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The snow fell slowly outside of his open window. Yuuto reached out and caught a snowflake in the palm of his hand.
No. Their hand.
The phone in their other hand shook, and Yuuto didn’t know if it was a message or if it was their nerves. They weren’t sure which option they liked better. A message would have meant that Hayato was out of class and ready for a call that could potentially change everything.
Yuuto considered texting Hayato and saying nevermind. They didn’t have to tell him. They could wait. Maybe they would grow out of it. But somehow, Yuuto knew that this wasn’t a phase; the uncertainty that plagued their mind when they called Hayato to tell him they were bisexual wasn’t there this time.
When Yuuto had later called Hayato and told him they were gay instead of bisexual, Hayato said it was normal to not know. “It’s okay to change labels around,” he said. “Sometimes you just don’t know for sure, and that’s okay.”
But this? Yuuto knew this was for sure. There was no doubt in their mind that they weren’t a boy or a girl. They were just Yuuto, whatever that entailed.
If I don’t have a gender, am I still gay?
Yuuto didn’t know how to describe their sexuality anymore, but they knew how to describe the way they stuttered when Ashikiba smiled at them, or when Manami winked at them. They knew how to explain the way their chest hurt when they thought about what Hayato could say about who they were.
Being gay was one thing. Hayato is gay, how could he be disapproving? But this was new territory altogether.
“Nonbinary,” Yuuto whispered at the long-melted snowflake in their hand. The word felt foreign, but not wrong. Did Hayato even know what it meant? Yuuto didn’t. Not until recently.
They looked at their phone. No new messages.
A sigh of relief.
It didn’t ring until five minutes later, just as they locked their window shut again. Hayato always called instead of texting, an annoying habit of his that Yuuto hated more than anything else about their brother.
Yuuto bit their lip and answered the call.
Hayato was accepting. He always was.
“But...if you don’t have a gender, are you still gay?”
Yuuto laughed.
Some days, Yuuto felt like the snow that had fallen outside their window the day they came out to Hayato: delicate and too quick to melt.
“Your mask is cute,” Manami said as Yuuto pulled it from their locker one day. “But you’re cute enough without it, don’t you think?”
Yuuto’s chest felt like it was going to explode. They turned away so he wouldn’t catch the red that was quickly appearing on their face, but they managed to immediately turn straight into Ashikiba. He caught them as they fell backwards, one arm under their back, as if dipping them during a dance.
“Ah, Yuuto, are you okay?”
They tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled noise. They covered their face with their mask instead. In the background, Manami laughed.
School dances weren’t Yuuto’s thing, but that didn’t stop the daydreams of being asked to one. Sometimes they imagined it being Ashikiba, awkward and clumsy with it. Sometimes Manami, somehow cool and suave and childish all at once.
Every so often, they entertained the idea of being the one to ask. They would sit and contemplate which cliche shoujo trope they would employ, whether they would be cool or embarrassed, whether or not the other would say yes. Yuuto knew that asking Manami was out of the question. As much as they wanted to, they knew that he was already dating someone else. (Onoda. Yuuto knew his name but hated saying it because it filled their mouth with the taste of metal.)
Ashikiba was single, though. It would be easy enough to corner him after practice one day. It wouldn’t have to be elaborate — a simple, “Go to the dance with me?” would surely suffice.
After two weeks, they still weren’t able to work up enough courage to ask.
After another week, it didn’t matter anymore.
They arrived in the clubroom early enough one day to see Kuroda give Ashikiba a single flower. They couldn’t hear what was said, but their chest tightened so much it hurt. Yuuto had never prayed harder than in that moment, begging whatever may be listening to allow them to go undetected as they escaped to the bathroom. They hid in a stall. The tears never actually fell, but they were there nonetheless. When they arrived to practice late, they claimed they overslept; it was a blatant lie, but nobody called them out on it. Practice carried on normally, even with Yuuto being quieter than usual.
Ashikiba’s flower fell out of his hair when he took his helmet off. Yuuto bent over and handed it to him with a fake smile and a dry mouth.
They skipped the dance. They didn’t have anything to wear anyway.
Some days, Yuuto felt like the snow that had fallen outside their window the day they came out to Hayato: cold and unpleasant to be around.
They hated the idea of a group practice with Sohoku. If they were supposed to be fighting against each other, why practice together? They were told it would build competitive spirit, but Yuuto suspected it was due to the friendships that already existed between the two teams.
It had been an hour, and the actual practice portion hadn’t started yet; Yuuto had a sneaking feeling that it never would. They stood off to the side, silent and angry, and avoided looking at anyone. Instead, they fiddled with their unopened powerbar. They weren’t in the mood to eat it, but they needed something in their hands.
Eventually, Yuuto’s gaze was drawn to Manami, who was listening to Onoda talk about something. They were too far away to make out the conversation, but they saw the soft smile on Manami’s face — softer than Yuuto had ever seen it — and it hurt to think that it would never be directed at them. Manami offered Onoda a water bottle and Onoda took a sip, and it was an indirect kiss, and —
A hand fell onto their shoulder and Yuuto dropped their powerbar in surprise. It was Ashikiba, who looked vaguely concerned.
“You look upset,” he said, bending over to grab Yuuto’s powerbar. “And you keep staring at Manami.” He handed the powerbar to Yuuto, who took it out of pure instinct. They stared, unable to hold onto a single thought that was racing around their mind. Their face was red, they were sure of it. Ashikiba stared at them for a few moments, and then it looked like something clicked.
“Oh,” he said.
“Don’t,” Yuuto said.
“Do you like —“
“I said don’t, ” Yuuto snapped. Their gaze dropped to the ground.
“Ah, but, it’s okay,” Ashikiba said. “I understand.”
They wanted to scream. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what it was like. There was no way he could know what Yuuto was going through and they didn’t want his pity. It’s not fair; one of Yuuto’s crushes was going to lecture them about their other crush? It’s just a cruel twist of fate, something that would happen in a shoujo.
Yuuto looked up at Ashikiba to tell him to back off, or to go away, or something . Anything to avoid having this conversation. Whatever it took, however mean they had to be.
That’s when they realized Ashikiba wasn’t looking at them.
They followed his gaze to a boy with curly black hair. The captain of Sohoku, Teshima Junta. He was smiling at someone with such a fond look that it actually made Yuuto’s breath catch in his throat. That person revealed himself to be Aoyagi Hajime, the blonde sprinter. Teshima pulled him in close and kissed his forehead, and Aoyagi blushed, pushing Teshima away as he laughed, and Yuuto thought maybe Ashikiba did know how it felt.
“What did you do?” They asked breathlessly. “How did you make it stop?”
“Hm...I don’t think I ever did,” he said. Yuuto’s gaze jerked back towards him. He was smiling at them, and they wondered how Ashikiba could still be happy knowing that Teshima was giving forehead kisses to someone else. They wondered if Ashikiba ever wished he was dating Teshima instead of Kuroda, and they wondered if Kuroda knew about his crush on Teshima or not.
“Okay,” Teshima called out, snapping Yuuto out of their train of thoughts. “Everyone gather around! We’re going to start!”
Grumbles and whoops filled the air as everyone made their way over to where Teshima and Izumida were standing next to each other, vice-captains at their sides. Teshima’s vice-captain was still a little red in the face, and Teshima still looked a little too pleased.
Yuuto turned to look back at Ashikiba, but he was gone.
Another inter-high. Another loss to Sohoku.
It hit hard.
Hayato and Fukutomi were there, and it should have been comforting, but it just made it worse. Their words of encouragement rang hollow in Yuuto’s empty head and squeezed their heart until it bled. Eventually, it was more than they could take, and they had to leave. They walked away without saying a word, slipping through the crowd as quietly as possible. The rest of their teammates were with mentors, family, or significant others, so Yuuto was surprised to see Manami sitting alone on the bench, staring at a water bottle.
“Manami?”
He looked up. His face was wet, but he wasn’t crying anymore. He offered Yuuto a strained smile.
Yuuto hesitated, then walked over and sat next to Manami. The bench was small, and their legs brushed together. They sat in silence together, Manami staring at his bottle and Yuuto staring at their hands. They had never seen Manami cry before, and even just seeing the aftermath of it was jarring. Even more jarring was Manami’s ringtone. It felt like the loudest thing Yuuto had ever heard.
Yuuto looked over at Manami’s phone. It was an invasion of privacy, but they couldn’t help themselves. Manami was typing a reply to “Sakamichi~.” Yuuto bit their cheek.
“How can you stand seeing him after he just took your dream from you?”
“Sometimes being in love means that you have to accept your own defeats and just be happy that the one you love is happy,” Manami said cheerily. Yuuto watched him add a heart emoji to his text message. Then he stood and walked to the opening of the tent.
“Are you in love with Onoda?” Yuuto blurted. They felt their face go red, and they wondered why they asked when they were already pretty sure of the answer.
Manami stopped walking and stared at the water bottle in his hand. Yuuto wondered if it meant anything.
“Yes,” he said, and it wasn’t as soul-crushing as they thought it would be.
But it still hurt.
“Are you happy?” They asked hesitantly.
This time, there was no pause to consider. Manami looked back at them with a wide, genuine smile, and it yanked on Yuuto’s heart.
“I am,” he said. He walked out of the tent, and Yuuto ignored their own phone, buzzing with messages from Hayato.
Some days, Yuuto felt like the snow that had fallen outside their window the day they came out to Hayato: falling with no end in sight.
But snow always lands. It settles into place. Eventually, it stops falling, and so does Yuuto.
Yuuto still didn’t know how to describe their sexuality, but they knew how to describe the way they laughed when Kuroda lectured Ashikiba or when Manami showed up to practice wearing a Love Hime t-shirt. They knew how to describe the way their chest swelled with love when they thought about what Hayato said about who they were.
They still blushed a little too easily sometimes, and maybe they always would. But they began to look forward to their time in the clubroom again. Group practices were enjoyable. This year, Yuuto wouldn’t skip the dance.
Their phone rang. The screen flashed Onoda’s name, probably to talk about the latest episode of the shoujo they both watched.
Yuuto smiled and answered the call.