Chapter Text
Strawberry, or green tea? I contemplated two packages of cookies, unable to pinpoint what I actually wanted. It was pretty late, and I had the store to myself. The shop clerk at the counter looked too bored and too exhausted to judge me for my late night snacking, so I was taking my time. To be honest, I wasn’t really hungry, I mostly needed a break from staying at my parent’s house.
I sighed, then tentatively reached for the green tea flavored ones. My hand hovered above the shelf, as if it knew that the strawberry ones would be far more satisfying. Not being one to argue, I grabbed the largest package of strawberry cookies available. I was turning away from the shelf when the sound of my name, said in a familiar voice, propelled me away from cookie flavors and into a situation in which I did not want to participate.
I put on the most convincing smile I could, and turned around the rest of the way to face Daichi Sawamura, my First Love, First Rejection, and the Bantamweight Champion of Crushes on Straight Girls (a contest I always lose). “Wow, Sawamura, hi.” I used her last name on purpose. She had called me Koushi, which was too nostalgic and familiar for the things I felt for her now.
She seemed to notice the boundary I laid down, because her smile wavered, just a little. A faint twist of guilt flickered in the back of my head, but I tried to ignore it. I decided to blame the uncomfortable overhead fluorescents instead of letting that waver imprint in my memory.
“How are you? You must be home for break, right?”
I blinked at her, but kept my smile steady, “Yeah! I’m fine,” I held up the package I had chosen, “About to be better.” I cleared my throat, “You?”
Daichi shifted her hands in her pockets, shoving them a little deeper as she lifted her shoulders. The conversation was awkward, so awkward. Neither of us knew what we were doing. It was practically the middle of the night, the chances of us running into each other here had been slim even in high school, and we hadn’t spoken since the fall after we graduated. Since I confessed.
Since she rejected me.
“Oh, I’m okay,” she didn’t sound okay, but I didn’t mention it. I had worked hard to push those habits as far away as possible, “Are you still attending Niigata?”
I frowned, but answered, “Yes.”
She seemed relieved, and pushed her hair out of her face. It was shorter than I had ever seen it. It barely reached her chin, and she kept it swept back away from her face. At the part, a few strands stuck straight up, because she had grown out her bangs. It suited her. “I’m transferring there next semester, after the holidays.”
For a moment, I thought I was going to fall into the earth to be swallowed hole. I stared at her, “Y-you’re transferring? Aren’t you attending Miyagi University?” The quiet convenience store suddenly felt too small for me.
“Yeah.” Her dark eyes slid away from mine and she ducked her chin into her scarf. She eyed the packages I had been looking at when she entered and said, “My research advisor is transferring, and I could either find a new project and new advisor, or transfer with her.”
“Oh.” I glanced around the shop, waiting for her to tell me she was joking. If Jiri were here, she could tell Daichi to find a new project and maybe a new planet.
Discomfort stretched between us, and she shifted her weight on her feet. “Well, maybe I can call you, when the semester starts? We can get together,” she smiled tentatively, “You could show me around.”
“Sure.” I said, and then I lied, “That sounds great.” I watched her face carefully, trying to read her. I’m so good at reading people sometimes I feel like I can read minds. At least, that’s how it felt with her before, but now it was more difficult. The years separating us had shrouded her from me.
“Um,” she shifted uncomfortably again, this time under the weight of my gaze, and for a moment I wondered what was bothering her. When we knew each other, she was always so self-possessed and confident. Now she seemed really unsteady. She glanced at the shelves again and grabbed a snack. I saw a flash of pale green on a package that matched my own as she said, “I was just coming in for a minute. It was nice to see you.”
“Yeah, nice to see you too,” I replied, wondering if she had come in because she had seen me through the window. I glanced over the shelves to the storefront, She definitely could have seen me, I guess.
“Bye, Suga.” By calling me by that old nickname, she had retreated away from the boundary she had crossed when she called me Koushi. There was a curl of sorrow in her voice, which made its way right through my chest and to my heart. I dropped my eyes to the floor and watched her feet walk away. She was wearing a pair of old leather boots, the tops were wet, as if she had been walking through the snow.
Sugawara would have been better , I thought, aching even though I smiled to her when I said goodbye. I drifted down the aisle, keeping her in my peripheral vision. She paid, then vanished into the cold night. Once she was past the windows of the convenience store, I went to the counter and paid. When I left the store, I went the direction opposite to where she had gone. I didn’t see her on the street, and began to walk home.
I only ate two cookies on my walk back to my parent’s house. I was too unsettled by running into her. Our senior year, after we went to nationals, I was so sure that she had feelings for me too. We had spent every waking moment together, growing alongside each other. Off the court, we spent more time together than apart. I sighed, remembering the sleepovers at her house, where we would share her bed because it was big enough and because the futon was lumpy.
And yet.
I stuffed the package of cookies into my pocket and wandered into the park on the end of my street. The night was quiet, as if it were about to snow, so my footsteps crunching through what was left from the last snowfall were the only source of noise. I loved the hush that fell in the winter, and it might be one of my favorite times of year — especially those moments just before it snowed. I zipped my coat collar higher, stuffing my scarf into place in the process. My legs and ears were cold, but for the most part I was comfortable. I settled down onto a swing, just to think.
Being home was great, but there’s something difficult about coming home after being away at school for a couple of years. My mom and I usually get along fine, but she lapses into old parenting habits when I come back, and I always push against her boundaries for independence. My grandparents, her parents, understand a little better but I always begin to feel stifled about midway through winter break. This time, the suffocation had set in a little bit later because I had been spending a lot of the break with Kageyama and Hinata. After avoiding them and everyone from Karasuno for two years, it was kind of a relief to be with them. Their high school pining had almost been entertaining, but watching them settle into the relationship now was a riot.
The train ride over had been especially funny, and I was looking forward to meeting up with them for the ride back, too. I decided I wouldn’t tell them about running into Daichi. I curled my hands into my coat pockets and lifted my chin to the air, pushing myself back in the swing. The night was cold enough to see my breath. I watched each puff dissipate into the dark, and thought of her and the aching feeling she had left in her wake. I lifted my feet and let myself swing forward. Instead of kicking out, I let the momentum slip away until I came to a stop.
My thoughts returned to Daichi. At the time, I was certain that she had feelings for me, and I had waited until graduation to confess. We had already decided on going to separate schools, but I figured that was the best reason to come clean. Foolishly, I had decided that long distance would be a great idea, since we were such close friends. Late night phone calls, video chatting, trips to see each other on the weekends, I had it all planned out, ready for when she returned my feelings.
But she had laughed when I confessed.
Not a surprised laugh, not a nervous laugh, but an honest-to-god You don’t really think that’s possible, kind of laugh. It had stunned me into silence. What did she say, then? I closed my eyes in thought, surprised that I had to try to remember. At the time, I thought those words had burned themselves into my brain for all of eternity.
After rehearsing it in my head for weeks, I had said, Daichi, I’m gay. I’ve known for a long time. I’m nervous to tell you this, but I want you to know that I have feelings for you. The words had come out in a rush, spilling over each other so quickly I thought I was going to have to repeat them.
Suga, you’re my best friend, but I think you might be confused. You’re not gay.
It was like a slap in the face, and reliving that memory after seeing her in person made it sting anew. “God, that fucking hurt,” I told the park, studying the structures as a wave of old shame rolled through me. Even a You’re my best friend, and I just don’t swing that way would have been better. But she had taken my confession and made it worthless.
She tried to keep in touch, after that. She invited me out with Asahi and some of our classmates a couple of times before we left for school, but I always said I was busy. She tried to text me when we had started classes, and to meet up when we were back from breaks, but I always declined. I wasn’t interested in being friends with someone who couldn’t accept me for who I am. The fact that I had feelings that she could never return was just insult on top of the injury. I had stuck by her side for so long during high school, supporting her, and loving her, all while hoping that her friendship would grow to match what I felt. At the time, I knew there was a chance it wouldn’t, but her response exceeded even my worst expectations. It was dumb, because at the time I hadn’t known any better.
Now, at least, I could defend myself against that kind of heartbreak.
I sat at the park, thinking about her, about the way her hair framed her face now and about how down she seemed, for a while. The last time I had seen her was when I bumped into her by chance during winter break freshman year. It had been two years since then, and seeing her now was dredging up all kinds of unpleasant memories. Memories I had worked so hard to bury.
The fact that she was transferring to my school kicked up an uncomfortable mix of things, too. On one hand, I felt miserable. The expectation of having to be polite while showing her around, and introducing her to my very queer friends, set my teeth on edge. If I followed through, and saw her— which I would, because I am too nice and probably a masochist— I would have to make sure she had become accepting. I wouldn’t subject my goddess-sent, life-saving, sweet group of friends to any kind of prejudice.
On top of that, the heartache was still there, after all this time, which I did not want to deconstruct.
Then, I would be lying if I said I didn’t think she was still beautiful.