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There is a fountain at the Hanshin Amagasaki station. There is nothing special about it, nothing grand, it just spouts water every couple seconds, and in truth, it's kind of ugly. The location is quite convenient, on the way to the JR train at the other Amagasaki station, the one that leads to home.
At the end of each school year, without fail, Suna comes with Osamu to toss a coin into it and make a wish, silently. They never tell each other what they've wished for, an unspoken rule. The coins plop into the fountain, they turn away, and walk side by side to the JR train. This is the way it has been since middle school.
March rolls by again, but this time it envelops them in many lasts. Last nationals match, last volleyball practice, last exams. On the final day of third year, they visit the fountain again, late at night. Graduation celebrations had stretched on for the entire day, but Suna agreed to sneak out with Osamu, one last time, for their tradition.
The school year has come and gone, and a future they are not quite sure how to grasp lies ahead.
Suna turns the coin over in his hand, smoothing a thumb over the bumpy metal surface. After all this time, he is familiar with all the grooves and curves of it, but never bothered to commit them to memory. Today is no different. The metallic smell will linger on his skin, but he doesn’t mind. He thinks it could be the last time they make a wish together, like this, even though he hopes it isn’t.
Everything else is an uncertainty.
They make the wish. Two silhouettes against city lights, two more coins into the fountain. Like usual, Suna doesn’t tell Osamu what he’s wished for, and Osamu keeps silent too.
Suna thinks Osamu probably wishes for something related to food, maybe onigiri specifically, like he’d hinted at weeks before. Suna allows himself to wish more selfishly, this time, and wishes for Miya Osamu.
It is a relatively simple one, only two words, but it is also the most complex thing he has wished for yet. Osamu doesn’t give anything away that he doesn’t want to, and Suna has always preferred to keep quiet. In a few months, they’ll leave for different cities and leave behind hollow streets.
When they take the train and return home, Suna can pretend there is sentimentality in the way they say good night halfway between their houses.
--
The distance from Nagano to Kobe is not insignificant. This year, unlike the ones that came before it, starts with them apart, only a string of texts varying in frequency connecting them.
Sometimes there is a photo of an onigiri gone terribly wrong, to which Suna responds with 7 rapidly sent messages of him laughing and making fun of it. Sometimes there is a candid photo of Suna, sent with the echo effect, by Komori who'd gotten into his phone, his hair and left eyebrow still visible in the lower right corner. Osamu leaves heart reactions on these, and it only fuels Komori into poking Suna about it more.
Sometimes, they call, just to talk. Suna listens as Osamu rants about a couple that came through literally two minutes before closing with a huge order and still wanted to sit down, to which he of course said absolutely not. Osamu listens to Suna complain about how his arms are sore, about the kilometers he has to run daily—who even makes someone run that much and do weight training—and the fact that he’s gonna pass away because of it.
Despite it all, they undeniably do not spend time together like they used to. There is a gap by his side on the train, and nobody to walk home with. The sound of Osamu’s voice saying good night is far and few in between. There are a lot of firsts. The first time Suna turned to talk to Osamu but then realized he wasn’t there, and texted him instead, the first time Suna’s ever fallen asleep on a call, the first professional volleyball game of his career, and the first wins and losses of his career.
When the next March approaches, and there is a slight break in the offseason, Suna makes a decision to come back to Amagasaki and visit the ugly fountain. He also knows Osamu is there, because his instagram story had his old room in it. Suna texts Osamu that he’ll be visiting, and receives multiple exclamation points, followed by ‘when’, and because Suna didn’t bother to estimate how many hours the train would take, he only replies ‘idk, soon’, and leans his head against the window to sleep the rest of the way, ignoring the incoming buzzes of ‘???’.
--
There is a coin in his pocket already. Suna approaches the fountain, but there is a familiar figure standing there, outlined by streetlamps and the neon lights of nearby convenience stores.
Wordlessly, Suna steps next to Osamu, and flips his coin into the fountain with a plop.
He wishes for the same thing he wished for a year ago at the same place. Osamu rounds on him, real and breathing and surprised. When he opens his mouth, Suna interrupts him.
"Make your wish first, shithead. Those are the rules."
Osamu tosses his coin in quickly, closes his eyes for a wish, and turns back to Suna.
"First of all, we never really made any rules, second of all, what the fuck are ya doin here Sunarin?"
"Just wanted to make a wish," Suna answers, shoving his hands back in his pockets.
"'m glad you’re here, though. Thought I was gonna be the only one wishin' this year."
Suna briefly wonders where Osamu got the idea that he'd ever forget, but instead he says, "So, since there are no rules, what'd you wish for, hm?"
He expects an answer about good fortune or business, or maybe something typical, but instead there is silence as Osamu kicks at the ground. The fountain spouts water again, the trains pass by underneath their feet.
"You," Osamu says eventually, and then quickly follows it with, "What about you?"
Suna blinks. Him? He hopes he heard the first part correctly, because he tugs Osamu closer and closer and places a kiss at the corner of his mouth.
"This," Suna answers.
Osamu’s eyes are a little bit wide when Suna pulls away, but he starts laughing. It’s low but clear, and everything that Suna has been missing.
“Stop, that was so fuckin’ cheesy,” Osamu says, a little breathless.
“Alright then, you do it,” Suna smiles.
Osamu hooks his arms behind Suna’s neck, tugging him down, and finally slots their lips together. Suna’s hands anchor themselves on Osamu’s waist, and they fumble a little at first, messy, but it’s warm and real and Suna knows this is what home is.