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It’s only now Suga fully understands the reality of Asahi’s comment that day after practice.
Daichi is so maddeningly, hopelessly, endearingly bad at being subtle that Suga doesn’t even need Daichi to be in his line of sight to know he’s looking at him.
He can almost feel the glances, like feathers floating in the air to settle on his cheek. Gentle, barely-coded messages of hi and look at me and thank you for last week.
Sensei explains the topic, something about geography and tectonic plates and Suga starts to zone out, tuning in to Daichi instead. He bites his lip, trying to focus, and all it does is remind him of the taste of Daichi that still lingers.
Suga hears the creak of a chair, the drumming of a pencil on the table, the telltale signs Daichi is getting restless. He pushes down a small, satisfied smile, taken by this needy side of the captain he hopes no-one else has the privilege to witness.
Minutes pass and the energy in the room shifts. Brief silence sets him on edge and he nearly gives in, but then Daichi speaks, asking Sensei a pointless question with a hidden message only Suga can decipher. Daichi’s voice is rough with sleep, coated in a warmth that lures Suga like a siren’s song. He allows himself one little glance. One risky indulgence.
In a flash, Daichi catches his eye, triumphant smile present on his face even while Sensei responds to him, and Suga’s eyes dart back down. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, gazing down at the hearts adorning the margins. Message recieved. He’d won this round.
Maybe it’s juvenile to get so worked up over trading glances, waiting for the other to succumb, but he can’t deny the thrill that builds up inside. He bites the inside of his cheek, containing his happiness lest it spill out to paint his face with all shades of red. It would be too obvious, a clear signal for Sensei to hone in on among his sea of students. Even then, he wouldn’t mind being caught. He and Daichi together in detention was just another chance to get creative. And Suga always strives to make the most of every opportunity he gets.
It’s these little moments that make him feel like he’s on top of the world. Moments that make him feel like there’s so much space underneath where he could fall.
In the sheer, blissful fun of it all, he almost forgets about the persistent anxiety gnawing away at his stomach.
***
Of course, Asahi was the first to know. As his reluctant confidant and in the end, exasperated matchmaker, he’d listened to Suga gush about how much he liked Daichi, about how much he hated him (because he liked him, because he always bought him food and “Asahi, I’m begging you, tell him to wear joggers ‘cause I might not survive to play another match”).
“So you two finally got together, huh?”
The third years inhabit the club room, the rest of the team having departed for the day. More accurately, they were chased out by Daichi’s using his brand of grumpy but well-meaning care, and from the way Daichi’s hand had been permanently affixed to him during practice, Suga has a slight inkling as to why he hadn’t treated them to meat buns instead.
Unfortunately, for both their sets of hormones, Asahi seems to have figured it out too.
“I meant to tell you,” Suga says, “promise!” For once, he’s being honest with himself. He really had meant to tell Asahi. He’d just been a little too busy yesterday. It’s hard to text when your phone lays forgotten in your bag and your hands are occupied with someone else.
Aiming for some damage control, Suga throws him the smile that usually earns him an extra scoop of ice-cream, or dismissal from a naive, unsuspecting team. Asahi simply looks up and sighs, shaking his head, mumbling something to himself that sounds suspiciously like “at least you stopped being idiots”. For a second, Suga worries his friend is truly angry and the pit in his stomach expands like a black hole.
And then, Asahi turns to face Daichi.
Suga looks between them in confusion, watching as Asahi takes a step closer. His body language is all over the place, a tentative hand laid on Daichi’s shoulder but a fierce rigidity stiffening his spine.
“I don’t think I need to say this but take good care of him.”
A beat of silence passes but then Suga hears Daichi snort in surprise and it doesn't take long for him to follow suit. Deep down, he’s genuinely touched by the gesture, but the richness of Daichi’s laughter is infectious, soothing and energising at the same time.
“Am I not your friend too, Asahi? After everything I’ve done for you?” Daichi places a hand on his chest. “I’m wounded. You’ve really hurt me. Cut me to my core.” His tone is pure, unadulterated deadpan and Suga falls for him all over again.
“Do you seriously think I’m so weak I can’t fend for myself?” Suga punches his shoulder, making Asahi wince despite having braced himself for it.
“You are my friend! And no, you’ve made that clear!” Asahi defends with flailing hands as Daichi joins in, giving him a good-natured slap on the back.
“I know, I know, you big goof. I appreciate it, though.”
Suga feels a hand slip into his own, fingers intertwining.
“Now, if you’ll leave us alone, I need to take really good care of Suga.”
The pit in Suga’s stomach takes on another dimension. Heat consumes his body, his mind fixating on the husky emphasis in Daichi’s voice. He’s almost taken aback by how forward Daichi’s being but then he thinks back the day before, the way Daichi kissed him, slow, confident and deep, and realises he really, really likes this side of Daichi too.
If only he could fully enjoy it without his brain bringing him down.
“Oh god, right, okay, er, just,” Asahi clears his throat, feeling as flustered as Suga, doing a much poorer job of hiding it.
“When are you telling everyone else?”
There it is. The question that launches Suga right above the pit.
“Way to ruin the mood, Asahi,” he pretends to grumble, mentally writing out an apology. It’s not Asahi’s fault that he’s too afraid to untangle the mess in his head.
It’s not that he thinks the team will reject them. If anything, from the bets he’d heard Tanaka place, they’d most likely be crying with happiness (or sadness at suddenly finding their pockets rather empty). It’s not really about them at all.
There’s something holding him back, a whisper of uncertainty he can’t quite reign in. It hasn’t been long since they moved beyond the boundary of friends to something more. Something he’s scared of labelling too soon.
Is this where Daichi finally tells him it’s nothing serious, gives him a shrug and says there’s no point because they’re just fooling around? Daichi isn’t like that, he reminds himself, he’d never do that. It didn’t feel like that yesterday either, when Daichi gazed into his eyes and told him what he’d been waiting to hear since their first year.
But when doubt finds a home, it’s hard to evict.
The tenderness of Daichi’s thumb caressing his hand grounds him in reality. Only now he’s aware of how tightly he’s gripping onto Daichi’s hand. Slowly, he adjusts his fingers, trying not to cry when he feels the crescent-shaped ridges his nails have etched into Daichi’s skin. His pain is becoming harder to hide.
This is the tipping point and he’s so close to falling off the precipice.
“Tomorrow.” No hesitation, no vagueness. “Is that okay?” No pressure.
Just like that, relief trickles into his body. Daichi’s refusal to pull away, the conviction anchored in his words. A much-needed assurance that he’s not alone. That maybe Daichi wanted this as much as he did. Suga nods, squeezing Daichi’s hand, grinning when he receives an affectionate shoulder nudge in return.
“Okay, but if you do decide to wait, you might want to tone it down a little. I had to tell Hinata you hurt your back ‘cause he kept asking why Captain was touching it.”
Daichi has the decency to cough in shame.
***
“Anything interesting happening outside that you’d like to share with the class, Sawamura?”
Surprised at the sudden interruption, Suga bites down a little too hard, missing his cheek and hitting his tongue at full force. He covers his mouth, pressing his lips together. A yelp would be much more incriminating than a cherry-red face, and the last thing he needs right now is more attention.
Besides, even with his inner turmoil flaring up, at least he could still appreciate getting to see Daichi squirm.
To his credit, albeit after bolting upright out of his chair, Daichi manages to pull himself together, no doubt the result of countless hours of receive practice. It’s another aspect of his among many Suga appreciates, another trait he wants to showcase to the world.
“Just admiring the blossoms, Sensei. They look beautiful today.”
A ripple of laughter echoes throughout the class and Suga swears he hears a few dreamy sighs slip out into the crowd. His own remains buried unnecessarily in his chest.
Something inside him snaps. He’s had enough. The constant dissonance of his emotions is tiring and when he wrestles with the fog and faces the facts, Daichi is basically declaring his feelings for him in front of an audience.
Doesn’t he deserve to have faith in an unknown that has so much evidence proving it to be real?
Doesn’t Daichi deserve it too?
So when the corners of his eyes start to crinkle, before his hand automatically moves to cover his face, Suga makes it rest on the table, tilting his head toward the boy looking at him with such unabashed fondness.
This time, he beams back at his boyfriend.