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Sakusa Kiyoomi hated every bit of parties. He hated the way the music bounced off the walls — both the ones surrounding him physically, and the ones in his head.
Bass thumping in time with heartbeats, distant and hazy chatters drowned by ridiculously loud music, enclosed spaces reeking of vodka — it really wasn’t Sakusa’s cup of tea.
He did not want this to be the first place he had to come to when he touched down in Japan once again. Japan to him two years ago would be this: home, a place of comfort, a place where he found love and warmth like the sun.
Japan to him now was this: a place so distantly foreign, a place of hurt, a place of where he found darkness and coldness like the freezing tip of the earth.
“How are you feeling?” best-pal Ushijima Wakatoshi asks in the car, and Sakusa scoffs. “Like absolute dog-shit. This is the last place I want to be at right now. It’s just for my mother’s birthday. I literally swear, once she blows out those fucking candles, I’m grabbing my keys.”
Ushijima Wakatoshi wasn’t really a fan of vocalising thoughts, much like Sakusa Kiyoomi. He hums without saying anything, turning the car at the junction instead of going straight.
“Wakatoshi, did you forget? My house is straight ahead, not here.”
“I know.”
“What the — wait, so where the fuck are we going?”
“Kageyama Tobio is holding a party at his place. I thought you may want to go see some of your old friends,” Ushijima says it so casually, it begins to start a fire in the blood circulating within Sakusa’s body.
He doesn’t even have the words to express it, and he knows Wakatoshi wouldn’t budge, so he huffs and throws his hands up, slumping in his seat.
Kageyama Tobio.
Sakusa shakes his head, not even realising him wincing slightly just at the mere mention at the afterthought that held the setter’s name.
“We are here, Kiyoomi,” Wakatoshi stops the car, and he sees the displeasure across Sakusa’s face. “Are you afraid of meeting someone here?”
Sakusa rolls his eyes, unlocking the door next to him, “I’ll be leaving this stupid party after saying hi to Atsumu and Bokuto, and maybe Hoshiumi. No drinks, nobody else, nothing else.”
Ushijima nods his head slowly. “What about —”
But the door is already shut behind Sakusa Kiyoomi.
“ — Hinata Shouyou ?”, followed by a sad sigh.
Sakusa is mostly glad that he didn’t really need to hear that name from Ushijima Wakatoshi. That name didn’t really — no, it didn’t — mean anything to Sakusa Kiyoomi anymore.
“Omi!” He hears the familiar voice echoing amongst the loud music already beginning to throb his head as he enters through the front door.
“Hey, Miya,” Sakusa manages to smile for his close teammate, and Atsumu approaches him, handing him a red cup with a liquid Sakusa knows he has to withhold from. The latter politely declines, and asks if he knew where Bokuto and Hoshiumi were. Atsumu shakes his head, pointing at the wild crowd before them.
“Good luck on finding them, though,” he says, and goes back to talking to another member of the party.
Atsumu was right. Warm mouths touching others’ and bodies, lights that shifted through the diverse palette of cold blue, cheers uproaring once in a frequent while.
God. Sakusa Kiyoomi hated every bit of parties.
Sakusa feels something suddenly soak his shirt, and he opens his mouth to yell at the dumbass who had just spilled his pungent beer on Sakusa.
And then he sees who it is.
“Sakusa-san?” Tobio queries, as if he wanted to confirm Sakusa’s identity. Sakusa’s face immediately falls — he was the second-last person he wanted to see at this goddamn party.
“I didn’t know you were coming, or even touched down in Japan again. Can I get you any —”
“— drop the act, Tobio,” Tobio looks taken aback for a second at Sakusa’s bluntness, and his eyebrows curve towards each other.
“You are really the last person I want to see in this goddamn party, so please,” Sakusa shoots him one last glare before making a move, “excuse me.”
Sakusa’s head pounds harder, but he knows it’s not just because of the music anymore. He finds an empty stairs leading up to a darker level up, and it looks more inviting than the mess that was before him. He needs to find a bathroom to clean up the mess Tobio made anyway.
(wouldn’t be the first mess he had made for sakusa, though)
(was it really tobio’s fault, though?)
Sakusa wants to get the hell out of here, he really does. He was supposed to be home, doing absolutely nothing on his bed and counting the hours down before he gets to leave Japan again.
He sees a dim light surfacing in the darkness of the empty room, and he heaves a sigh of relief, thanking his last lucky stars. The music is significantly softer in here, and Sakusa’s head feels much more at ease.
He walks into the bathroom and is about to take off his shirt to clean up the nauseating smell of the alcohol, but he stops himself.
Yeah, this was much worse than the party downstairs.
Sakusa doesn’t want to get away, though. He doesn’t want to run away like the coward he is. Again. So he stands and watches.
He watches Hinata Shouyou’s eyelids peacefully closed, head resting against the grey wall behind him. Similar coloured ovals paint in full form beneath once sparkling eyes, with lips dry and slightly parted. Lips that once belonged to Sakusa Kiyoomi.
“Shouyou,” Sakusa doesn’t even realise the sob choking him in the second syllable. God, the way the sound feels so warm, so bright. So his.
Once his.
Shouyou doesn’t respond, instead making his steady breathing letting itself be visible to Sakusa who continues to stand at a distance, lips trembling with a peculiar rhythm of air escaping from the gap between it.
There’s a bottle of Pinnacle standing as still as Sakusa was, almost as empty as he was too. Sakusa couldn’t bear to stand there any longer. He takes a step back, and then another, turning his body around in the process.
He is about to make the painful decision of never turning back again, when a small, familiar voice calls out — “you sound a lot like someone I know.”
Sakusa stops and looks back over his shoulder, not wanting to rotate his body entirely, “someone you know?”
Shouyou stirs softly — so troubled, yet so peaceful — as if Hinata Shouyou were the tamer of a raging hurricane’s epicentre; something only he could accomplish. Something so hard, yet coming so easily to him.
“Yeah... “ his lips curve upwards slowly, which urges Sakusa to turn his body fully around, his eyes softening at the expression. “... someone I’m supposed to hate, but someone I miss, even all this time.”
Sakusa doesn’t even realise how such simple words could take his breath away. That was the beauty of Hinata Shouyou, really — whether he was bright-eyed and the living personification of the colour yellow, or eyes closed , and all was grey surrounding him — he still did it to Sakusa. Like he always did.
Sakusa takes a few careful steps towards the tub, and scans the tub, realising there was enough room for him to sit opposite a fragile Shouyou who continues to sit cross-legged, head letting itself fall onto the wall behind him.
“What was he like? This somebody ?” Sakusa finds himself asking equally as softly as he makes his way into the small space, sitting himself in the same position as the glass body opposite him. Sakusa could see the orange-haired boy was cracked, and so he stayed careful to not shatter him.
Shouyou giggles, taking a breath, as if he were breathing in the memories he doesn’t dare venture or seek comfort from, not anymore. “He’s like… an enchanting combination — a freezing winter morning, yet warm enough for you to still stand in its presence and marvel at its beauty. He’s a lot like… Xu Taiyu from Our Times , well of course, without the whole gangs and violence and all.
“ I love romance movies like that, but he claims he doesn’t like them, and always chooses horror movies instead when it’s his turn to pick movies on Friday movie nights. But there was this oncey!” Shouyou slurs playfully as he holds up a single finger at Sakusa.
He continues, the smile never leaving his face, “if you ever see him, don’t ever tell him, okay? He put me to sleep and in the middle of the night, he snuck out to watch Stuck in Love, and then the next day, he was writing furiously. Furiously! He’s a writer, a really talented one, sooo good with words. And when he showed me his work for the day like he always does, I had to pretend not to know where his sudden inspiration came from, of course.”
Sakusa couldn’t help but smile fondly at that memory, a small chuckle coming out from him. So small that he couldn’t even tell the way that his heart began to crack at this rather warm memory, too, alongside Shouyou’s .
They sit in a comfortable silence for awhile, and with every passing second, the tub feels as if it’s getting bigger and bigger. As if, all the while as the space continues to expand, they still choose to sit in close proximity.
Sakusa never wanted to leave.
“I’ll tell you my favourite memory of him. Well, I’d confidently say that every memory we had would be the best, but this ? This… is the memory I think about everyday. This is the chain that refuses to let go of its grip on me,” Shouyou hiccups, and Sakusa doesn’t really know if it’s because of the alcohol or the sob that threatens the grin on his face.
“Ice skating with him on Christmas Eve, three years ago, the 7:45pm slot. He couldn’t skate at all. He tried though… but he just couldn’t. So I decided to hold his hands! They were much bigger, much more firm than my small ones, But they were so very warm,” Shouyou puts both his hands out and simpers, obviously proud of his small, gentle hands.
Sakusa thinks — I used to hold those hands, Shouyou. I used to kiss those small knuckles tucked neatly beneath your every finger before you went to sleep. Those hands used to be mine.
“He almost fell, and guess what! I caught him, even with my teenier hands and weenier arms. I couldn’t stop laughing, it was the first time I saw him like that. It was… a cooler? Side of him. ‘I like you’ is what I said next. And guess what he said?
‘I think I more than just like you, Shouyou.’
Shouyou takes a kind of second to relive the memory in his head again, the tender smile never leaving his face, before he continues, “he said, ‘I think I more than just like you, Shouyou.’ I thought that feeling of fireworks were just fiction, man. But the liquid adrenaline that pumped through my blood at that moment… it was magical .”
Sakusa knows exactly what happens next, moment by moment. But yet, he still manages to query, voice low yet at ease, “what did he do next?”
Shouyou leans his head back against the wall again, shaking it lightly. “The next part… is the best. He kissed me. And of course, I kissed him back. He tasted like the over-sweetened sprite we had earlier that day, but more than that… he tasted like warmth. He tasted like that warmth in that cold winter that I mentioned. I remember it so, so vividly. And sometimes… I hate that I do.”
Sakusa sits, a loss for words. He wants to lean in and kiss all of Hinata Shouyou’s pain and regret away — any kind of sorrow that threatened the brightness of the sun — Sakusa wants to use his mouth to cast it all away.
And yet, he sits still (like the coward he is, again ). “That must have been nice,” is all he can say.
Hinata hums, “it was. And I’d hate to admit it, stil is. ” He then proceeds to laugh, ever so meekly, as he says, “I bet you’re going to ask the saddest memory now.” Sakusa doesn’t answer, god , he doesn’t even want to hear it.
He still does anyway.
“That night… when he kissed my knuckles a tad bit more. The cuddles were warmer, the dinner was yummier, the hugs were tighter. I was confused… he wasn’t being himself. But I didn’t think much of it… I just thought he had a bad day at work. Did you know? He was a writer, so talented, so passionate… I was so proud of him.
“And then, at night, I turn around to find warmth in his chest. Alas! He isn’t there. He knows, he knows how afraid I am of being alone, let alone sleeping alone. He knows — no — he knew. I go outside to see if he’s binge-watching another romantic movie, but he isn’t there. And then I see a note on the table. I just read the first line and stopped, I…”
Dear Shouyou. I’m really sorry you had to find out this way, but I just wanted to tell you. You deserve better than me, but thank you for giving me the best.
“... I couldn’t read anymore,” Hinata swallows a visible sob rising up his throat, as he tilts his head to the heavens, as if begging for an answer as to why, why, why.
Sakusa wants to reach out, but he knows that if he does it now, Shouyou would crack right open and shatter in front of his eyes. He would see the millions of pieces lying perfectly all around him, but would have no idea how to pick them up.
“What about…” Sakusa starts, but Shouyou answers him before he could say anything, “Tobio?”
“Yeah… I dated him. I thought that by him liking me since high school, I could know what he meant by ‘you deserve better than me’. But no…” Hinata trails off, unable to hold the tear slipping down his cheek any longer, “Tobio… he was never him. He was never Omi-san. ”
Omi-san.
Shouyou leans over to grab the bottle with both hands, eyes squeezed shut, his face turned away to not reveal the tears he had been hiding for so long.
Sakusa is not a coward anymore.
He reaches out and holds Shouyou’s hands — Shouyou’s smaller, gentler, softer hands. They are cold, yet the soul of the boy brings out the warmth in them. Hinata doesn’t struggle, but a wave of epiphany washes over him.
“Omi-san?”
Sakusa’s voice trembles as he holds onto the whole sun in the palm of his hand. “This is exactly why I couldn’t do it, Shouyou. We never fought, ever. I could never put you in pain, I could never see you sad — like this. I couldn’t see my sun in the winter fade away into the clouds and refuse to shine for me ever again.”
Sakusa lowers his head and hesitates before bringing Shouyou’s smaller hands in his and pressing his lips gently onto his knuckles. They’re exactly how they ever were. Tender, warm, Hinata Shouyou.
“I’m so sorry, Shouyou,” Sakusa’s tears drop one by one against the Shouyou’s skin. “God, I was so selfish to you, Shouyou. I left to pursue writing, and I thought you’d be able to be happy without me, and God, this is what I meant that I’ll never be good enough for you. I’ll never make you happy, Shouyou.”
Sakusa feels a soft head lean against his own, softer lips pressing against his forehead. “No, Omi-san. You’re enough for me. You’ve always been enough.”
Sakusa raises his head and meets the eyes, now opened, of the boy he chooses to fall in love with. He chose to fall in love with ‘fever boy’ yesterday, he chooses to fall in love with the colour yellow personified in a person today, and he will choose to fall in love with Hinata Shouyou, every single day.
“You look awful, Omi-san,” Shouyou can’t help but snigger, and Sakusa cups the smaller boy’s face in his larger hand that fits perfectly in the line of his jaw.
“It took me a while to realise that I can’t live my life without looking this bad if it’s without my winter sun, Shouyou,” Sakusa smiles, catching the tear slipping out of Shouyou’s eye carefully with his thumb.
Sakusa gently pulls Shouyou’s face to his and presses his mouth against his sun, his every damn colour personified in the brightness of the day, taking centre stage as the blooms of the summertime become a part of the soil. As Sakusa presses his mouth deeper, tongue needier — the sunshine and the cold, the sparkle and the ice, somehow warm even when the north wind bites.
There will be days Sakusa wishes to stay in the warm, to observe from a duvet, fingers wrapped snugly around some coca, yet on some days the winter sun decides to take his hand and show him its beauty, that in truth, it is but the dawn of spring.
As they pull away, foreheads touching, Sakusa and Shouyou realise they’re home — in a much squeezy bathtub, one fully wasted and one fully sober, but both so very in love from the very first day. Sakusa lifts his lips to press a soft kiss on Shouyou’s nose.
“I like you, Omi-san,” Shouyou chuckles out a warm breath onto Sakusa’s lips. The latter mirrors the gesture.
“I think I more than just like you, Hinata Shouyou.”