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A stupid crush.
That was all it was.
Something tiny and insignificant – something almost everyone in their high school life would go through.
And how could you not, when it was her.
You hadn’t known then when you first met her that the pounding in your heart wasn’t because of the new school year, that the prickling sensation on your neck was just the heat. It was jitters, intimidation, you reasoned, when you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes as she extended her hand.
“Shimizu Kiyoko.”
Her name tasted of honey and lemongrass, of red picnic blankets laid out in the grass under the shade. Her smile was a birdsong that reminded you that there were still good things left on earth and apparently you were one of them, as she deemed your name worthy to fly from her lips.
“I’ll be in your care then, L/N-san.”
You grew a thousand heads taller, and you managed to echo the formality to her with newfound vigor, your eyes practically sparkling at the indication that the two of you were now friends.
Middle school had been just another stage in your life up, something else that you had to go through to get to the other side. But for the first time, you had stopped and stared at the world around you – a world seemed to be the same, yet wholly different.
As different as the world could look like to a junior in middle school, there was an added vividness to everything that you swore hadn’t been there before.
Even as you took in the sway of the trees in the school yard, you found your eyes trailing back to the friend at your side, who seemed to glow brighter than the noon-time sun, if that was possible. As the seasons changed, so did your relationship with her. You had ascended from addressing each other by your last names, although the change had been so gradual that you never noticed it until she had pointed it out.
The two of you would often spend weekends together, attempting to study as you stuffed your faces with pastries at the local cake shop.
But that moment had been fleeting, for it was then when the track team begun to ask for more of her time, gently snatching her away from your hands.
Nowadays, it wasn’t often that the two of you could spend time alone anymore. She was a rising star in the school’s track team, and had practice almost every weekend.
And while she basked in the spotlight, you were content to be the one at the stands, cheering her on at the top of your voice as she practically flew past her opponents and over the hurdles that literally stood in her way of victory. There was a sense of pride that flared in your chest the moment she stepped onto the tracks – and whether she had won or lost, that feeling never wavered.
Not even when you held her from sundown to sunset, after she heard the news from her physician abut the damage to her legs had accumulated due to over-exertion. Not even when she threw her running shoes into the backburner at the school, right after she quit the track team.
Not even when she recoiled from your touch – locking herself into a shell that seemed so far away, even when you were inches apart.
“Why are you sticking around, Y/N?” she asked you one odd Thursday, the two of you at the roof, staring up at the cloudless sky.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not the track team ace anymore,” she began, raising her hand as she began to count her faults. “I’ve been missing classes, therefore on schoolwork – and I’ve been eating up too much of your own personal time.”
You were quiet, knowing that this had something to do with herself, rather than you. So, you listened as she listed off all of the things she thought was wrong about her, until she ended it with a sentence that broke your heart.
“Why don’t you hate me?”
You looked at her then, as she sat up, trying to conceal the tears that were streaming down her face and lacing her words.
“I could never hate you, Kiyoko.”
Those simple words shook her from the haze of her self-loathing. She snuck a glance at you, but you had averted your eyes back from the sky just in time. You knew her too well to know that she had loved putting up the front of being alright, the default mask of being the caring ‘mom friend’. It was a very convincing façade, that even she was fooled into believing.
“Even when I steal your fries?” Her voice was small and drawn back, yet the attempt at humor was something. And you clung to that, as you always did, and you always will.
“Even with your gluttonous appetite, I couldn’t hate you.”
She sniffled, a smile slowly creeping to her lips. “Even when I think that tangerines aren’t small oranges?”
“Shut up,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands at the recollection of your ignorance to the difference of the two that was now a fond, though embarrassing, memory.
Kiyoko laughed, and it felt like the weight of the world was lifted from your shoulders. The laugh had a hint of melancholy in it, but you took what you could get.
She turned to you, her eyes shining with a flicker of hope, her mouth curved into the softest of smiles.
“I’ll continue to be in your care, then.”
You could only nod mutely, mirroring her smile with one of your own, hoping that the hammering in your chest was inaudible to her. It might take a while, but you knew that the Shimizu Kiyoko you knew and loved would bounce right back, stronger than ever.
And she did.
Come high school, you watched as she became the manager for the Karasuno men’s volleyball club. You saw the fire light up in her eyes as she did all she could to help them be better, even when they had a reputation of loss.
You watched in the sidelines, silently cheering her on, as they progressed beyond what was expected, and began to defy the expectations of everyone around. The distance between the two of you was an entire valley now, but you swallowed the pain and kept on a smile, relishing in the few precious moments when the two of you would be alone.
These moments were kept in a small jar in your heart, a jar where you retreated into when you saw her pay a little more attention to the bald junior who was obviously entranced by her beauty. You kept your mouth shut, as you found many a letter in your shoe locker, pleas from desperate men who wanted you to be the bridge to their beloved goddess. Suffice to say the letters had since been incinerated.
It took you a while to realize that your feelings towards Kiyoko had, not so much as changed, rather shifted. That, what you mistook for friendly overprotectiveness and ‘sisterhood’, had been a case of long-term pining.
What really had you reeling was the fact that it had taken an outside party to help you realize it. That outside party being Sugawara Koushi, who had been a friendly face whenever you’d visit the gym.
He had been supportive and reassuring, and the two of you would often spend his volleyball breaks chatting. In your case, it was to vent about the influx of her so-called fanclub.
“Why don’t you confess?”
The words echoed in your ear as you went home that afternoon, your mind blank except for Sugawara’s voice repeating the same thing over and over again.
It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about it – you had, and it was always fleeting. You shook it off, thinking it was just a stupid crush. It was just admiration. You’d repeat excuses in your head until you were convinced that well, it’s not necessary.
But when Sugawara said it out loud, the weight of your feelings finally caught up to you. That it wasn’t just a stupid crush. It wasn’t just admiration. It was something else that had been both exhilarating and frightening to think about.
As you mulled over the same thoughts, you didn’t notice the figure that had joined your walk until you felt their shoulder brush against yours.
“You okay there, Y/N?”
You nearly jumped out of your skin, eliciting a laugh from the beauty. Pouting, you scolded her for sneaking up on you, praying to all the gods that were listening that the sound of your footsteps was enough to drown out the symphony of your beating heart.
As Kiyoko began to talk about her day, the only thing you could think of was that, when push came to shove, you couldn’t bear to lose her. You could handle being in the sidelines, cheering on her or her team. You could handle being a temporary friend that she had whenever she was down, a constant pillar of strength she could rely on. A handkerchief to catch her tears, a step stool she could use to boost herself up.
And if keeping her meant swallowing your feelings whole and burying them down, then you’d gladly do it – so long as you kept her by your side for the remainder of your time together.
You didn’t realize that you had stopped until you hear her walk towards you. You were unaware of your own tears until you could only see a blurry outline of her figure.
She held you then, on the corner of the convenience store, in your last Friday as high school seniors, unaware of your broken heart.
And by god did it hurt.
You knew you were doing it to preserve your friendship – that it was better this way. You told yourself time and time again that keeping silent was the best way for the two of you. That though you couldn’t have her to yourself, at least this way you’d never lose her, not really.
It was stupid to cling on to the excuses, but you did. You clung on to that as well as the hope that maybe, just maybe, one day, you’d have enough courage to tell her.
That things would be different.
But by then it was too late.
She held you again, on the same day, several years later, as she thanked you for being on the most special day of her life.
You took her into your arms, and kissed her forehead, before pulling away and staring into the eyes of the man who had her heart in his hands.
“I’ll leave her in your care, now.”
Saying those words aloud took everything you had in you, as you held her tight once again, before disappearing into the night, your heart shattering with every step that you took. You hoped that the few words reached him – that it conveyed everything you were to afraid to tell her.