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The first time he went into Shirabu’s apartment was to help him move in.
He came back to his apartment building after his morning run, just in time to see Shirabu—still a stranger at this point—standing in the middle of the staircase with a box at his feet. He paused at the foot of the staircase and watched the stranger grunt, kick the box and then glare at it for a good three seconds. Judging by the sea of boxes around him, Wakatoshi guessed that he was moving into one of the empty flats in the building.
“Excuse me,” he said, because he was strong and he can help. The stranger’s eyes instantly snapped towards him. “Would you like some help?”
The stranger set his jaw, his eyes still narrowed. “No, thank you,” he simply said. He wiped his forehead under his light brown bangs and turned back to glaring at his box.
Wakatoshi nodded and made his way up the stairs. When he got close to the other man he said, “I live there,” pointing to the door right above the top of the staircase.
“Oh.” The stranger shuffled to the end of the step. Then he turned to a side so Wakatoshi would have more room to go through. So Wakatoshi turned his body to a side as well and climbed up the steps. As he passed, their chests almost touch. Their gazes locked for a second before the stranger turned away quickly.
When he arrived a the top of the staircase the stranger was no longer glaring at his box, but looking down at the myriad of boxes at the bottom of the staircase.
“Knock on my door if you need any help,” he said. He unlocked his door and entered his own apartment.
A little bit less than an hour later, there was a knock on the door. He was holding a spoon full of miso soup when it came, so he slurped it down, found a cover for his bowl, and finally made his way to the door.
When he opened the door, there was nobody standing there. He frowned and stepped outside to the hallway. There were a few more boxes in the hallway now, but they were all small in size compared to the other lot he saw earlier. The stranger was sitting on the top step of the staircase with his back to him. Wakatoshi looked at him for a moment before he walked down the staircase. He picked up a box labeled ‘textbooks’ with relative ease and made his way up the stairs again. “Which apartment is yours?” he asked.
The other man looked at him incredulously, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed, as if he couldn’t believe Wakatoshi was there. After a moment he pointed to the one across from his. “That one,” he answered.
“Oh, you are my new neighbour,” Wakatoshi said. He shifted the box he was holding to one arm and supported it with his hip. He held out a hand to him. “My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi. Nice to meet you.”
“Shirabu Kenjirou,” the other man muttered, shaking Wakatoshi’s hand. Then he stood. “I’ll let you in.”
Shirabu’s apartment looked exactly like his. It was a simple but spacious studio apartment with a big window on the opposite side of the entrance. There was a table with two chairs in front of the window. A double bed lodged in the right corner of the room while the open kitchen was on the left.
But unlike Wakatoshi’s apartment, which was filled with plants and various workout equipment, everything was bare and empty here. He set down the first box on the old polished floor and went back out. He made a total of eight rounds for ten boxes, and when he finally put the last one down, he clapped his hand a few times to get rid of the dust.
“It’s big,” he heard behind him. He looked at Shirabu, who seemed to taking in his new apartment with awe.
“Big for one person,” Wakatoshi agreed and Shirabu looked at him with wide eyes again, as if he had forgotten he was also there. Maybe he needed time adjusting to a new place. He nodded at Shirabu. “It was nice meeting you. I hope you enjoy living here,” he said politely.
Before he leaves through the front door he heard Shirabu call out, “Thank you for your help!” Wakatoshi turned back to his new neighbour.
“You are welcome,” he said, turned and left.
The second time he went to Shirabu’s apartment, he didn’t actually go inside.
He know it was more common for new neighbours to give gifts to the other patrons, but his mother always urged to be polite to new neighbours, which included returning the favour. He remembered Shirabu saying the apartment feels big, and Wakatoshi always thought plants made very good companions, as well as good housewarming gifts.
Which is why he was holding a set of six small succulents he purchased from his favorite flower shop when he knocked on Shirabu’s door. He heard a conversation halting through the door, then footsteps going towards him. After a second the door swung open.
“Hi,” Shirabu said. Although he looked less angry than the first time they met, his face was carefully indifferent. His eyebrows were dipped just enough to hint an element of cautiousness.
“Hello,” Wakatoshi said. He lifted the set of succulents into view. “This is for you. I apologize for giving you a housewarming gift so late.” It had only been a week, yet Wakatoshi felt he should have done this earlier.
Shirabu blinked. “Oh,” he said, accepting the gift, “Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” Wakatoshi said, “How are you finding your stay so far?”
“Good,” Shirabu simply said.
Wakatoshi nodded. “I won’t disturb you further then,” he said, taking a step back.
“Wait—”
Wakatoshi paused. “Yes?”
“You’re a student too,” Shirabu said, then added “right? University of Tokyo?”
“Yes,” Wakatoshi answered.
A pause. “I’ve—I think I’ve seen you around,” Shirabu said. “On campus, I mean.”
“Oh, I have not seen you around,” Wakatoshi said. School had only started for a week too, maybe that was why. “Perhaps we can have lunch or tea together sometime.”
Shirabu blinks. “Tea,” he repeated.
“Sure,” Wakatoshi said, “I am available on Thursday. There is a coffee shop by the sports center.”
“Wait, what?”
Wakatoshi frowned. “The sports center,” he said, “Where the volleyball courts are.”
Shirabu’s eyes narrow. “No, I know where the sports center is,” he said, crossing his arms.
“Good,” Wakatoshi said, “I will see you on Thursday then.” He turned.
As he entered his own apartment he heard the conversation resume through Shirabu’s door. There was some shouting and maybe laughter. It seemed his new neighbour had good friends over.
Their tea on Thursday went very well. At first Wakatoshi could tell Shirabu was uneasy for some reason. He glared at everything around them but avoided Wakatoshi’s eyes the entire they were queuing in the coffee shop.
However, once they ordered and got some food, Shirabu relaxed visibly. He devoured the banana walnut muffin Wakatoshi recommended to him and promptly started a conversation between them. Wakatoshi found him surprising easy to talk to. He was also a lot more expressive than his default expression of cautious indifference. Tendou, his roommate from last year, told him that he didn’t look very approachable himself. Perhaps that was why they seemed to get along quite easily.
He learnt that Shirabu was in first year studying business and management. He was from a small district in Tottori and he was the first in his family to study in Tokyo. “I want to be somewhere bigger,” he said, “I just needed to get out.”
Wakatoshi understood. Since he was so skilled in volleyball it was natural for him to need to move away from home. When he expressed this, he was delighted to hear that Shirabu played volleyball as well.
“I played setter in high school,” he admitted. He paused and looked up at Wakatoshi, his chin raised and eyes sharp. “I’m going to the tryouts next week.”
Wakatoshi nodded. “You’ll get to set to me then,” he said. He was, after all, the ace of the team despite only being a second year.
“I know,” Shirabu said breezily. Then his eyes widened, “I mean, not that I know I’ll be setting for you. I mean that I know I’ll set for you because you mentioned you’re a regular.”
Wakatoshi tilted his head to a side. “Alright,” he said, because he was not very sure what he was supposed to say. There was also the fact that Shirabu was a light shade of pink right now and Wakatoshi dimly thought that he looked quite…cute, if that was correct the adjective for it.
After they finished their drinks they walked back to their apartment building together. When they got up the first floor, Wakatoshi saw that there were two people outside Shirabu’s apartment. One of them sat on the ground with his eyes closed, while the other leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. The one who was standing spotted them first, walking immediately to Shirabu and him.
“Kenjirou,” he greeted Shirabu with a smile. He had a similar haircut to Shirabu’s, only his hair was curlier and darker in color. “How nice of you to finally show up.”
“Shigeru,” Shirabu greeted back but through gritted teeth. “What are you doing here?”
Shigeru’s smile widened and his gaze goes to Wakatoshi. “Hi, I’m Yahaba Shigeru,” he said, offering Wakatoshi his hand, “Shirabu Kenjirou’s best friend.”
As Wakatoshi went to shakes Yahaba’s hand, Shirabu snorted. “Taichi’s my best friend,” he said.
“Told you.” Taichi—Wakatoshi assumes—stoof up from the ground and walked towards them too. “Kawanishi,” he simply said and offered him a nod. Wakatoshi nodded back.
“Okay,” Yahaba said, “I’m not here to fight over Kenjirou. I’m here—” he paused to look Shirabu “—because Taichi told me about a certain coffee da—”
“Tea,” Shirabu interrrupted, “Wakatoshi and I had tea, Shigeru. There is a difference.”
Yahaba rasied an eyebrow, and then Shirabu and him just stared at each other while Wakatoshi thought he was missing something. He should go anyway, he had plants to water and exercises to do.
“It was nice eating with you, Shirabu,” he said, giving the younger boy a light touch on his arm. Shirabu looked down at his hand, then back up at Wakatoshi’s eyes, face completely unreadable. Oh. Perhaps he shouldn’t have done that. “I’ll see you next week at the volleyball tryouts.” He turned to his apartment.
“See you!”
They walked home together again after their first official volleyball practice. Shirabu got on the team, but only as the secondary setter.
“You are only in your first year,” Wakatoshi said, because he could tell Shirabu has potential, especially after working with him as a player. His tosses were high and accurate, exactly the type that Wakatoshi worked best with. “You can become the main setter in your next year.”
“I want to,” Shirabu said. Even in the dark Wakatoshi could see the determined glint in his eyes. “I came here to play volleyball.”
Wakatoshi nodded. This was definitely something he understands.
At some point these walks home became a routine for them. After practice, even if Wakatoshi stayed for a bit longer to train, Shirabu would either join him or wait for him on the side of the court before heading home together. When they parted at the hallway, they would always share a nod and eventually, a slight smile.
The first time he saw Shirabu smile, he was surprised. In that instant, Wakatoshi thought Shirabu should smile more. The shy curl at the side of his lip brought a natural crinkle to his eyes, making him look softer. Wakatoshi couldn’t help but smile back.
Their meet ups for tea also became a routine, every Thursday and whenever they needed to get a fix of caffeine, or in Shirabu’s case, a banana walnut muffin.
Then something new started too.
Shirabu came to Wakatoshi’s apartment for the first time when he ran out of salt. Naturally, Wakatoshi let him in while he poured some salt into Shirabu’s glass jar. As he did this Shirabu started looking around. He asked Wakatoshi about the various medals and awards that hangs on his wall, as well as all the plants in his apartment. Then when he asked about the separate pictures he has with his parents, Wakatoshi told him about the divorce, something he had only told a handful of people because they cared to asked.
He found himself wanting to Shirabu anyway.
He was sure it was part of the natural trust between the two of them, even though he hadn’t been this close with his setters from junior high or high school. But ever since the first time Shirabu tossed to him, he could tell he trusts him to score. That trust was usually something that needed time to develop, but Shirabu’s certainty in tossing to him made Wakatoshi trust him in return.
Shirabu also invited him to his apartment to watch movies, specifically this science-fiction series called Star Wars. Shirabu seemed very fond of it because when he found out Wakatoshi hadn’t seen any of them, he yelled “what?” and procceded to look at him incredulously. His expression was almost the same as one he gave him when they first met, like he couldn’t believe Wakatoshi existed.
He then suggested they watch it together in his apartment on the following night, “or the coming week, whenever you’re available, whatever, you know?” He didn’t look at Wakatoshi when he said this, instead he stared to a side.
When Wakatoshi entered Shirabu’s apartment the next night, he saw that the walls were no longer bare. There were several posters on various walls, most of them with the words Star Wars on them. He must be very fond of the series.
Before they watched the first movie (“Why are we starting with episode four? Are we not watching them in order?” “It’s part of why this series is genius. Just trust me.” Wakatoshi did, so he complied with a simple nod.), Shirabu made Wakatoshi a cup of tea in a mug with some sort of blue robot on it.
He later learnt that the robot was actually one of the characters from the movie.
“R2-D2,” Shirabu said, his eyes glued to the screen, “he’s my favorite.”
For the following nights of their movie marathon, Wakatoshi picked out the same mug to use. The next time Shirabu went over to his apartment, he let him chooses his own mug.
Shirabu’s eyebrows shot up, then he immediately turned away, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. Wakatoshi was about to ask him what was wrong when he walked over to Wakatoshi’s mug cupboard. He opened it and stood on his tiptoes to glance into the entire collection.
After a few seconds of pondering, he reached into the cupboard and pulled out his Shiratorizawa mug. It was a birthday gift from his high school teammates, a treasured item from his high school days. The outside of the mug was purple with Shiratorizawa’s motto, “Intense Force,” printed in gold. The inside of the mug was white, with the word “Ace” printed in black near the rim.
Wakatoshi smiled. “Good choice.”
He met Yahaba and Kawanishi again in mid-July, just a little before their summer break started in August. Coincidentally, they met the same way as before.
As usual, Wakatoshi and Shirabu walked home together after volleyball practice. When they reached their apartment floor, there they were, Yahaba and Kawanishi in the exact same position as the first time Wakatoshi saw them.
Yahaba leaned against the wall next to Shirabu’s front door while Kawanishi sat on the ground with his eyes closed. When Yahaba spotted the two of them together, a smile comes onto his face. “Just who we’re waiting for,” he said and Kawanishi opened his eyes behind him, turning over to look at Shirabu and Wakatoshi too.
Wakatoshi raised a hand to greet them both.
“Yahaba, Kawanishi,” Shirabu said tightly, “What are you doing here?”
“Do we need a reason to want to visit our friend?” Yahaba asked
“Yes,” Shirabu answered instantly, “because I know the two of you.”
“Always so mean,” Yahaba said with a shake of his head. He turned to Wakatoshi. “He’s never like that with you, is he?”
“Shigeru,” Shirabu warned.
Yahaba holds up his hands. “I’m making conversation, Kenjirou,” he pointed out, “Maybe you should try that instead of being a hedgehog all the time.”
Kawanishi snorted and Wakatoshi had to admit, it was a cute analogy.
Cute. There was that word again.
Shirabu set his jaw. “You guys show up uninvited to my place when I’m hungry and tired after practice,” he said drily, “give me one good reason why I shouldn't just leave you two out here.”
“Because we’re your best friends and you’re a grumpy grandpa who craves company?” Yahaba guessed.
Shirabu glares harder. “Try again.”
Taichi suddenly produced two large plastic bags, both with the logo of a supermarket nearby. “We have food,” he said, then he looked at Wakatoshi, “enough for four people.”
Shirabu, of course, had no reason to reject that reason.
Since Wakatoshi was invited too, he took a shower in his apartment first before joining the other three at Shirabu’s. Kawanishi let him in and told him Shirabu was still taking a shower.
“Meanwhile,” Yahaba said on the sofa, “we should get to know our friend’s neighbour.” He patted the spot next to him on the sofa so Wakatoshi walked over and sit down. “So Kenjirou told us you helped him move into the apartment,” he said and Wakatoshi nodded. “He wasn’t strong enough to carry half of his boxes, was he?”
Wakatoshi tilted his head to a side. “How did you know?”
Yahaba shook his head as Kawanishi pulled out a chair from the table and set it near the sofa. “He didn’t want to spend too much money on boxes, so he got ones bigger than he can handle and then stuffed them all full,” Kawanishi answered.
“Not to mention he has a lot of books,” Yahaba added. “Oh, Kenjirou.”
Wakatoshi smiled. “The three of you are very close,” he observed. Seeing them interact reminded Wakatoshi that he should respond to Tendou’s message about meeting up.
Kawanishi and Yahaba exchanged a look with smirks. “We’ve known each other for a while,” Yahaba explained but Kawanishi rolled his eyes.
“I’ve known Kenjirou for a long time,” he told Wakatoshi, “My family and I used to live in Tottori too, but we moved to Tokyo when I was six. That’s how we know each other.” He jerked a thumb at Yahaba. “He’s only here because we took pity on him.”
“Lies,” Yahaba instantly said. “Regardless of how long we’ve known Kenjirou, we know him almost equally.”
“Sure,” Kawanishi simply said.
Yahaba ignored this. “And as Kenjirou’s friends who know him very well, we think there’s something you should know.” He leaned closer to Wakatoshi. “After you two met for the first time, Shirabu was very curious about you.”
Wakatoshi raised an eyebrow. “Curious?”
Yahaba nodded. “Very curious,” he emphasized, “So curious he spent a lot of time trying to get to know you from a distance, if you know what I mean.”
Wakatoshi could only stare at him blankly. “No, I do not,” he said.
There was a pause.
“We watched him Google you for two hours,” Kawanishi said with a complete straight face, “He found your Facebook and sta—”
“Taichi!”
All three of them turned around to see Shirabu, in his Star Wars t-shirt, wearing his very distinct expression of ‘angry horror’.
It was a special shade of Shirabu that combined his incredulous, ‘I can’t believe you exist’ expression, one that he had given to Wakatoshi on several occasions now, and his narrow eyed ‘why do you exist right now’ expression. He clutched a towel in his hand instead of using it dry his wet hair, causing drops of water to drip down his neck. Wakatoshi followed the movement with his eyes before he looked back at Kawanishi.
Kawanishi, who had always been composed in the two times Wakatoshi had seen him, visibly gulped. He stood immediately. “So we’re all hungry right?” he said, walking towards the open kitchen.
“Yes, very hungry,” Yahaba agreed, standing as well. “I’ll set up the table. Taichi, you deal with the food.” Then he addressed Shirabu, “Your turn to talk to Ushijima.”
Wakatoshi, still on the sofa, looked at Shirabu, who turned pink the second their eyes met. He muttered something about drying his hair first, and by the time he came back the table was all set up with TV dinners.
Kawanishi didn’t get to finish his sentence, but Wakatoshi was sure he knew how it ends.
For the rest of the night, whenever Shirabu looked at him, he turned a little pink again.
Wakatoshi remembered the first time he saw Shirabu like that, cheeks lightly flushed under shy eyes. It was when they first had tea together in what became their usual coffee shop; he remembered being uncertain about using ‘cute’ to describe it.
He was certain now.
Near the beginning of their summer break, the air-conditioning unit in Shirabu’s apartment broke down. Since their landlord was on indefinite holiday, Shirabu had no choice but to open his door and window to let the summer breeze in.
“If that’s even a thing that exists in Tokyo,” he grumbled on Wakatoshi’s sofa. He had a damp towel draped over the top half of his face. He said this was what he did back home in Tottori, when the summers got too hot and he couldn’t go out for a swim.
Wakatoshi offered to let him stay over as often as he liked, of course, it was what a good neighbour would have done. Not to mention they were also teammates—Shirabu wouldn’t be able to play volleyball if he got a heatstroke—and good friends.
He thought they were very good friends, which was not something Wakatoshi had a lot in his life. He preferred it that way though; he preferred fewer close friends, people who understood and cared about him, rather than a lot of acquaintances. But this also meant that when he had found someone he wanted to keep, it might hurt more if the other person didn’t feel the same.
He thought Shirabu considered him a good friend as well. Kawanishi told him that Shirabu made an effort in trying to get to know Wakatoshi before they even interacted for the second time. The thought of Shirabu being curious enough to search for him online makes him feel… something. At the same time, when Wakatoshi only used the word ‘friend’ for Shirabu, it felt…inadequate, like it wasn’t enough encompass why this particular friendship meant so much to him.
“What are you staring at?”
Wakatoshi jolted back to reality. He realized that his eyes had been fixed on Shirabu the entire time he was thinking, but the other boy still his towel draped across his eyes. Was it his setter instincts—because that was something he definitely knew exists—that told him Wakatoshi was staring?
Wakatoshi was an honest person. He didn’t see the point in lying, regardless of the situation, but in this one
“Nothing, I was just thinking,” he said, eve though the honest answer was simply “you.” His lie made something settle into his stomach. He didn’t know what that something was, or what that something meant. He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t just tell Shirabu the truth either. Friends didn’t lie to each other right?
When Shirabu didn’t respond, Wakatoshi finally ripped his eyes away. He tried not to look at Shirabu too long for the rest of the day.
He didn’t succeed.
A few days later, Tendou visited him.
Ever since he messaged him before the summer break, they had been trying to arrange a time to meet. Wakatoshi originally suggested that they have lunch outside, but Tendou said they had done that already and that he was curious about his new apartment.
“Wa-ka-to-shi,” Tendou said when he opened the door for him. “How’s my favorite ex-roommate doing in his lonely apartment?”
“I’m your only ex-roommate,” Wakatoshi said, a little bit confused. “And I’m not lonely in my apartment.” He pointed to his plants by the window. “I have a lot of company.”
Tendou laughed. “Wakatoshi, you’re still the same,” he said, patting him on the shoulder as he brushed past him into the apartment.
When Wakatoshi closed the door, he heard Tendou whistle behind him.
“This is a nice place,” he said with a nod. He took a look at the sofa. “This came with the apartment though, didn’t it?”
“Yes, but it’s comfortable,” Wakatoshi reassured him. He walked over to the sofa himself and sat down.
He waited for Tendou to join him, but the latter remained standing, continuing to look around the apartment. They started their conversations like that, which is what they did when they shared a room last year too.While Wakatoshi lifted dumbbells or did push-ups on the ground, Tendou moved around the room. Even when he was sitting on a chair, he always spun around just a little bit to keep himself in motion.
Eventually, Tendou finished examining every inch of Wakatoshi’s apartment (he doesn’t quite understand what was so fascinating, but Tendou was Tendou).
“Do you want some water?” Wakatoshi asked, standing up from the sofa already.
Tendou walked towards him. “Yes, but—” He pushed Wakatoshi back down on the sofa. “—I’ll get it myself.”
Wakatoshi frowned as Tendou bounced over to the kitchen. “You don’t know where the mugs are,” he said and Tendou turned around, jaw dropped with a hand over his heart in mock hurt.
“Wakatoshi,” he said gravely, “have you forgotten your favorite ex-roommate is the master guesser?”
“You’re the only roommate I’ve ever had—”
“I still remember the day when I realized I ran out of deodorant,” he recalled dramatically, “Since you weren’t in your room I couldn’t ask you to lend me yours, but being the Master Guesser, I instantly knew you keep your deodorant in the first drawer of your desk.”
“Yes, I remember too,” Wakatoshi replied, “I came back just as you were using it.”
Tendou smiled. “Let’s see…” he said. He tapped a finger on his chin as he scanned the total of six cupboards in the kitchen. After two seconds he walked over to the third cupboard to the left, opened it and sure enough, Wakatoshi’s entire mug collection was there. Tendou turned around to give him a smug look. “The Master Guesser,” he said again.
Wakatoshi started to give him applause, but stopped when he saw Tendou take the Shiratorizawa mug out of the cupboard. “Wait, Tendou,” he said.
“Hm?”
He got off the sofa, walked over to the kitchen and promptly plucked the mug out of Tendou’s hands in an instant. “That’s Shirabu’s mug,” he said, placing the mug back in its place in the cupboard.
“Shirabu,” Tendou repeated as Wakatoshi takes out a mug he got in his first year for free. “Who’s Shirabu?”
“He’s my neighbour,” Wakatoshi answered. He set the mug on the kitchen counter and reached for the thermal of hot water.
“Your neighbour has a special mug?” Tendou asked, bending down to look at him as he twisted the cap of the thermal jug open. His questioning wasn’t unreasonable; Tendou knew how much the Shiratorizawa mug means to him.
“We are good friends,” Wakatoshi said, pouring water into the mug, “and he comes over often enough for him to have a mug.”
“Friends, huh?” he heard Tendou say slowly. He paused and then said, “Just friends?”
Water spilled over the mug and Wakatoshi immediately pulled the thermal up. He reached for a towel hanging on one of the drawer handles and pushed the water away from the counter edge so he wouldn’t have to wipe the floor.
“Oh, Wakatoshi,” Tendou said.
“We are just friends,” Wakatoshi said, turning to look at Tendou in the eye.
But Tendou only raised his eyebrows. “I saw the stack of Star Wars CD on your desk. He’s the one who introduced you to them, isn’t he?”
“Why is this relevant?”
“Because you usually don't give popular culture a second glance?” Tendou said, “You barely watch TV or go to the moves. I only got you to go see the new Studio Ghibli movie last year because I told you they showed commercials before the movie starts.”
Wakatoshi looked away. “I am sorry if I hurt your feelings by not taking interest in your hobbies instead,” he said, because he still didn’t see what Tendou is getting at.
“Eh? No, that’s not what I’m trying to say at all!” Tendou exclaimed, “Wakatoshi, maybe you should try to think about what this Shirabu means to you?”
“What he means to me?”
Tendou nodded animatedly. “You said you guys are friends.”
“Yes.”
“How close are you guys?”
He hesitated. “Close,” he said slowly.
Tendou hummed. “So is ‘friends’ the only thing you want to be with him? Or do you want to be even closer to him?”
Oh.
“I…am not sure,” he admitted, “I like talking to him. We get along both on and off the volleyball court. Sometimes I look at him and I do not want to stop.”
“So…”
But Wakatoshi just shook his head. “Just because I feel this way about Shirabu does not mean he feels the same,” he countered, “If he doesn’t feel the same then ‘friends’ is all we’ll be.”
For the first time in the day, Tendou’s lips curled downwards. He frowned at Wakatoshi. “Are you okay with that?”
Wakatoshi shook his head again. “I do not think he feels the same, Tendou,” he said.
Tendou tilted his entire body to look at him. “Did you even tried to find out?”
When he didn’t respond, Tendou offered nothing more. He patted Wakatoshi on the shoulder and started talking about this psychology elective he was taking, leaving him to think about Shirabu on his own.
It bothered him for the rest of the week.
Tendou hadn’t even met Shirabu. Maybe if he had Wakatoshi would be more inclined to “find out,” just as he had suggested.
He couldn’t help but think the stakes were too high.
He stayed out of his apartment to clear his head, spent his time in the sports center or the gym instead. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Shirabu, it was quite frankly the opposite. Having realized how he felt about Shirabu, he thought about him constantly, and that was precisely the problem. He needed to get himself under control or else he might accidentally do something. Shirabu had already caught him staring that day, who knew what else he had done?
So he continued to limit the time he spent with Shirabu. They still had tea and walked home together after practice, but the times they spent at each other’s apartments decreased significantly.
The Star Wars CDs still sat on Wakatoshi’s desk. He knew he should return them soon, even though Shirabu said he had them on his phone and laptop, but aside from the Shiratorizawa mug, they reminded him of Shirabu when he was alone in his apartment.
Oh, but he wasn’t completely alone.
Wakatoshi filled the watering can he kept at the bottom cupboard of his kitchen. Taking care of his plants always offered him peace. It was the serenity of the repetitive action, not to mention it pleased it to see how healthy and strong his plants were.
He opened the door quietly, about to water the little pot of peace lily outside when he heard Yahaba’s voice from Shirabu’s apartment.
“Shouldn’t we close the door to talk about this?”
Since the air-conditioning unit in Shirabu’s apartment was still broken, his front door remained open. “He’s not in,” he heard Shirabu said, “He’s…hardly ever in his apartment these days, and I’m not really sure why.” That is half true. Sometimes he just didn’t respond to Shirabu’s knocks, no matter how much it hurt him to do so. Not to mention how impolite. If his mother ever found out, she would be so disappointed in him.
He watered his peace lily quietly. It would take a second; Shirabu didn’t need to know he was, in fact, in his apartment.
“So remind me, what exactly is problem between you and Ushijima?”
He halted.
“It isn’t so much of a problem,” Shirabu said, “It’s more of the fact that every time I’m with him I think I’ll go insane.”
What?
“You’re so dramatic.”
“Like you’re any better.”
Wakatoshi shouldn’t listen. He shouldn’t keep his door open and listen in on a private conversation. He placed his watering can inside, then pushed the door close quietly, until only a crack of space remained.
He heard Yahaba speak again. “You guys hang out in each other’s places all the time. You still go on coffee—oh sorry, tea dates, right?” There was a pause before Yahaba screamed out, “Ow, Kenjirou, what the fuck?”
“Quiet down,” Shirabu hissed, “He can come back any minute, you know.”
“You step on me and you expect me to not cry out in pain?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Shirgeru, I thought your pain tolerance is higher than that.”
Instead of retaliating, Yahaba sighed. “Shirabu, your crush is making you even saltier than usual, and that’s making you lash out at people who only wants the best for you.”
Crush. His crush. Shirabu’s crush.
“Remind me why I called you instead of Taichi?”
Their conversation strayed to what Kawanishi is doing for the day, something about tutoring kids English from a local high school, and continued on from there. It didn’t seem like they were going to talk about him anymore, and maybe that was for the best. Wakatoshi made the move to close the door when he heard—
“I don’t think he thinks of them as dates. Not just the tea dates, but every time we spend time together too. And we’re hardly even doing that anymore,” Shirabu said quietly. Wakatoshi thought it was sadness in his voice. No, he knew it was now, because he sounded like that too when he talked to Tendou the other day. “Ushijima is…I mean the first time when went for tea is entirely out of courtesy. He doesn’t—” he sighed “—He’s just treating me like a friend.”
Wakatoshi closed the door as quietly as he can. He heard enough.
Knowing how Shirabu felt about him filled him with more happiness than he had ever felt. But knowing how Shirabu thought he felt makes him sad, and he now knew he needed to do something about this as soon as possible.
Roses, it occured to him as he watered his plants at five pm the next day, were how he was going to tell Shirabu.
He was quite excited by this idea. He even messaged Tendou for a second opinion, and received a series of hearts and thumbs up emojis, followed by a “go get ‘em, ace!” So he went to his favorite flower shop with the intention of buying a dozen of roses for simplicity and clarity. But when he enetered the shop, he spotted some freesia by his left and immediately examined them
Trust, that was an important part of their relationship too.
He was picking out a few stems of yellow freesia when the florist came out to greet him. Being a regular at this shop, he trusts her to help him. So he simply told her he needed the perfect bouquet to convey all his love for a boy who lived across the hall. The florist clapped a hand to her mouth and reassured him that they would find the perfect bouquet for this occasion.
She believed in love, and Wakatoshi did too.
It took a long time, as Wakatoshi tried to list out everything he wanted to tell Shirabu: love, joy, trust, loyalty, and even how cute he found him. After close to two hours, they finally assembled the perfect bouquet with roses, freesia, camellia, a few daintier flowers and some greens to compliment all the color.
By the time he was home it was already well over eight pm. He gently put the bouquet on his kitchen counter before he took a shower. He needed to look his best when he finally told Shirabu about his feelings.
Wakatoshi didn’t usually feel nervous. He knew he shouldn’t feel nervous. After all, he knew Shirabu felt the same, so he shouldn’t have anything to worry about. Still, he couldn’t help but feel butterflies in his stomach as he stoof before Shirabu’s door.
He knocked twice.
He held the bouquet behind his back a he waited, and waited.
Finally Shirabu opened the door. He looked annoyed at first, probably because it was late at night and Wakatoshi knew he liked to spend this time winding down, but then when he saw Wakatoshi, his expression melted into surprise instead.
“Ushijima,” he said slowly, “everything okay?”
“Yes,” he answered, “everything is perfect.”
Shirabu narrowed his eyes. “Alright,” he said with a hesitant nod. “So—”
“Shirabu,” he said. He brought the bouquet out from his back and Shirabu’s eyes widened again. They actually grew twice the size they were before. He was so cute. Wakatoshi has never been more in love. “Shirabu,” he said again, this time softer, “I like you.”
Shirabu continued to stare at him in shock. It was that incredulous look again. Like he couldn’t believe Wakatoshi existed, and was standing in front of him with a bouquet of flowers, and also liked him.
This wasn’t exactly how he thought the confession would go. He know Shirabu felt the same, he heard it himself, so why wasn’t he reacting anything? Was he somehow too late? They stood like that, with the bouquet of flowers still between them, for another 15 seconds before Wakatoshi spoke again.
“Kenjirou,” he tried and Shirabu suddenly shook his head. Before he could get another word out, Shirabu slapped his cheeks with both hand. He’d seen Shirabu do this during matches, usually before he switched with the main setter to go into the game. He gathered that the action was something he did to either wake himself up or to tell himself to focus. So if he was doing this now…
Shirabu yanked him down by his shirt collar.
Their noses bumped painfully together because Shirabu squeezed his eyes close and Wakatoshi was too busy looking at him in shock. They ended up toppling over, and Wakatoshi braced a hand on the door behind Shirabu so he wouldn’t fall over. He brought the bouquet of flowers behind his back again, so it would get crushed behind them.
Shirabu looked up at him almost…angrily. His eyebrows are scrunched up, his eyes narrowed and his lips were pressed tightly together. Despite the hostility of his expression, he was completely red. From his ears, all the way down to his neck.
Wakatoshi couldn’t help but smile at him. With his hand still braced on the door, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss on his lips. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead against Shirabu’s, crowding the smaller boy against the door.
Their eyes locked. Wakatoshi waited.
“Me too,” Shirabu finally said, his eyes never Wakatoshi’s, “I like you too.”
Wakatoshi breathed. He closed his eyes and smiled.