Work Text:
Koganegawa stands outside the building, chewing the skin off his lower lip with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He can’t do this.
He needs to text Futakuchi-san and beg for forgiveness and he needs to go home and hide in his room for the next decade.
Someone drives by on their bike.
A dog barks in the distance.
Inside the little duplex, Kogane hears someone cough.
Alright fine!
Strapping his mask over his mouth, Koganegawa squares his shoulders and climbs the stairs to the second floor, steps up to the door- double- triple checks he has the right apartment- and pulls the key from his pocket. It burned a hole there, and with it in his hand, it feels like the world swims, his vision hyperfocusing on the silver teeth gleaming in the sunlight.
He licks over his sore bottom lip.
He can do this.
Kogane slides the key into the handle of the door, turns it til he hears the tumblers inside the lock, and then pulls it back out. He drops the key back into his pocket where it will stay safe to return to Futakuchi-san later, and he turns the knob.
Opening the door, Koganegawa raises his voice to call into the little apartment, “Aone-san?”
The floor plan is open, with a sliding door out onto a small balcony, and a door he can only assume is the bedroom. The door immediately to his right is too small a space on this side of the house to be a bedroom. There is a ruffle in the room, a creak, silence, and from around the edge of the door opening, his old upperclassman pokes his head around. He’s wearing a mask that matches his hair. The bags under his eyes and the flush in his cheeks are a stark contrast that makes Kogane’s chest tight.
“Futakuchi-san sent me over to deliver you some okayu. He has work. He said he’d text you about it?”
Aone hums a quiet note of affirmation before disappearing back into the bedroom.
Kogane stands by the genkan, unsure if he should actually come inside farther or just leave the porridge he brought and go.
“He might be difficult, but I’m trusting you with this job, Kogane!”
The echo of his former captain’s words ring in his ears and Koganegawa starts, clutching at the strap of his messenger bag, grip tight enough to rustle the plastic bag. He sets them both down on the floor while he takes his shoes off. Peeking farther in, he spots the little kitchenette where he starts to unpack the bag.
Floorboards squeak behind him, and when he turns to look, Aone is standing half in the bedroom doorway, breathing a little hard, a blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape.
He looks absolutely miserable.
Something in Kogane shifts, and he thinks about the times he’s looked after his little sister when she was sick. He’ll do that. It can’t be that hard.
For such a big guy, tall and wide, he looks small and sickly right now. Shoulders high around his ears, hair greasy and unwashed, face flushed red. Kogane can see the crust of sleep at the corners of his eyes, and when Aone slips into the room, skirting as far away from him as he can, he rattles off a wet cough that makes Kogane’s brows pinch in concern.
“Have you checked your temperature, Aone-san?”
He shakes his head and eases himself down at the kotatsu, leaning to fiddle with it to turn it on.
“Is your thermometer in the bathroom?”
A little nod, and Kogane nods a curt reply before turning to the doorway by the entrance. Sure enough, it’s a little restroom, and he opens the mirror to find a thermometer on the metal shelf inside. Bringing it back out, he reaches a long arm to hand it over, understanding by body language Aone is trying to keep his distance.
He retreats to the other side of the room to the kitchenette to finish unpacking food. Opening his cupboards, he finds a random mismatch of dishes, but all of them are colorful. He pulls down a bowl to put some of the okayu in, spooning it with an equally colorful ladle from the cup of utensils on the stovetop.
Aone clears his throat behind him and Kogane glances over his shoulder at him, watching him cap the thermometer again and set it aside before he signs, “ 38. ”
“Is that better or worse than it’s been?” He realizes he probably shouldn’t have Aone talking too much if he’s sick, “Ah, sorry Aone-san, Futakuchi-san didn’t really… tell me everything. Just you were sick with a cough and a fever and to bring over some okayu.”
He swallows hard and Kogane can’t help biting at his lip again. He steels himself but brings over the porridge and a bottle of pocari sweat, setting both on the table top for him.
“It’s lower. Still too high, though,” Aone explains.
This is probably the most Koganegawa has heard him speak, but he’s glad he’s able to. There’s not a ton Kogane can do for him that he isn’t already doing, but he’s sure that Aone is looking after himself. He’s mindful enough to be keeping his distance, or trying to, with how little the apartment is.
Aone doesn’t immediately take the porridge or the drink and Kogane shifts a little. The severe set of his face, both from having no brows, but his no doubt discomfort from just being sick in general, makes him hard to read. He’s hard to read on a good day, but now, Kogane’s not sure at all.
Turning, Aone points to the sliding door onto the balcony, “There’s a chair. I don’t want to get you sick.”
He rattles with a harsh cough again, eyes closed tight against it. It sounds heavy in his lungs. Kogane can see the sheen of sweat on his brow and nods once before opening the latch on the door to step out onto the balcony. It’s a nice day out, and with a little distance between them, he can see the muscles relax in Aone’s shoulders.
The whole balcony is covered with plants of all shapes and sizes. Koganegawa doesn’t know what most of them even are .
He runs a finger over a few leaves of a few plants, looking at all the colorful little pots, marveling at Aone’s little garden. Some have big leaves, some are little pointy succulents. There’s even one that’s a deep purple as opposed to the others that are all shades of green.
Kogane can hear- with the door open a crack- Aone start to eat, and the distinct crackle of the cap for the pocari. Good.
Sure as he said, there’s a chair out here, a wicker one with a sun faded pillow in it. Next to the chair is a little stand with a well worn sudoku book with a pen stuffed in one of the pages.
Sitting himself down, it all hits Koganegawa at once. There’s so much to Aone he hadn’t known before, and knowing now, feels kind of humbling.
Aone’s voice from inside is a little muffled and Kogane hadn’t expected to hear him speak up, so he didn’t hear what he said. He blinks owlishly before leaning a little, “S-sorry Aone-san. What did you say?”
Shifting a little to look over his shoulder at him, Aone clears his throat, raising his voice a little.
“You have an interview, don’t you?”
Koganegawa starts, honestly surprised, but nods his head once, “Yeah! Yeah, next Monday.”
“You’ll do well,” Aone says, and his tone is reassuring.
Ducking his head at the sincerity in the compliment, Kogane tries not to let the way his chest squeezes get the better of him, “Thank you.”
“Try not to overwork yourself, between work and school.” It’s spoken softly, but the words really do speak volumes. Koganegawa wonders if Aone is sick right now from overworking himself. He thinks it might be rude to ask, so he simply nods in reply.
The two of them go quiet, and Kogane listens to the sound of Aone eating, watching the breeze flutter the plants a little. He tries not to think about the plethora of feelings Aone always brings out in him. He’s always been fond of his upperclassman, but it wasn’t until Aone’s third year, when he started to gain a little more confidence, that Kogane really started to understand his admiration was growing into something more.
“Did… did you make this?”
Rubbing long fingers into his cheek, Koganegawa huffs a soft laugh, “Yeah, this morning. Futakuchi-san asked if I could come check on you today since he had work after class, so I made some- it’s really simple okayu. Haha used to make it for my sister and me when we were sick.”
Aone doesn’t answer immediately, and Kogane wonders idly if he’d heard him. Eventually though, he hears the clink of dishes and glances to watch Aone set the empty ones aside and close the half bottle. That’s good.
“Hatsu-chan, right?”
That same squeezing feeling in his chest makes Kogane lick over his lips gingerly before a curt nod, “Mhm. She’ll be turning ten soon.”
“I saw her at a few games,” Aone nods, shifting the blanket on his shoulders as he leans forward to angle himself better so he isn’t talking to Koganegawa over his shoulder as much. His mask is back over his mouth and nose, but all the moving and squirming has him coughing again.
It dawns on the setter that this is the most he’s heard Aone speak in his life. He seems talkative right now, and Kogane isn’t sure if it’s because he’s ill, or because he’s in his own home. The way Futakuchi had explained it, Aone talks when he feels safe and comfortable, so Koganegawa would put money on the fact this chatter is because Aone isn’t anxious. Or, if he is, not as much as he would be otherwise.
Again, that panging feeling, clawing like hunger, spreads through his chest. He draws a slow and even breath, trying to rid the feeling from where it crackles along his ribs. Thinking about the feeling itself for too long makes his face hot and he ducks his head to rub at his eyes and get himself together.
“You- you have quite a garden out here, Aone-san.”
Smiling gently, he nods, resting his head on his arms folded across the table.
“Do you- well- do any of them need watering? With you being sick and all.”
Sitting up a little, Aone looks out the parted shades onto the balcony and Kogane watches the rise and fall of his shoulders with a deep breath. He sees the tickle of a cough trying to happen more than he hears it. He doesn’t this time, though.
“If…” he tries. His eyes trail away to the floor on the other side of the room. He’s nervous.
“It wouldn’t be trouble,” Koganegawa reassures him.
“I would appreciate it,” Aone nods.
“Alright!” Standing up from the chair, Kogane finds the watering can, and peers inside to see just how much water it still has. It should be enough, he thinks.
They talk about the plants Aone keeps, and Koganegawa waters the ones that need it, one by one.
“Lemon button fern,” Aone points at a plant with long fronds with tons of tiny round leaves in pairs down them. They’re awfully cute. “Is the soil on top dry?”
Feeling over it, Kogane nods, and Aone nods slowly, shifting where he sits, “Mm, five or so centimeters of water on top should be enough.”
Tipping the can up, it sprinkles water in a constant stream over the base of the plant, saturating the soil.
“I haven’t been able to water them every day,” Aone admits, and Kogane almost misses it. He turns to look at him with soft concern, but Aone isn’t looking at him. Being sick sucks, but when it makes it so you can’t do the simple things you love, it really can take its toll.
“I’m here now, so I wouldn’t worry about it!” Kogane smiles, and there is a shine that dances in Aone’s eyes before he looks away that makes Kogane turn himself around to focus on the plants and not the furious color that rises to his cheeks.
“Have you been to the clinic, Aone-san?” Kogane asks, lowering the can, making sure he doesn’t overwater anything.
“Mm, they gave me some medicine, but it’s just something I need to ride out.”
Koganegawa nods and moves on to a different plant, a big one with triangle shaped leaves in deep purple tones. He’s never seen a plant like this before!
“Purple shamrock. If it’s dry too, same amount of water.”
The breeze ruffles more of the leaves, casting waving shadows across the cement of the balcony.
“This guy looks like he’s wilting,” Koganegawa points out, and Aone’s face tightens with concern.
“Oh,” he says, one simple word dripping with guilt. “Can you move it out of the sun? It’s getting too much.”
Koganegawa surveys the balcony and moves a few things to set the plant out of the direct light. Its long vines with big leaves stretch out and drape anywhere they can reach.
“What is this one?” He asks, making sure none of the vines are obstructing anybody else’s nice warm rays.
“A heartleaf philodendron. Hearty, but too much sun makes them wilt. It’ll spring back.”
A little nod, and the two of them go through a bunch of the other plants Aone keeps. Kogane is impressed with just how many of them there are, and how Aone keeps all the information straight in his head about what each one needs and when. It’s endearing, first and foremost, and it reminds Kogane in no uncertain terms that Aone is an incredibly kind and caring soul.
He needs to leave already, this is ridiculous.
He can’t be standing around crushing on his upperclassman and watering his plants and bringing him food and- how obvious is he? Does Aone know by his body language? The fact his face keeps getting hot?
Chewing on his lower lip again, Koganegawa slips inside and shuts the door behind him. He scoops up Aone’s dishes from the table despite a raised hand of protest.
“You’re sick, let me.”
Aone wears that same tight expression, and his face grows red. Kogane isn’t sure what it’s from, but he hopes he’s not mad.
“It’s really no bother, Aone-san, I promise.”
He washes out the bowls in the little sink and thinks about how he misses playing on the same team as Aone and Futakuchi. Being captain in his third year had been difficult, but he'd had Sakunami as a vice, and that had helped, but it hadn't nearly been the same as the dynamic that Futakuchi and Aone brought to the court, to the gym, to anywhere they found themselves. Koganegawa had been enamored early on with the entire team and their warm and welcoming nature, and their patience with him as a new player. He'd been praised for his patience but persistence, and his passion above all else. It had all done well to really help him to fall in love with the sport, but it was Aone who really laid the foundation.
It was his hands on Kogane's, to show him how to block without spreading his arms too wide, to keep his fingers splayed but strong. It was his kind smile at a good kill block, or a hand up off the floor after a bad set. Behind Moniwa's teachings, Koganegawa really has Aone to thank for the ever growing hunger for the game.
He sets the dishes aside in the drainer before the clearing of his throat draws Kogane’s attention back to Aone at the table. When he half turns, wiping his hands on the hand towel hung on the door under the sink, Aone’s eyes are determined.
“Aone-san?”
“Takanobu.”
Kogane blinks a few times before the gears grind into place. He breaks eye contact with him to stare at the ceiling, face going red again. Damn it. With the scarlet on full display, there’s no way Aone didn’t see, and his shoulders rise a little as he scrambles for words that might fit this situation with some grace and dignity.
“I-I uh- I mean-”
Another clearing of the throat and Koganegawa looks down from where his gaze is trying to hide in the corners of the apartment.
Aone signs, and speaks the word, “Please.”
His throat feels thick and he jams his eyes shut before nodding a little, ever so slightly, and then a little more assured, “Right.”
Futakuchi calls Aone Takanobu, or Takkun, or Nobu-chan, and Kogane knows they’ve been friends since they were in elementary, but he’s never heard anyone else call Aone anything but… Aone.
The fact he’s being asked to do so, makes it hard to breathe.
Realization comes in waves that Aone trusts him. He’s been inside his home for a couple of hours at this point. He brought him food that Aone gladly ate. He watered his plants. And despite being sick, Aone has been talking his ear off about things he’s clearly passionate about.
Koganegawa sniffles hard before he realizes it all washed over him in a rush that brought the prickle of tears.
“Koganegawa…”
Another hard sniffle and Kogane shakes his head hard, determination lacing his tone, “Kanji.”
Finally finding the courage to lock eyes again, it doesn’t help the muddied mess of feelings, from the hard throb of his heart against his ribs, to the bubbling embarrassment of nearly crying, to the light and fluttery feeling of understanding the trust Aone has in him. To be coming from Aone it’s a big deal.
The smile he gets isn’t one he sees play across Aone’s mouth, with his mask still pulled up to mitigate as much of their contact as possible, but Kogane sees that smile in his eyes. There’s a shine, and then, they close and crinkle a little at the corners when Aone ducks his head.
He nods just the same as Kogane had and repeats, “Kanji-kun.”
There’s no reason he should be so sweet and wonderful, but here he is, sick with the plague, with both his big hands wrapped around Koganegawa’s heart.
“Thank you,” he continues, and the motion of his hands draws Kogane’s attention. Some of what he says is signs, and some is spoken, but what is signed is very simple gestures Kogane had learned from being on the same team for two years. “For everything. The okayu. The plants. And your company.”
“Takkun,” Kogane lifts his still water warmed hands to his face, heaving a sigh. When he’s composed himself, he puts them down and huffs, “You’re welcome. I’m happy to help.”
It’s said with the same kind of determination and conviction that his promises to do better for the team used to carry, and Kogane knows that, but he doesn’t know how else to stand his ground. He really is happy to help.
Standing up slowly, Aone gives him a little bow. His eyes look tired, and when he makes the shuffle towards his door, Koganegawa understands he really should be getting some more sleep.
“I’m going to put the okayu in the fridge, okay? You can just heat it up later on the stovetop. Please remember to finish your water. And text Futakuchi-san if you need anything!”
Aone leans against the doorframe to his room and gives Koganegawa another little soft look before nodding. He signs another thank you before slipping into the bedroom again. As much as Kogane would love to sit and talk with him for hours on end, he knows Aone is still under the weather and it’s better that he get his rest to recover as soon as possible. He has work and school, just the same as Kogane.
He tidies up a little more, makes sure the balcony door is locked, the shades are drawn, and the kotatsu is off before he puts the okayu in the fridge and slips his shoes on. His bag gets slung back over his shoulder and he cuts the lights.
Locking the door behind him, he pockets the too heavy key and fishes out his phone instead.
The only message he’d received while he was visiting is from Futakuchi, and it nearly makes him drop his phone.
Futakuchi-san
2:12pm
if you end up sucking face you better not spread that plague more
While he might not yet be ready to confess to his crush, the simple fact that he and Aone- he and Takanobu , have a clear line of trust, is more than enough for Koganegawa’s entire chest to radiate warmth on the train home.