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It started in one inconspicuous, not too cold, not too hot morning as Kiyoomi went through his meticulous routine. Turning on the coffee machine to brew a strong dark roast, switching on the television to the sports channel to let the sound of the newest match fill his silent apartment, and letting the cool air outside through by opening the glass door that leads through his balcony.
A sudden itch logged in his throat, and he hacked and coughed to lodge it out. It ends with him panting and out of breath, crouched in the middle of his living room, and with dread his eyes land to the small purple flower in his hand coupled with needle-like leaves. Across the room, the announcer for the match roars in tandem with the crowd’s cheers as Ushijima Wakatoshi slams the winning point against France in a payback match.
Kiyoomi crumples the flower in his hand and curses. “Not on laundry day goddammit.”
-
His sheets and the pile of clothes already set aside neatly and sorted by color had to wait apparently, because foolish as he is, he’s gone and catch feelings. He grumbles as he brings his laptop to the coffee table and sprays it with a compressed air keyboard cleaner. After two wipes of a disinfectant wet tissue and one finishing dry tissue, he types in the search bar with a vicious jab of his fingers.
How the fuck do I cure Hanahaki
170,000 results (0.45 seconds)
He clicks on the first article.
Hanahaki Disease ( 花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.
Kiyoomi glares at the flower laid over a tissue beside him.
What the hell kind of flower has purple petals and pointy leaves
A few scrolls down google images leads him to an article talking about home plants and their benefits. Jesus. He couldn’t even get the first part of his disease right.
Salvia Rosmarinus, commonly known as rosemary, is a woody, perennial herb with fragrant, evergreen, needle-like leaves and white, pink, purple, or blue flowers, native to the Mediterranean region. Pick a little extra rosemary from your herb garden to make a natural all-purpose cleaning spray. Put orange peels and sprigs of rosemary in a jar filled with white vinegar, let it sit for two to four weeks, and then strain it. Mix that solution with an equal part of water, and keep it in a spray bottle. Rosemary's disinfecting properties will help keep your surfaces not only clean but smelling amazing.
Kiyoomi rubs his forehead, feeling a headache coming along. At least his body had deigned itself reasonable enough to at least make him cough out a plant of some semblance of a benefit. As he does with every large life-changing decision, he switches over through excel and starts organizing his options.
- Get whoever I’m in love with to return my feelings
- Surgically remove the roots
- Die
Kiyoomi hums. The first is by far the most inconvenient and impossible. For one, Kiyoomi doesn’t even know who he's fallen for and forcing someone to return his silly affections just so he won’t keel over and burst out a tub of herbs just sounds like a pain in the ass. The second he doesn’t even want to consider. Kiyoomi is first and foremost an athlete, one that’s on the rise and qualified to be on V.League 1. Jeopardizing his body to undergo a surgery, one that would take months of recovery time and with unknown side effects will never be something Kiyoomi chooses. An athlete’s body and health constitute to how well a person takes care of themselves, their careers are not without an expiry date, and Kiyoomi refuses to shorten that time in any way imaginable.
He stares at the last item in the list and grins.
How do I stop and restart my heart
The results, while fascinating, are far too complicated. Plus Kiyoomi would need someone else to jump-start his heart for him, but that would require him to actually place himself near a hospital and entrust his life to the doctors there. He’d buy a defibrillator and ask Komori to do it, but his cousin would probably chew his ears out if he heard his plan and cry over his dead body for too long to execute on the time frame given.
He adds another tab and starts listing possibilities.
Tsukasa Iizuna
+ Has interacted with me for a little over two years
+ Is decently attractive
+ Lint rollers
- We haven’t spoken much after graduation
Kiyoomi stares at the blinking bar over Iizuna’s name, waiting for some sort of palpitation in his heart, or his brain dragging some sort of fond memory of the man. But all it brings up is their defeat in Nationals, and Kiyoomi nods to himself. It was a good guess, a hopeful one too. Because any name he adds from here on now only spell trouble and more headache.
Bokuto Koutaro
+ Is decently attractive
+ A rival to compete with
+ A valuable team member
- Bursts out nearby eardrums within range
-Already has a boyfriend (which quite honestly looks more attractive to him than Bokuto, though he questions the choice in spouse)
Miya Atsumu
Hinata Shoyou
+ Literal sunshine
+ Also a valuable team member
+ Is also decently attractive (Refer to the Drift Fit Incident)
- Too bright
- He and Atsumu seem to have a...thing
Kiyoomi takes a sip of his bitter coffee as he stares at the white screen in front of him. He tries to drag any other name into the list, his captain, other Jackals, even their coach. Nothing. Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and sets his mug on the coaster. His eyes drift back to the sports channel, where a bubbly reporter had managed to drag a few players for a post-game interview.
So tell me Ushijima-san how does it feel to finally redeem yourself?
I wouldn’t call this a redemption. There is no need for redemption in a game of volleyball. No game is ever the same as well. All we can do when we lose is to better ourselves and learn.
I-I see. You’re a very unnerved young man, aren’t you?
Thank you.
The reporter quickly moves on to the other players, and Wakatoshi is left standing to the side. He’s already wiped his sweat down with a towel, and while his teammates look haggard, Wakatoshi doesn’t have a hair out of place. Kiyoomi props his head in his hand, his ears running static on whatever the libero being interviewed is saying. He stares at Wakatoshi, trying to consolidate the athlete with the crimson-colored uniform to the middle schooler he walked in on in the Middle School Athletics Tournament bathroom. He smiles when the vivid memory of Wakatoshi folding his hanky wet side-in still pangs a sense of respect in him.
They had no jersey with the weight of a school name to them then, and the pure thrill he got when he saw the same boy across the net was measurable only to the sting in his lower arms as he failed to receive a nasty spinning serve. Something clicked in him that day. The telltale sign that volleyball isn't over for him just yet, that there's so much more to thoroughly explore. A person to defeat.
The reporter turns to the camera as she finishes her interview and everyone on the shot waves and screams to their loved ones about their victory. Wakatoshi on the other hand, bows politely. Kiyoomi's eyes linger until the very end, and when the program shifts to other matches he stares back at his laptop.
Honestly. Who could he have fallen in love with?
-
"Your performance seems to be lacking these past few weeks."
Kiyoomi looks over to Wakatoshi as he pats himself off his sweat, a bottle of water mixed in with lemon slices in his hand. "I've noticed that too actually." How could he not? The rosemary in his lungs has rooted itself in for well over a month now. It's gotten to the point where coughing up at least two pieces of flowers becomes part of his routine. His breath has gotten shorter, and so has his stamina.
On the plus side, his breath smells quite nice. On the other, rosemary leaves are a bitch to hack out. His voice has gotten rougher and deeper at times, enough that even Bokuto whines about how he’s trying to imitate him. Atsumu accuses him of trying to hog more fans to his side. Hinata recommended a home remedy for sore throat. Always was his favorite of the bunch.
"Is there a cause for it?" Wakatoshi asked, ever attentive. He too was cooling down, stretching his fingers and flexing them. Adlers won today's practice matches 2 to 1. Kageyama had claimed he was having a good day.
"Oh," Kiyoomi shrugged. "I have hanahaki."
Wakatoshi frowned. "I see. What a predicament."
Kiyoomi waves his hand. "It's whatever. I'm trying to figure out who I'm in love with, maybe make them return my feelings. The other options are…"
"Avoiding surgery," Wakatoshi nods. "A good move. Though it must be cause for some concern if you haven't even figured out who it is."
"God I know right?" Kiyoomi sighs. "I can't even try falling out of love if I don't know who they even are ."
Wakatoshi nods, a faraway look in his eyes. "Have you crossed out all possible matches?"
"Yeah. My old teammates. My current teammates. Coaches, managers, fans. None of them click."
"I see," Wakatoshi muses. His eyes widened, and he softly clamps a loose fist over an opened palm. "Have you considered me?"
"You? "
He nods. "We have known each other for a long time."
Kiyoomi mulls this through. He does feel a thrill every time he meets Wakatoshi, though that could be attributed to their intense matches. He feels a large amount of desire to meet Wakatoshi, but clearly that's because he's the only one who can give him a good hard-earned challenge for victory. He remembers being vividly annoyed that Wakatoshi failed to meet him in Nationals, and a sense of loss and forlorn. But that could also be fitted into simple disappointment.
"Can't be," He says for lack of better words. "Can it?" He adds because even he doesn't know.
"Think it over," Wakatoshi said. "I hope it's me though."
Kiyoomi blinks. "You...hope it's you?"
"It would easily solve your problems," He explains. "Falling out of love with me would be quite easy."
"Ah...and you say this based on what?"
"A premonition perhaps," The opposite hitter chuckles. Kiyoomi's hand clenched his shorts. "There had been a few who tried to pursue some sort of relationship with me in the past. They become disappointed with me soon enough."
Kiyoomi wrinkles his nose. "Can't that be attributed to their expectations?"
"It could," Wakatoshi nods. "If by chance it is me you've fallen for, the same illusion could have fooled you as well."
Kiyoomi is no fool.
Well.
Catching a rare one-sided love disease notwithstanding.
"How do you propose I test this...premonition of yours?"
Wakatoshi blinks. "Ah. We shall go on a date then."
Oh, shall they? Somehow his dread of trying to find the person he's fallen in love with is washed over by this. Taking on Wakatoshi's accidental challenge. Illusion? Falling out of love? Perish the thought. When Kiyoomi does something he does it thoroughly. He plays volleyball until he becomes a professional athlete. When he plays a game with Komori he completes all achievements and gets all endings, even the secret ones. When he cleans his apartment he lifts his couches, scrubs each tile, and climbs his counter to wipe the space above his cupboard.
And if he's fallen in love, you damn well believe he's going to marry the fuck out of that person, grow old, have grandchildren, retire to the countryside, and die like a month after them out of grief.
A smirk tugs his lips. "A date then."
Wakatoshi nods. "You'll be back in peak condition in no time."
Oh, he's counting on it.
-
He's laid out options to wear for his date, but even then he still stares down at them in hesitation. He fiddles with his phone, caves, and snaps a picture to Komori.
First one for sure
Thought so. Thanks
What's the occasion?
Meeting my future husband apparently
Am I going to be the best man?
Don't be silly
He pauses for dramatic effect.
Of course you will
Damn straight
Oh wait
Damn gay
The first set of clothes then. Soft black sweater over a brown coat. If he's going to woo Wakatoshi he wants to cutthroats from how sharp he looks. He moves to take a sheaf of surgical mask and pauses. Well. Maybe for one day, he can sacrifice utility for...aesthetics.
He grabs a black fabric mask and makes his way to the train station.
He meets Wakatoshi at the edge of the station, far from the incoming crowd. He has to pause when the man actually comes into view. White shirt, dark blue coat. And a fabric mask to go with it. He points at in lieu of a greeting.
They both nod. "Can't underestimate January." They say in unison.
Kiyoomi's already 60% sure he's in love with Wakatoshi.
He lets him decide where to take him on their first date since he's so convinced Kiyoomi would be cured in one sitting. Kiyoomi however knows he needs to plan in the long run for Wakatoshi to fall for him, preferably head over heels in less than three dates. He does want to put in his usual hours of practice.
They enter the train set to take them to Shibuya, and as expected the train is packed for the weekends. He rummages for his wipes to clean the handrail at the side of the seats, but Wakatoshi is already there. He tucks the used wipes with a dry tissue and into a designated pocket of his coat.
He grabs the handrail and waves Kiyoomi over. He moves to grab a section of his own, but Wakatoshi takes hold of his wrist and sets his hand down on the crook of his elbow.
Kiyoomi blinks.
"Cleaner," Wakatoshi says.
He has to fight the urge to cough out a whole lung. Endlessly charmed, he takes Wakatoshi's offer and tucks his other hand to his coat. "Are you sure you've never had a successful relationship?"
"Positive."
Amateurs.
Wakatoshi takes him to a fruit cafe of all places, over at Udagawacho. The waitress takes them to the second floor after they go through the selection of seasonal fruits in the store downstairs, and she seats them next to a large window overlooking the Shibuya crossing. All other tables are absolutely packed.
"Lucky us." He muses as the waitress leaves to let them decide on their order.
"Hm?" Wakatoshi says, already honed in on each menu item. He reads each one like he's reading his yearly contract.
"The seat," He says, also scanning the menu. It was far too cold for parfaits. But he could do with some sandwiches. "It's lucky that we got one with such a nice view too."
"I've called in advance."
Oh. Oh no. "You called in advance?"
Wakatoshi peers up from behind the menu. "If I've caused you to somehow fall in love with me, I should at least take you on an enjoyable date. Sorry if the companion isn't what you hoped for though."
Kiyoomi scrambles for his handkerchief and coughs into it. When he pulls away he catches two rosemary. Wakatoshi's eyes widened. "Are you alright? Should I call for a glass of water?"
"Nah," Kiyoomi groans out. He pulls out a small zip-up plastic bag and collects the rosemary inside them, and tucks his hanky back. "I'm used to it."
Wakatoshi nods. They order. Kiyoomi gets a strawberry sandwich and a glass of lemon squash. Wakatoshi gets a plate of hot-cakes and a green cold press juice.
They each wipe their utensils and tuck into their meal. None of them offers the other a piece of their food or even reaches across the table. It's already the best date Kiyoomi's ever been to.
"So," He says after dabbing the corners of his mouth from whip cream. "How was the match with France last month?"
"Educational," Wakatoshi says, cutting a hot cake neatly with his knife and fork. "Would you like to know what I've learned?"
He does.
It was surprising to hear Wakatoshi taking inspiration from a video Iwaizumi Hajime, the former ace of Aoba Johsai, showed him. The match with France just last month further cemented how his southpaw could stand to show more edge despite his opponents growing used to it in a round or two.
Kiyoomi takes a sip of his drink as he nods and quietly takes note for himself as Wakatoshi talks over his thought process and practices. "As expected. You work hard, Wakatoshi."
"Thank you. But it's only what's expected of me," He pauses, settling his utensils down. "Did you see my interview after the match?"
"Yup." A little too closely, if he looks back. He even watched the replay at night, observing each of Wakatoshi's serves, crosses, and narrow straights.
"I was lying through my teeth."
"Oh?" Now, this Kiyoomi wants to drag out. "Which part?"
"It did feel like redemption. And it felt good," Wakatoshi leans back against his chair. "I played so that I could satisfy my own ambitions. So you see, I'm very much flawed."
"Well yeah, I expected even you would be a little pissed off," Kiyoomi mused. The papers and magazines were brutal when Wakatoshi underperformed by their standards. People always look to the brightest of the bunch and wait with bated breath for them to either win it all or crash and burn. "So you played a match to prove yourself. What's wrong about that?"
Wakatoshi blinks. "I see. Then...once in an Adlers match I missed a ball Kageyama sent to me."
"Eh, happens to all of us. Kid is a little intense sometimes."
"I failed in geography multiple times. When we had to name prefectures I could only name the ones with a high school volleyball team."
"Who needs geography these days anyway?"
"I was obsessed with Oikawa in high school," He blurts out. "I constantly pestered him about not coming to Shiratorizawa."
"Hm," Kiyoomi adjusted the mask over his face again, afraid of what it would give away. He's heard of Wakatoshi's notorious persistence to have Oikawa set for Shiratorizawa. Once after he's heard all the rumors he even pondered about switching gears and becoming a setter. It was futile of course, he had no foundation nor constitute for it. Still. "I'm guessing you're still...keeping track of him?"
"Last I've heard he's playing in Argentina."
Kiyoomi presses his filed down thumbnails with his finger. "Is this obsession a professional kind, or a personal kind?"
"It started off professional," Wakatoshi says, his mask still tucked under his chin. Open. Honest. He fully intends this to be the last date they ever have to take. "Perhaps along the way it became personal."
Isn't it always with volleyball?
"Alright," Kiyoomi shrugs. "I can make you obsess over me too."
Wakatoshi blinks. And blinks again. "That's usually the last straw, even in the most persistent of people I've encountered."
"I'm not like most people," He muses. "And I've decided making you fall for me instead of falling out of love with you will be much more efficient and beneficial."
"So you've ascertained it's me?"
"I'm at least 80% sure." Kiyoomi smiles behind his mask.
Wakatoshi looks a bit lost. "I see. I still think falling out of love with me is easier."
"You do you. I'll do me. Next Sunday?"
"I'm free in the afternoon."
"It's a date."
-
By the second date, this time Kiyoomi takes him to a quiet park that's not so popular with couples and families, he's coughed out at least a container full of rosemary. He considers throwing them out, but on a whim, he makes a cleaning spray out of it, and it wipes that persistent stain in his counter. He keeps them safely in his kitchen drawer now.
He finally asked what Wakatoshi's so-called luck is in life. He flexes his left hand and smiles at it fondly. "I was lucky to have been blessed with a good father."
Not parents. Just father. Kiyoomi nods, remembering how his own parents always catered to his whims and single-minded determination. He thinks of how Komori got him into volleyball all those years ago. "I see. I too have gotten lucky."
They buy burgers, and Kiyoomi flips it over so he can bite into it easier. Wakatoshi glances down at his own hand where it fits nearly the entire burger and smiles.
"Don't get smug," He grumbles. "My newest spin is still more wicked than yours."
It was a nice date, quiet and relaxing. Even if the fallen snow makes him itch to grab a shovel and tuck them into one neat pile. Wakatoshi offers to throw away their trash, and without hesitation throws each one to its designated category. Straw to plastic, paper glass and used wrapper to recyclable. He walks back and holds his hand out.
Kiyoomi sprays antiseptic to his hand and feels a flush to his face. It's the damn January weather, that's all.
-
"May I?" Wakatoshi says, gesturing to his napkin.
Kiyoomi wrinkles his nose. "It's gross. It just came out of me."
"I'll hold it with the napkin."
Reluctantly he passes it over to Wakatoshi.
He cradles it like something precious. Kiyoomi focuses on his plate of Hayashi Rice to avoid his intense gaze.
“It’s quite fascinating isn’t it?” Wakatoshi murmurs. “That life could surface out of something so transient like feelings.”
“Ha,” Kiyoomi laughs. “I think it’s presence only cements that these transient feelings you speak of are not so transient.”
“I’ve offended you,” Wakatoshi frowns. “I apologize. I do not mean to undermine your feelings.”
“Don’t be. I’ll have you riddled with these so-called transient feelings soon enough.”
"I look forward to it, Kiyoomi."
-
He still coughs out rosemary after rosemary, even after three separate dates. Kiyoomi glares at his calendar as he wipes down his counter.
He names the budding herb inside him Ushiwaka and curses it out every so often.
He blasts rock music in hopes of discouraging its growth.
His mouse hovers over a pair of gardening scissors on sale, and a tub of herbicides. He realizes all too late he can’t exactly reach down his own throat to pull out the damn thing, and drinking chemicals would probably be detrimental to his health.
He orders a stronger mouthwash instead, and walks away with a sore ear, 1000 yen less in his account, and minty fresh breath.
Fuck Ushiwaka.
-
“Perhaps we should take this a step further.”
“How?” Kiyoomi pants out after dislodging another rosemary.
“Physical intimacy, I mean.”
Kiyoomi glances around from the manga cafe Wakatoshi chosen as their fifth date and wrinkles his nose. “Come back to my place first?”
Wakatoshi follows him home, and after washing their hands thoroughly, they gargle their throats clean with Kiyoomi’s most potent mouthwash beside each other.
They sit down across one another in Kiyoomi’s couch, each hesitant to make the first move.
Ushiwaka acts up and itches his throat, and Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. Fine then. He tugs Wakatoshi close and plants a kiss right on his lips. It’s awkward, they don’t know where to put their hands, but they’ve kissed.
They part, and Wakatoshi’s eyes narrowed into something familiar. Something he sees across the net when he successfully receives one of his nasty service aces. “I wish to try again.”
“Sure.”
It’s better the second time around. Wakatoshi presses him down his couch, his lips soft and insistent, and his hand settles nicely on Kiyoomi’s waist. They part, and something on Kiyoomi’s face must please Wakatoshi to make him smile so fondly.
Kiyoomi smiles back and runs a hand through Wakatoshi’s short hair to tug him into another kiss. This is of course when Ushiwaka realizes he too can fuck up this delicate moment and makes him push Wakatoshi away to run to his trash can and hack out a handful of rosemary. A few specks of blood accompanies it.
“Fucking…” He lets out a string of curses. “Come on Ushiwaka!”
“I apologize,” Wakatoshi says grimly. “I may have been too strong.”
“Not you-ugh. Cuddle me.” He commands.
Wakatoshi obeys, tucking Kiyoomi against his side.
“Stupid goddamn disease,” He rants, switching on the television to watch Japan’s match with Italy. “They just had to choose the herb with the sharpest leaves.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” Wakatoshi says, rubbing circles to his arm. “I think that was a good attempt for our first kiss.”
“I guess,” Kiyoomi says, leaning into his shoulder. “Can we do it again?”
Wakatoshi nods. “As many times as it takes.”
“After this match though.”
“Of course.”
-
Wakatoshi comes over more often after that. He still coughs out four rosemary this morning. Kiyoomi succumbs to the internet once more.
How do I make a stubborn oaf fall in love with me?
10,450,000,000 results (1.09 seconds)
Begrudgingly he reads a few articles and jots down some notes.
-
How to make someone fall for you in 6 easy steps! (According to Science)
- Maintaining eye contact
- Be interested in who they are as a person and listen to everything they say
- Make them feel appreciated and special
- Smile a lot
- Touch them more often
- Embrace what the other person is most passionate about
-
"Wakatoshi-kun."
The man across him glances up. "Yes?"
"Let me look at your eyes."
"Ah," Wakatoshi gently sets his chopsticks on top of his ramen bowl. "Is this a staring contest?"
"Sure."
"Very well then."
Kiyoomi stares at Wakatoshi's eyes unblinkingly, his head propped up on his hand. A few seconds pass, and Kiyoomi increasingly feels stupid. His eyes water, and Wakatoshi is starting to blur around the edges, and he feels nothing more than morose that his noodles are going to get very soggy. Wakatoshi on the other hand, is as stiff and unyielding as a board.
He curses and looks away as he finally blinks rapidly, a small streak of tears running down his face. Wakatoshi looks satisfied, clasping his hands together and giving him a respectful nod. "A good match."
Kiyoomi dabs a tissue under his eyes. "Liar. You could go on for even longer."
"You did glare a little too much. Dries the eyes faster you see."
"Fine," Kiyoomi grumbles. He reaches into his bowl and scoops the other half of his onsen egg and drops it into Wakatoshi's own bowl. "Here. Enjoy your prize."
Wakatoshi looks at the half-boiled egg with a hint of awe. "I thought you didn't like sharing food."
"I haven't touched the ramen yet," He mutters, a bit dejected that he lost. "And you did win, so a prize is in order."
"I will thoroughly enjoy this egg then."
Kiyoomi blushes, snapping his chopsticks a little too hard. It cuts off uneven. "Don't flatter yourself, it's nothing special!"
"I will eat it last." Wakatoshi nods once more.
"Seriously just eat it already!"
-
"What are you reading?"
"The latest Jump that just came out."
"What's it about?"
"Oh, this? It's an advert for the newest vacuum cleaner Seikon released. It comes with three types of handles as well."
"Ah, I see-wait. Three? That's two more than what I have."
"It also comes with a one year warranty, free shipping for areas around Tokyo, and if you're lucky you could get a Roomba to go with it."
"Roombas are full of deceit. Pass it over to me when you're done."
"We can read it together if you'd like."
"Sure. Lay back."
He tucks himself against Wakatoshi's chest as the opposite hitter flips to a new page. Kiyoomi's eyes widened. "A shower head with five different settings?"
-
"Wakatoshi-kun." He says, just as they tuck into bed.
"Hm?"
"I appreciate you. Thank you, for being my opponent all those years ago. For showing me how fun volleyball can be."
Wakatoshi shifts to face him, and brushes a finger across his forehead, over his two odd moles. "I did, in part, obsess over Oikawa because I knew it would be a sure-fire way to match Itachiyama in Nationals."
Kiyoomi smacks him in the arm. "Don't pity me. Night."
"...good night Kiyoomi."
-
"Is something funny?"
"Not particularly, no."
"You've been smiling a lot."
"...is it weird?"
"If you have nothing to smile for, then yes."
"Isn't all smiles your type, Wakatoshi-kun?"
"My type? Ah. I find genuine smiles to be much more attractive personally."
"Hmph." Kiyoomi sips his coffee to hide the pleased quirk of his lips
-
Kiyoomi takes Wakatoshi's hand in his as they buy groceries.
Wakatoshi pockets their intertwined hands into his coat without pause. His free hand takes one for the team as he picks up the items Kiyoomi requested, examining them with his sharp eyes.
The shopping basket he clutches with his free hand layered with tissue feels light despite the numerous cleaning equipment already stacked in it.
-
"Wakatoshi-kun."
"Mm?"
"After your career as an athlete runs its course, what do you have in mind?"
"...I was thinking of moving to the States to be near my father. I could help out in his clinic."
"Hm...sounds nice."
"...we could have a large backyard, to garden. Enough for fruit trees, vegetables, even herbs."
"We?"
"...what did you have in mind?"
"I'm not sure." Ushiwaka is still acting up like a brat, and the container has been filled into such a brim that even turning them into a cleaning solution can't diminish it. He considers a side business of selling said cleaning solution. "I didn't think I'd get this far."
Wakatoshi presses a kiss to his forehead. "You'll get even further."
"...good night Wakatoshi-kun."
"Good night Kiyoomi."
-
Wakatoshi hums the opening to shonen animes when he washes the dishes. Kiyoomi supervises from the side, of course, just to be sure. But Wakatoshi is thorough, and the plates and spoons always come off squeaky clean.
“I coughed out seven yesterday.”
Wakatoshi stills, turning to him with a frown. “Kiyoomi.”
It’s silly, how serious he looks while his hands are riddled with soap suds and with an apron draped over him. Untied, damn his large stature.
“I know,” It’s been at least five months. “I guess it’s time to explore my other choices.”
“Other choices?” Wakatoshi asked sternly, shutting off the tap water.
“Surgery,” Kiyoomi says plainly. “I should book one at least.”
Wakatoshi steps closer to him, bracketing him against the counter. Kiyoomi’s heart flutters, as it’s always been when Wakatoshi is near him.
“Don’t.”
“Sorry Wakatoshi-kun,” He presses a palm to Wakatoshi’s cheek. “It wouldn’t be fair for you either. We tried, as long as we could. It’s time to release you from this stifling obligation too.”
Wakatoshi’s hand curls to a fist. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand?” Kiyoomi sighs. “I love you, but you don’t feel the same. Thank you Wakatoshi-kun, for indulging me. Let me walk out of this with a hint of dignity at least, and-”
“I don’t understand,” Wakatoshi repeats. “Because I also love you.”
Kiyoomi stills. Because he also what?
Wakatoshi’s eyebrows knit together. “Perhaps I don’t love you strongly enough. But please, give me more time. Believe me when I say it’s been easy falling for you Kiyoomi.”
“Seriously back up,” He says, bewildered. “You love me? Since when?”
“The fourth-no perhaps the third date,” Wakatoshi unfurls his fist and places his hands on Kiyoomi’s waist. He gasps as Wakatoshi tugs him closer. “Please, don’t be rash Kiyoomi. I fear for your body if you choose to go through surgery.”
“You...love me,” He repeats, letting Wakatoshi tuck his head on his shoulder. Wakatoshi’s hand stroked his hair comfortingly. “You love me?”
“I promise you I’ll catch up to your feelings. Please wait-just a bit longer.”
Kiyoomi pats Wakatoshi’s pecs absentmindedly. His emotional support pecs, really, lest he laughs himself into hysteria. “You love me back.” He says, over and over in his head until it seems less like a concept and more like real life.
“Kiyoomi? You’re shaking. Are you alright?”
Kiyoomi buries his head into Wakatoshi’s neck, smiling against it. “The disease still lingers if I think my feelings are still unrequited you silly man.”
“Oh,” Wakatoshi says, his hand stilling. “You thought your feelings were still unrequited?”
“Well, you never said otherwise,” Kiyoomi grumbles, letting his head be tugged back to meet Wakatoshi’s eyes. “And you kept insisting about how easy it was to fall out of love with you.”
“I must admit, I did not factor in how charming you would be,” Wakatoshi admits. “And how quickly you would worm in my heart.”
“Jeez,” He mutters, heart tightening. “You and your one-liners.”
“Hm?” Wakatoshi smiles, cupping his jaw. His hands are still damp, and for once Kiyoomi doesn’t admonish him for forgetting to pat it dry. He leans to them instead, smiling back.
“Nothing,” Kiyoomi says, sighing. His breath easy, and his chest light. “Nothing at all.”
-
He coughs once when they collect their bedsheets. Wakatoshi tenses, standing still to stare at him. Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, inwardly smiling at how worried he looked.
“Dust, can’t underestimate that either.”
Wakatoshi relaxes, loosening his hold on one of their pillows. “I’ll open the windows.”
It ends in one inconspicuous, not too cold, not too hot morning as Kiyoomi goes through his meticulous and newly established routine, with the opening theme to One Piece hummed under one’s breath accompanying the whirl of the washing machine and the warm cup of dark coffee.