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Being back in Miyagi means that Koushi shouldn’t be surprised at all the familiar faces that he sees, especially at one of the busiest bars in town. It’s almost too easy to deflect them with his carefully cultivated spun sugar smile and a well timed laugh or two. It’s a little harder when it’s not just a casual acquaintance, but Koushi’s pretty well practiced, so even old schoolmates are fairly easy to dissuade from asking questions that Koushi has no intention of answering.
He does just fine brushing Yamaguchi off the topic of school by exchanging stories of working in a convenience store, and Narita takes the bait quickly when Koushi asks him how well he got along overseas instead. After he’s managed to slip away from them, he gets another drink, and then he’s feeling comfortably buzzed enough to slide out onto the edge of the dance floor. Dancing alone is all well and good, but when a pair of hands settles on Koushi’s hips he can’t help the thrill that shoots down his spine.
At least, there’s a thrill until there’s an almost familiar voice in his ear. “You’ve gotten kind of thin, haven’t you, Suga-chan?”
A glance up over his shoulder confirms that, yes, that is the voice of Oikawa Tooru, former volleyball rival. His smile is as bright as Koushi’s ever seen it from across a court, though it has the tinge of something to it that makes Koushi a little nervous. Something a little knowing, like Oikawa can see straight through him to the broken parts, even through Koushi’s carefully perfected facade. He turns to face away again, continues dancing as if nothing is different. “Don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Oikawa. I’ve always been like this.”
Koushi can practically feel the assessing stare, and then Oikawa turns him around, stares into Koushi’s eyes intently before letting out a sigh. The rest of the night is spent dancing, and with Oikawa practically whispering questions in his ear that Koushi’s successfully avoided from everyone else, though he doesn’t react when Koushi mostly ignores them. It’s enough, actually, to know that someone else has gone through the same things he has.
They leave that night with an agreement to meet again, and Oikawa doesn’t complain when Koushi calls to cancel the first time. He doesn’t complain the second time, either, just asks if it would be better for Oikawa to go to Koushi instead. Sitting in Koushi’s parents’ kitchen, hot coffee and muffins on the table in front of them, is a little awkward, but Oikawa doesn’t give Koushi the pitying look that most other people tend to get. The offer of an apartment to share doesn’t come with pity, either, and Koushi thinks carefully before accepting.
A year later finds Koushi still in that apartment, wrapped snugly in his favorite blanket, and when Oikawa wordlessly hands him a cup of tea and turns the lights down without asking why Koushi is so quiet, Koushi knows he made the right decision. It’s been hard, and it will always be hard, but having someone nearby who knows how to support without being condescending means a world of difference, and Koushi’s not sure what he’d be like without it.
The room is just the right level of darkness, and he’s been fighting off a bout of feeling worthless for so long that all he feels is exhausted. Oikawa perches carefully on the arm of the couch, running his fingers through Koushi’s hair gently, humming a quiet tune that Koushi can’t quite place. He’s finally drifting off, soothed by Oikawa’s actions, when Oikawa stops humming and sighs lightly, his voice afterward a soft whisper.
“Sleep well, Sugachii.” And then he’s gone, off to another room, and Koushi’s left with a contentment that surrounds him as well as the blanket does.