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You were the first , my heart says.
From the moment you walked through that door, my fingers have never ached for anyone else. It was strange. Foreign. My heart says, feel this , and my mind didn’t say no .
It was your presence that pulled me close, nothing else. “Sakusa Kiyoomi,” I extended my hand without thinking about the implications. My only thoughts were use your left hand . It did not take you too long to acknowledge my introduction and I might have let out a sigh of relief when you said, “Ushijima Wakatoshi,” as our hands met.
You were quiet, never speaking unless necessary. While everyone was running their mouths about the plays they wanted to try, you were silently sipping your drink and mumbling acknowledgements whenever a “Right, Ushijima-san?” was thrown your way. It was like your thoughts were reserved from futile musings. I understood that and I liked to think you were grateful for it.
“If it isn’t Japan’s top aces,” I heard someone say from afar. I saw your eyes glance to where the voice emerged from, but they didn’t linger for more than a few seconds. It was Kiryuu Wakatsu with a serious expression on his face who walked over to where we were standing. Everyone else around us fell quiet, as if waiting for a pin to drop.
“Kiryuu,” I acknowledged his presence, and the people around us take the cue to proceed with their conversations.
I have always watched you two - your matches; losses and wins. I have read possibly every article written about you being compared with each other. Seeing you two side-by-side made graphs and charts appear in my head, listing down all attributes I have taken note of from reading all those magazine analyses. But it’s not all about that, is it?
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It was the distance between us that made me want for you to be close, even when you were only a few steps away. The net separating us didn’t help, but seeing you from afar somehow gave me the chance to look at you more closely. Sometimes I had to squeeze my eyes shut because I could not physically look away. The way the tiny hairs fell on your face left me with whispers of nights where I brush them off and kiss the spot they were once in. Your eyes, ever so piercing, held my gaze and summoned curses from my lips.
There were so many others like me. We all swooned over you - for different reasons. You carried yourself with a sense of pride that stemmed from years of proving that confidence can only be manifested by those who are worthy of it. And by god, are you worthy of every single bit of it.
While my lovers tried pinning my wings down claiming I walked down the staircase from heaven, you were my angel. There wasn’t a moment when I ever acknowledged being on the same level as you. You’re not from around here, I always thought. I am merely a mortal graced by your existence.
And just like how a human would react to a biblical cherub, I couldn’t not look at you.
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You were the first , my mind says.
My mind knew how I should be acting on the one day in every year I saw you. Let him come to you , I kept reminding myself. But you never did. It wasn’t like I was expecting you to. I just hoped you would so that I could keep myself in check. So I could convince myself that I didn’t spend my nights yearning for a moment with you again.
I would chant all my past lovers’ names under my breath while I looked towards you to remind myself that I will never be in your sight. There are people waiting at my feet, ready to give me the world. But, I turned down person after person after person, telling them I was not ready to love.
I use that as an excuse because it really does feel like I am not ready to. And yet, I look at you that way. The way I always have. While I blindly walked around not knowing that’s how people looked at love.
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My chaos and disarray never dismissed you. I kept that with me. Closely.
I realized that today when your hand made its way to my shoulder. “Sakusa Kiyoomi,” your voice rang in my head and it sent a chill down my spine.
I took down every single detail of the situation to ground myself. You were speaking to me. Your hand was on my shoulder. You said my name. You were looking at me.
“Ushijima-san,” I managed to reply. “Congratulations on your win.”
“Thank you. I came here to wish you luck on your next match,” you said with a small smile on your face. “Of course, you don’t need it.”
My mind must have gone into overdrive. I could not form even a single-word response. Thankfully, Hinata stepped in with his fervor, “We won’t lose to you next time.” You chuckled at that and took your leave.
There it was. You came to me. And I couldn’t even manage to hold a conversation longer than a minute. Those few seconds of your eyes on me was now kept in a locked box in my mind.
My chaos and disarray never dismissed you. Perhaps I kept you with me. Closely.
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You were the first , you said.
We may not have been and no longer can be, but I was your first.
I found it hard to believe that someone as breathtaking as you has never been touched like this. But here we are, caressing each other like autumn leaves about to break.
The feeling of your lips on the coldness of my skin initiates a warmth that spreads throughout my body, possibly even straight to my core. This might be the first time you have been this close and bare to anyone, but as you are with everything else, you are so good at it. So good.
We weren’t so distant anymore, but I wanted you closer. Closer than this. Closer than my hands gripping on your arms as you thrust in me with ardor. Closer than your hair sticking on my neck and your hot breath blown on my chest.
I fell apart under you in more ways than one. I held you close while I cried from the pleasure and the lingering fact that after this, you’re gone. You left me with a kiss too soft, so soft that if it was any more intense I might never have let your lips go.
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Your story is my favorite story to tell. You were my favorite what if . You will never give me normal eyes. I have never thought of you plainly.
I don’t think it matters if you’re prepared for love or not. Sometimes, we use that as an excuse because sometimes it really does feel like we’re not ready to love yet.
So we turn down person after person, after person. Then someone else comes along, and they make you forget how to say no to emotions and you assume that you’re finally ready.
But, no.
Your heart chooses who to love, too. It just never promises that you’re going to love someone who’s going to love you.
If I had the chance to stand in front of you and hold you the way I once had been able to, I would not steal you away. I would not pick up where we left off. I would not be able to speak.
I would not have the guts to touch you again.
And that, honestly, is okay.
I would smile, and you would know it’s because you were my first.