Archive of Our Own

In a team containing members like Iwaizumi and Oikawa, Shigeru had some big things to measure up to, hence the night time practices at the gym on the way home. As a setter with moderate skill, he was always welcome in the practices of others, however on this particular day, the volleyball court was nearly empty.
Except for one, impossible to miss person. He was using the back court, one side of which was littered with volleyballs. As Yahaba watched, he tossed a ball into the air, followed it with his eyes a small way, and then leapt. Almost the instant he’d hit the ball, it was slamming against the court on the other side of the net.
The boy landed messily, his volleyball shoes screeching across the court, but the spike had been undeniably powerful.
For a moment, Shigeru was intimidated.
But he was here to practice, and practice he would. He approached, recognizing the guy’s short, bleached blond hair. He’d seen that same head of hair in a few of his classes; he went to Aobajohsai. Scooping up one of the balls littering the net opposite the guy Shigeru watched another vicious spike. He paused and they made eye contact for a few long seconds. Shigeru shrugged internally and ducked under the net.
"I can set for you, if you want," he offered.
The other boy ignored him, his mouth set in a contemptuous expression. Shigeru hesitated, but demons didn't usually hide behind a demonic façade. Oikawa sprung to mind - a demon if Shigeru had ever seen one, despite his pretty face.
"What's the point of practicing alone?" He asked, tilting his head to one side.
"Tch." The stranger averted his eyes, like a child, Shigeru thought.
Shigeru set the ball himself, and the strangers eyes followed it. His muscles tensed and for an instant he was a coiled spring. Shigeru could see the power in those muscles. Without a run up, the stranger sprung almost vertically in the air. The power of his whole body was behind his arm as it came into contact with the ball. The thump of it hitting the court, just before the line at the back, made others in the gym stop momentarily.
The stranger licked his lips and grinned a little, before his expression became stoic again. His power rivalled Iwaizumi's - why wasn't he a part of the school team?
"Why don't you play for us?" Shigeru voiced.
The strangers eyes flicked to his Aobajohsai uniform but again he was silent. He only picked up another ball and tossed it to Shigeru, who set it automatically. With a running start, the strangers spikes were more powerful than ever.
"Not a team player, huh?" He said.
The stranger came to a skidding halt, "I don’t need to be." He said.
Surprised he’d managed to get a rise out of him, Shigeru grinned and set another ball. “It's volleyball, that’s the point of the game." Duh.
The stranger rolled his eyes.
"Don't talk much, do you?"
"Most people can figure this out without needling me." He said.
And that was as far as their conversation got. There was only so much setting Shigeru could put up with, especially when the practice was so repetitive.
"Where are you aiming for?" He asked as another spike went over. Most of them were inside the lines, but though the power was unrivalled the accuracy was... Questionable.
"The court."
"You should challenge yourself," he said dryly.
The stranger caught the ball deftly in mid-air. Shigeru sighed; the message was clear enough. He found his own place and practiced serving instead. The rhythmic thumping of the other guy’s practice rang in his ears.
What a pity, Shigeru thought, that this person would never be a team player.
Even so, such raw power was mesmerising. Shigeru found his eyes following the strangers form each spike.
-
Kyotani wasn't a violent person, exactly, he just seemed to attract violence. A comforting explanation, when the alternative was his own stupidity. He'd been walking to the bus stop after leaving the gym. It was just on dark, in autumn that was around seven, taking quieter streets because the way was quicker. That was his first mistake. The second, he supposed, was making eye contact, with the group of people huddled on a street corner, smoking something he was pretty sure was illegal.
And of course he'd glared scornfully at them and kept on his way - or would have, had they not shouted something out behind him.
In his defence, they'd thrown the first punch, but several minutes later he'd gotten more than he'd given and a car had pulled up beside the scuffle, sending his attackers scattering and leaving his bruised and bloody face in full view of the cars harsh headlights.
Someone crouched down beside him and checked his pulse. Automatically, he grabbed the hand and pushed it away from him.
"You're alright then," said a woman. He could see she was dressed in a police uniform, probably why everyone else had scattered so quickly.
Kyotani sat up slowly, feeling the trickle of blood from his nose drip from his chin. He wiped it away and winced at the sting.
"Hey, you must be about seventeen, yeah?"
Kyotani nodded.
"Do you need the hospital?"
He shook his head. He'd hurt in the morning but it was hardly life-threatening.
"Where's your address?"
Kyotani stiffened. If his Father saw him looking like this - god, it would be a nightmare.
His third mistake, he supposed, was refusing to tell her his address.
She stood, "I have to start my shift soon. Let me take you to my house. I have a son your age, he'll patch you up. You can stay overnight."
"Why?"
"You need a place to go and we have a couch for you to sleep on," she offered her hand, her badge glinting in the light, "come."
Kyotani stood on his own and wrenched the car door open.
"I work until late tonight, so I probably won't be up early tomorrow." She said as she got in, "It's a school day, so I suppose you'll be gone. Feel free to stay for longer, if you want, I don't know what your situation is-"
"It's fine." Kyotani said shortly.
She shrugged, and begun babbling about nonsensical things. Kyotani hated people who felt the need to fill silence. He had nothing to say, except a quiet thanks when she handed him a tissue to dab at his nose with. It occurred to him that this was most certainly not part of her job, but a few minutes later she'd pulled up at a nondescript home with a slightly messy front yard and was knocking on the door.
"We don't have a spare house key," she explained.
Someone unlocked it, and opened the door, spilling yellow light onto the woman and her newfound charge outside.
"Why are you back early?" they asked.
"Shigeru, this is-"
She paused and Kyotani unhelpfully did not offer his name. He'd seen the silhouette in the door before.
"-anyway, make him up a bed, something to eat maybe, and patch him up. You have school tomorrow, sleep soon."
"Mum-"
"-I need to start my shift, I'll see you tomorrow." And she was gone.
"Seriously, again?" Shigeru said, "and - you!?"
Kyotani finally managed to make out the face - it was the guy he'd 'practiced' with just a few hours before. Perhaps it was misfortune that followed him, rather than violence.
He turned around. He didn't exactly want to face his father, and catching a taxi looking like he did would be no mean feat, but no way would he be staying with someone from his school.
"Oy! Where are you going?"
"Home."
"My mother's an idiot, sometimes," Shigeru said, with no small amount of annoyance, "but she wouldn't have brought you here if you didn't need a place to go - what? Did she drag you here kicking and screaming? She's half your size."
"Tch." The light from the house faded out and suddenly the city seeming forebodingly dark.
"Idiot. How are you going to catch a taxi with that face? You look like a slab of mincemeat."
This guy... Was insufferable. He had a plain, almost boyish exterior, but his manor was oddly (annoyingly) abrasive.
"Come on," he said, "all the bugs will get inside if I don't shut the door."
Kyotani ran a hand through his hair, feeling clumps around his forehead, and stepped inside.
"Follow." Shigeru said shortly. "What's your name?"
"Kentaro Kyotani,” he said finally.
"I've seen you about. My names Yahaba Shigeru. Call me Yahaba - we aren't friends."
He'd gotten that bit right. Yahaba brought down a suspiciously well stocked medicine box and pulled out some anti-septic and cotton swabs. He wrinkled his nose delicately when he leaned towards Kyotani.
"You need a shower," he said disdainfully, dabbing the cotton on his split lip. Kyotani winced at Yahaba's rough treatment and snatched it from him.
Yahaba grinned, like he was proud he'd gotten a reaction. "You better do it properly or it'll get infected," he warned.
Then he sighed and set about opening some instant noodles, "I had plans, you know," he said, stirring them vengefully and putting them in the microwave. "Take 'em out when they're done. I guess I'll make you a bed. You better sleep here, by the way. I'm not doing all this for nothing."
Kyotani didn't deign to reply - the guy was nothing but barbs and petty retorts anyway. The antiseptic still stung, but thankfully his lip was the only open wound. His nose had stopped bleeding too, and was only a little swollen. He'd been beaten up worse by better, he supposed.
The microwave beeped impatiently and he slammed down the cotton swabs and took out the food. His stomach grumbled but he only picked at them; eating around a split lip was always a challenge. In the next room, Yahaba rustled around, making the bed, he assumed.
For someone so prickly, he really was a mother's boy.
The kitchen Kyotani was sitting in was small and a little cramped. The fridge door contained a couple magnets, and a picture of Yahaba and his mother, and who Kyotani assumed was his dad. He looked down at his hands.
The bowl he was eating from was chipped. He wondered how Yahaba had wound up going to a private school - surely he hadn't gotten a sports scholarship? His setting had been nothing special, and, well, he hadn't paid much attention to his serves.
-
Shigeru showed Kentaro to the bathroom, and cleaned the kitchen while the shower was running. Only after Kentaro was out of the shower and in bed, could Shigeru sleep.
He was awoken at three in the morning by a gentle murmur outside his room. Blinking sleepily, he climbed out of bed and stepped into the hall. His mothers door was shut, she would have gotten home only an hour or so before, but a soft blue glow came from the living room.
He padded to the living room and eased the door open. A sole figure sat on the sofa, and on the T.V. a... Nature documentary? Was playing. The volume was on low, but Shigeru could hear the narrations. For a moment, he paused and watched the screen. Something about a mother cat bringing her kittens to safety. Below the fence where she stood, paced a rabid dog.
Shigeru fought the urge to yawn. He supposed Kentaro wouldn't be thrilled to know he'd seen him doing something so... Weird.
Or normal, depending on perspective. Shigeru had never seen, nor tried to see, Kentaro as anything but the angsty kid who sat at the back of the class.
He couldn't see Kentaro's face, but there was a relative lack of tension in his shoulders; he was no longer hunched over on himself.
Yahaba slipped back to his room and shut the door as quietly as he could manage. It was his house, goddammit, and yet he was loathe to disturb Kentaro, a stranger, when he seemed to be so relaxed.
The next morning Shigeru said little - partially because nettling someone who spoke so little was dull, and partially because if he did manage to provoke Kentaro, he'd probably wake Shigeru's mother.
He grabbed them both a muesli bar rather than spend awkward time in the kitchen getting cereal, and directed Kentaro out of the house. In the day light, Kentaro's face was obviously beaten up. One of his eyes was swollen and puffy, and his lip had scabbed over.
"Sorry." Shigeru said.
"Huh?"
"I should have given you an ice pack," he said.
"I'll cover it up."
"Will you go home first?"
He grunted non-committally and Shigeru sighed impatiently.
"Well are you going to take the bus with me?"
"I'll get off at the mall bus stop." Kentaro said, rummaging in his pockets for change.
The bus was cramped with members from the public and various different schools. They got their tickets and Shigeru found himself pressed against Kentaro near the back of the bus.
"You need the door," he said, reaching for one of the handles overhead and stepping in front of Kentaro.
A lady got on holding two bulging shopping bags and people jostled against them to make room. Shigeru stepped back and felt himself pressed against Kentaro. He was just taller than him and he could feel his breath against his neck. Despite his height, from what Shigeru could feel - and he was beginning to feel quite a lot - Kentaro's muscles were wiry from hard use.
This guy must spend a lot of time on volleyball, especially for someone who wasn't on the team.
A waste, Shigeru thought again.
The bus jolted and Kentaro rocked forwards, grabbing onto the same handle as Shigeru's for support. For a moment Shigeru's hand was enveloped by Kentaro's in a moment of accidental intimacy, but Kentaro jerked his hand away as if burned.
It occurred to Shigeru that Kentaro was just as touch starved as he. He risked a glance backwards, and found Kentaro staring determinedly at the floor.
Was that- a faint flush of red stained his cheeks, underneath the bruising. Shigeru released a shaky breath and faced forwards again.
Someone pushed the stop button and the bus came to its next stop. Kentaro shouldered his way to the open door and leapt off.
"That's not-" Shigeru begun to say - but Kentaro was out of earshot.
The mall stop was another ten minutes away. Shigeru watched him as the bus begun driving again, taking in his hunched, now slightly uncomfortable gait.
Kentaro's eyes found his amongst the sea of people, and Shigeru thought they - the non-bruised one - widened a fraction, before he yanked his gaze away. Shigeru felt his own face redden a little. The whole situation was a little awkward, really, and this only increased it.
He thought of seeing him in school later and groaned internally.
Why was it always the emotionally unavailable ones?
He did see Kentaro at school later. He must've arrived late, but he caught glimpses of him in the hallway, and as he filed into one of his classes, determinedly focusing all of his attention on Watari, the teams libero.
When he next dared turn to watch Kentaro, Shigeru realised with a start that the bruising was nearly invisible. For a second he was relieved on Kentaro's behalf - then he realised that for someone to be so good at covering bruises, they needed alot of practice.
Watari followed his gaze curiously, and Shigeru tore his gaze away. It was none of his business, he reminded himself, and yet...
Well, maybe he wanted it to be, a little bit.
Shigeru was proud of his volleyball team. When he wrote his resume it was what he placed at the top.
He couldn't help but feel that now, after seeing Kentaro's performance, that there was something missing in their team. Each member was powerful in their own right, and they were stitched together almost seamlessly by Oikawa, yet he couldn't help but imagine what they would look like with Kentaro on their side.
Actually socializing probably wouldn't hurt him either.
So perhaps making Kentaro his business would be a benefit to both parties - but he was surprisingly difficult to get a hold of.
-
Kyotani avoided the community gym like the plague, because he knew, or at least suspected, what would be waiting there for him. A week passed, and then two, with little to no incident. He'd half expected Yahaba's mother to have done something, but his Dad remained oblivious.
And then he found a note in his bag. He didn't know when he'd put it in, he hadn't even technically seen who'd put it in, but it had to have been Yahaba.
The handwriting was crisp and neat, the note read-
Practice in Gym 2 after school.
"Tch." Kyotani scrunched up the note and threw it away. His annoyance lessened slightly as the ball of paper landed neatly in the bin.
But at least if Yahaba had practice straight after school, the community gym would be free.
Safe.
He left the classroom looking for all the world like he hadn't spared the note a second thought.
Another note appeared the next day, with a similar message. This time, Kyotani thought he caught Yahaba watching him from across the classroom. He pointedly balled up the paper and threw it away.
So he spent another night at the community gym, hitting spikes harder than ever before.
And the pattern continued.
And then he hit a spike - and instead of slamming against the other half of the court, someone received it.
When he focused, he focused on one thing only. His vision was reduced to the ball, arcing in the air after he'd tossed it.
He hadn't registered someone actually approaching, despite them being in his field of view.
And of course, that person was Yahaba.
He landed, and skidded a little, his volleyball shoes screeching against the floor.
"You should have practice," he said.
"Glad you've been reading my notes," he said, "and yeah, I should be - if I was a regular Oikawa would probably be mad - but I can't match the skill of the people on the courts, you know. You can." He met Kyotani’s eyes with a stony stare.
"You don't think... That's what I'm worried about?"
Yahaba bounced the ball and ducked under the net. They were face to face.
"You're scared."
Kyotani's eyes widened.
"I'm not-"
"You know you're good. You like volleyball. You have time to practice - that's the only logical explanation." Yahaba took another step forwards, catching the bouncing ball.
"Of what?"
"You tell me," he said.
And he waited. Kyotani didn't often find silences awkward, but this... Every second that passed only confirmed Yahaba’s guess, but he couldn’t find the words to prove him wrong.
Yahaba shoved the volleyball at him and he took it, "come on." He said, turning to walk out the gym.
"What?"
"Come back to the club. All you have to do is show the team your spike," he looked back, "they're amazing."
Kyotani found himself following, heat rushing to his face. Yahaba, of course, had said it like it was a fact - it was a fact, so why did it please him? And why was he steeling himself for another bus ride with Yahaba?
The bus wasn't crowded this time around, thankfully, and Kyotani pointedly sat a seat behind Yahaba, who looked a little amused.
Damn it.
The school gym was around the back of the school, and Kyotani had only been in it once or twice for the school assembly’s he hadn’t managed to avoid. When Yahaba opened the net covering the door, practice slowed. When Kyotani ducked in behind him, it came to almost a complete halt.
It went more or less how he expected it to. Yahaba apparently hadn't even mentioned that he would be coming, but he spoke to Oikawa with a surprising amount of confidence.
"He'd be a powerful player - you'll see - but he's an-" he turned to look at him- "asshole. To put it lightly."
"Now, now, we can work on that." Oikawa said, turning his full attention to Kyotani, who glared back. Oikawa shivered exaggeratedly, "Iwa-chan, that's your job."
A third year, who didn't match Oikawa's nickname in the least, looked imperiously at him. Kyotani turned his glare to him.
Stupid third years and their airs and graces.
He just wanted to play, without the complex, subtle, mess of social interaction.
He showed them what he could do, and then retreated back to the side lines. Yahaba was talking with the Libero, who'd watched his spike with more awe and less surprise.
"-the way you've been sneaking glances at him - of course I noticed, idiot - I thought you liked him or something."
"Huh?" Yahaba protested a little too loudly, "no, why would I-" he cleared his throat, "obviously I know skill when I see it."
"How'd you find out about it?" The libero asked. Kyotani wondered if he knew how his voice carried.
Yahaba shrugged and the libero sniggered. Even Kyotani could tell Yahaba wasn't helping their situation. He watched the practicing around the court instead. He was wasting time, loitering in the corner, but he couldn't quiet bring himself to practice, not when so many eyes were already on him. People didn't openly stare, but he could feel them looking regardless.
"Oy!"
He jerked his head back to Yahaba, "you gonna do anything?" He asked.
Kyotani shrugged.
"Then come on. Watari wants to practice receiving your spikes. I bet an ice-cream he'd miss, you know, so you'd better win it for me."
"Why would I want to get you an ice cream?"
"We can share," Yahaba said with a shark-like grin, before setting the ball.
The distraction was a welcome one - the distraction of volleyball, not of Yahaba, who was still grinning that toothy grin. Kyotani's next spike hit the courts out of bounds and he swore under his breath. That grin seemed to widen.
Despite the intricate delicacies of actually getting along with the team, Kyotani found himself turning up at practices.
Because of these, he arrived home late more often than ever. Often times he was lucky, and his father wasn't home, but this particular day he saw the apartment lights on. For a split second he considered turning back around again, except he had school tomorrow and didn't particularly feel like roaming the streets either. He hitched his bag higher on his shoulder and wrenched the door open.
"Where were you?" His dad greeted on the way to his room.
"Out." Kyotani said, then reconsidered, "at volleyball practice."
His dad nodded and Kyotani was in the clear. Any parent, he supposed, would like to know their child worked hard at a sport. Kyotani's dad, who'd seen him playing with eyeliner when he was little, and who hated his dyed hair now, used it as a reaffirmation of character: i.e. His son couldn't possibly like other men because he played sports.
Kyotani had no qualms surrounding his sexuality, but there was a terrible kind of guilt involved, when he thought of his father, who'd hate him for it.
-
"Kyoken, Yahaba, you two are on clean-up duty."
First he noticed the nickname - 'mad dog', then his partner in all this registered.
"There's an assembly in here tomorrow, so you'd better clean properly," Oikawa said, waving goodbye.
Kyotani's feet moved before he could stop himself, and he grabbed Oikawa by the front of his shirt.
"Why'd you put me with him?" He growled.
"Now, now," Oikawa said, patting his hand unconcernedly, "the rest of the team’s scared of you for some reason."
Kyotani let go quickly.
"I wonder why," Oikawa said lightly, pulling the door shut behind him.
"Tch."
"You did exactly what he expected you to, you know." Yahaba said, "he picks people apart."
"So?"
Yahaba shrugged, "is there something in your head you don't want him to see?"
That went without saying.
Yahaba shrugged to himself and opened up the supply cupboard.
"Let's get this done," he said, grabbing a mop, "you take down the net."
Kyotani hesitated but complied in the end. It hadn't been the cleaning he was objecting to, after all.
An awkward silence ensued.
Kyotani found himself watching Yahaba from the corner of his eye. He'd never been a part of quite so many awkward silences before, or rather, they hadn't ever been awkward for him, but now he had the urge to fill the silence.
"Did you... Did you win the bet with Watari?" he asked finally.
"Huh?" Yahaba dropped one of the balls he was carrying to the box and dropped down to grab it. "He didn't manage to catch any of your spikes, did he?"
"Oh."
"Do you wanna get that ice cream? After this, I mean."
"My next bus comes in fifteen minutes." Kyotani said. This was not the direction he'd expected the conversation to go in at all.
"So I have that long to-" Yahaba cleared his throat and blushed, "I mean, we better finish this quickly then."
Kyotani wasn't a sadistic person, though many might beg to differ, but he took joy in the fact that Yahaba was as awkward as he.
"Let's go." He said finally, when the gymnasium was cleaned (albeit roughly).
"Where to?" Yahaba asked.
"You're buying."
"With Watari's money - and he only gave me enough for one." Kyotani begun to say something but Yahaba continued hurriedly, "that means you're buying next time."
Next time. Kyotani turned to looked across the street as a smile bloomed on his face.
"We could go to the convenience store." Yahaba said, "it's only a couple minutes away, and we have ten left before your bus, or-" he glanced at Kyotani, who'd determinedly begun glaring again- "well, have you ever tried the ice creams from the stall by the mall?"
Kyotani shook his head.
"They're good. Come on, we can make it if we run."
And without a second thought, Yahaba took off running. Kyotani started to shout after him that this was stupid, but with Yahaba he would be wasting his breath.
The fruit stall didn't look anything special. It was on the same street as the mall entrance the sign was a faded peach colour, with 'ice-cream' written in bubbly kanji.
"What's so good about this place?" Kyotani asked as they went inside.
Yahaba shrugged, "pick a flavour, you'll see." He ordered his own, and the shop attendant gave him a cone with a scoop of vanilla in it.
"Vanilla? You took us all the way here for the same flavour you can get at a hundred other places?" Kyotani asked incredulously.
"It's good vanilla," Yahaba said defensively, "you pick one."
Kyotani looked over the different boxes. "Lemon," he decided.
"Sour, like you. Nice."
He rolled his eyes.
"Wanna walk to your bus stop then?" Yahaba asked after Kyotani had his ice cream in hand.
Kyotani nodded and tried his ice cream. Admittedly it was better than a packaged one, but it wasn't worth-
"Shit, is that your bus?" Yahaba said.
On the street beside them, Kyotani watched his bus roll past. There was no way they'd reach the stop in time.
Yahaba checked his phone. The case was scuffed and the screen protector was completely shattered, but it seemed to work fine.
"The next ones in half an hour," he confirmed.
Kyotani groaned.
"At least you can enjoy your ice cream now," Yahaba said, "is there anywhere you want to go?"
Why would he want to go anywhere?
Yahaba cleared his throat, his free hand fiddling with his phone in his pocket, "I mean, running errands or something not, uh, anything else."
Kyotani shook his head.
"Might as well go to the park then, right? There are seats there."
"If I miss the bus again, you're buying next time." Kyotani said before he could stop himself.
There was a long pause, in which they reached the part entrance, the tree's silhouetted against the darkening sky. It was chilly, almost too cold for ice cream.
Next time?
This atmosphere was calm. The traffic became muffled and street lights cast soft glowing circles on the ground every few meters. Yahaba's warmth was by his side, just close enough to feel. Every few steps they brushed together.
A next time seemed unlikely and this feeling... Surely it was a once in a life time experience?
But Yahaba agreed with him softly, and they found a bench, shrouded in the encroaching darkness.
Kyotani sat a careful distance away from Yahaba, who took another lick of ice cream. He ate very delicately, his tongue flicking out to barely graze the surface of the ice cream...
"Do you want a taste?" He asked.
Kyotani raised his eyes (which had been far too intently focused on the others mouth) and found Yahaba regarding him curiously.
Kyotani looked away, "I've had vanilla before."
"I wasn't talking about the ice cream." Yahaba said, for a moment his tone serious.
Kyotani stiffened and he laughed, albeit awkwardly.
"This would be more amusing if you talked back, you know," he said.
Kyotani risked a glance at him. Even in the low lighting Yahaba's blush was evident. Somehow they'd gotten closer; Kyotani could almost feel the heat radiating off him. It was comforting.
"I thought we were here to... Enjoy Watari's generosity."
"Your ice cream was a product of my own, give credit where it's due, thanks."
Another silence, this one much more bearable.
Eventually Yahaba finished his ice cream and stretched, "we'd better get going, busses don't run for long after this."
"Where's your stop?"
"Outside the cinema - yours is closer."
"I don't-" The night vanished, and Kyotani imagined himself at home, greeting his dad on the way in, perhaps telling him he'd been out with friends. It was true, technically, this was what this night had been, but it didn't feel that way - he didn't feel that way - and te secrecy disgusted him. He didn't want to go home.
That wasn't a statement he could say to Yahaba, though. He'd get off halfway, or something. It'd be a waste of a bus ticket but some things - Yahaba's form blurred as the bus departed - some things couldn't be helped.
The ice cream hadn't been worth missing the bus for but this, this definitely was.
It was perhaps worth even the sleepless night(s) afterwards, the fights on street corners and the guilt which burned in Kyotani’s stomach whenever he faced his father.
He could go home, not tonight.
It was near midnight, and cold, by the time Kyotani realized there was one place in the world he wanted to go and one way to get there.
-
Shigeru's house didn't have a working doorbell, so if the person knocking had arrived just a little earlier, all sign of them would have been drowned out by the shower. Now Shigeru was yanking on a shirt and rushing down the stairs simultaneously. The person at the door could be anyone to do with his mothers job, or his mother herself, though her patrol didn't finish until early morning, or, it could be...
He unlocked the door and swung it open, forcing the person outside to jump back, like they'd been leaning against the door frame. Even in the narrow triangle of light which spilled from the door frame, he could tell it was Kentaro.
Oh this could not be good.
"What are you doing here?" He asked.
"I..." a long pause. Shigeru squinted into the shadows. Kentaro was holding himself awkwardly.
"Did you get yourself beaten up again?" More silence. "Did Mum bring you here?"
Shigeru would have thought it would have taken a miracle for Kentaro to return now he knew who lived there. Unless he'd come on his own, which was equally miraculous.
"Never mind." Kentaro said, and Shigeru felt his heart sink a little as the other turned to leave.
"Wait!"
No response. Shigeru lunged forwards and felt his hands close around Kentaro's arm. Kentaro whipped around and Yahaba swallowed. There was a bruise blooming high on his cheek, and his nose was bleeding again.
"Idiot," he said, "you've probably got a concussion or something." Even he could tell his voice betrayed his words - and his actions, he supposed, his hands still locked around Kentaro's arm.
They stood, facing each other, for a few, long, moments, before Shigeru spoke again. It always seemed to be him doing the talking, and he was getting sick of the sound of his own voice (narcissistic as he was).
"I don't... I don't actually mind if you stay," he said (admitted) finally.
He could feel the moment Kentaro gave in - in the way his arm muscles softened in his grasp, in the small sigh which left his lips.
"Let's go inside then. At this rate you'll use up all of our medicine supplies." Shigeru said, leading him to the kitchen. Reluctantly, he took away his hands and begun getting out ointment and bandaging. "I'd better get you some ice for that this time, huh?" He nodded to the bruise on Kentaro's face.
He found a bag of frozen peas in the freezer, and grabbed a tissue for Kentaro's nose.
"Anywhere else?" He asked as he handed them over. Kentaro had clearly been in a fight.
He shook his head, but as the suspicion dawned on him, Shigeru took one of Kentaro's hands in his. They were curled into fists, and this skin on the knuckles was split.
"Looks like you gave as good as you got, huh?" Shigeru said. He didn't dare ask any more questions. Somehow, the fact that Kentaro had come to him made up for it.
Gently, his slipped his fingers under Kentaro's and eased them open, so his palm lay flat in his own. He begun dabbing at the crusted blood, lightly so as not to irritate the split skin. Kentaro shifted minutely above him, he glanced up to find a blush staining the others cheeks. Feeling heat rush to his own face, Shigeru pressed down harder, and heard Kentaro hiss in pain.
He cleared his throat, "your other hand too?"
Kentaro extended it, and Shigeru got to work.
"I'll bandage it after you've showered," he said finally, "I guess you know where that is now, huh."
"Mhmm," Kentaro agreed.
"Are you staying the night?" Shigeru asked.
Kentaro hesitated. It was difficult now they were on their own - they'd always seemed to have the guise of coincidence or necessity before.
But that was applicable here too...
"You'd better." Shigeru decided for him, "catching a taxi with that face..."
But his words had no real bite to them this time, and it was a feeble excuse. Kentaro shrugged anyway, and set the frozen peas down.
"I guess I'll make you a bed then," Shigeru said, "should I make food?"
"I'm fine,"
"Because you dine out before you get beaten up?" Shigeru said, but quietly, as Kentaro left the room. He began bringing out spare blankets for the bed, catching sight of the towel he'd just used in a heap on his bedroom floor. Kentaro would need one, he realised, grabbing a clean one from the washing basket.
-
Kyotani ran his fingers lightly over his knuckles as he walked down the hall. They stung but Yahaba had been undeniably gentle for the most part. His touch still ghosted over Kyotani's skin.
He hadn't known at the beginning of the night where he'd end up, and yet somehow this still surprised him. For the second time he turned on the shower and let the water wash over him. For the second time he tilted his head back to watch the steam from the water coat the speckled roof of the bathroom. For the first time, he felt at ease.
He considered washing his hair (which was in need of re-dying), but when he opened the shampoo bottle it smelt of Yahaba. It wasn't a bad scent, far from it, but...
The bathroom door swung open.
"I brought you a towel," Yahaba was saying, before his eyes focused on Kyotani through the steam. There was a minute pause, as both of them froze.
"Sorry! I didn't - I mean - uh, maybe I should get you some ice to put on your shoulder as well, I couldn't see that - before, I mean." Yahaba babbled.
And he hooked the towel on the towel rail and slammed the door shut again.
Kyotani was mostly blocked from view by the cubicle surrounding the shower, but even so, Yahaba's eyes most certainly hadn’t been focused on his shoulder.
He shut off the water and got out, emotions warring between embarrassment and amusement.
By the time he was dressed, the sofa was piled with blankets and the kitchen smelled of fried rice.
"Leftovers," Yahaba said, thrusting a container at him.
Kyotani nodded and wolfed down the meal.
"We should sleep now," Yahaba said when he was done.
"Yeah," Kyotani agreed. He could see the light from Yahaba's bedroom as he got ready for bed. He climbed into his own makeshift one and found it already warm.
"Did you... Is this a hot water bottle?" He asked.
Yahaba poked his head around the doorframe, "yeah it's cold and-" their eyes met and Kyotani realised he was grinning- "shut up." Yahaba said, and pulled out of view again.
Kyotani didn't know how to thank him without sounding mocking but his smile stayed painted onto his face as he brought the hot water bottle to his chest.
-
The comfort didn't last forever. He awoke, as he often did, with the night almost half gone. His shoulder ached and he knew he wouldn't sleep again for a while. With a sigh he sat up and pulled the blankets he'd managed to kick off into the night back on. The T.V. remote was on the table next to him.
He sat silently for a moment, and listened for any sign of movement from Yahaba's room. Then he turned on the T.V. and flicked through the channels until he found the nature one. This late at night, all the programs were re-runs, and the volume was so low he could barely make out the talking, but there was something calming about it.
A hand alighted on his shoulder.
Kyotani jumped, the remote clattering to the floor.
"Sorry." It was Yahaba. He came around to the front of the sofa and picked up the remote, "you can turn it up if you want, Mum won't be home until morning."
"Did I wake you?" Kyotani asked.
"Not really. Can I...?"
Kyotani shifted to make room and Yahaba sat down beside him, pulling one of the blankets over them.
"What are you watching?"
"Just... A documentary."
"I never would have guessed," Yahaba said dryly. Then he cleared his throat, “I saw you last time, too. It’s kind of cute.” Even he seemed to find it too late at night (early in the morning?) for sarcasm.
The show continued. A lion cub was left to fend for itself as the adults went hunting. Of course it left the safe place its parents had left it and begun exploring. It was calling out for its parents, only to be surrounded by a pack of blood thirsty hyenas-
"Are you crying?" Yahaba asked, jerking Kyotani back to reality.
"No," he said gruffly - but why did the lion cub have to die? It was so small and innocent - surely the camera crew could save it!
He realised Yahaba was watching him instead of the show, and turned to face him. Something, an expression too gentle to match what was happening on the T.V., crossed Yahaba's face. Kyotani found himself focusing on that and only that.
Yahaba brought his hand up, his fingers just barely grazing his cheek.
"You are so," he said, drawing his hand away, his fingers now damp. His voice was quiet. Breathy.
"I-" Kyotani didn't know why he was whispering as well, but there was something ethereal about this time of night and something delicate about this moment.
Yahaba scooted closer, throwing his legs over Kyotani's. Their faces were centimetres apart. Their breath mingled. Kyotani made to turn away, wishing he'd brushed his teeth, but two fingers on his jaw halted him.
"Wait - I mean..." Yahaba hesitated for a moment. The light of the television reflected in his eyes, two pools of glassy water, inside which lurked something Kyotani wasn't sure he could fathom.
"I thought I knew how you felt, but I guess I'm a lot less sure now it comes down to it," Yahaba said. Kyotani could look nowhere but his face. The pressure from Yahaba's fingers was light, but it was his gaze Kyotani couldn't break away from.
"Can I kiss you?" Yahaba breathed.
He wasn't sure which of them closed the distance between them - perhaps for once they'd met in the middle - but in an instant Yahaba's lips were on his. The noise of the documentary faded out and there was only their breathing, and the rustle of the blankets which had begun to tangle around Kyotani's legs. Yahaba shifted, his arms moving to loosely encircle Kyotani's neck. Kyotani leaned into his embrace.
Yahaba's lips were soft, but every breath his teeth scraped against Kyotani's lips and his tongue darted out and it had begun softly, uncertainly, but now Yahaba was all Kyotani could think of, and his hands had fisted in Yahaba's shirt and in the blankets his toes curled.
Yahaba's right hand combed through the hair at the back of Kyotani's hair. His left came up to his face.
Kyotani hissed as Yahaba's fingers dug into the bruise on his jaw and Yahaba drew back. Kyotani followed him for a moment, longing for more.
"Sorry," Yahaba said, the pads of his fingers skimming the place he'd gripped a moment ago, "I - we have to stop meeting like this." He rested his head on Kyotani's good shoulder, his right hand still idly running through his hair. "I keep thinking every time you come to practice will be the last, the what excuse do I have to see you?" He turned his face so his breath caressed the delicate skin of Kyotani's neck. Just a few hours ago, he'd had been guarding that place, to stop the people he’d picked a fight with from getting a hit in. Now he tilted his head back, for easier access.
"I enjoy the practices," he admitted finally, "even if the rest of the team still avoids me."
"If I told them you watched nature documentaries and cried over lion cubs they'd find you much less intimidating," Yahaba said. For once, there was no mocking in his tone.
"Yeah."
"But this needs to stop," Yahaba's head still resting on his shoulder, his hand came back up to touch the bruise on Kyotani's face.
"I'll go home next time," Kyotani promised, heart sinking.
"No, you can always come here," Yahaba said, "I don't mind, you know, I just hate seeing you beat up. I mean we've got to stop relying on coincidence."
"So we should..."
"Go on a date."
"What?"
Yahaba pressed his mouth to his neck and he sucked in a breath. Yahaba didn't move, and Kyotani didn't want to. The narration of the documentary faded back into earshot and Yahaba fumbled for the remote and shut it off, leaving them in the dark.
Everything was still again.
They lay like that until Yahaba's breathing was as rhythmic as Kyotani's own heartbeat. Until his eyes drifted close. Until the morning, where Yahaba's mother would arrive home and see the two on the couch.