Archive of Our Own

Shouhei pursed his lips. The soft music of the game wrapped around him, sweet and cheery, but he ignored it, focused on the screen. On the distinctive lack of a certain bug he’d only been searching for the last five days. He huffed, narrowed his eyes, and curled his toes into the grass, cool blades whispering along his skin. It tickled, and he stopped after a moment as he guided his character along. He knew golden stag beetles were rare, hard to find, usually only came out in the rain - but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. It was only the last bug he needed to find to complete his collection. He didn’t even want to think about the fish.

Shouhei pulled his hand away, raked it through his hair, and slumped against the tree with another sigh. If they’re this rare in the game, how rare are they in real life? He’d found plenty of beetles, ones of all sorts of sizes and shapes and colors - but never a golden one. At the rate he was going, he was pretty sure he’d never find one, be it in the game, or in real life.

“Hey there.”

He froze, glanced up, stared wide-eyed at the person who had called out. It was a boy, one that might have been his height, with huge green eyes and wild hair and colorful Band-Aids all over his skin. There was a volleyball under one arm, a net in his hand, and he had a backpack over his shoulder, a jar full of dirt and twigs and leaves visible in the mesh pocket on the side. Shouhei straightened up a little as the boy grinned, a gap-toothed thing that coaxed a tiny smile out of Shouhei too. “Whatcha playin’?”

Shouhei bit his tongue. Swallowed hard. You can do it. He’d only gone to speech therapy for months on end to help make it better, but the nerves were still there, painfully obvious, as he rubbed a clammy hand on his shorts. “An… Animal C-Crossing.”

He almost wanted to cry, but the boy’s eyes lit up, his smile stretching wider as he flopped down in front of Shouhei and leaned over. “Is it the new release? That’s so cool! I got it too, and I’ve been looking for all the bugs! I don’t have ‘em all yet, and my friend Tooru teases me about it, but I think it’s fun! What are you looking for?”

Shouhei had to look away, couldn’t meet that intense stare, but he managed to smile once more, the threat of tears no longer quite so obvious. “Ah… golden stag beetle…”

“So cool! I haven’t found one of those yet either, but I’m lookin’ so hard! I’m sure we’ll find one soon! Oh- what’s your name?”

“Fukunaga… Shouhei.”

“I’m Iwaizumi Hajime! Can I call you Shouhei? You can call me Hajime.” Shouhei nodded, quick and sharp, and Hajime grinned, pulled his knees into his chest. “Mind if I watch you play?”

Shouhei shook his head. Hajime was beside him in an instant, bodies pressed close, backs to the tree, his bag and net and ball abandoned in the grass as Hajime leaned into him. Shouhei ducked his head shyly, but he unpaused the game and started to tap away. Hajime occasionally hummed along to the music, so soft that Shouhei almost didn’t notice at first. He didn’t say much, but he pointed out random bugs - none of them were golden stag beetles, but they were still nice. Shouhei could sell them for some more bells, or keep them if he wanted.

Hajime was interested too, and didn’t seem to mind that Shouhei didn’t say anything. He just talked about his own town, pointing out his favorite villagers, ones he didn’t have, and items he’d received from them. It was nice listening to him. He had a good voice - not so loud that it grated on Shouhei’s ears and left him cringing, but not so soft that he couldn’t hear him either. It was calming, listening to that, melding with the music and the rustling of the leaves overhead. A nice background to his search for the beetle until Hajime made a noise and Shouhei paused the game, looked over.

Hajime had looked away at some point, and his once empty hands were filled, cradling a long-legged spider that he grinned at as it strutted across his hand. Shouhei leaned forward, fascinated, and watched as the spider settled on a place, sank down, and went still. “You like insects too?”

Shouhei hummed.

Hajime grinned, leaned in close, and held the spider out to Shouhei. He raised his fingers, and Hajime nudged the spider from behind, coaxed it towards him, and Shouhei grinned as the spider scuttled over their fingers, its long, thin legs tickling the back of his hand. It didn’t settle, instead racing along the back of his hand, then onto the next one when he pressed his hands together. Again and again, it chased after something he couldn’t know, and he kept his hands in front of it, the game abandoned in his lap.

It continued until Hajime’s soft laugh made him pause, the spider racing up to his fingers. “Do you want to catch some bugs?”

Shouhei glanced at Hajime. He nodded. Hajime grinned, and held his hand out. Shouhei passed the spider back, quickly saved his game, and stuffed it into his own backpack before he took Hajime’s hand. They rose together, gathered their things, and Shouhei let Hajime lead him, tugging gently on his hand as they romped across the park. There were children all around, their parents hovering, but Shouhei and Hajime ignored them, went straight to where the woods were thicker - and where the sound of running water began. The greenery parted a moment later to reveal a small creek that twisted through the trees, smooth, moss-covered stones dotting the muddy bank and beneath the clear waters.

Shouhei stilled, eyes wide. I didn’t know this existed. He clearly hadn’t explored enough - though not surprising since he’d only been there for a few months. But it looked beautiful, and he hastily followed Hajime down the little slope, stumbling over roots and rocks until he stopped at the bank, bare toes sinking into the warm mud. Hajime set his bag down on a flat rock and rummaged through the insides of his bag, clinking filling the air, before he triumphantly produced two large mason jars. “Here you go!”

Shouhei took the one offered to him, stared at it for a moment, and then smiled faintly as he shouldered his bag off as well and hugged it close.

Hajime grinned at him and splashed his way out to the middle of the creek. “C’mon! We can find all sorts of cool stuff here!”

Shouhei nodded, and he picked his way out too, the water cool on his skin, tiny silvery fish darting around his ankles and away. Together, they both filled their jars with some water before Hajime handed Shouhei his extra net and another jar, one filled with dirt, and then they spread out.

Shouhei moved slowly, eyes glued to the water and the banks around it. The third rock he lifted proved to be a good one, because worms wiggled about in the earth, stretching out their pink heads - tails? - before scooting away. They didn’t make it far, plucked up by Shouhei’s swift fingers, and he dropped them into the dirt jar, a black beetle joining them a moment later.

He could hear Hajime’s soft cries of triumph, him rattling off the names of the insects - the actual scientific names, not the ones Shouhei and his family called them. It was interesting, and Shouhei was tempted to creep back over and simply watch Hajime, rather than look for his own bugs. I can always ask him later.

Shouhei barreled on, humming happily when he discovered a Japanese water beetle, it’s bright green shell looking like a gem in his palm as he cradled it before he carefully dropped it into his jar. He managed to catch two fish with his net, and those joined the water beetle a moment later, darting around with flicks of silvery-blue fins that caught in the dappled sunlight. Shouhei grinned, pressed his face close to the glass and watched the fish dart around, mouths opening and closing, fins fluttering.

“Find something good?”

Shouhei turned, found Hajime a meter away, and he grinned, held up his jar full of water.

Hajime smiled. Stepped closer. “You don’t talk a lot, do you?”

Shouhei stilled. There was a strange heaviness in his chest - an ache of sadness. He knew he didn’t talk a lot, that people thought it was weird - but he was too shy, and even when he did speak, no one wanted to listen.

Hajime’s brow furrowed and he splashed his way closer, set one warm, wet hand on Shouhei’s shoulder. “I don’t care how much you talk. You’re interesting ‘n fun to play with. My friend Tooru talks way too much, but I like that you’re quiet. It’s nice. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

Shouhei swallowed hard, a smile creeping up, joined to the warmth that bloomed in his chest.

Hajime smiled back. “Wanna show me what you got?”

Shouhei bounced on his toes, and they crowded around a stone that jutted out of the bank, covered in moss, but big enough for them to fit their jars on it. Hajime had caught a praying mantis, which made Shouhei puff his cheeks out with jealousy, but Hajime was more than impressed by his snag of the water beetle, and they grinned at one another.

“You’re really good at this Shouhei. Tooru doesn’t like to catch bugs, but he’s cool - I think he’ll be able to play tomorrow if he’s feeling well? Can you come back tomorrow?” Shouhei nodded frantically, and Hajime grinned. “Good! I mean, I’m not done if you’re not - just wanted to make sure! Let’s keep looking as long as we can!”

Shouhei smiled. Can do.

And doing that, warmed by the patches of sun that drifted through the trees to fall on their backs and arms and necks, cooled by the stream, it was nice. Peaceful. No push to talk. Nothing but the soft sounds of Hajime’s voice rising over the babble of water, the far-off sounds of other kids playing, as he called out the names of the insects they held in their tiny hands. His laughter was almost as bright as the sun, and it left Shouhei with a warmth in his chest that stayed fast, even as he walked home, soaking wet, but more than pleased with the day - even if he hadn’t caught a golden stag beetle.

Hajime and a new boy were waiting on him the next day, a boy who was shorter than Hajime with soft-looking brown hair, a sleeveless alien hoodie, and a book in his hand. Shouhei faltered, but when Hajime smiled and elbowed the boy, who huffed at Hajime, but straightened up a moment later and smiled, waving his free hand. “Hi. I’m Oikawa Tooru. Hajime’s friend.”

Hajime grinned and threw an arm over Tooru’s shoulders, which made the shorter boy smile faintly and lean closer. “Shouhei is super cool! I hope you guys get along! Now c’mon!”

Shouhei and Tooru nodded, and together they trailed after their now mutual friend, his net swinging wildly over his shoulder, his humming loud enough that Shouhei could hear it clearly. It wasn’t a melody he recognized, but Tooru seemed to, because after a few moments he joined in too, a small smile tugging at his lips. They made quick progress, weaving their way through the playground, past the park benches, and over to where the ground dipped, lead to the shady creek.

Hajime’s shoes were off in a flash, and he abandoned his things up at the top of the hill as he hurtled down, kicking up water and scaring birds, dragonflies, and more as he raced through the water, headed towards the wider, deeper part. He was waist-deep when he turned around with a brilliant grin. “C’mon Shouhei! Tooru, you should get in too!”

Tooru sighed and shook his head. “I’m surprised no one’s stolen his stuff yet… idiot.” But he was smiling as he grabbed Hajime’s things and safely deposited them on the same rock as yesterday, then pulled his shoes off too. He cast a meaningful glance at Shouhei, who hesitated for a moment before he shrugged his backpack off, then toed off his shoes. A moment later, he and Tooru were wading their way out to where Hajime was, still standing in the middle of the creek, practically bouncing with excitement.

Getting close turned out to be a mistake.

Hajime’s hands flashed, cutting through the water and throwing water across them both, and Tooru shrieked, loud and sharp, enough that Shouhei flinched away. Tooru whipped around, eyes narrowed in a playful glare, and he jabbed a finger at Hajime. “You’re going down!”

Hajime only burst into laughter, bright and warm, and the two began to heave great handfuls of water at one another. Shouhei was only left out for a moment before Tooru flicked water at him with a smile. “C’mon, Shouhei.”

Shouhei’s head bobbed, and he bent down, cupped his hands in that cool water, silt muddying it, clouding over his fingers. He scooped it up, threw it at Tooru, and watched, delighted, as the boy toppled backwards. He resurfaced a moment later, spluttering and kicking, and Hajime burst into giggles that lasted until Shouhei splashed water at him too, then a competitive glint filled his eyes too.

They went back and forth until they were drenched and Tooru called it quits, wheezing faintly. Shouhei’s sides were sore too, the silent laughter more than enough to leave him weak. But he lingered in the water, uncertain, as he watched Tooru and Hajime clamber onto another rock, this one sitting in a larger patch of sunlight. He dropped his head. Fiddled with his fingers.

Should I join them?

He wanted too - wasn’t sure if he could. Hajime had told Shouhei all about Tooru - about the friend he’d been with since birth. It made a spark of jealousy flare in Shouhei’s stomach, paired with an ache of sadness.

“Hey, Shouhei!”

He glanced up. Hajime had sat up, cheeks no longer bright red, but his thick eyebrows scrunched together. “You gonna come up?”

Shouhei’s eyes widened a little, but he nodded and made his way over, clambered up. It was a tight fit, getting all three of them up there, but they managed, Tooru on one edge, Shouhei in the other. Hajime hummed, satisfied. And then there was a warm hand cradling Shouhei’s, squeezing, and he raised his head slightly. Hajime had done the same with Tooru. “You dork,” Tooru whispered, but there was a smile on his lips, face peaceful with his eyes closed.

Shouhei settled back down. He didn’t close his eyes though - he merely stared up at the leaves above, fluttering as squirrels and birds and the wind caught them, making sunlight flicker over them.

“This is nice,” Hajime said after a moment. Shouhei hummed.

“Do you have any friends, Shouhei?” Tooru said softly.

He stilled. Closed his eyes. Fought the burn in his throat as he shook his head, even though neither of them would look or see. “No.”

Hajime’s fingers twitched on his. Slipped between his fingers. Tooru sat up, and Shouhei watched as their eyes found him, surprised, confused. “Well,” Tooru said slowly, “We’re your friends now, got it?”

Shouhei swallowed thickly, and then he nodded. “T-thank you.” The words were weak, feeble, but it made the two of them grin as Tooru sat up fully, grinning.

“But if you’re my friend, you gotta play volleyball with us!”

Shouhei blinked. Sat up too. “I…”

“Do you know how to play?”

He glanced to Hajime and shook his head. Hajime merely grinned in return. “That’s okay - we can teach you. You don’t have to decide what position you wanna play, but Tooru already knows. He-”

“I wanna be a setter!” Tooru chirped, “And Hajime wants to be the ace, which would be super cool!”

“Ace?”

Hajime’s eyes were bright, brighter than he’d ever seen then before, the intensity almost blinding as he leaned forward. “The ace is the coolest player on the court! They get to push through the strongest blocks and score all the points! They’re super important!”

“But not as important as setters!” Tooru chimed in.

Hajime swatted his friend, who punched him back, and Shouhei sat there, still. He remembered volleyball - he’d seen matches on the TV, had watched with idle fascination. It had never really interested him. No sports had. But if Hajime and Tooru liked it, then he wanted to play it. At least just once. Just to try and make sure they were friends.

“Okay,” he said softly. “I… I’ll do it.”

Shouhei learned very quickly that, in theory, volleyball seemed fun and easy. In reality, it was more difficult - and he was only learning the beginning things. It took three days for Hajime to get him consistently into the right posture in order to receive their passes and bump them back, and even longer before Shouhei was good enough that Hajime and Tooru weren’t constantly hovering over him like a hawk, critically studying his posture and everything else. Of course, they weren’t the best either, but they’d been playing longer than he had without a doubt - since the second grade.

Shouhei persisted though, and after two weeks they stood in a grassy little stretch, panting lightly as they smiled at each other. Hajime tossed Shouhei a water bottle, and he caught it, cracked it open, closed his eyes as he chugged, the water cool on his dry throat.

“I wanna set!” Tooru complained, “We’ve been doing nothing but receives and stuff!”

“We can do that today,” Hajime said after a moment. “We can bump a ball to you, you can set, and we can take turns spiking into the wall.”

Shouhei straightened up. Spike? Hajime had mentioned it before, and the two had even practiced it - but Shouhei hadn’t joined yet, had always sat in the grass, watching intensely as they worked together, already clicking well together. He had nothing to compare them to, no one else of their age, but, surely if Hajime could consistently hit Tooru’s sets, then they were both good, right?

Hajime glanced at Shouhei, one eyebrow raised. “Do you wanna join us this time?”

Shouhei’s lips parted. Excitement fluttered in his stomach. He smiled and nodded.

Hajime’s face lit up with a radiant smile and he rose. “Awesome! You’ve been watching us - do you have an idea of what to do, or do you want me to show you?” Shouhei pointed to himself. Hajime’s smile stretched wider. “Okay! If you need help, just lemme know.”

Shouhei nodded, and they all rose, the day’s heat fading beneath the wash of excitement. From there, it was easy to fall into place - Hajime went opposite of Tooru and Shouhei, the ball cradled in his hands, and he raised it up. “You two ready?”

“Yeah!” Tooru called.

Shouhei nodded.

Hajime tossed the ball up a little bit, then bumped it over. Shouhei bit his tongue. Watched as it descended towards Tooru, his hands rising, fingers curled, eyes frozen on the ball. I know what to do. I’ve been watching. Just do what Hajime does. Shouhei moved forward, knees bending, arms curling back, and as Tooru’s fingers parted with the ball, sent it arching up, Shouhei leapt after it. He could see it spinning, the slow rotations of the seams, the black name stark against the dirt-stained white skin.

Shouhei’s arm snapped forward, wind whipping around him. His fingers brushed the bottom of the ball, and the ball wobbled up a little higher before it tumbled back down, short of Hajime. Shouhei hit the ground a second later, lips pursed faintly. What did I do wrong?

He didn’t know well enough, wasn’t sure what he could have done differently, but Hajime was on him in a flash, giving no time for thought as he came close. “That was really good, Shouhei!”

“Yeah,” Tooru said, a laugh teasing his voice, “First time he tried, the ball hit him square in the face!”

Hajime whipped around and jabbed a finger at Tooru. “Well you totally messed up every set for three weeks straight and got hit in the face so much more!” Tooru and Hajime both grinned, and they turned back to Shouhei. “Let’s go again. Shouhei, just keep doing what you’re doing! You’ll get it soon! Don’t worry if you’re not hitting it a lot - Tooru ‘n I have been working together a lot, so it’d suck if we weren’t doing okay by now!”

Shouhei nodded quickly, and Hajime clapped him on the shoulder.

They moved back into position, and the ball was bumped back into the air. Shouhei moved forward once more, eyes fixed tight on Tooru, on the ball. Watched as it parted with Tooru’s fingers. As it spun up towards him, quick. His arm snapped forward. He caught the ball with the side of his hand and it shot to the right, but Hajime dove after it, managed to save it before it hit the ground. Tooru moved into position once more, and Shouhei had no time to think, could only move as Tooru shifted back into a setting position and sent the ball up high once more. Shouhei leapt after it, swung his arm - caught the ball full-on with a loud smack. Hajime was there to catch it, but Shouhei barely noticed as he hit the ground.

He looked down at his palm. It stung, reddened from the impact - but the throbbing in his chest overrode the pain, and he felt a smile split his lips, so wide his cheeks ached as he looked up at Hajime and Tooru. “Again,” he said softly.

Hajime and Tooru lit up, and they nodded enthusiastically. “Of course!”

“Wait, Hajime! You’re bleeding!”

Hajime glanced down at his elbows and knees, which were a little scraped up, only a tiny bit of blood oozing out. He rolled his eyes and chucked the ball at Tooru. “Shut up and toss, I’ll live.”

“Then bump the ball, you butt!”

They dissolved into laughter, clutching their sides, and Shouhei giggled with them, his stinging palm curled tight to his chest as he watched them both. I like this. Liked how it made him feel, energy pulsing hot and bright through his body, how it left his body feeling loose and warm, even if it would be sore later. Liked how it made Tooru and Hajime laugh, how it made him feel close to them. I have friends. I have friends.

And, for some reason, the thought brought a familiar burn to the back of his throat and eyes, but he blinked it away, moved back into place as Hajime tossed the ball up to himself, waiting on Tooru to get over his fit of laughter. They went on and on like that, so long that Shouhei lost count after twenty. He just knew that with every bump, set, and jump he grew more accurate, and the stinging in his palm bloomed, the red spreading down to his wrist when he missed. And it left him beaming, excited when they switched spots so Hajime could spike some too.

I really like this.

And they seemed to as well, and that made it that much better as he bumped the ball to Tooru and received Hajime’s spikes, sharp and painful - but they brought delight to him, and he smiled through the ache.

Shouhei found himself at Hajime’s house a month after they met, nervously clutching at the strap of his bag as he eyed the giant door they’d painted blue. It’s just Hajime’s house. It’s okay. He said it was fine. He raised his hand and carefully knocked, quiet - maybe too quiet, because he stood out there for several more minutes before he swallowed hard, and this time reached up for the doorbell. He could hear the chime from outside, soft but clear, and a moment later there were footsteps, loud and quick.

The door flew open a moment later and Hajime stood there, grinning brightly, his hair sticking up everywhere. “Shouhei! You’re here!”

He nodded, smiling faintly, and Hajime wrapped him up in a quick hug before he was ushered in. He’d never met Hajime’s parents, and he wasn’t sure what he’d expected - probably not a severe-looking older man with graying hair and glasses, or a beautiful woman with long, braided brown hair, but they were nice.

Mrs. Iwaizumi pecked his forehead as Hajime complained in the background, but Shouhei didn’t mind. And he certainly didn’t mind Hajime grabbing his hand and leading him away, up the stairs to his room. It was nice, painted a simple cream, but the walls were covered in posters - some of Godzilla, some of volleyball players, a few of a band with a name Shouhei couldn’t read, let alone begin to pronounce. Hajime flopped down onto his bed and pointed to the chair by his desk. “You can just set your stuff there! That’s okay!”

Shouhei nodded and left his bag in the chair, then glanced at Hajime. His friend grinned, patted the space on the bed beside him. Shouhei hesitated for a moment, unsure, before he crept over and eased himself down onto the bed. Hajime took his hand once more, warm and sure, and fell back, legs dangling over the edge, and Shouhei followed suit a moment later. His bed was soft, nice - and laying there, pressed close to Hajime, Shouhei wasn’t quite sure he could breathe. Wasn’t sure if he was about to cry or not.

A sleepover. I’m having a sleepover.

“We don’t have to play volleyball today if you want,” Hajime said softly, breaking the silence, and Shouhei’s train of thoughts. “We can just watch some movies, or play some games… Do you like games?”

Shouhei hummed, looked to the side.

Hajime grinned. “Good. I’ve got a few - not as cool as the ones Tooru has, but still! It’ll be fun! And Mom is gonna cook something good tonight, so I hope you’re super hungry!”

“Always,” Shouhei teased softly.

Hajime barked out a laugh before he settled back down, eyes closing, lips curled up in a smile. Shouhei waited for a moment, then did the same. He could see the light from the window through his eyelids, soft, easy. Could heard Hajime breathing, rhythmic and steady. Hajime’s fingers twitched against his palm.

“Bugs?” Shouhei said softly.

Movement. He opened his eyes, found Hajime staring at him with a smile. “Of course.”

Within five minutes they were out in the Iwaizumis’ garden, carefully picking their way through the plants. Shouhei found the first bug, a little spider that wasn’t quick enough to escape his hands, or the jar. It sat at the bottom, perhaps angry, but he grinned when he showed it off to Hajime, who nodded excitedly. “Way to go!” Shouhei hugged it tight to his chest and continued to look by the light of the setting sun, painting the world orange and gold.

He was entranced, fixated on the ones he’d collected, when Hajime touched his shoulder. Shouhei glanced up, followed the path of his arm to the yard, draped in gloom and shadows. Watched as a tiny speck of light bloomed, only to fade away a moment later. Shouhei gasped, delighted, and he darted forward, Hajime laughing as he raced after him.

“Fireflies!” Shouhei cried, bare feet skipping over the grass as he chased after the one, then two. They drifted up, a little too high for him to catch, but he leapt after them anyways, hands scraping paths through the evening sky. Leaves and twigs filled his fingers. Air whispered through his hair. The sun was warm on his back, fading fast, and as the porch light flicked on, he hit the ground, staring at his cupped hands, fascinated. A lightning bug sat inside, cozy on his hand, lighting up every so often. Shouhei smiled. Turned to Hajime.

His friend grinned and held out Shouhei’s jar. He nudged the firefly into it, and it spun around the space, lighting up, filling the jar with a golden glow, before it settled along one of the glass walls. They looked up at each other.

Hajime grinned. “Wanna catch more?”

Shouhei nodded, squirming eagerly. They filled the backyard with peals of laughter, the hunt for fireflies eventually dissolving into a loose game of tag as they chased each other from end to end, the glow of fireflies and the stars and the moon lighting their way until they finally released their prey and turned back to the beacon of life, back to the light on the porch, and climbed their way up.

Hajime’s mom rolled her eyes when she saw how filthy they were, but she only made them clean their faces and hands before they sat down for dinner, a hot pot that left Shouhei’s belly aching, he ate so much. But it was nice - more than that even. There was warmth all over, in the smiles that the Iwaizumis flashed him, in how Mrs. Iwaizumi brushed his hair back, how Mr. Iwaizumi asked if he wanted seconds, then got them for him, in how Hajime excitedly babbled about all the bugs they’d found and everything they’d done.

When they curled up together in Hajime’s bed, Shouhei’s back to Hajime’s chest, one arm carelessly thrown over him, he couldn’t help but smile. Hajime was cool - beyond that. The best friend he’d ever had - well, the only friend, really, but it was still something that he almost couldn’t fathom, something that still left him reeling whenever he thought about it. But it left a warmth in his chest, a bud of excitement.

I wanna know what we’ll do tomorrow.

He wanted to know if he’d have sleepovers with Tooru too, if they’d come over to his house, if they’d all be in the same class when school began, if they’d all make the volleyball team and play together, if, if, if. So many things he wanted to know, wanted to learn. More than favorite colors and animals, more than hopes and dreams. Perhaps knowledge that was unattainable, but he longed for it anyways, a hunger that refused to go away, even as he drifted off to the sound of crickets and Hajime’s soft breathing in his ear.

Shouhei was kneeling in the dirt outside the school when Hajime found him. His arms and legs were sore, but nothing matched the burn in his eyes as he sniffled quietly and scrubbed at his face with one hand. Hajime didn’t say anything, just sank down beside Shouhei and leaned into him. They both stared at the grasshopper Shouhei had found, enclosed safely within a mason jar, staring up at them with dark, unblinking eyes as its legs occasionally twitched. Shouhei sniffed again. Shook his head.

Hajime’s fingers brushed across his knee, then an arm wrapped around his shoulders. “You okay?” he said softly.

Shouhei shook his head. That was all he needed to twist towards his friend and bury his face into his shoulder, fingers rising to curl into his soft uniform shirt. Shouhei shook, silent, as tears poured out, blistering their way down his cheeks, dripping onto Hajime’s shoulder.

Why can’t I do better? He didn’t know, didn’t want to know, wasn’t sure if he was ready to always be a failure. There were just too many thoughts and so few words he could put them into, not enough attention from his classmates, not enough anything. There was a barrier between mind and mouth, and he couldn’t overcome it, no matter how hard he’d tried. And, at this point, he wasn’t sure he wanted to try anymore.

Hajime’s arms slid around him, tugged him from those thoughts, and Shouhei squeezed his eyes shut as Hajime pulled him closer, pressed his cheek to Shouhei’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” his friend whispered, “I’m here. It’s okay, Shouhei. I promise.” And Hajime’s promises were special. Things that he could believe, a definite and inevitable, just like how he never failed to appear with fresh Band-Aids dappling his skin, or talking about a new bug book his parents had gotten him or that he’d found at the library. As familiar and trustworthy as Hajime’s sets, clumsier than Tooru’s, but skilled nevertheless.

And Shouhei leaned into him, fingers curling in tighter before they loosened, slid around Hajime, and clutched at his back instead. He opened his mouth. The words were there, hanging on the tip of his tongue, taunting him, but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate, his throat wouldn’t move, and he closed it a moment later with a ragged breath.

“They’re a bunch of idiots,” Hajime said softly, “Don’t listen to ‘em, Shouhei. You’re not weird or nothin’ - you’re my friend. That matters more than their crap.”

Shouhei nodded, frantic. He wanted to believe, he really, truly did - but when there were more people saying those things than not, that he was weird and creepy and needed to go away, it was hard to believe. But he swallowed hard, pressed his eyes tighter to Hajime’s shoulder, and sucked down a breath. Hajime squeezed his back. He took another. Kept going until the tears stopped and left them leaning into one another, Hajime’s body warm against his. Shouhei closed his eyes. Worked his jaw. “S-sorry,” he whispered.

Hajime’s arms only tightened around him, and Shouhei had to bite his lip hard so he didn’t burst into a fresh wave of tears. “You don’t need to apologize. You don’t have nothin’ to apologize for.”

“I… still.”

Hajime pulled away, hands sliding to Shouhei’s shoulders, and those bright green eyes fixed him in place, froze him there as Shouhei stared at his friend, wide-eyed and unsure. “You don’t,” Hajime said again. “Promise. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s those… those… those assholes .”

Shouhei’s eyes flew wide as Hajime’s cheeks flushed scarlet with shame, but he didn’t take it back, didn’t apologize. He only squeezed Shouhei’s arms tighter. “They are! They’re mean and they suck, and they don’t know you like I do! They don’t know that you’re cool and awesome and super fun! They just don’t like that you don’t talk, but if they’d just look, they’d see!”

Shouhei couldn’t bite his tongue fast enough, but even that didn’t stop the fresh flood of tears. That made Hajime’s eyes go wide in return, and Hajime flung himself at Shouhei. They hit the ground with a thump, Hajime draped over him, their arms wrapped tight around each other, tears dripping down Shouhei’s face and into his hair, into the grass beneath them. Hajime was whispering in his ear, but Shouhei almost couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe, because those words were echoing in his ears. If they’d just look. See his little gestures, his signals, the quiet language he’d made for himself because that was easier, simpler, and it managed to convey more than he could with his voice. And Hajime knew.

And that made him cry harder, clutching at Hajime with an iron grip as he shook his head. It was a long time before he managed to calm down. Even longer before he managed a soft “Thank you,” spoken into the soft fabric of Hajime’s shirt.

“Of course,” Hajime grumbled as he pushed himself up. “You’re my friend.”

Shouhei smiled.

Hajime hesitated there for a moment, sat upon Shouhei’s lap, before he smiled. “Wanna skip practice today? We can go home, grab my nets, hunt some bugs - or we can play some games if you want. I can ask Tooru if he wants to come. You wanna do that?”

Shouhei worked his mouth. Stared at Hajime. He knew his friend enjoyed the volleyball club more, but that he’d be happy either way. Knew that the volleyball kids were nicer, but they still stayed far away from him when the coaches didn’t urge them all together. Knew that, as long as he had Hajime and Tooru by his side, he’d be okay. Shouhei shook his head.

Pointed to the gym behind them. Hajime’s eyebrows rose, but he nodded and grinned. “Okay! C’mon then! Let’s go get changed and get going!”

Shouhei hummed and rose, but before they darted inside he released the grasshopper, watched it leap away towards its freedom, and then they took off in a sprint back to the gym. Within minutes they were changed and on the floor stretching, the eyes of the coaches on the group, with him squeezed between Tooru and Hajime. And, surrounded like that, it was nice. It left him smiling faintly to himself, laughing when he watched them mess up little things and stumble, only to pop back up and demand another go, insist that they were fine and could do it again and again and again - as much as it took to get it right.

Shouhei was right there with them, a quiet shadow that followed along, but with just as much determination blazing inside as he worked just as hard as his friends, spiking and setting, receiving and serving. Desperate to be better, to throw himself into it and lose all the energy, all the sadness, and be able to breathe. And it was nothing short of a burst of relief, one that buoyed him on the walk home as Hajime and Tooru bickered with one another, sandwiching him between them - holding his hands tight, a steady, unwavering reminder.

We’re here. We’re not going anywhere. We’re here for you.

Their sixth year swept them up quickly. It came with the prospects of junior high, of playing even more volleyball together, of seeing new places and meeting new people. They were all in the district to go to Kitagawa Daiichi thankfully, and, with how their grades were looking, they’d all be in the same class - and Shouhei was excited to say the least. Enough that he couldn’t help but bounce his way into Tooru’s classroom. He and Hajime were already seated at Tooru’s desk, their bentos out, and they raised their heads, grinning at him as he sank down, pulled out his own bento. “How’s your day been?” Hajime said as he popped his lid off. Shouhei flashed him a thumbs up, then pointed to the two of them.

Tooru’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at some of his classmates, but he shrugged. “Good. People are just so irritating. But it’s fine otherwise. I’m ready to go to practice though.”

“When are you not?” Hajime teased, poking Tooru with a set of chopsticks before he plucked up a piece of pork. “You always wanna practice! You’d better be careful!”

“Of course I will be! So mean, Hajime!”

Shouhei smiled to himself, buried it behind a bite of rice as he watched the pair squabble, Tooru lightly kicking Hajime beneath the desk, Hajime reaching over to flick him. It lasted for a few minutes until Hajime rolled his eyes and turned away, to Shouhei this time, and reached into his backpack. “Look Shouhei! I got the new Animal Crossing game, ‘n it’s super cool! They have a bunch more bugs in it!”

Shouhei’s eyes lit up and he instantly leaned forward, watched as the screen bloomed to life, the cheery, familiar graphics filling it. Hajime had already started playing, though he wasn’t very far along - but enough that he had caught several bugs, some of which were familiar, some of which weren’t. Shouhei ogled the beetles and spiders he’d caught, beyond fascinated. He glanced up after a moment, one eyebrow raised. Hajime grinned. “Wanna look for some after practice?”

Shouhei smiled, nodding excitedly.

Tooru snorted with a shake of his head. “You guys are so gross. Bugs are nasty.”

Shouhei rolled his eyes as Hajime took the chance to kick his friend. “No they’re not, bugs are cool and awesome. Cooler than you, that’s for sure.”

“So mean, Hajime! You’re so mean to me!”

“Shut up and eat your food.”

Tooru thrust his tongue out and lunged forward, swiped a piece of meat from Hajime’s bento and stuffed it in his mouth. Hajime’s eyes lit up with a glare and Shouhei reached forward, brushed his fingers over Hajime’s arm, and his friend stilled, settling back down into his chair after a moment with a quiet sigh and a mutter of “Idiot” under his breath.

Shouhei glanced between the two. Picked up one of his slices of beef and held it out to Hajime. His friend blinked at him, confused, almost startled, before he grinned and leaned forward, took it from Shouhei’s chopsticks. He chewed quickly, humming at the taste, and smiled. “Thanks Shouhei! Your mom is such a good cook!”

Shouhei nodded. He’d made sure to help her with this batch too, watching carefully as she measured things out, sliced the meat, cooked it with a steady hand and a smile on her lips. She’d ruffled his hair, told him he’d done a good job - and that made him all the happier to have helped make something he could eat, even if he hadn’t done much, just helped season it. But it was still something, and that made him proud.

Tooru whined, and Shouhei turned to him, held a piece out to him as well, and Tooru beamed at him as he leaned in. “So good Shouhei! I wanna come over and eat your mom’s cooking again!”

They both turned to him, eyes wide and expectant, eager. “Can we?” Hajime asked, “Maybe tomorrow, after practice?”

Shouhei straightened up, already squirming with excitement. “I’ll ask!” he said, the words too irresistible to keep to himself, and seeing their joyful smiles was more than enough for him. His mom liked Hajime and Tooru - so did his dad. Maybe because they’d decided to be his friends. Maybe because they saw how good they both were. It didn’t matter - just that they liked his friends and would say yes. They rarely didn’t. Plus, the next day was the end of the week - no school, just homework and play.

“I can’t wait,” Tooru hummed, and Hajime grinned.

“I’ll make sure to bring my game so we can play it. We can play volleyball, go to the stream, hunt for bugs all weekend!”

“Ew,” Tooru huffed, and that only made Hajime burst into laughter, Shouhei’s muted giggles falling beneath as they both shook while Tooru glared at them. “You guys are disgusting.”

“Yeah, but you’re friends with us!”

Tooru huffed, turned away as he crossed his arms. “Only because we were stuck with each other.” He doubled over a second later, groaning in pain as he pressed his head to his desk, clutching at his leg. “Hajime, so mean! Stop hitting me!”

“Stop being a pain then,” Hajime teased, but he ruffled his friend’s hair, then turned to Shouhei. “It’s been way too long since we’ve hung out outside of school and practice - we’re too busy!”

And we’re only in elementary school. But he didn’t mind not being able to hang out as much - being apart in classes wasn’t fun, but they ate lunch together, spent time together before practice and spent all that time together, and then walked home together. It was nice. Even if they didn’t have much time to spend just with each other, no overwhelming chatter of their classmates in their ears, no one to talk over him when he decided to speak. I can’t wait.

Hajime slung his arms around Shouhei and Tooru, pulling them closer as he laughed. They all stank of sweat, were hot and tired and sore, but Shouhei couldn’t help but smile as he leaned in closer with a hum. “I can’t wait to get to your place, Shouhei! I’m ready to not do anything .”

“What about homework?” Tooru teased.

Hajime shushed him, shook his head. “Don’t. Please don’t remind me.”

“Homework,” Shouhei said softly, mischievously, and Hajime glanced down at him.

“Traitor,” he whispered and Shouhei bumped him with his hip gently before he turned to face the street.

The evening had swept upon them, coloring the skies gold and orange and pink, a brilliant array that left him bubbling with energy as he tried hard to not bounce, fingers twitching by his thighs. They were all fairly tired - the practice had been long and hard, and, on top of a week’s worth of seemingly endless classes and practices, they were all ready for rest. Though they all knew none of them would be resting anytime soon.

There were things to do and talk about, bugs to hunt in the shadows of the night, games to play beneath the cover of blankets and streets stretched over his desk and bed, situated perfectly so that they could sit under there and breathe fresh air, flashlights carefully balanced on their knees as they made shadow puppets - that was one thing Hajime had shown Shouhei and explained to him when he hadn’t understood - or while Tooru read them stories from a book, or when Hajime told them ghost stories, creepy things that left shivers crawling up Shouhei’s spine and him clinging to one or both of his friends all night long. But he was always hungry for more, more, more.

Shouhei smiled, glanced at his friends. There were fewer Band-Aids on Hajime, but there were resilient splashes of blue and red and pink on him from places where he’d fallen, gotten caught in the thorns, scratched up by trees. Tooru’s arms were raw, the skin reddened and peeling from diving on the floor. Shouhei’s body had taken a beating too - he ached, muscles slowly getting fit, unused to the exercise. His palms were growing stronger too, tougher, no longer turning red quite so quick, or going numb after a few hard spikes. He was getting used to it. They all were. And it was satisfying to know that, to see the proud smiles of their parents and the way the coaches nodded, pleased at their progress. I don’t know if I’ll ever be an ace, but I always wanna play with Hajime and Tooru.

The lights of his house glowed in the dusk, beacons that drew them in, promises of warm food and hugs and kisses waiting on them. Shouhei pulled his key from his pocket, opened the door, and they slipped in, tugging off their shoes and calling greetings.

His mother was in the doorway in an instant, her smile thinner than normal, face blotchy and pale. Shouhei stopped dead in his tracks, backpack halfway on, as he stared up at her, fear welling up, sharp and cold in his veins. “M… Mom?” he croaked.

She sniffed, curled her fingers as she crouched down, and Shouhei crept forward, his friends hesitating behind him. He stopped in from of his mom, looking down at her, just a little. Down into eyes that were filled with tears and red, red, red. Her hands were cold when she took his into his grasp, fingers sliding along the backs of his hands to curl gently around his wrists. The way she had done when she’d told him his grandmother had gotten sick. When his fish had died. “Shouhei, sweetheart… I’m so sorry, but I-I have some bad news.”

Shouhei’s breath caught. He closed his eyes. Bit his tongue. Don’t say it, please, please, please don’t say it.

“I… I didn’t want to keep this from you, and I knew you’d want to spend as much time with them as you could-” He tore his hands away, a wail bubbling up, clawing at his thick throat, and Shouhei spun away, feet heavy on the floor as he charged upstairs. He slammed into the bathroom, didn’t even turn the lights on as he shut the door, locked it tight, pressed his back to it. His knees shot into his chest.

The heels of his hands dug into his eyes. No, no, no, not again, I can’t do this again. Not when it felt like he’d just gotten there, not when he’d made friends, not when he was happy. I can’t leave. I don’t wanna leave. A sob burst out, so hard it tore at his throat, left him aching, and Shouhei doubled over. That one proved to be the final straw, and it left him sitting there, harsh sobs bubbling out of his chest, tears streaming down his cheeks, his arms, splattering onto his shirt, the floor, everywhere.

I wanna stay here.

Stay with Hajime and his sunshine smiles, the ones that he flashed easily at Shouhei for everything - a good set, an even better spike, when he found cool bugs and showed them off, when he teased Tooru, short in worse, but no less effective. And Tooru, with his soft but bold words of encouragement, the lilt in his voice as he read to them, his passion for volleyball and space and science. His teammates, who, even though he didn’t talk much, had accepted them as one of their own, had welcomed him warmly and were more than happy to play with him. Even his classmates, even the ones who thought he was weird. His teachers. His neighbors. The raggedy old cat who wandered around the neighborhood and begged him for scraps, which he not-so-secretly handed out when he thought his parents were watching. And Hajime and Tooru’s parents. He wanted to stay with the creek he knew like the back of his hand, wanted to stay with the crooked old tree in the backyard, with their cheery yellow house.

Don’t make me go.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he cracked his eyes open, stared into the dark as he sniffled quietly. The tears had left his eyes burning and sticky and sore, and he scrubbed his hands along his face, wiping them away, even though they all would have heard, even though they all knew. He ran a dry part of his shirt along his face once more, then tipped his head up, blinked at a ceiling he could barely see. There was a quiet knock. “Shouhei?” He blinked. Turned his head. That was Hajime’s voice. There was a rasp, a thump - he must’ve sat against the door too. “I’m here, y’know? I’m right here if you need me.”

Shouhei sniffled. Swallowed hard, through the ache that seemed to permeate his whole body and leave him breathless. “I… know,” he croaked.

“Take as long as you need, ‘kay? We’re not gonna rush ya.”

Shouhei hummed. Closed his eyes once more. Listened to the soft but steady breaths he could just barely hear through the door, familiar from all those nights spent together, pressed up close to one another, listening, endlessly listening. Shouhei ran his tongue along his teeth. Sighed. Rose and unlocked the door. Hajime was standing when the door opened, his eyes puffy too, but he reached out without a word and tugged Shouhei close, reeled him in for a tight hug. Shouhei couldn’t do anything but lean into it, boneless and weak, and clutch at his friend’s shirt, clinging for all he was worth. The burn was back in his eyes, his chest, leaving him trembling as he buried his face into Hajime’s neck. “I… can’t go,” he whispered.

“I know,” Hajime said softly, “I know, I don’t want you to go either. Neither of us do.”

He couldn’t hold back the fresh wave of tears, could only bawl his eyes out into his friend’s neck and press closer, as close as he possibly could, as they clung to one another, desperate. I have to leave this. Leave him. Leave Tooru. Leave those afternoons spent in the glaze of summer heat and sun, ones they filled with chasing bugs and each other, by playing volleyball, or, when it was too hot, lounging inside eating ice cream and trying to crowd around the fan so the breeze hit them all, watching TV through it all the while - volleyball games of course, ones that Shouhei had begged his parents to record. He’d lose those nights curled up in one of three beds, staring up at ceilings that had become as familiar as his own - Hajime’s smooth, blank ceiling, Tooru’s, covered in glowing stars and planets, and his own, rough, but familiar nonetheless, with little lights strung up to help chase the dark away on those scary nights. He’d lose everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d gotten, all too soon.

Shouhei shook his head. Raised it. Found his mom just a few steps away, biting her lips, one hand halfway covering her mouth. Tooru by her side, uncertain, before he stepped forward too. Wrapped his skinny arms around Hajime and Shouhei, pressed their cheeks together. “We’re here, Shouhei,” his friend whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back.

His mom turned - but not before he could spy the tears already racing down her cheeks.

The days faded into a fog after that. Shouhei’s heart really wasn’t into anything, but he still dragged his way through class and made sure his grades stayed up, still went to practice and worked as hard as he could, still went out and romped through the woods with Hajime and Tooru. But the silence that had swept over him was stifling. Enough that it had unsettled his friends even, he was sure of it, but neither of them mentioned it, and they didn’t push him to speak either. They just let him communicate through those little gestures and looks, through the subtle things that other people lost all too frequently now. Perhaps because they’d become a bigger part of his life. Who knew.

There simply wasn’t energy to talk, no use in doing it. There were no words to express the grief that clawed at him, especially as the day of moving raced closer, the time slipping through his fingers like water, or sand, or whatever other slippery, unholdable thing people compared time to. He couldn’t flip it like an hourglass though. Couldn’t make the flow stop. Could only stand there, helpless, and watch it all flicker by, words trapped inside, simply not enough to say, nothing to adequately cover, well, everything.

He wanted to hate his parents for making him move, but he couldn’t - they weren’t doing it because they had a choice. Work was simply cruel, dragging them away again. He wanted to hate Hajime and Tooru for ever befriending him, for making it all so much harder than it had been the last time - but he couldn’t, not with the sugar-sweet memories that filled his mind, laced with gold and warmth, even with the twinges of sadness that chased after them, staining them blue, leeching out some of the warmth. But enough of it lingered.

And so did they, constantly by his side, the tension in them too, but no less determined to spend every moment they had left together. Sleepovers happened every weekend. They spent weekdays going to different houses and eating together after practice and studying together. Spent free moments racing through the woods, collecting more colorful Band-Aids along their little bodies and memories to brighten their days, or lounging at any of the houses and playing games to the sound of Tooru and Hajime bickering softly over the music while Shouhei smiled.

The smiles never really lasted, but it was enough that he made it through one day. Then the next. Then a week. A month. And it all came too quickly. A month out, the moving boxes appeared, and he began to help his parents pack - mostly with his own things, but they let him carefully put newspaper-wrapped plates and cups away, let him fold blankets and quilts and stack them into careful piles so his mom could find a new place for them to sit.

And then the day came, just a short week after graduation from elementary school, where the moving truck rolled up the driveway as Shouhei stared out of his window, a painful tightness in his chest. He couldn’t quite swallow or breathe, not as he watched the moving crew load furniture. His room came soon enough, and he slipped away, grabbed his backpack, and went out to the back, biting back tears as he sat on the warm wooden steps. I don’t want to go. He wanted to stay with Hajime, with Tooru - he’d begged his parents enough, but they’d only shaken their heads with pained looks on their faces. He’d quickly given up. Shouhei sighed, slumped over, and stared at the ground, flourishing with the warmth of spring. Tiny ants marched through the grass, no doubt heading to the little ant hill he’d found two days before. Will the next family care as much about the bugs here? Probably not. It was a nice thought though.

“Shouhei?” He twitched, glanced behind him - found his mom standing in the doorway, a sad little smile curling her lips. “We’re leaving soon, but… Hajime and Tooru are here.”

Both of them poked their heads out at that, and then they were spilling out, practically falling over one another in an effort to get to him quicker. Shouhei shot up, and they collided together, wrapped him up in a bone-crushing hug, pressing close, one head on each shoulder. He couldn’t do anything but put a trembling hand on their backs and smile weakly until they pulled back. Hajime’s eyes were red, his face blotchy - a sure sign that he’d been crying. Tooru didn’t look as bad, but a closer look showed bloodshot eyes and a nose that had been rubbed too vigorously.

Shouhei had to force himself to swallow, smile. “Hey,” he whispered, hoarse.

“Hey there,” they chorused back, and then Hajime and Tooru were digging in their pockets.

Tooru got their first, and they looked at one another before they held out a little box covered in sparkly blue paper to him. “Open it,” Tooru said softly.

Shouhei blinked, but he nodded and carefully peeled the paper back, eyes widening as he looked at the box. Harvest Moon - like Animal Crossing, except he didn’t own it.

“We saved up, bought it together,” Tooru said softly, but Shouhei barely heard as he flung himself forward and snapped Tooru up in a hug, then Hajime, biting back tears as he clutched the game tight. They all gave him wobbly smiles as he backed up, and then Hajime was holding something out - two somethings. A jar, familiar, and a rock. “Another bug jar - who knows what they’ll have in Tokyo!” The cheeriness in his voice was strained, but Shouhei nodded anyways as he glanced at the rock, a simple gray thing worn smooth and shot through with pretty blues. “And the rock… It’s a part of Miyagi. Proof you were here.”

Shouhei glanced up. Sniffled. Pulled Hajime into another hug and buried his face into his friend’s shoulder, tears finally breaking out, slipping down his cheeks. “Don’t wanna go,” he croaked.

“I know,” Hajime rasped.

There were arms around him, Hajime’s, Tooru’s, and he sank into them, quivering and sobbing. But they didn’t go anywhere. Just held him tight until the tears dried and he could lean back and wipe his eyes, still sniffling quietly. “Thank you,” he whispered.

They merely smiled, then Tooru held out one last thing. A slip of paper with two email addresses written on it. “Email us, ‘kay?”

Shouhei nodded frantically.

The door opened, and his mom poked out, smiling faintly. “Shouhei… it’s time.”

He stared at her for a long moment before he clenched the paper in his hand and threw himself at his friends once more. They caught him, held him tight as he pressed their gifts into their backs, desperately fighting off a fresh wave of tears. From there, it was a blur. Waving goodbye. Loading his bag and presents into the car. Clambering inside. Buckling himself up. Except Tooru and Hajime were still there, at the top of his driveway, watching with unreadable expressions. Shouhei pressed himself to the window. The car started to move. Rolled away. Pulled out and started to move down the street. And Shouhei watched as Hajime crumbled, listing into Tooru.

Shouhei turned away.

Shouhei drifted through the next few weeks in a daze, not quite sure what to do as they unpacked. His mom’s friend showed them around Tokyo when they stopped unpacking long enough to take a break to stretch their aching muscles, but it didn’t really interest Shouhei - not as much as it could have. He’d have rather seen it with Hajime and Tooru. Or, even better, not seen it at all. Stayed back at Miyagi, happy, surrounded by forests and fields and streams he could play with until the moon was high in the air, the sun long gone. I want to go back. Not for the first time, not for the last.

But he focused on making his room cozy. It was smaller than the one back in Miyagi, and it didn’t have the same view out into the yard - no, this room had a view into an alley - but it was okay. It fit the furniture they’d brought, and he spent a little too long unpacking things, lethargy in his bones as he put his clothes away, his books onto the shelves, set his pens and pencils on the desk, his bug jars beside them. Laid on his bed until his parents came in to check on him, then moved to help them.

They looked at his junior high school a week and a half after they moved - Nekoma Junior High. A nice school with nice uniforms, clean halls, a good volleyball program. Shouhei wasn’t entirely sure his heart was in it, but when his mother asked if he would play, he only shrugged, listless.

She hugged him tight. He didn’t hug her back.

By the third week, he’d barely spoken a word - less than usual, especially around his family. But the words simply weren’t there, drowned out by the incessant noises of the city, smothered beneath the ache of sadness, stifled by the fact that the words simply weren’t enough, not this time. His parents were concerned, but he paid it no mind as he left the kitchen and crept back to his room. I just don’t want to talk.

He settled in the center of his room, door locked tight, the light off, but even that didn’t make the room dark - the streetlights from below, the neon lights from above sliced through his windows, just as easily as the blaring of horns, the sound of music, the talk of the neighbors next door shattered any hope of silence. Shouhei sighed. Pressed his hands to his face and took one breath. Two.

I hate it here. He hated how loud it was, incessant, constant, unending, driving him mad with every piercing sound that grated on his ears, left him spinning after the peace of Miyagi. He hated it because it wasn’t home - didn’t have a yard, didn’t have the space to run around. Because he didn’t know anyone now, had no one to talk to. Had no way to contact his friends. His hands fell away. His heart twisted.

Yes I do.

He spun around and dove for the shelf where he’d set those goodbye gifts - the jar and the game leaned up against one another, otherwise untouched. No slip of paper around them. Shouhei’s heart leapt, a tiny sound working out of his mouth, and he spun, dove for his laundry, folded just before dinner. The heat in them was gone, and the folds were nice, neat, but he tore them apart, desperate, searching for the blue shorts he knew he’d been wearing that day. The ones he’d tucked the paper into so he wouldn’t lose it. He found them at the bottom of the stack, pulled them close, thrust his hand into one pocket. Nothing. Shouhei closed his eyes, a ragged breath rattling out as he reached for the other pocket.

Please, please, please.

His fingers closed around a slip. He pulled it out. What had been careful pen strokes had been decimated, blurred into mottled splotches of black. The paper was fragile, barely held together, and Shouhei stared down at it, an all-too familiar thickness filling his throat.

A laugh burst out, hysterical, and Shouhei doubled over, dropped down to the floor, clutching the paper to his chest as tears slipped out. Why? Why, why, why? He cradled it close, that stupid, useless piece of paper, and sobbed, silent, into his hands, tears staining the paper, his palms, the carpet underneath him. Why am I so stupid? Why couldn’t I be more careful? He didn’t want to answer it, didn’t want to know. Just wanted to cry and hate himself for ruining everything. His last chance to stay close with them. To have any hope of seeing them ever again.

Stupid.

“Hey there! Fukunaga, right?”

Shouhei glanced up, blinked at one of his teammates - Kuroo Tetsurou, a first-year like him. He nodded.

Kuroo grinned and bowed to him. “Nice to meet you! I’m glad you joined the team - we always need more people!” Shouhei shrugged, but bowed as well. He didn’t really want to be there, but his mom had insisted, said it’d be good for him, and he’d obediently gone along with it, too tired to really care, even though he knew how it’d play out. The kids would think he was weird - they always did. The ones in his class, the ones on his team, in his clubs - eventually, they’d all probably think the same thing. But he tried. Wanted to try. Didn’t want to lose that one last connection, so pitifully flimsy.

“What position do you play?” Shouhei hesitated, glanced around, and then slowly swiped his hand forward. Kuroo’s eyebrows rose, brow furrowing, and then he grinned. “Oh! Wing spiker?” Shouhei nodded. “That’s cool! I’m gonna be a wing spiker too! Or maybe a middle blocker? I’m not too sure - I’ll see though! Do you wanna be the ace?”

“I want to be the ace!”

Shouhei swallowed hard, shook his head. No, he was satisfied being the quiet support, the one that didn’t have the weight of all that attention on him.

Kuroo didn’t protest, didn’t argue, merely nodded with a sly grin. “You ready for practice today?”

Shouhei shrugged. When will he give up? Normally it took people a few answers at most - but clearly Kuroo was determined.

Kuroo nodded, understanding. “Makes sense - being with a new team is seriously scary, but these guys seem pretty cool! You stick with me, yeah? We’ll get through this together!”

Shouhei blinked up at him, but he nodded slowly. “... Okay.”

Kuroo’s grin spread wider and he stuck his hand out. “C’mon, let’s go ahead and get out there - we’re gonna start warm ups soon!” Shouhei took his hand, let himself be drawn up and across the gym to where the other kids were gathering. They clumped together, watched as the coach and faculty advisor gave them a general talk, and then the captain took over, asked them for introductions. Shouhei’s throat wasn’t quite cooperative, but he managed, and he felt fingers brush his elbow when he was done - Kuroo’s, paired with a warm, encouraging smile. Shouhei barely managed to summon one back before he turned to face the captain once more.

They ran laps around the gym to warm up before they got into stretching, long and slow, making sure they were all loose before they actually broke down into groups. They didn’t go into drills, but instead into more of a skills test. They broke apart, one half going to do serves, the rest jogging to the other side to show their receives. Shouhei and Kuroo went to the serving side together, last in line, and Shouhei watched, fixated on his teammates. On their form. Some were good - they’d clearly been playing for a while. Others, not so much - like they’d never really bothered with serves, hadn’t been taught, or simply hadn’t trained as long.

All too soon, Shouhei was up. He glanced back at Kuroo, who flashed him a thumbs up. Shouhei sucked down a breath, looked to the other side of the court. Picked a spot. Tossed the ball into the air. Leapt up after it, eyes fixed on the ball as it slowly spun through the air, arching overhead. His arm snapped forward, hand slicing through the air, and smacked into the ball with a resounding thump. It shot over to the other side and the receivers hesitated before one boy, a smaller one with black hair moved for it, only for the ball to ricochet off his arms and shoot up, out of bounds.

Shouhei hit the ground, shoulders rolled forward, and glanced back at Kuroo. His friend grinned, devilish, and he nodded. “Oh, we can work with this. Absolutely.”

After that, things went quickly. Lost in the flurry of schoolwork and practice, of adjusting to Tokyo, the thoughts of Hajime and Tooru gradually slipped away, buried beneath stress and work. He thought about them when he opened his DS and played Harvest Moon, when he had time to leisurely practice the serves he and Tooru had worked hard at for months leading up to their last year in elementary, when he was sat at his desk and watched as a spider made its home in the corner of his windowsill, one he hadn’t seen before, and the thought of “Would Hajime know what this is?” chasing through his head.

The grief was there, heavy, and it lingered, especially when he saw that piece of paper, hidden away in his desk. Useless. But there was too much to focus on, too much to see. Kuroo was an energetic guy, one who didn’t care that Shouhei didn’t speak, didn’t seem bothered by any of that. And his childhood friend, Kozume Kenma, was even less bothered - no doubt where Kuroo had adapted to the silence from as well. Kuroo dragged them both out of their homes often, whenever they had time, giving Shouhei his “Kuroo Special” tour of Tokyo - one that resulted in some interesting places, but ones that had been nice to see nonetheless.

And the days and weeks passed. The training for the team grew more rigorous. They held practice matches with neighboring teams some days, working until they flopped on the floor, dripping sweat and gasping. Shouhei always found a smile on his lips then. One that sometimes disintegrated with thoughts of “Are Tooru and Hajime having fun?”, but he shook those out before they could linger and fester. No point in thinking about it. Not when he doubted he’d ever see them again.

They worked Shouhei hard at wing spiker, though he knew they’d also eyed him for libero before they’d finally given in, let him have his position. He was better there anyways, his spikes enough to draw the focus away from the ace of the team, enough to push through small blocks if he was careful. But it was his serves they liked the most, and Kuroo made sure he knew that, constantly boasting about how good Shouhei’s serves were, asking where he’d learned them.

Shouhei merely smiled and shrugged, kept the little secret to himself, buried in the warmth of sunshine, the scent of honeysuckle, and the hum of cicadas that filled spring and summer afternoons, ringing with bright voices and brighter laughter.

And, like that, he fell into a rhythm. One that carried him through his first year, his second, to his third, until junior high graduation loomed high in front of he and Kuroo, waiting on them. “Where do you think you’ll go?” Kuroo said softly as he kicked his legs over the lip of the overhang, dangling down to the river beneath them. Shouhei shrugged, nudged Kuroo. His friend glanced over, black eyes glittering. “Nekoma. That’s where I’m going. They’re a decent team - they were better a few years ago, but they’re still one of the best in the prefecture, and they’ve got a good background. Kenma’s gonna come with me, right?”

Kozume’s head rose from his video game long enough to roll his eyes and mutter something under his breath before he ducked his head, refocused. Shouhei’s shoulders shook with laughter as Kuroo huffed, swatted at Kozume, and then settled back. “Well, whatever. Fukunaga, you should come to Nekoma too, especially if you wanna play volleyball.”

“There’s Fukurodani,” Kozume said softly, “They’re even better.”

“Kenma! Stop!”

Shouhei smiled faintly and leaned against the railing in front of them, chin settling on top of his arms as he stared out to the river. The sun was rising, painting the water with soft pinks and yellows, muted, the sounds of the city coming alive as the day came. “Nekoma,” he said softly after a minute. I can do that. His friend was going to Nekoma, and he had no doubt that Kozume would follow - the two were practically attached at the hip anyways. It was one of the schools he’d applied to - Fukurodani and others in the midst as well. But Nekoma sounded good. He’d seen it in passing, had gone to visit, had watched their games. It looked nice. Like a good place to be. One that he could fit into without too much trouble. “I’ll go,” he added after a long moment.

Kuroo grinned, reached over, ruffled his hair. “Glad you will, buddy. It wouldn’t be the same without you - especially with your serves and spikes!”

Shouhei rolled his eyes - is that all you want me for? clear in the gesture, in the little puff of air.

Kuroo only threw his head back and cackled, his whole body shaking as his legs kicked out in the air, arms cinching tight around his stomach. “No, no! I like you for more than that, asshole! You know that! You’re quiet, but you’re a funny little asshole.”

Shouhei snorted and turned back to the river. Watched as a boat slipped out of the harbor and began to glide across the waters, more peaceful today than they’d been in a while. He closed his eyes. Tried to not think back to the acceptance letters that sat on his kitchen table at home. How Aoba Johsai was on the bottom, tantalizing. I shouldn’t.

And he didn’t.

Nekoma High School was nothing like their junior high - well, except for an even more soul-crushing load of work that left him exhausted within the first week of classes - and that wasn’t even accounting for the work that came with volleyball either. It was a new group of people, ones who didn’t know his quirks, his twitches, his little forms of communication - and that made it a little harder, especially when the words simply weren’t worthwhile, when they wouldn’t convey everything he needed them too. “Fukunaga Shouhei” fell short from the “Hi, my name is Fukunaga Shouhei, and I’m a wing spiker” he wanted to say, but it was easiest, simplest. And they all found out anyways when they split apart to test their skills, to see where they all fell into.

It wasn’t hard to miss the near-instant animosity between the first-year libero, Yaku Morisuke, and Kuroo - one that faded about three weeks in when Kuroo dragged Yaku to eat with them and plopped him down in front of Shouhei with a grin. “Team bonding time,” he said as he threw himself down into the chair next to Yaku.

The libero scowled at Kuroo and rolled his eyes, then glanced to Shouhei. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re the wing spiker, right? Fukunaga Shouhei?” Shouhei paused, fingers stilling from where they’d been plucking a slice of bread apart for the ants that spun around beneath them on the roof, and he nodded. Yaku hummed, opened his own lunch box. “Don’t talk much, do ya?”

Shouhei shrugged.

Kuroo grinned, caught the meaning in that subtle little lift, and he poked Yaku. “What can he say that someone as dumb as you will understand?”

A light flashed in Yaku’s eyes and he spun, one hand flying to Kuroo. The teen caught it easily and peeked at Yaku around the fist in his face. “Best you got, short stack?”

Yaku snarled at him, but he jerked his hand back and glared at his bento. “Why the fuck did you bring me to sit with your ugly mug?” he grumbled.

Kuroo grinned, Cheshire-like, and ruffled Yaku’s hair. “Because you interest me. And because, if we’re going to be playing together for three years, might as well get all the problems out now!”

Yaku glanced over at him, eyes narrowed, before he sighed and nodded. “True enough… Anyways. Know who we’re scrimmaging next week?”

Kuroo shook his head and leaned closer. “How do you know?”

“Overheard the coaches,” Yaku said smugly as he waved his chopsticks at Kuroo. “Go on, guess!”

“Is it someone in our prefecture?”

“Nope!”

“Dude, how the fuck am I supposed to guess it then?”

Yaku shrugged coyly before he rolled his eyes. “Alright, we’re going to have a practice match against, ah- Seijoh? Aoba Johsai? I heard them call it both.”

“Blue Castle!”

“Oh my God, how many names does this stupid team have?”

Fukunaga watched the two go back and forth, staring, but not quite seeing. Aoba Johsai. The school Tooru had endlessly - endlessly talked about, about how he wanted to go there and be the absolute best setter he could be, to dominate the Miyagi conference, to defeat teams like Shiratorizawa and Karasuno and so many more. Aoba Johsai, which one, if not both of them, had no doubt gone to. Aoba Johsai, who they would be playing in just a short week. Oh my God. Shouhei pressed a hand to his mouth. Looked down. His heart was flying, going crazy in his chest, and he had to close his eyes, take a breath.

Will they remember me? He knew he did - God, those days were ingrained into his memory, unable to disappear, no matter how busy he got, how long he went without thinking, because they came back over the strangest of thing: passing by a store that sold milk bread, Tooru’s favorite treat; going to a store and spying a familiar book on bugs, one that Hajime had owned and shown him so many times; romping through the nearby park with that mason jar Hajime had given him clutched in his hand, guiding all sorts of bugs into it. What if they don’t? The thought stung, but it was understandable - their features were fuzzy in his mind, and it had been years. They’d all grown. Changed, no doubt. But if they do? If they hate me for never emailing them?

The thought made his chest hitch and Shouhei pressed a hand to his chest, trying to blot out the pain, soak it up and throw it away. All that happened was a ragged breath that clawed its way down his throat, weak and shaky.

There were hands on him suddenly, wrapping around him, a voice in his ears. He could only nod, and then they were pulling him up, guiding him out, practically carrying him. His legs wouldn’t move, couldn’t move, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. Everything was spinning, spinning, spinning, and he felt sick, so beyond sick. They can’t hate me, they can’t, it’s not my fault, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t, I-

He sucked down a breath, buried his face into his hands, and sank against something, trembling violently. There were tears, hot and vicious, spilling into his hands as hiccups burst out, mixing with heavy breaths, words that blurred together. There were fingers in his hair. A hand on his back. Two voices that twined together, questioning, answering, softly coaxing him into peace.

“-ever happened-”

“-first time-”

“-slowing down-”

“-be fine.”

Shouhei sniffled. Sucked another breath down, one that came easier on his raw throat. There were no more tears to spill, but he left his face in his hands for a few more minutes before he pulled away. There was a lingering ache in his chest, one that left one hand rubbing at it, trying to chase it away, as he wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform jacket.

Yaku and Kuroo were crouched in front of him, eyes wide and fixed on him - scared, concerned came the words through a smoky haze in his brain. “Shouhei,” Kuroo said softly, voice still somewhat far-off, distant. The first time Kuroo had used his first name, Shouhei idly noticed somewhere in the fog. “Shouhei? Can you hear me?”

Shouhei nodded, throat working thickly. He nodded again.

Kuroo smiled softly, swept his fingers through Shouhei’s hair. “Hey, that’s good. How’s your chest feeling?”

He flicked his fingers, clenched them tight.

“That makes sense,” he said softly, “Just keep breathing, okay? You did really good so far, I’m proud of you.”

Shouhei smiled thinly. There was nothing to be proud of - he’d freaked out, broken down, had- whatever had happened.

Kuroo shook his head. “That is something to be proud of. You handled that well. Was that your first one?”

“First… what?” he croaked. Kuroo winced, sympathetic, and his fingers started to move again, rubbing slow, gentle circles into Shouhei’s scalp. “Panic attack. Kenma has them a lot, so I know how to recognize them.”

Shouhei’s chest hitched and he shrugged. Kuroo’s hands slipped down, took Shouhei’s hands, uncurled them. There were bite marks on the junction between his thumb and forefinger on one, indents from his nails on the palm of the other. Kuroo closed his hands around them, warm, large, all-encompassing, and Shouhei sighed, let his head slump forward as his eyes fluttered shut.

“That’s good,” Kuroo said softly, voice easy, “Keep breathing. Just keep breathing Shouhei.”

His fingers flexed in Kuroo’s grasp.

“I know you are, but I’ll keep telling you. If you have trouble, just think - in for seven, hold for five, out for seven. Nice and slow. Feel it fill your lungs, making them and your ribs expand, and then feel it sit there, nice and heavy, before you let it out, rushing out-”

“Dude, that’s weird.”

“Shut it Yaku, it works.”

Yaku didn’t say anything, just kept rubbing idle circles into Shouhei’s back.

After a long while, Shouhei glanced up, sniffling once more. “I…”

“Don’t be sorry, bud,” Kuroo said softly, “That’s nothing to be sorry for. It happens, and that’s okay.” His lips twisted in a grimace, but Kuroo only smiled softly at him, squeezed his hands. “Let’s get you to the nurse’s office, okay? You shouldn’t stay here and finish the day - and I don’t care if you want to. Panic attacks take a lot out of you, especially your first one, and you need to rest.”

Shouhei didn’t even try to complain. He was weirdly exhausted, his entire body heavy and struggling, but after a few more moments he let Kuroo ease him onto his feet, legs like noodles. They guided him to the nurse’s office and Yaku disappeared for a bit, brought his bag. His mom was there within thirty minutes for him, concern pressing her lips into a thin line as she drew him in for a tight hug, but she didn’t say anything. Just drove him home and let him crawl into bed, arms wrapped tight around himself, a lingering tightness in his chest, and far too many thoughts in his head.

The practice match came far too quickly.

They loaded up onto a train and rocketed towards Miyagi far too quickly, the city melting into country, blurring into places that looked familiar but weren’t - until they finally were as they rolled into the train station, the same one their families had waited at so they could all go to the Tokyo Aquarium and see the beautiful creatures inside.

Shouhei’s head spun as he stepped off the train, legs not quite working. It was even quieter than he remembered, the chaotic sounds of the city all gone, leaving behind a calm, peaceful silence that left him reeling.

There were two buses waiting and they clambered into them, Kuroo and Yaku settling beside him - but they let him have the window seat. He’d never mentioned it to them, but they no doubt knew - Kuroo was observant, far too much for Shouhei’s good, but he didn’t care as he plastered himself to the window and watched the streets roll by.

His heart lurched with every familiar thing he saw. The playground where they’d spent far too many days running around, chasing bugs and being read to by Tooru and practicing their volleyball skills until they’d had to move to a place more suitable for practice where they wouldn’t accidentally hit people. His old elementary school. The turn that led to his old home, and, a little further, the street that Hajime and Tooru had lived on. And then Aoba Johsai rolled into view, familiar, distressingly so, but Shouhei swallowed hard, kept breathing just like Kuroo had taught him the week before.

He felt fingers curl around his bicep. Squeezed. He glanced at Yaku, who nodded at him. He shrugged weakly. Yaku squeezed his arm again, then slid his hand down, laced their fingers together. You’re not alone. That single gesture left the unspoken words ringing through his head as they all stood, gathered their bags, and spilled out of the bus and onto the front walk of the foreign school.

The faculty advisor was the only one out there, a bright smile on her face as she waved at them. “Sorry the boys aren’t here - they’re setting up the gym right now for you all! Follow me!”

The team spilled after her, the red garish against the white of the school, like a flow of blood - and idle note that made Shouhei smile to himself and shake his head as he pressed closer into Kuroo’s side. The gym they went to was large, beautiful - it had a place upstairs where spectators could watch, benches on both sides of the court, and more than enough space to practice on. The glossy floors were filled with people in baby blue shorts, white accents on all but the neon green practice jerseys they wore overtop their shirts, some of them finishing setting up the net, the ball carts.

Their team was large - larger than Nekoma’s - but his eyes were roaming, hunting, seeking - finding.

Two faces, familiar despite the years, back at the bench, both holding water bottles. Both staring at the team. Faces that had hardly changed, and yet had drastically transformed. But it’s them. It’s them. Hajime in number twelve, shorter than Tooru, but not by much, his hair shorter, no more colorful Band-Aids all over his body. Tooru’s face had sharpened up, his limbs had grown longer, and there was a brace on his knee, light-duty. Their eyes flicked.

Hajime’s found him first.

Widened.

Shouhei froze.

There was a tremor in his hands, a quiver in his legs, no control over his limbs as he stumbled forward. Wasn’t sure if he was breathing.

They were moving too, Tooru confused, trailing after Hajime, and then confusion, dawning comprehension, and then there were hands on him, all over him, holding his shoulders, clutching him tight, Hajime’s face filling his vision, swimming. Dazed, Shouhei blinked, swallowed, drew himself back enough to hear the words spilling out of those moving lips.

“-naga? Shouhei? Shouhei, is- is that you?”

He nodded weakly, and suddenly those hands turned into arms that jerked him in close, chins finding his shoulders as they both hugged him tight, impossibly so. He bit his tongue. Closed his eyes. Swallowed and only found a painful tightness in his throat as unsteady hands rose, curled into their jerseys. “I-” he croaked, “Sorry.”

“Why?” Hajime whispered, voice so much deeper than Shouhei had remembered, but so fitting.

“Lost it,” he managed, “I- washer- couldn’t-” He was stumbling, words catching, failing, not enough to cover his racing thoughts fast enough. I’m sorry I messed up. I’m sorry I let the paper go through the washer, and I’m so, so sorry I never contacted you. Please don’t hate me. Please forgive me.

“It’s okay Shouhei,” Tooru murmured, “It’s okay”

He merely buried his face into their shoulders and let himself cry. Kuroo must have warded off the rest of their team, and the Aoba Johsai players seemed to have gotten the message as well, because when they broke apart, sniffling and wiping at their eyes, no one was around them, simply seated at their benches and drinking water.

“We’ll talk after, yeah?” Hajime said softly.

Shouhei nodded, frantic, and with a final squeeze to his shoulders, they parted. But he could feel the weight of their eyes on him, and he couldn’t help but watch them too.

But he still warmed up like normal, still played his best, still sat on the sidelines, analyzing with sharp eyes. Hajime was well on his way to becoming the ace, the strength and accuracy more than there as he went up for spikes or blocks. Tooru’s serving and sets were where he shone, powerful, dangerous, stunning things of beauty that left some of the first years on their rears. And Shouhei could only smile thinly to himself as the day wore on.

And then it was over, and both teams worked together to break down the gym. It was done in minutes, but Shouhei lingered and lingered, waiting as the Aoba Johsai team milled around, some chatting with the coaches, some going to the locker room.

“Shouhei!”

He spun, heart leaping, and found Hajime and Tooru jogging towards him, Tooru waving frantically. They’d already changed, their bags slung over their shoulders, and both thrust their phones out at him. “Put your number in,” Hajime said with a smile, “That way we can keep talking.”

Shouhei blinked at them both. Took a breath. Bit back the tears that threatened to well up once more as he took their phones one at a time with unsteady hands, tapped his number in. His phone chimed moments later, twice, and Hajime reached out, squeezed his arm. His green eyes had grown more serious in the years, but there was honesty practically dripping out of them as they stared at one another. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said softly. “Accidents happen. We were sad, but we never thought you did it intentionally, or got mad at you. We figured something had happened. I’m just… I’m really glad you’re safe.”

Shouhei smiled weakly, flicked his fingers at them. They both grinned, and then they both swept him up into individual hugs, one that snatched his breath away, left him grinning as he clung to them for as long as he could. “Fukunaga! C’mon, we’re gonna leave soon!”

He glanced back to Kuroo, his friend waving for him, and twisted back to the pair before him. There was a familiar tug in his chest, one he discreetly rubbed at as he shuffled his feet, unsure. The words that sprang to his lips weren’t nearly enough, but Tooru saved him with a smile and an easy lilt to his voice. “Text us when you get back, yeah?”

He nodded quickly. They both ruffled his hair, the gesture familiar, bittersweet, and he ducked his head in a bow before he bounded across the gym over to Kuroo. His friend eyed him for a moment but turned to walk.

Shouhei paused.

Glanced back.

They were watching him. He smiled softly. Raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. They waved back, and that left him brimming with excitement as he caught up to Kuroo, fingers already itching for his pocket. Kuroo glanced down at him. Smiled. “So, those the guys, huh?” Shouhei merely blinked at Kuroo, smile lingering. Kuroo grinned, clapped his back. “Good for you.”

From Hajime:
Save me I’m gonna kill Oikawa

From Hajime:
Or maybe save him

To Hajime:
Good luck cleaning up the blood
I can help hide the body…

From Hajime:
Fucking bless

To Hajime:
What’s he doing?

From Hajime:
Overworking himself like a dumbass!
I swear he’s gonna fuck his knee up even more

To Hajime:
Sit on him

From Hajime:
… Not a bad idea

From Tooru:
Shouheeeeeei

From Tooru:
You and Hajime gotta stop ganging up on me
｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

From Tooru:
So rude!!!

To Tooru:
Oh well

From Tooru:
｡･ﾟヾ(✦థ ｪ థ)ﾉ｡ﾟ･｡

From Tooru:
I put my trust in you

To Tooru:
Clearly the wrong choice

From Tooru:
Uuuuuugh

To Tooru:
It’s okay
I can bribe him with a Godzilla poster

From Tooru:
Omg that reminds me!! Σ(ノ°▽°)ノ

From Tooru:
Did u ever find that beetle thing????

To Tooru:
No… it was too hard, and I lost the game in the move

From Tooru:
Aw damn ( ≧Д≦)

From Hajime:
Hey, I’m coming to Tokyo on Monday if that’s okay

To Hajime:
Okay

Shouhei scuffed his feet against the stone underfoot, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. Ten minutes til. He spun around and strode to the edge of the station, then back, twice, before he stilled once more at the edge of the platform, bouncing on his toes. There was too much energy in his veins to be contained. Especially since it was early in the morning. It was a holiday for their school, founding day, which had made it easier for them to meet up - especially since Hajime had skipped school and didn’t have practice on Mondays in the first place.

I wonder why he wants to meet.

It was strange - not the first time they’d done so since they’d refound each other three months prior, but the first time it hadn’t been over a weekend, that they’d made it on such short notice. Does it matter? Not really, not when he craved being around the two after so long. Though, from their texts, Tooru had stayed home. Only Hajime was coming. And he was five minutes out.

Shouhei closed his eyes. Took a breath. Tried to replay Kuroo’s words in his head - calming things, a reminder to breathe, to keep moving, to not stop. So he breathed. Kept going as the rumble of the train filled the station, drowning out the heavy thud of his heart, the chatter of the people all around him.

Brakes screeched.

Doors slid open with a hiss.

His eyes opened, slow, and watched through lidded eyes as the passengers began to flow off. Not many with the hour, but enough that he didn’t catch Hajime until they were almost on top of one another. Hajime beamed, held his hand out, and Shouhei let their hands slip together, eyes crinkling. “Glad to see you,” Hajime said softly. Shouhei hummed softly. Tipped his head. “Can we go to your house? I’m a little hungry, and you can show me around later.”

Shouhei nodded eagerly, biting back a smile as he tugged Hajime through the small crowd. It was a thirty minute walk back to his apartment, one that was filled with a comfortable silence. Hajime’s eyes swept across the city as they walked, drinking everything in with curious eyes, and Shouhei could only giggle to himself as he tugged Hajime down street after street until they reached his apartment. It was a quick ride up to the sixth floor, and Shouhei unlocked the apartment, let them in.

“Wow,” Hajime said as he crept in, drank it all it. The space was modern, more so than their last house, with newer, nicer furniture and plants everywhere. Their cat, Kumo, was sprawled out on the couch, and Hajime instantly went to her. Her head rose, golden eyes blinking lazily before she stretched out, sniffed at his fingers. She responded by rolling over, stretching to show her belly, and Hajime grinned as he buried his fingers into her brown-black fur. “Such a good kitty,” he said softly. Kumo responded with a long, rumbling purr, and Shouhei grinned.

Hajime spent a few minutes ruffling her fur before he rose, grinning. “So, your room?” Shouhei pointed to the kitchen. Hajime shook his head. “I had some stuff on the train, I’ll let you know.”

“O… kay,” Shouhei said slowly, voice rough, ragged from disuse, but Hajime still smiled encouragingly and trailed after him into his room. There were bugs painted on the walls - courtesy of Kozume.

Hajime’s fingers trailed over the swarm of butterflies that flew away from Shouhei’s bed that melted into beetles, ladybugs, fireflies, and dragonflies that disappeared at his window. “This is amazing…” Shouhei hummed, wiggled his fingers, and Hajime grinned at him, shrugged his bag off. “You’re really gonna like this then.”

Shouhei blinked, cocked his head to the side, and watched as Hajime unzipped it, dug into it for a moment. Glass clinked together. Hajime gently pulled a jar, one filled with twigs, leaves, moss, and earth, holes punched into the lid, neater than the ones they’d had in their childhood. Something moved inside. Shouhei’s eyes widened as he drifted closer, sank to his knees to join Hajime on the floor, hands rising. The glass was pressed into his hands, cool, and he held Hajime’s fingers there, his warm words washing over Shouhei as he stared into the glass, mesmerized.

“I remembered you were always so determined to find one, but Oikawa said you never did, and I’ve been looking, and I finally found one, so-”

“I-” Shouhei croaked, nearly inaudible as he leaned in closer. Inside was a golden stag beetle, glossy, the gold of its shell catching greens, reds, and every other color, shimmering within its shell as its long legs stretched out, pulled it along a thicker twig. Shouhei swallowed hard. Glanced up, eyes burning. This time, words truly did fail him as he stared at Hajime, met with a blindingly bright smile.

Shouhei shook his head, resisted the urge to dive forward, and instead crept forwards into his friend’s arms, slipping in and sinking into the warmth, familiar, so painfully, beautifully familiar despite the years as he buried his face into Hajime’s neck. “Thank… thank you,” he whispered softly.

Hajime’s hand settled on his back. “It’s no problem,” he murmured as he hugged Shouhei back.