Satori knew it had to sting and he took pleasure in it, too. Call him a sadist, sure, but he’d probably be lying awake in his bed at night partially regretting it. Well, would Wakatoshi question him? Probably not. Did he need to say something to defend his mother? Yes. But Satori was definitely scared this display had stagnated any progression made within himself towards telling the ace the truth.

Telling his Miracle Boy he loved him.

A taste of acid filled the back of Satori’s mouth and washed to the front of his tongue. The red-haired boy made quick work of gathering his things from his friend’s room, barely wasting any time to cast a glance over the boy’s minimalist, sparse furniture.

Luckily enough, when Satori came out of the room Wakatoshi’s mother had already made her way completely into the kitchen. He didn’t know if he’d be able to hold back the burning hot tears anymore if he saw her.

“Satori.”

He froze before turning slightly to see an apprehensive Wakatoshi standing awkwardly in his own home–something that didn’t sit right in Satori’s stomach. Guilt gnawed in him. What would happen if Wakatoshi was actually mad at him?

“Let me walk you to the door.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement, yet Satori nodded his head in agreement anyway. Maybe to try and convince himself he had some kind of leeway to an eventual anger. He forced a series of swallows as they made their way to the front entrance.

Satori waited anxiously for Wakatoshi to begin speaking, to begin scolding him for being so passive aggressive towards his mother as the red-haired boy hastily stomped on his shoes at the genkan. But mysteriously, to Satori, he didn’t. Instead, it actually seemed as if Wakatoshi was waiting but Satori didn’t know for what.

Not knowing, Satori sighed, giving up and making ways to step out in the unconditioned air awaiting him outside. Wakatoshi followed him though, and softly closed the door with a soft click behind them to give them some privacy. Oh, Satori thought.

“I think it would be best if I came over to yours most of the time from now on,” Wakatoshi said, breaking the silence. Satori tried putting back on his bordering-on-teasing facade, but it very quickly showed little cracks at the seams he knew his best friend could have seen from a mile away.

“No need to let me down gently, Ushiwaka,” he half-cooed. As stated previously, Wakatoshi saw right through him. The ace seemed to never have any complaints about reminding Satori they were close for a reason.

“It has been a while since I have seen someone not just talk back to my mom, but egg her on and win against her as well. The last time was probably before my grandma died. She was the only one my mom felt she could never win against. It is quite funny to me now, considering how similar they turned out to be.”

Satori was convinced the screaming was going to burst to the surface any second; Wakatoshi never talked this much at once unless it was about volleyball or–if you were one of the lucky few who were able to convince him to–was reading aloud.

“Well, until now. Mom thought the only one she could not win against was my grandma, until now.” Satori thought himself delusional as he briefly believed he saw genuine awe on his friend’s face. But then the blur cleared into a still, final picture. Satori’s eyes widened and jaw relaxed. “Every time I think I know all the reasons to like you, you give me another one. Do you know how much that makes me want to kiss you?”

Satori gasped and vaguely felt his schoolbag slipping from his fingers, though he couldn’t hear it. He was somewhere else; possibly dreaming. He had dreamed of this happening before so logically he could have been, right?

Now, Satori wasn’t stupid. He’d been aware of how their interactions, especially recently, were more on the flirting side. And yes, Satori was arguably that way with everyone. Eita and him had made a point of being so if an older person was staring at them for too long in public. But Wakatoshi had been reciprocating, not to mention flushing at Satori’s little comments when he hadn’t before.

So why was this hard to believe? Well, it was obvious: there would be nothing to come of it. After graduation Satori would impulsively fly up somewhere north, somewhere not even in Japan, and probably not make too much of a name for himself. He’d just live a life full of on-the-spot decisions that ultimately counted up to nothing of value to anyone else but him.

Wakatoshi, on the other hand, had too fucking much ahead of him. Too much attention on him to disappear into the Earth’s ether. And even if Wakatoshi didn’t make the stupider decision of trying to run off with him, that would still do a number on them; having to do long-distance. Surely Wakatoshi had thought of that before spewing out words that made Satori’s heart skip several beats, right?

So why the hell couldn’t he have deflected the feelings into ones of anger like every other emotionally constipated teenager?

Damn the ace. He knew Satori, and he should’ve known by now that Satori couldn’t take things like this.

“You–” Satori stuttered, croaked on a half-done sob he didn’t recognize. The red-haired boy tried to breathe deep into his lungs but the sharp intake seemed to sting more than provide any sort of relief. Okay, so he was on a one-track path to freaking the fuck out. Great. “You can’t say things like that.”

Wakatoshi frowned slightly. “Why not? I want to be nothing but truthful towards you, if I can be. I’m just sorry it took so long. I…” The ace paused for a moment, teeth lightly gnawing at his bottom lip. “I am not used to this,” he said finally, breaking eye contact briefly and seeming way too embarrassed now compared to how straightforward he was earlier. It was giving Satori whiplash, and the boy ignored the trembling in his body long enough to let out a mocking huff.

“Wow. You know, I find that quite hard to believe actually, with your devoted fans and all.”

Wakatoshi's face became more serious like before after Satori spoke. There was a furrow between his brows that the blocker still wished he could smooth out despite being frozen in place. “I have never reciprocated them, the ones who for some reason think they are interested in me romantically. That is foolish of them to say when considering they don’t know anything about me outside of volleyball.” A pause. “Not like you do.”

The red-haired boy felt on fire but entirely numb and weightless at the same time. Most of all, he hated that a big part inside him wanted to fall into Wakatoshi’s arms at the next words out of his mouth. But it’d be relieving, wouldn’t it? Even if, in the end, they’d both be leaving.

“I’ve had some experiences, I guess, but I never enjoyed them. I don’t know–I have conflicting thoughts about those. But I know what I think about you, and I imagine myself liking kissing you.”

Satori took a steadying breath and swallowed surprised tears. His vision cleared and he absentmindedly looked around for anyone possibly watching them before stepping forwards, left foot only briefly getting caught on the strap of his schoolbag. Gaze shifting to Wakatoshi’s slightly chapped lips, Satori could see how the ace’s own heart stopped with a sharp breath.

God, why was he doing this?

He paused his movements and looked back up to make the communication clear between them. It was going to be a stupid decision either way, he supposed, so might as well ask it straightforwardly. Besides, Wakatoshi could’ve been just voicing what they’d both been thinking but also didn’t want to actually take action, similarly to Satori.

Wakatoshi’s pupils began to dilate and then not, like he was trying to decipher the red-haired boy in front of him like so many times before. Satori took note of how his usual embarrassed flush pushed its boundaries and was a more deep-rooted crimson against olive skin. Satori maybe would’ve let a small laugh slip through his lips if it weren’t for how obvious it was that Wakatoshi was trying to gather some semblance of words. He had to beat the ace to them.

“Can I kiss you, Wakatoshi-kun?” he asked barely above a whisper.

A huff of relief and brows shooting up nervously was the first thing of a response he got from Wakatoshi before a simple, “Um.” Wakatoshi suddenly looked panicked but not in a terrified way that would’ve made Satori back down immediately. Satori couldn’t help it; he did laugh that time, though it was low and short. “I–Yes.”

“You don’t seem very confident in your answer.” And, okay, Satori knew he was being a teasing asshole but he couldn’t help it. Watching the stoic Miracle Boy Wakatoshi flail under the pressure was too good of entertainment to just pass it up.

But, surprisingly or unsurprisingly, all Wakatoshi said then was, “Please,” making Satori move on his own.

Their lips touched, Satori felt too afraid to reach out and rest his hands on Wakatoshi’s shoulders. There was a sense that all of this couldn’t really be happening yet there were also too many nerve endings on edge on his spine for it not to be simultaneously.

And it was like Wakatoshi could sense Satori’s self-uncertainty because the ace did what he couldn’t, reaching out to gently hold Satori’s jaw between two strong hands like if he didn’t then the whole world would’ve disappeared around them. Like Satori would disappear from his grasp. Satori found it familiar: the hope you begged not to be desperate.

How long would they last, if they ever could exist at all? Well, Satori didn’t know. But damn it all if they didn’t relish the feeling of each other in that one moment. It wasn’t like how it’s described in romance novels, no overly-sweet tastes or mental fireworks, but it was theirs. Satori could imagine calm evenings spent in the kitchen that way. He could imagine the two of them dancing around each other in fluthers that way. It didn’t have to be overly romantic to be theirs.

They stayed there–warm lips clumsily attempting to memorize the other’s, hands pressed into their bodies as if they would run away otherwise–for a while until Satori felt the comforting pressure from Wakatoshi begin to retreat. It wasn’t a rejection though; Wakatoshi made sure Satori knew that with soothing thumbs.

“Oh,” the ace sighed, lips red and kiss-bitten. They put Satori in a momentary trance before he registered what Wakatoshi had said.

“Oh?” he asked, trying to sound mostly curious and not let any of his own doubts show through.

“Yeah,” Wakatoshi breathed before a rare smile consisting of teeth ripped open his face. “Satori,” he started seriously, “it seems I like kissing you more than I originally measured I would. I apologize.”

Satori flushed but tried to ignore how Wakatoshi obviously spotted it. “Why are you apologizing for that?” the red-haired blocker asked, leaning away a little more now after noticing they were still quite close. And then he regrettably added, “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it either,” because Satori did not intend on voicing to Wakatoshi how much he was now craving warm lips against his own.

“I’m apologizing because I don’t know if I will be able to be around you anymore and not think about it.” Suddenly Wakatoshi fully retreated from Satori, removing his gentle hold on the blocker’s face, and looked around them in worry. It was like he’d been slapped back to reality, and it almost hurt Satori in its bluntness. But he understood. It hadn’t been long since their awkward talk on the couch about queer coding, and about how some people…

“I should go,” Satori said. “My mom’s gonna be expecting me soon so I can’t afford to stay any longer.” Anxiety of his own was creeping up his throat, like he was being watched and like what they had done was somehow morally wrong. Logically Satori knew they hadn’t, but it would take time to unlearn the self-guilt and shame which had been drilled into his head.

“Right, um.” Wakatoshi’s hand twitched. “Satori. Uh, can we…”

“We can talk about this later, Wakatoshi. Promise. It’s just late so we should rest on it first.” Satori could feel his eyes softening at seeing Wakatoshi’s antsy demeanor that itched to reach out but couldn’t. The ace was holding back. Whether that was because he was afraid of upsetting Satori further or himself, Satori realized he could understand it.

Picking up his schoolbag from where he dropped it on the porch, Satori slung its strap over his right shoulder while avoiding eye contact. He had to get away before they actually got caught or Wakatoshi’s mother came out to check on her son only to find the red-haired boy who annoyed her so much was still there.

“Good night, Ushiwaka.”

“Sleep well, Satori.”