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Five scouts. Five scouts had taken Aoyama aside within the past two days, wanting him to join whatever team or club they were from. It had been three months since the school year had started, but they were still persistent. It was crazy.
But, honestly, if he were being serious, it would be so much better for everyone if Aoyama just… just picked one of them. Any of them, really. Everybody who showed up and asked for Aoyama had come from a bigger, better place. Hell, Aoyama could pick one randomly and it would still be perfect for him--more perfect than Fujimi ever could be.
Because Aoyama was perfect. He was so perfect it drove Zaizen insane. Aoyama doesn’t belong in a place as… as utterly mediocre as Fujimi.
So, in a fit of recklessness, Zaizen had decided to confront Aoyama about it. He waited outside of the club room, watching the sky darken, listening to Aoyama’s brush as he cleaned each and every one of their soccer balls. And once the brushing ceased, Zaizen sprung into action, opening the door and catching Aoyama as he was undoing the strings of his apron.
“Zaizen-san?” His deep voice washed over Zaizen, and he felt his back stiffen accordingly. He watched as Aoyama folded the apron and put it in his locker before speaking.
“Aoyama. I need to talk to you.”
Suddenly, there was a shift in the air. A guarded look took over Aoyama, one that Zaizen… had definitely seen somewhere before…
…
Ah…
It was when…
When he had been walking to the vending machines one day, a few weeks ago. He had caught sight of Aoyama’s familiar mop and stuck his head around the corner to check out the scene.
There had been a girl, a second-year from the volleyball team. Her back was to Zaizen, but he could tell she was flustered nonetheless. He ended up hearing her finish an obvious confession, but rather than focus on her words, he was caught up with the expression on Aoyama’s face.
Just like right now, in front of him, Aoyama seemed unnervingly neutral. In a way unlike how it usually fell, where it was but a calm emotionlessness. Currently, it was tense, forced into neutrality. It sent a cold weakness down Zaizen’s spine, and he felt as though Aoyama wanted nothing more than to leave.
“Yo, relax. This isn’t a confession, I’m here to talk about the team.” He masked his nerve with a laugh, but seeing Aoyama instantly calm down made something deep within himself ache.
Nothing about Aoyama had actually moved, physically, Zaizen noticed. He didn’t really know how he had noticed Aoyama’s tension in the first place, but he was glad it was gone now.
“Zaizen-san. What is it?” Aoyama questioned with a phantom eyebrow raise, which made Zaizen let out a pitiful chuckle as he remembered at once just why he was here.
He was on a mission! Though, as he had waited outside the door, peeking in every now and again, all his bravado had slowly seeped through his feet. He stood his ground only due to his inherent stubborn nature. Plus, because this whole situation filled him with weird emotions that were too muddled to address himself. Either way, he was standing here, and if he couldn’t do this now, then he wouldn’t do it ever.
Straightening, he looked into Aoyama’s eyes.
“You’re… Aoyama, you’re perfect. You’re more than perfect. You could do so well anywhere else, so why do you stay at Fujimi?” He tried to sound strong, he really did.
And though his expression remained stagnant, Aoyama’s emotions shifted. Maybe it was a difference in his eyes, how they shined differently, but Zaizen could tell he had struck something within Aoyama.
Simply, he said what he always says. “I like the toilets. And the jerseys. You’re wasting time.”
Aoyama turned his head to the side, looking away petulantly, like it was really the answer. But seriously, there’s no way. It’s impossible that it could be that simple. Zaizen refused to accept it.
“Bullshit!” He yelled louder than planned, but he continued anyway, “There are other teams with better bathrooms. There are other teams with white jerseys! This shithole isn’t special!”
Aoyama didn’t respond, and Zaizen let all of his frustration and confusion and some more personal emotions loose into the air between them.
“We don’t deserve you. There are other places that are better, that will treat you better, make you a better player. They’re begging you to go with them, and they have good reason!” Running a hand over his face, he sighed.
“I want you here. God, I wish I could always have you here, but you’re the next national star. National! You deserve to have your… your powers nourished in a place that can… that can handle you! You waste your time and skill here. There’s no reason you should stay! I need to know why you refuse to leave!”
He felt as though his cheeks were radiating, embarrassment and heat pumping through his veins and reddening his skin. He chanced a look into Aoyama’s eyes, and finished his rant.
“I… I can’t understand.”
Aoyama was still silent. But there was something new on his face. Determination. No, it wasn’t more than a furrowed brow and sharpened, shining eyes, but it was Aoyama’s equivalent, and Zaizen understood at least this clearly.
“I like it here.” He said, insistent, slow, with care and thought, and it was sincere, but it wasn’t enough.
“That’s not good enough! You could learn to like it anywhere. You have fans around the country. Hell, probably around the world! No matter where you go, people will gather and shower you with nothing but love and adoration. We have nothing to give you that others can’t give you too. We aren’t special!”
“You are, though.”
“What?”
Aoyama seemed to suddenly want to wrap this up, breaking eye contact with Zaizen to turn to the side, moving to pack his bag.
“Aoyama! Talk to me!” In a rage, he stormed over and reached out for Aoyama’s shoulder. He stopped before touching his teammate, mind catching up to him in an instant. Swearing bitterly, he forced his hand away, still feeling the phantom heat beneath his fingertips.
Aoyama hadn’t flinched, but when Zaizen moved away, he let out a small breath of air, regarding Zaizen with a new look. Tension was back, but something else emerged, and it shook something within Zaizen’s core.
“Zaizen-san -” He started, but Zaizen interrupted him, causing him to frown.
“You should accept. You really should. There’s no place for you here. Why… Why are you so stubborn?!”
“Because I don’t want to leave.” His exclamation was loud, almost a shout but still low and steady. It made Zaizen freeze. He didn’t understand that at all! But… Aoyama sounded so genuine...
Fuck.
Fuck!
This was too much! He couldn’t do this! He wasn’t getting anywhere!
“I don’t want you to leave either!” He yelled, face contorting with bitterness before he took a breath, forcing himself to relax. Why was he even here? They were talking in circles.
“It would be for the best, if you left, but you don’t want to leave, and I don’t want you to leave… I guess… I guess both of us are just selfish.” He shook his head, stressed and frustrated and all he wanted was to understand. Without thinking, he stepped closer to Aoyama, but Aoyama didn’t move away. It was like a green light. A green light for what, Zaizen didn’t yet know.
“I agree.”
“They won’t stop bothering you, you know? And they’re not wrong to seek you out. Everyone knows they’re doing what’s best.”
“I know.”
Aoyama’s resolution didn’t falter, and Zaizen pressed closer. Their shoes were inches apart. Something was happening between them, and Zaizen was aching.
“What will you do?”
“I will stay.”
“Why?” He hissed painfully. This was too much. This really was-
“Can I touch you?”
…
…
“What?” He asked, breathlessly.
Aoyama didn’t reply, but instead held up his bare palm, missing his usual black glove or cleaning mitt. His eyes were so blue, and determined, and genuine, and all Zaizen could do was nod.
And with his permission, Aoyama moved forward so instead of being inches apart, the tips of their shoes were just almost touching. Zaizen could feel Aoyama’s breath against his skin, and his hands clenched into fists by his sides.
“I like it here.” Aoyama said, repeating the same words from before and reaching between them, lifting his hand to Zaizen’s face, their eyes locking. It was… electric. Electric and intoxicating and breathtaking. Zaizen could feel Aoyama’s fingers twitch as they rest against his cheek.
“I don’t… want to leave.” Aoyama looked like he was in pain, but he also looked as enthralled as Zaizen felt. He wanted to hold Zaizen, even if his body hated it. Zaizen didn’t know what exactly to make of it, but at this point in time, he cared for nothing on earth other than Aoyama’s eyes, that swam with so much, bottled and stored but also spilling out into the open just for Zaizen to dive into.
So much.
Too much.
Zaizen moved his face back, cutting off the contact, not wanting to overwhelm Aoyama, not wanting himself to become overwhelmed.
“I want to touch you too.” Zaizen whispered, but he kept his fists by his side.
“I want you to touch me.” Aoyama’s voice was low, lower than normal, but it didn’t waver.
“Will you let me?”
“I want to.”
“But will you?”
Aoyama squeezed his eyes tight, turning away slightly. Zaizen could see the veins in his neck stress.
“I want to.”
Zaizen let his teammate relax, only speaking when he was sure Aoyama was ready to continue.
“Aoyama. Can I touch you?”
He waited. Aoyama took a few silent breathes, then faced him, taking up his gaze.
“Touch me.”
Zaizen swallowed thickly, staring into deep blue as he obeyed.
He lifted a hand and slowly, slowly rest it against Aoyama’s cheek in the same way he did him. It was unbelievably soft, and shuddering under his fingers. Within the same moment, he lifted his fingers away, unwilling force too much too fast. But...
But Aoyama’s eyes were on fire.
“Zaizen Kaoru. Touch me.”
Both of them were breathing harder than normal. From the outside, they probably looked pathetic, getting riled up over but a brush of skin. However… right here, right now, the world was nothing but the two of them. Right now, Aoyama was all that mattered, and his heart was hammering. Zaizen had no idea how they had reached this point, but really, he didn’t care. He felt nothing but adrenaline, and he knew Aoyama felt exactly the same.
“I want to kiss you.”
Aoyama snapped his gaze down to look at Zaizen’s mouth.
“I want you to.” He said it with conviction. Yet, Zaizen could see how it pained him.
“Will you let me?”
Aoyama’s eyes were back, connecting desperately now with Zaizen’s. He said yes, deep and trusting and wavering and scared.
And when it happened, no other part of Zaizen touched Aoyama. It was hell for Zaizen, as the second their lips met, he wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around Aoyama and never let go.
Alas, that could never be, so he forced all of his thoughts and wishes towards Aoyama as the two of them were connected more intimately than either of them had ever been before. Lips, pressed against each other, closed, unmoving, but warm and for the both of them, exhilarating.
Abruptly, Zaizen stepped away, hoping he didn’t overwhelm Aoyama. He searched Aoyama’s face instantly, and found the other boy in a daze. Aoyama sat on the bench next to his bag heavily, all but fainting onto it.
“Was that too much?” Zaizen asked, sitting next to him.
“I wanted it.”
“Don’t push yourself.”
Aoyama shook his head and turned so that they could look at each other again.
“But I want to.”
Swiftly, he leaned up and pressed his lips against Zaizen’s once more.