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“Takuya, come be on my team!”
The boy sitting to Daichi’s right jumped up upon hearing his name, scrambling over to the appointed ‘Captain’ for the red team. Various coloured bands were handed out to his classmates. Their names were called out one by one until, eventually, the poor kid sat alone against the stands. Daichi’s heart sank, he hated P.E, and brought his knees to his chest dejectedly, wrestling his chin on top as he watched until everyone but himself was now adorned with a coloured strap.
Mr. Sato, a relatively young sports teacher from down south eagerly scanned the room, making sure that all children were participating. He halted when his eyes landed on the sulking boy, hesitantly making his way up the stands until Daichi felt a warm hand grasp his shoulder.
He looked up, catching the pitiful gaze of his teacher as he motioned the class to attention. All eyes were on him. Daichi’s insides flipped uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than to be swallowed up into a deep, dark hole where no one-not even Mr. Sato-could find him wallowing in his shame and embarrassment.
“Who here wants Daichi on their team?” He announced, a troubled smile twisted the edges of his lips half-heartedly, frantically eyeing each of the students for a willing expression. Daichi’s own eyes searched the crowd of uninterested kids, none of his classmates wanted him, he could tell. Mr. Sato was just trying to get him involved, but was only wasting everyone’s time. The young boy’s eyes watered slightly at the thought.
No one wanted him.
“Come on,” the teacher continued, pressing further. When no hands were raised, Mr. Sato spoke again. “Alright then...Daichi, you’ll be on the green team.” With that, the hand enclosing his shoulder retreated and the class moved on to, finally, proceed with the game. Except the green team. Daichi’s team.
A couple of rough, scrawny kids were particularly unimpressed. “But sir!” One yelled, hands waving in disbelief, “he’ll make us lose!” Eiichi, Daichi remembered his name, glared up at where he was still sitting against the metal bench as he practically fumed on the court.
“Yeah,” another agreed, “the guy probably doesn’t even know how to run!” The group of them laughed. A lump soon formed in his throat, constricting his voice, unshed tears welling until they soon spilled over round cheeks. They were laughing at him. Laughing and pointing and voicing all of his hidden insecurities for the whole class.
He couldn’t do it. Without a second thought, Daichi sprung to his feet and jumped through the metal stands, running as fast as he could away from everyone and everything. Only when he stopped outside the back of the school did he allow himself to truly cry. Hiccuped sobs muffled by the tear-stained sleeve of his shirt, he curled in on himself and stayed so until the sun fled from the sky and the stars illuminated the overgrown garden.
If Mr. Sato didn’t see the kid from then on, he didn’t have the heart to bring it up.
--------------------
A knock at the door brought him to attention, one final sigh exhaled past his lips with a last glance sparred to the mirror, and strode over to the door of his room. Another round of knocking was heard before Daichi welcomed those awaiting on the other side.
Suga, accompanied by Asahi, their own towels strung neatly around their hips as they waved to the Captain. “Took you long enough!”
A nervous hand brought itself to the back of Daichi’s neck, grasping at the skin tightly as he tried to steer the conversation away from himself. “Yeah, well, uh…” He trailed off, unable to think of anything remotely believable. Suga laughed.
“Don’t look so down,” the setter cheered, grabbing his Captain’s wrist before shutting the door behind them, “everyone’s waiting for us already, let’s go!”
Right, Daichi remembered. The bathhouse.
Everyone from the training camp was getting together, an opportunity for the teams to catch up with one another outside of the court. It was a good idea, Daichi having helped workshop the details. But, now that he was actually about to experience it, the old fears and insecurities infecting his conscience couldn’t help but be brought back to the surface.
He knows he’s fit now, he knows he’s an athlete, but there was still a dark corner of his mind that wouldn’t let him believe it. Even now, with only Suga and Asahi with him, their contrasting figures were both beautiful in their own rights. With Asahi so tall and muscular that came from being their ace, and Suga, who was shorter and, yet, so slender and lithe. The two were undoubtedly in their prime, how could he compare to that?
Daichi swallowed, nerves wracking through him as they began to make their way through the various halls and walkways until they slid open the doors to the baths. Their faces met with warm steam, the subtle scents of floral soaps and lotions wafted into his nose, relieving some of the tension. The two other third years were quick to make their separate ways to the rest of the team in groups, leaving Daichi stranded in the entrance.
All eyes were on him.
Not really, he knew logically, but the comparison between that day all those years ago and the present were all too similar for comfort. He wanted to curl in on himself, to hide his body from the onlookers from various teams as they watched him robotically move his legs until he, too, was sitting on the edge of the pool surrounded by his team. Once seated, Daichi scanned his surroundings.
On the far end of the same pool, a large cluster of Nekoma’s team gathered. Their attire not unlike his own, and yet he’d never felt more different in his life. His eyes wandered to Kuroo, lean and sinewy, the many muscles of his back flexing when he stretched, slowly sitting and entering the bath. To Daichi’s surprise, Kenma was also in tow. His blonde hair slightly damp from the steam, milky skin rubbing up and down his arms self-consciously before he made his way and sat on the edge. Dipping only his feet into the warm, soapy water with a grace Daichi had never known one could possess.
At least I’m not the only one, he thought.
He moved on, searching further until he saw Bokuto and the rest of his team. Unlike Nekoma, most of Fukurodani were already in the water, splashing and laughing openly with one another. Envy struck Daichi, wanting nothing more than to be able to simply let go of his fears and enjoy himself. Just for once.
Daichi then laid eyes on Bokuto.
Even more muscular than Kuroo, Bokuto’s arms were toned to perfection (in Daichi’s humble opinion, anyway), and chiseled abs twisting as he splashed in the water, thick droplets ran down each flexing crevice until it met the water at his waist. Another pang of envy-no, guilt-ran through him, causing him to shake his head at the feeling.
“Daichi?” He looked down to see a wet mop of copper curls emerging from the water, revealing Hinata peering up at him with a questioning stare. “You look a bit worried…” He trailed off. At that, Suga also turned around to see Daichi, clearly not enjoying himself, and gave him a pointed look.
Daichi laughed half-heartedly before reassuring Hinata that everyone was, in fact, absolutely fine. Brushing off the question with smiles and a kind ruffle of the ginger’s hair, before Hinata retreated back into the water where Daichi saw him swim over to where Kageyama and the second years resided. He sighed to himself in relief.
It was when he went to resume his prior observation that he caught gazes with his vice-captain, Suga, staring at him with something akin to concern. He knew something was up. Daichi gulped, then proceeded to offer as genuine a smile as he could muster. It mustn’t have been all that convincing, though, since Suga then began to slowly swim his way.
Of course he could tell that something was up, he wasn’t his vice-captain for nothing, he thought to himself. Soon enough, Suga approached him with his arms now crossed and eyes searching for a glimpse into his Captain’s mind. Daichi averted his gaze, the attention suffocating, and he could quickly feel his face flush even more (and not just from the steam).
“So,” the silver-haired male began, furrowed eyebrows smoothing into a more gentle nature, “what’s on your mind, Daichi?”
It was embarrassing. He was almost an adult and was still shy about taking his shirt off in front of his friends. Fucking pathetic if you asked him, these insecurities of his were childish, something he should’ve grown out of a long time ago. And yet, a part of him wanted to confess, to get rid of the weight on his shoulders and finally allow him to enjoy himself. To be able to talk to others without staring at their figures in equal parts envy and admiration.
Daichi crossed his arms anxiously, unsure of how to approach the subject. He wanted to tell Suga, he really did, but the shame in admitting something so fucking stupid still hounded his judgement. He couldn’t even look his vice-captain in the face, the knowledge only worsened his guilt.
“Um…”
Suga’s hand clasped his shoulder affirmingly, leaning in slightly to allow a subtle sense of privacy between the two, “if you don’t want to talk about it here, that’s perfectly fine. Even if not at all, that’s perfectly fine too, okay?” The silver haired boy looked up at Daichi with a kind, genuine expression that chased away any shame lingering in Daichi’s mind.
Maybe he could do this.
“Can we…? But….but not here.” He mumbled, still unable to lift his gaze from the water below. Suga smiled at that before hoisting himself up over the edge of the bath, adorning his towel once again, and then lended a hand for Daichi to do the same. Once dressed, the two made their way back to their shared room (not without treading copious amounts of water the entire way), and the two boys sat on a small lounge positioned on the far side of the room.
Daichi hugged an adjacent pillow to his chest, hiding the taut, tanned skin beneath it.
Suga picked up his phone, sent a quick message whilst combing a stray hand through his damp locks, and made his way over to sit opposite from the other. Crossed legs touching at the knees, Suga studied Daichi’s face again, searching for something that he couldn’t place.
“So,” he made a start, looking Daichi in the eyes with a kindness so undoubtedly his that the darker haired male couldn’t help but smile in return, “tell me what’s going on.”
Daichi inhaled deeply, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. It was okay; Suga would never take advantage of him. The thought alone enabled him to push through the nerves and fears and ‘what-ifs.’ He told him everything.
He told him about his classmates, their pointing fingers at his (then) chubby belly and thick thighs. Of his teacher only made things worse, the taunting and teasing that followed him from junior to middle school, his classmates hounding him until he had no other choice than to run. Of him crying alone, curled up into a ball, sobbing until his hands and feet stung from the cold.
He told him his attempts to lose the extra weight, various diets and what not taking control of his life, even though the results never showed. After all that had happened and all that he’d been through, decided to join a sport. Volleyball. Of his fresh start in high school, finally able to dedicate himself to something that made him feel useful. Wanted.
Daichi wasn’t sure when the tears began, but he definitely noticed a pair of fair, warm arms embracing him tightly. A subtle wetness could be felt on his shoulder, but couldn’t muster the words through his own tears.
When their soft cries died down, replaced with an exhausted sensation of content, Suga finally leaned away. His eyes red and cheeks puffy, smiling up at Daichi from where he no doubt looked just as messy. This time, his smile was genuine.
Just when Daichi opened his mouth to thank the silver-haired male, Suga quickly sprung to his feet and hastily put on a pair of pants (Daichi honestly forgot they were practically naked, a warm blush settled on his cheeks). “Come in!”
What?
The door to their room swung open, hitting the wall behind it harshly, an unapologetic Nishinoya leapt across the room and into his arms, embracing him tightly. Not far behind was a more considerate Asahi, smiling shyly as he, too, hugged their Captain. Soon enough, each member of the team walked in and gave some sort of compliment or physical affection, even Tsukishima (at the insistence of Yamaguchi). Another round of tears welled in his eyes, quickly covering them with his hands as his head was gently guided to Suga’s own shoulder.
Said man leaned in closer, lips just below his ear, “I told them you needed some cheering up. Your secret is safe with me.”
Daichi spent the rest of the night surrounded by his team, who decided the best course of action was, of course, a movie night. Blankets and pillows were scattered around the cheap carpet, barely enough room for all of them (who were sprawled around on top of each other anyway). An intense warmth bloomed in his chest, bringing a small smile to his face.
The past was the past, and he had grown from it. Of course, there would be times when his fears would resurface, but at least now he had someone to help him.