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When people laughingly told Gin to never change, Gin’s almost certain this isn’t what they had in mind.
Case in point: Gin had the option to move anywhere in the country and start a new life pursuing his fitness dreams, yet he plopped down in Osaka, barely a bus ride from his hometown. He doesn’t go home often, but his mom still brings him bentos on the weekends.
Case in additional point: Gin got accepted to university, to pursue engineering of all things, and turned it down — all those months of studying, wasted, all because Gin panicked last minute and realized that graduation means he’s giving up volleyball, giving up his team, and fuck, he can’t give up training, too. And now, in some pathetic twist of irony, he teaches the conditioning drills to strangers that he learned to loathe in high school.
Case in final point, in nail-in-the-coffin point, in you really took this shit to heart, huh? point: Gin’s been in stable, steady love with Akagi for seven years.
Seven years.
Seven years is a long, long time.
Science says something about seven years — how seven years of friendship is basically enough to guarantee a lifelong connection, how seven years is enough for every cell to get replaced with a new one, how seven years can feel like a lifetime when you’re out of high school and the years pass by more quickly than anyone — least of all, Gin — could’ve been prepared to face it.
Science can suck it. At this point, all Gin knows is that he’s seven years into a lifetime of finding space in Akagi’s heart, and Akagi is none the wiser.
And, to be fair to Gin, it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Timing, like life, is a bitch.
When Akagi leaned in to whisper to Gin that he got accepted to university in Tokyo for education, all wide grins and shining eyes, second-year Gin swallowed down whatever butterflies threatened to erupt and told him he was proud of him. Akagi swept him up into a bone-crushing hug, Gin smiled against his shoulder, and he didn’t think about it — his feelings, Akagi, any of it — for another four years.
And then, when Akagi moved back to Hyogo, hand-in-hand with his college girlfriend, Gin choked on his words and decided to give Tinder another shot.
It didn’t matter if he looked for dorky smiles and spiky hair in every match — they didn’t work out, anyway.
And now, when Akagi is several months post-breakup, when he still texts Gin with weekly updates, when Gin still finds himself scrolling on Akagi’s Instagram feed for far longer than he needs to be, Gin can admit it: he’s run out of excuses. He needs to do something, and he needs to do it now.
But it’s already been seven years. It can probably wait another day.
Unfortunately for Gin, while he’s had years of practice with being patient, his friends are unapologetic in their meddling. None of them have anything remotely resembling a Gin-is-in-crisis meter, not with how often they bring up Akagi with a knowing glint in their eyes.
Atsumu is the worst offender. Of all people, Atsumu.
Atsumu, the old team’s resident expert on dealing with unrequited love. Atsumu, who went through two years of loud, overbearing, in-everyone’s-face pining before his teammate finally got exasperated with his flirting and asked him out himself. Atsumu is the one confused by Gin’s inaction.
“Gin, stop bein’ a coward already,” Atsumu says, stabbing at his salad like it personally offends him.
“Takes one to know one.”
Gin takes a slow sip of his smoothie as Atsumu sputters to defend himself. He’s already regretting coming out with Atsumu to lunch.
Now that they both live in Osaka, Gin and Atsumu have a standing hang-out scheduled for the third Tuesday of every month – it’s a rare time when Atsumu doesn’t have afternoon practice and Gin’s clients don’t come in until after lunch. They’ve always been friends, ever since their high school days, but Gin is slowly realizing that Atsumu just might be one of his best friends.
But now that Atsumu has a boyfriend – and if every second sentence isn’t something about Atsumu’s precious Omi-kun, Gin would be surprised – he’s become more insufferable than usual. Misery loves company, and, apparently, so does young love, because Atsumu’s newfound bliss has made him double down on his attempts to mess with Gin’s heart.
“I have confessed to everyone I’ve ever liked. You,” Atsumu says, pausing to point his fork at Gin, “haven’t done shit about this since I’ve known ya.”
Atsumu’s made this same argument for months. Gin thinks he could probably use a new one.
“You know what? I’m gonna keep putting off ‘doing shit’ the more you talk about it.”
“Oh, come on—”
“I’m serious.”
“Gin—”
“One more word and it’s an extra month.”
“Ginjima!” Atsumu’s practically flying out of his seat, and Gin has to keep his laugh down.
“An extra year.”
Atsumu sits back again, huffing in defeat, while Gin finally smiles.
“I oughta thank you, ‘Tsumu, you just bought me all this extra pining time.”
“Shut the fuck—"
It’s a week later when Gin realizes that Atsumu’s been quieter than usual. Their friendship doesn’t depend on consistent texting, but his phone has been radio silent for days now – if he didn’t see the atrociously sappy selfies from Atsumu all over his feed, he might have worried about his safety.
He knew that Atsumu was planning some kind of quick reunion with some of their old team back home, as if they didn’t all see each other at matches anyway. Gin decided not to go this time and picked up an extra shift at the gym instead.
Gin’s phone starts going off incessantly, and he guesses Atsumu finally decided to break his silence. Instead, he unlocks his phone to an influx of messages from Suna, all from about half an hour ago.
He’s expecting memes. He doesn’t get them.
the twins are home today.
so is aran.
so am i. obviously.
it’s a party.
well, a lunch party, I guess.
tsumu said you need to know
anyway. get your sorry ass over here.
Gin’s halfway through typing a long-winded message back to Suna, an I’m at work, dumbass, do you think I can drop everything and run to Hyogo? when he gets a text that nearly makes his heart stop.
It’s from Akagi. That part’s not that unusual.
But it’s a selfie. It’s a selfie from Akagi.
Gin belatedly notices that four other people are in frame, too. Osamu is directly next to Akagi, flanked by Suna on his other side. A telltale arm lingers around Osamu’s waist, showing Gin that sometimes, actually, high school sweethearts can survive the relentless shit of life, and maybe Osamu was right when he called Gin a pissed-off pessimist in love.
Atsumu sits across from them, not even looking at the camera for once, getting captured in the most unflattering mid-ramble snapshot that Gin has ever seen. Aran seemed to be on the reluctantly receiving end of it, although he managed to seem cool and collected for the camera. Aran couldn’t quite hide the rapidly-dying light in his eyes, but Gin’s sure that he’s had enough experience with Atsumu to deal.
No, Gin notices all of this much, much later.
He’s too busy noticing Akagi, front and slightly-off-center, hair gently falling across his forehead without all the product he used in high school. He’s focusing on the almost shy smile gracing Akagi’s face, as if he’s just a bit embarrassed to be snapping the photo in the first place, but too delighted to let the moment pass. He’s wondering about the barest hint of dimples that Gin is almost convinced must be a figment of his imagination.
He opens up the message and gets another round of whiplash.
Hey Gin! Come by next time, we’re missing you! :)
Gin almost trips on the weights in front of him.
Fuck.
He gets a call from Atsumu ten minutes later.
“So? Didja like the selfie Akagi sent you?”
He hangs up the phone immediately and screams into his yoga mat.
Gin doesn’t run after boys, not even if those boys have dimples and, somehow, his heart since 2013.
But Gin does board the late afternoon train to Hyogo that same day and makes it in time for dinner. Atsumu doesn’t let him live it down.
It becomes a thing, kind of.
Atsumu visits home more often than Gin ever has, and now, Atsumu’s suddenly in desperate need for a travel companion.
“Come on, Gin! ‘Samu’s busy with Sunarin and Akagi-san has a reservation for three!” Atsumu says one week while forcing a train ticket into Gin’s hands. They spend the evening at some museum, and Gin can admit he’s having a lovely time.
That is, until Atsumu keels over in front of the gift shop pretending to have a stomach ache.
Akagi looks genuinely distraught. Gin knows that Atsumu is full of shit.
“Go on without me,” Atsumu says, wincing and hobbling over to the nearest bathroom stall. “Have fun… and think of me… Don’t forget me when I’m gone…”
Akagi looks at the pinched expression on Atsumu’s face, immediately panics, and runs off to get him water.
“Atsumu,” Gin hisses, “what the fuck are ya doing?”
“You’re blowin’ my cover, Gin,” Atsumu hisses back, looking normal as ever. “Nothin’s more romantic than a museum date. Go.”
“I really hate you, ya know that?”
“No, you don’t,” Atsumu says, smirking like a menace before widening his eyes and going back to acting like he’s been shot. “Oh, the agony!”
“Is he gonna be okay, Gin?” Akagi asks, reappearing next to Gin and frowning. Gin thinks that Atsumu doesn’t deserve Akagi’s frowns. Gin wants to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead. Maybe kiss them away delicately. Akagi just looks so damn pretty under the museum lights and, god, does fluorescent lighting have the right to look good on anyone anyway—
“I’ll be fine, dontcha worry about me,” Atsumu says, breaking Gin out of his reverie and snapping his attention back to Atsumu.
It’s not long before Atsumu has gone home, leaving Gin and Akagi standing alone in front of the exhibit entrance.
“Well. Come on then,” Akagi says, grabbing Gin by the hand and pulling him closer, “museum closes in an hour and we’ve barely even started.”
Gin’s hand feels warm, both comforting and completely disorienting, where it’s enveloped in Akagi’s. Gin squeezes tighter and follows him inside.
“Omi-kun hates making ‘Kagi feel like a third-wheel, ya know? Can’t you come to keep him company?”
Gin made the unfortunate mistake of coming by their gym after work, only to find Sakusa getting dragged by Atsumu out of the locker room. If looks could kill, Atsumu would be dead. He’s entirely unfazed.
Hours later, the four of them drop down in their seats. Atsumu leaves to get them drinks, planting a kiss in Sakusa’s curls and winking at Gin. Akagi rests his arm behind Gin’s chair, and Gin knows it’s just for comfort, but he feels the heat radiating from Akagi’s body and has to consciously resist the urge to burrow closer.
Sakusa watches Atsumu leave until he’s out of sight, a small smile gracing his face. Gin hasn’t spent much time at all with Sakusa, and he’s horrified to see that they’re both as bad as each other. But then, Sakusa’s attention is back on Akagi and Gin, seated side by side in utter silence. Sakusa studies them intently before nodding to himself.
“So,” Sakusa starts, clearing his throat delicately, “how long have you two been dating?”
Akagi snorts. Gin chokes on air. Atsumu returns with a triumphant cheer, accidentally stealing all of the attention, as Gin feels himself grow hotter and hotter under his collar.
Akagi hasn’t moved his arm and it almost burns against his shoulder.
At some point, Atsumu stops going as often to Hyogo.
Gin doesn’t.
It’s not a thing. Gin will keep repeating that it’s not a thing as often as it takes, and to anyone who would listen: Atsumu, Suna, Sakusa (who got roped into this against his will and is in too deep to stop).
Akagi just so happens to get off work early on Fridays, and Gin just so happens to have Fridays off, and it’s merely a coincidence that they end up traveling back and forth between Hyogo and Osaka every other week, as if train tickets magically fall from the sky and don’t drain their abysmal bank balances.
Whenever Akagi visits Osaka, Gin takes him to all his frequent spots. Slowly, Akagi imprints himself on the version of Osaka living in Gin’s mind, until Akagi is memorialized in every spot like he belongs there. Gin follows his routine, pictures Akagi everywhere, and smiles to himself.
But the Hyogo visits are Gin’s personal favorites.
They’re sitting in a small diner on the outskirts of Hyogo, a short walk from Akagi’s house, laughing and doubling over at their weekly updates – once done over text, now breathlessly retold over dinner. Akagi insists on taking them here every time – for nostalgia, Gin, come on, don’t you have a heart? – and insists on paying in exchange for Gin’s commute. The restaurant owners have started smiling at them knowingly, but Akagi either doesn’t know or doesn’t care.
He leans back in his chair, the afternoon sun illuminating him effortlessly, and smiles at Gin like he’s the only thing he sees.
It’s sunset by the time they’re done, and Gin is hanging on to Akagi’s every word, wondering if this will be the week he finally gets the courage to stay the night at Akagi’s instead of high-tailing it back to his parent's place on the other side of town. He’s spent more Friday nights cursing from the floor of his childhood bedroom in his mid-20s than he ever did as an angsty teenager.
“Ya know, Gin,” Akagi starts, swirling his spoon around as Gin watches the trail of his fingers, “I don’t know what changed, but I’m real happy ya started comin’ back again.”
Gin scoffs. “I’m barely a town over. We took field trips to Osaka all the time back then, in high school, didn’t we?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. You’re right.” Akagi pauses, takes a breath, and smiles weakly. “Still feels far, Ginjima.”
Gin, in a rare show of boldness, leans over to whisper. “What, did ya miss me, Akagi-senpai?”
He fully expects a backtrack. He expects Akagi to sputter, quickly change the subject, the way any of his other friends would. Instead, Akagi smiles, slow and syrupy sweet, dimple coming out in full force.
“Yes.”
Gin holds his breath.
“I missed this. I missed you, Gin.”
Akagi’s smile grows broader. Gin can’t breathe now, even if he tries.
“It’s just, ya know,” Akagi laughs into his ramen bowl, and Gin feels his heart squeeze, “it’s nice.”
He looks up, eyes twinkling, and Gin knows that he’s a goner.
“Hyogo feels a lot more like home when you’re around.”
Like most things in Gin’s life, and especially most things concerning Akagi, he’s wholly unprepared for what happens next.
“So… are we doin’ this, Gin?” Akagi asks weeks later.
Gin’s head snaps over to Akagi’s, who’s looking ahead and smiling.
“Doin’ what?”
“This,” Akagi says, gesturing to the space between them. Gin realizes, rather belatedly, that they’re holding hands. Holding hands, with fingers interlocked. Akagi keeps walking, seemingly unfazed. “Do ya need more time?”
Gin blinks. “More time for what?”
Akagi chuckles nervously, bringing his hand up behind his neck. “More time to figure out your feelings, I guess? Or what ya want?”
Gin stops, dragging Akagi to stop with him. “What.”
Akagi seems composed, but Gin’s a keen observer of all things Akagi. His cheeks take on the faintest hint of pink. Gin refuses to believe that this is happening.
“Shit, Gin, I didn’t mean to make things weird,” Akagi starts, gingerly starting to remove his hand from Gin’s, “I just got some vibes, ya know? After the last few months? But if I’m totally wrong—"
“You’re not,” Gin blurts, before grasping Akagi’s hand in his again and turning to face him. “You’re not wrong.”
To Gin’s delight, Akagi’s blush gets stronger. “I’m not?”
“You’re not,” Gin says, getting closer to Akagi on the sidewalk. It’s nearly midnight, and they’re on the backroads of Akagi’s neighborhood – it’s absolutely silent, save for Gin’s heartbeat thumping erratically against his chest, getting louder and louder when Akagi moves to gently rest his hand against it.
“Are ya nervous?”
“You have no idea,” Gin breathes out, muffling a gasp when Akagi’s hand comes up behind his neck, softly caressing him.
“I think I have a pretty good idea.” Akagi’s voice wavers, almost imperceptibly, and somehow the idea that Akagi is nervous, too, is enough to drive Gin forward. He leans in closer, resting his forehead against Akagi’s and bringing both his hands atop his shoulders.
“Gin—” Akagi starts, before Gin’s lips are on his and all his words get lost.
Of all the ways Gin imagined kissing Akagi – and he imagined it many, many times – he never thought that Akagi would kiss him desperately. He imagined kisses that were soft and slow, tentative and unsure, always on the brink of pulling back.
But Akagi kisses him like he’s been aching for it, like he’s been pining for Gin, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Gin’s hands come up to run through Akagi’s hair and he gasps, silencing his sounds against Gin’s lips as Gin races to keep up.
“Akagi,” Gin murmurs against his lips, head spinning from it all, “Akagi, are you—”
“Gin, I just—” Akagi kisses him again at the corner of his lips, on his cheek, going down his neck until he’s panting by his ear. “I can’t lose you. I can’t lose this.”
Gin peels himself away from Akagi, gasping for breath, wrapping his arms around Akagi’s neck.
“Lose me? Why would you lose me?”
“Ginjima Hitoshi,” Akagi starts, lips red and eyes darkened even as he tries to look serious, “I have liked you for nearly a year. This feels like a dream.”
And Gin… Gin can’t help it. He almost cackles, burrowing his head into Akagi’s neck as Akagi looks at him, bewildered beyond belief.
“Akagi. I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Are ya breaking up with me already?”
Gin shoves him half-heartedly, still laughing against him. Akagi nervously starts to laugh, too, both of them growing louder until they’re both standing and heaving for air. One of the neighbors leans out to shush them, but they barely notice.
“Akagi,” Gin starts once he’s finally caught his breath, grasping both sides of Akagi’s face in his hands, “I have liked you since high school. I think I have ya beat.”
Akagi’s eyes widen.
“Since high school?”
“Mhm.”
“… And all that time since then?”
“Yup.”
“And you never told me?”
“What was I supposed to do about it?”
“Tell me!” Akagi groans, leaning his head against Gin’s chest. “You’re tellin’ me we could’ve been datin’ for a year now?”
Gin drops a kiss on Akagi’s head, giddy at the fact that he can do that now, giddier still at how Akagi fits against his chest so perfectly. “Guess we’ll have to make up for lost time somehow.”
Akagi looks up at him, deadly serious. “My house is just down that way.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“I’ll beg if I have to. Stay the night, Gin,” Akagi presses a kiss against Gin, softly, before pulling away to smile sweetly. “Please?”
Gin doesn’t need to be asked twice.
Later, Gin gets a text from Atsumu.
“Oh, god,” Gin groans against Akagi’s shoulder as Akagi scrolls on his phone, “I forgot about Atsumu. He’s gonna be the worst when he finds out.”
“Atsumu-kun?” Akagi asks, “why would he be the worst? He seemed very supportive.”
“Supportive of what?”
“This whole thing? When I told him about my feelings for ya.”
Gin’s blood runs cold.
“What.”
“Hm?”
“Atsumu knew?”
“Yeah?”
“This whole time?”
“… Yeah?”
“I’m gonna kill him.”
Akagi laughs again, snuggling closer to Gin underneath the sheets, and Gin decides to forget about Atsumu.
He can wait until the morning.