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The first time Wakatoshi Ushijima allows Sakusa Kiyoomi’s words to speak to his heart is when they are at a bar on a lazy Tuesday evening. Most definitely not the peak hours of bars. Which is probably why Sakusa and Ushijima are three seats apart with the occasional clinking of glasses and pouring of alcohol breaking the silence once in awhile.
“Hey, since you both are the only people here, why not make an extra friend or something? I’ve got a break from my shift now, just buzz me if you need an extra shot or anything. I’ll just be behind,” the regular weekday bartender, Takahiro Hanamaki motions at the both of them as he puts down the glass he was wiping.
“We will, thank you, Takahiro-Kun,” Ushijima manages a small smile and Hanamaki winks at him before walking away from the counter. Ushijima takes his chance and averts his gaze slowly to where Sakusa Kiyoomi was sitting.
His eyes never leave the untouched beer that was placed before him. He had a mask covering the lower part of his face, and Ushijima raises an eyebrow. “How are you going to drink your beer if you have your mask on —” he is unable to finish his sentence as Sakusa pulls it down and quickly presses his lips against the glass and takes a strong gulp of the beer, before putting it down and wincing at the taste.
Sakusa turns back at Ushijima, who is taken aback for a second. “Sakusa Kiyoomi, pleasure to meet you.” Sakusa Kiyoomi. It sounded all so familiar to Ushijima, but probably as foreign as the beer before him.
Ushijima blinks away the clear surprised expression on his face, before clearing his throat, “Ushijima Wakatoshi, the pleasure is all mine.”
Sakusa nods his head, looking back down at his beer. “What brings you here on a Tuesday? Getting over a loss? Break-up?” Ushijima prods, and Sakusa shakes his head, pulling his mask back up, “I come here every Tuesday, because it is the time the least people come here. Which brings me to ask you, what are you doing here?”
With the mask on, Ushijima has a harder time listening, so he moves his glass two seats closer to Sakusa Kiyoomi, before shifting himself as well. He takes a closer look at Sakusa, and he takes a second to process a pressing thought at the back of his mind — Sakusa Kiyoomi is good-looking.
“Do you not like... people?” Ushijima’s fingers trail around the material of the glass, and Sakusa hums in reply. “I’m not much of a people person, more on the reserved side, you could say.”
Ushijima nods his head, “I’m not much either myself. Interacting with more people makes me feel more insecure about myself, you could say. There’s always somebody out there who is better than me.”
Sakusa pulls down his mask again and takes another gulp of his drink, before looking at Ushijima, who looks back at him. “I know who you are, Wakatoshi-kun,” Sakusa smirks, and Ushijima’s eyes widen. “You’re Ushijima Wakatoshi from Shiratorizawa Academy. High school volleyball wimps look up to you.”
At that, Ushijima chuckles and shakes his head. “I do not think you are inferior, Wakatoshi-kun,” Sakusa continues, “you are just in a constant state of pursuing superiority over others.”
Ushijima fingers stop moving, giving Sakusa the signal to continue with the point that he was making. “On a personal level, to me, it’s like the ‘condition of wanting to improve’ on a constant basis. You have your own ideals or goals, and you work towards them. And when you aren’t able to reach your ideals, you harbor a sense of being lesser.
“For you, the more inspired and accomplished you become, you are forever beset with the sort of feeling of inferiority that makes you tell yourself ‘I’m still not good enough, or I’ve got to bring my skills to the next level, that sort of thing.”
Sakusa Kiyoomi is sexy and smart, huh? Ushijima processes the words spoken with the aforementioned thought clouding his mind at the same time. “So how’d you suggest going about… handling this? Handling this… inferiority?”
Both of them take a shot of their beer and Sakusa puts down his now empty glass. “Do you want me to text Hanamaki to get you another one?” Ushijima asks and Sakusa nods his head, looking ahead at the bottles of alcohol, big and small, all lined up perfectly on the different shelves.
“People try to get rid of their feeling of inferiority and keep moving forward. One is never satisfied with one’s present situation — even if it's just a single step, one wants to keep making progress. One wants to be happier. There is absolutely nothing wrong with the state of this kind of feeling of inferiority.”
“Do all people end up that way” Ushijima probes, and Sakusa chuckles lightly. He sighs, “Of course there are people who lose the courage to take a single step forward, who cannot accept the fact that the situation can be changed by making realistic efforts. People who, before even doing anything, simply give up and say things like ‘I’m not good enough anyway’ or ‘Even if I tried, I wouldn’t stand a chance.’”
Ushijima is too engrossed in the conversation that he doesn’t realise Hanamaki is already sliding another glass in Sakusa’s direction. “That’s on me,” Ushijima points at the beer and Sakusa tips his glass as a gesture of thanking him.
Ushijima feels the alcohol beginning to draw what he presumes to be circles in his mind, and he represses any other thought that screams otherwise about Sakusa Kiyoomi.
“What about you, Sakusa-san?” Ushijima clears his throat to get rid of the burning sensation, “Do you think of yourself to be in the pursuit of superiority?”
Sakusa nods, putting his beer down after another large gulp. “Kiyoomi-kun is fine,” he begins to drawl, “Of course, we all are pursuing superiority one way or another. But I know that no matter how hard I try, I will never feel satisfied. So at some point, I just stop.”
Ushijima thinks about what Sakusa Kiyoomi says. But he starts to think that this was probably a sensitive area in his life, and with the alcohol being a significant contributing factor, he doesn’t push anymore. “This was an interesting conversation, Kiyoomi-kun,” Ushijima says, and he is able to catch a second of a smile appearing on Sakusa’s face before he covers it back with his mask.
“Thanks for the drink,” he stands up and Ushijima notices how his footsteps aren’t aligned as he walks. He looks at Hanamaki, who shrugs, which needed no further explanation.
“Kiyoomi-kun,” Ushijima calls out as he counts the bills in his wallet and places the amount on the table. Sakusa stops and turns around to see Ushijima walking towards him. “You can barely walk, let me drive you home.”
Ushijima can’t see it, but Sakusa doesn’t stop smiling.
“If you insist,” he says. Ushijima leads them to his car, in which Sakusa takes a seat next to Ushijima. “Just key in your address,” Ushijima passes him his phone, and Sakusa types it in, before placing it in front of them on the holder.
“Ah, it’s not too far away,” Ushijima scans around the area and Sakusa hums. Ushijima starts his car and as they pull out, the beds of orchids and rectangles of thirsting lawn welcome the two onto their journey on the road.
Alongside the scent of alcohol filling the air within Ushijima’s rather small electrical Toyota Prius, also sitting between Ushijima Wakatoshi and Sakusa Kiyoomi is a comfortable silence. It is neither awkward nor suffocating, and Ushijima wonders if he has felt this way before with anybody else who has sat in Sakusa Kiyoomi’s place.
“Now I kind of believe it when you say you’re not much of a people person,” Ushijima comments as his car draws to a slow halt before a traffic light at an empty junction. “I am an INFP for a reason,” Sakusa sighs, tilting his head back onto the headrest, closing his eyes slowly.
Ushijima nods; Sakusa Kiyoomi is a mediator personality type, he makes a mental note to himself without realising it. Ushijima turns into the small alley, and applies the brakes. He turns to see which one may be Sakusa Kiyoomi’s home, and as he turns to his left he catches a glance of the boy’s closed eyes, his breathing steady.
Sakusa Kiyoomi is very good-looking, Ushijima thinks to himself. “You have arrived at your destination,” the GPS sounds, and Ushijima curses under his breath at the sudden sound, quickly turning around and unconsciously turning a deeper shade of red.
Sakusa Kiyoomi grunts and unbuckles his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride, Wakatoshi-kun,” he says, “and for today. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Wakatoshi grins at that, and mutters a small ‘likewise’ before saying goodbye. Sakusa makes his exit, and Wakatoshi takes a deep intake of breath like the air all around him was suddenly entering his lungs again.
He picks up his phone and types in INFP personality types , and doesn’t think twice before clicking on the ‘romantic relationships’ tag. He chuckles lightly.
While Mediators are well-meaning, not everyone appreciates what can come across as constantly being told that they need to improve – or, put another way, that they’re not good enough. Mediators would be aghast to find that their intents were interpreted this way, but it’s a real risk, and if their partner is as averse to conflict as Mediators themselves, it can boil under the surface for some time before surfacing, too late to fix.
Ushijima’s face falls. Fucking hell, he thinks to himself. Ushijima Wakatoshi didn’t get Sakusa Kiyoomi’s number.
The second time Wakatoshi Ushijima allows Sakusa Kiyoomi’s words speak to his inmost soul is at Black Jackals versus Schweiden Adlers post-match party held at Atsumu Miya’s house.
Ushijima Wakatoshi never thought he’d see Sakusa Kiyoomi on the other side of the net, spiking a ball. Spiking a ball that well, for that matter. Ushijima was pretty much in a daze the entire match, which is probably why coach Suzaku gave the team, and him , especially, the harshest after-match debrief following their loss.
Which is also probably why Ushijima Wakatoshi is seated on the lonely kitchen counter with a cup of sunset rum in his hands, with the rest of the party seated at the living area — Ushijima doesn’t know what they’re playing, but he doesn’t care much of it anyway.
While it frustrates him to his inmost core that he was a significant contributing factor to the Adlers’ loss earlier, his head pounds against the more vexing fact that it’s not their loss which was replaying in his head, but seeing Sakusa Kiyoomi’s face.
Sakusa Kiyoomi’s face when he spikes, when he moves to block, when he high-fives his teammates, when he goes in for a group hug following their win. But the one stuck on replay? It’s Sakusa Kiyoomi’s relaxed smirk playing on his face when Ushijima can only helplessly look at him in shock in the first line-up.
“Wakatoshi-kun,” Ushijima doesn’t think twice as he takes another shot upon hearing the familiar voice. He feels Sakusa Kiyoomi sit next to him. “Not joining in the party over there?” Ushijima sees another cup being placed onto the table. “Sunset rum, huh? That’s pretty strong, if you ask m —”
“— I didn’t know you played volleyball,” Ushijima gets straight to the point, “I didn’t know you played in Black fucking Jackals.”
He turns to look at Sakusa Kiyoomi, and all his brain can process is the phrase fucking hell. Sakusa Kiyoomi’s hair is damp from a wash, and his eyes are the same from the bar that night, and the cherry on top would still be that ridiculous mask he was wearing. Ushijima has the endearing thought of gently pulling Sakusa Kiyoomi’s mask down to reveal his pursed, pretty, pink lips. Fucking hell.
“Well, now you do,” Sakusa Kiyoomi seems to be able to read Ushijima’s mind, as he pulls down his mask to reveal the familiar smile that Ushijima wants to see. The latter instantly turns away and chugs down another gulp of the rum. “I’m thinking that I’ll be the one needing to send you home tonight, Wakatoshi-kun,” Sakusa says, clearly amused.
“I guess you have finally moved on,” an unfamiliar voice speaks up, and Sakusa and Ushijima turn to the source simultaneously. Standing before them is Atsumu Miya, digging for probably more beer from the fridge.
“I was just speaking to Wakatoshi-kun here, Atsumu,” Sakusa scowls, and Atsumu turns back with as expected, two more cans of beer. “Suit yourself,” he sings, walking away.
The grimace doesn’t leave Sakusa’s face, as he himself takes a gulp of his own alcohol. As he slams down his cup, he sighs, turning to Ushijima. “Miya Atsumu is my ex-boyfriend.”
Ushijima almost feels like he’s about to throw up whatever undigested alcohol is in his body. But all he can do is chuckle in disbelief. “We dated before we were on the same team, but we agreed that we’d keep things professional. It’s been going okay thus far, I’d say,” he nods his head, probably at the distant memory that hit closer than he thought.
“I see,” Ushijima hesitates before deciding to prod further, “Why did you both.. you know…”
“... break-up?” Sakusa finishes the sentence for him, earning a small hum from Ushijima. “Miya Atsumu was my childhood friend that I remained close with even though we went to different schools.
“When a friend relationship has turned into love, speech and conduct that were permitted between friends may no longer be permitted the moment they become lovers. Specifically, that would mean not permitting socializing with friends of the opposite sex, and in some cases just speaking on the telephone to someone of the opposite sex is enough to arouse jealousy. I learned that the distance is that close, and the relationship was that deep.”
Ushijima nods his head slowly, thinking it through. “I guess it cannot be helped.”
Sakusa shakes his at the same pace, replying back, “Alfred Adler believes refuses the restriction of one's partner. If the person seems to be happy, one can frankly celebrate that condition. That is love. Relationships in which people restrict each other eventually fall apart.”
Ushijima interrupts him, “that’s an argument that can only lead to affirming infidelity. Because if one’s partner were happily having an affair, you’re saying that one should celebrate even that. So did one of you cheat in the end?”
Sakusa chuckles, “none like that. It’s just that… think about it this way: The kind of relationship that feels somehow oppressive and strained when the two people are together cannot be called love, even if there is passion. When Atsumu was being too controlling, I would think back of the sex we have. I just kept making excuses for myself to keep being with him. And I am sure he felt no different. We just used our good times to cover up for our own insecurities and inferiorities. As Adler says, ‘If two people want to live together on good terms, they must treat each other as equal personalities.’”
Ushijima doesn’t know if the word intelligent or wise is more fitting for Sakusa Kiyoomi. “Atsumu was my first relationship, it’s been a year since that happened. We ended it on mutual and good terms, but I cannot help but think…” Sakusa hesitates, looking in the direction where Atsumu Miya was carrying Hinata Shouyo on his back, laughing significantly louder amongst the uproar of voices. “... think that I am just fated to be not loved in this lifetime.”
Ushijima feels his heart open. He doesn’t know if that was the feeling many people claimed to be love, but he wants Sakusa Kiyoomi to feel loved. Perhaps it’s that aforementioned thought that clouds his mind before the more pressing thought arises.
Ushijima Wakatoshi wishes he could be the one that had the privilege of loving Sakusa Kiyoomi.
Thanks for sharing that, Kiyoomi-kun,” Ushijima slurs before he can catch himself, and realising how absolutely wasted he was, he stands up, trying to steady himself. “I think I’ll get going,” he tries to swallow the rum that wasn’t just burning his throat anymore.
“I’m getting you home, Wakatoshi-kun,” Sakusa tells him, pulling out his car keys from his pocket, sliding it to his finger and dangling them from it. Ushijima says a quick goodbye to everybody and he thinks he hears Kageyama telling him to drink some hangover soup before turning up for practice tomorrow.
As he takes a step out of the door while holding it for Sakusa, he also thinks he sees Atsumu Miya’s face in the sea of others, looking at the both of them with a sad smile on his face.
And as Ushijima closes the door behind them, he begins to think that one of his hunches was indeed true.
He doesn’t remember almost the entire ride home because of his throbbing head, but Sakusa seems concerned about him. “Wakatoshi-kun, at any point in time you feel nauseous, just let me know. I’ll pull over,” and “Do you want me to bring you up to your apartment?” is asked more than once (Ushijima doesn’t count after the second time) and the reply Sakusa gets is the same.
Sakusa asks ‘are you sure’ to Ushijima once more as they arrive, and the latter shakes his head politely. “Thanks for the ride, I guess we’re even now,” Ushijima hiccups, and Sakusa laughs light-heartedly. Wakatoshi Ushijima is cute when he does that.
Ushijima is about to open the door when his inner thoughts are raging ever too loudly within his head. He hesitates, and Sakusa notices. “What’s wrong?” Sakusa asks, and Ushijima turns back to look at him.
Do it, his inner voice screams at him, do it or regret not doing it forever.
Ushijima can only blame the alcohol when he does what his most prominent part of his foggy headspace plays on repeat — he leans in and pulls down Sakusa Kiyoomi’s mask. He takes a second to look at how beautiful his lips are this up close, and he can hear Sakusa’s breath hitch.
With his thumb gripped ever so lightly on Sakusa’s chin, Ushijima moves forward while bringing Sakusa’s face closer to his. Sakusa’s mouth is soft against his, and Ushijima feels his heart about to beat out of his chest instead of his head when Sakusa Kiyoomi actually kisses him back.
He probably tastes like the shitty sunset rum, but Sakusa Kiyoomi doesn’t seem to mind. The latter tastes like butter and Bud Light, and it’s Ushijima’s favourite tailing behind Coors.
Sakusa pulls away first, and for awhile, only to hear the exchange of heavy breathing between Sakusa and Ushijima. “I’ll get going,” Ushijima clears his throat and turns away quickly, shuffling to open the door.
“Text me when you get back,” Sakusa tells him, and Ushijima nods his head, shutting the door. Sakusa touches his lips and wonders how Wakatoshi-kun tastes like on a regular, daily basis, when he’s drinking a glass of cold apple juice instead of alcohol, with the smell of fresh shower gel instead of sweat from an aftermatch.
Fucking hell, Sakusa huffs as he buries his head in his hands, neither Ushijima nor himself have each others’ numbers. Still.
A third time of Sakusa Kiyoomi’s words being the only thing Waktoshi Ushijima thinks of when he spikes a ball that Kageyama sets for him or when he hands the money over for a book titled ‘The Courage to be Happy’ doesn’t actually happen.
Ushijima Wakatoshi has finally gathered up the courage to tell Sakusa Kiyoomi. Tell Sakusa Kiyoomi that he thinks of him and his words on an unhealthy basis — when he’s getting a glass of warm milk at 2am in the morning, or when he goes for his daily jogs where the sun meets the horizon twice a day.
Ushijima Wakatoshi wants to tell Sakusa Kiyoomi that he wants to hear all of his philosophical thoughts and jargon as they’re cuddled up in warm sheets and watching Your Name, or toasting to each others’ victories. He wants to hear them all.
Ushijima Wakatoshi is going to tell Sakusa Kiyoomi that he is in love with him.
He is driving to Sakusa’s home after saving it in his favourite places when he drove the drunk boy home after their first meet at the bar. Seated next to him in the car is a bouquet of daffodils. Ushijima smiles, and mentally rehearses what he wants to say to the other boy.
Sakusa… hey… you’re pretty neat. I’ve been thinking a lot about you. About us. That kiss.. yeah, that was magical. I am in love with you. And I want to live with you forever and hear about your philosophical shit even when it’s boring… and I want to adopt four dogs. Ushijima pats himself on the back and pulls over, gripping onto the flowers in his hands.
He begins to scan the names of the different homes, until his eyes reach Sakusa Kiyoomi’s home. Ushijima smiles and takes a deep breath and is about to buzz the bell, when he hears music from playing inside.
Ushijima identifies the song as Falling In Love by Cigarettes After Sex. He adds it onto his mental list of all the things he loves about Sakusa Kiyoomi — Sakusa Kiyoomi has excellent music taste.
He looks up, thinking that he’d see Sakusa Kiyoomi pacing up and down while popping a piece of freshly cut peach into his mouth. But it’s not what he says.
He sees Sakusa Kiyoomi slow-dancing with Atsumu Miya.
What a song to slow-dance to, huh. Ushijima realises that he’s not the only one who is drowning in the love of Sakusa Kiyoomi. He’s a tad bit too late.
Ushijima doesn’t know what’s the feeling stirring inside of him, it’s a probable mix of different emotions, but he is able to pinpoint the fact that one of them is definitely not jealousy. His chest is tightening, as he witnesses two bodies gently sway to the rhythm of the song, hands on each other. Their hands look comfortable.
Ushijima nods his head. He smiles, for he is able to smile for Sakusa Kiyoomi. Sakusa Kiyoomi is happy, even if he wasn’t slow dancing to Cigarettes After Sex with Ushijima Wakatoshi. And for Ushijima, that is enough. Somebody was able to make Sakusa Kiyoomi feel loved.
Ushijima walks back to his car and pulls out a post-it and marker and begins writing. Once he’s done, he slips the piece of paper into the bouquet of flowers and places it on Sakusa Kiyoomi’s doorstep. “I guess this is goodbye, Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he sighs, “till we meet on the court once again.”
Sakusa Kiyoomi holds the bouquet of flowers up and sees the piece of white paper peeking out from the soft petals. It’s a quickly scribbled note, as analyzed by Sakusa. And it has a phone number at the bottom of it.
We cannot alter objective facts. But subjective interpretations can be altered as much as one likes. And we are inhabitants of a subjective world. The objective is that you and Miya Atsumu are still in love with each other. The subjective is that I thought that you felt the same way as I do. And objectively, I tell you, Sakusa Kiyoomi, you are more loved than you actually realise.
Ushijima Wakatoshi
Wakatoshi Ushijima hears his phone buzz and he puts down The Courage to be Happy. He pulls up his glasses and reads the text.
From: Unknown Number
i’m sorry, wakatoshi-kun.
Ushijima’s fingers fiddle on the screen. A small grin appears on his face. “That’s more like it.”
From: Sakusa Kiyoomi (boy i learnt to fall in love with)
i’m sorry, wakatoshi-kun.