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“Takao!” you call, wide-eyed and frantic, as you crash into the bannister at the top of the stairs. “My phone! Catch my phone!”
Takao stops mid-step and only gets part way through a “huh?” before he catches sight of your phone descending in a graceless arc toward him. He reaches up to catch it quickly enough, but the device slips through his hands like it has been buttered. “What the —”
A step behind him, Midorima grabs the phone, but it slides out of his taped fingers and very nearly falls to the step before Takao reaches down to catch it. Takao pulls a face at the weird texture and, unthinking, tosses the phone back up to you. Your relieved smile morphs into a grimace as he realizes too late what he has done. You catch your phone but it immediately slips from your grip and clatters to the floor.
“Takao,” Midorima says disapprovingly. “You idiot.”
“Yeah. Totally,” Takao says absently as you smile down to the pair of them a little sadly, wave, and mouth a silent thank you. He addresses Midorima, but his attention is firmly focused on the sway of your hips and the swish of your hair as you walk away. “Hey Shin-chan, what was all that about? She’s in your class, right? Do you know her name?”
“Hand lotion,” Midorima replies.
“And where did — what?”
“The girls were gathered in a group outside of the library after class and they were testing several hand lotion samples,” Midorima intones seriously. “Apparently, it got out of control.” Midorima looks momentarily disconcerted when Takao doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity to tease him in any number of ways. He adjusts his glasses just long enough to mask his quick smile, which Takao misses entirely. “I see. Well this may grow to be awkward.”
Takao barely registers a word. “Huh? No, I mean, what was that about. Who is she?”
“Takao, I am still answering your previous inane questions. Yes, she is in my class. Yes, I do know her name. Furthermore, you may be interested to know she enjoys basketball.”
“Really?” Takao smiles as he rests his arms behind his head and leans against the wall. “So she might come to our games? That could be… why are you smiling?” He squints as if measuring Midorima up and his tone cascades into a playful sing-song. “Shin-chan. Why did you drop the hint? And what do you mean when you say this might get awkward? You have to tell me! What do you know that I don’t?”
“A great deal, it would seem,” Midorima says, and that’s all he offers until Takao suddenly slams his locker shut several hours later in the locker room. His eyes are even wider and he seems caught between shock and a smile. Midorima sighs. “So, you’ve figured it out. It took you long enough.”
“Oh yeah,” Takao says, burning bright and doing his laces up faster than he’s ever done in his life, then reaches out and smacks Midorima on the shoulder. “This is going to be awesome.”
Before Midorima can react, Ootsubo steps into the locker room, dripping with frustration. “Are the two of you coming or what? Everyone has already been introduced to our new team manager except the pair of you and practice is about to start.”
“Wait,” Takao says to the door that’s already closing. His voice shakes with anticipation, but rather than try to obscure it, he leans into the feeling. It’s much easier to play up than play down, and he can wear the humor like a bulletproof vest if worse comes to worst. “Is she cute? With really nice hair? Great legs? Captain! Does she smell like hand lotion!?”
Ootsubo kicks the door back open, crosses his arms, and scowls. “The only way you’ll find out is if you go out there and meet her yourself! And I do not want anyone to make her feel uncomfortable, you got that?” He looks from Takao, to Midorima, then pointedly back again. “Any disrespect will see you benched for the next two games.”
“What?” Takao asks as he almost throws his jersey on backwards. “Why are you looking at me?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous about meeting a girl before, Takao.” Midorima needles. “If only you spoke less.”
You attend the training camp along with the team. After all, it was very much due to some of your family’s connections that you had managed to work out a discounted price for the whole team per night. You had proposed the savings go to some much-needed updates to the club’s equipment and that had been met with enthusiasm. Where Miyaji had made an emotional case to the coach for you to come along, Kimura had sealed the case with some additional clear, rational points.
And so it comes to pass that you’re walking back to the hotel on that warm night and you come across quite the scene: Midorima and Kagami on one side of the hedge, and Takao and presumably Kuroko crouched down on the other. You stand there as if only watching their techniques, as Kagami continually goes for the dunk and as Midorima grows increasingly more irritated by the fact that Kagami just isn't putting it all together, but in truth, you can’t help that your focus floats to the pair on the ground. The colour of Takao’s shirt would make his eyes look so much more grey than blue, you catch yourself thinking. You pinch the bridge of your nose, fighting for peace with your thoughts, and as you do, you completely miss Takao slant his sharp gaze at you.
It’s certainly easier and safer to focus on the two playing. You smile at Midorima’s unorthodox teaching methods. Shutoku’s basketball team is full of caring players and you’re so proud to manage and support them. You inhale the sweet evening breeze deeply and hazard the slightest glance at Takao and Kuroko; this time, Takao doesn’t look away quickly enough. You swallow as your skin stings with the pinpricks of attention, and you clench your hands firmly into your skirt as the breeze blows gently over your exposed skin. His gaze is so sharp that, even when you look away, you feel it on you and can’t help but look back.
Takao isn’t smiling. You swallow again thickly.
Perhaps Midorima sees you standing to the side or perhaps it’s just the timing, but he finally caves and tells Kagami that it’s easy to stop him because he knows he will dunk. “Come on, Takao,” he finishes bluntly.
“What? You knew I was here?”
Midorima casts a questioning glance in your direction, to which you shake your head and very decidedly stare anywhere but near Takao; the shadow of his gaze yet lingers heavy over you. Your focus settles on the nice, unthreatening backboard. “Nope! Not coming in yet,” you say with a quick smile and grab Seirin’s ball from the ground. “I’m going to dunk! I’m going to try and jump just as high as Kagami!”
Your words seem to break Kagami out of his irritated glower for just a moment and are enough to frustrate Midorima to the point of walking off with Takao in tow. Kuroko also takes his leave, and, relieved, you pass the ball to Kagami.
“Well,” he says, throwing it back to you. “Aren’t you going to try?”
You smile and grab the ball readily. “I think you’re a really amazing player, Kagami.”
“Oh, thanks,” he says neutrally and shoves his hands into his pockets.”Well? I’m waiting.”
“Okay,” you say. The basketball is heavy and far too big for your hands but you dribble it anyway. It’s your first time playing in a very long time, but the motions come back as if sketched over your muscles. “Oh yeah. No one can steal this from me. Crossover!” You laugh, shifting low and pivoting your hips to do a fast break. It feels wonderful and your technique is pretty good, but you almost lose the ball when you move too fast. “Now! I’m going for it!”
You jump and barely clear the top of Kagami’s head. You shoot anyway. The ball hits the rim and spins for an eternity before it falls out. “No!” You cry.
“Your form is pretty good,” Kagami comments. He sounds distant and distracted, but when you turn to look at him, he’s focused firmly on you and the ball.
“Then help me make it great! Boost me up! I’m serious!” It feels a little cheap to turn to distraction instead of returning to the hotel and risk facing Takao, but this is also fun. You choose the amusement of the moment and shoot Kagami a beaming smile. “It'll make my day and it will take your mind off of Shin-chan for two and a half seconds. What do you say?”
Kagami stands there in silence for a moment, but your smile caves him in. “Sure. What the hell. Why not?”
“Okay!” You start to dribble as Kagami lines himself up under the net. You snicker and do not attempt a crossover this time and opt to simply barrel straight across the parking lot, only to stop short right in front of Kagami, who reaches down somewhat uncomfortably to grab you by the waist and heft you up and into the air. You sink a beautiful dunk and laugh as Kagami puts you down.
“That was the highlight of my night!” It’s a lie, of course, because nothing can beat the deep-seated warmth in your stomach courtesy of Takao's laser focus, but it’s not entirely untrue. You toss the ball back to Kagami with an apologetic smile. “Oh, you still look pretty upset. So, what are you going to do? Run it out?”
“Yeah, definitely,” he says uncomfortably. He slides the flat of his hand across his neck in thought. “But you were right, that did take my mind off of things for a sec. Hey. You and your number ten, Takao, are you two going out?”
You blink as your blood cools like a glacier’s runoff. “What?”
“He just seems really into you.” Kagami at least has the grace to be red-faced.
“No, we’re not… dating,” you whisper in a strangled voice, mirroring him shade for shade.
“Oh? You’re not. Well that’s good to know,” Kagami says, watching you intently. “Relax. I’m not going to ask you on a date. Not right now, anyway. I’m still way too mad that it was Midorima who made me figure some stuff out. But, uh, you’re really cute — thought so the moment I saw you. Just wait ‘til we beat your team the next time we play a real game! Then I’ll ask you out.”
You couldn’t move if you tried. You struggle to comprehend the landslide of the feelings you’ve experienced first and secondhand in the last fifteen minutes or so. Kagami’s too much and you can’t face him, and that’s in part because you know, somewhere deep in the back of your mind, that you recognize the look in his eyes; he isn’t the only one who has looked at you that way tonight. “Oh,” you manage quietly. “Um, have a nice run.”
“Thanks,” Kagami says. He reddens even further as he looks at the pavement and swallows. “And, uh, I don’t mean to be a dick. And I’m definitely not complaining. But, next time you want to try jumping, you might wanna wear pants.”
“Noted,” you croak, your eyes as big as saucers.
“…there with Kuroko? That’s hilarious.”
Takao doesn’t hear a word. He had managed to make good time back to the hotel, even strolling along in forced nonchalance with Midorima. He sits across from Miyaji and drums his fingers against his knee as he stares out of one of the many windows in the common sitting area. The parking lot is flooded with overhead lighting and sets the scene beautifully for the drama that unfolds between the two actors on the stage. He watches you handle the ball as Kagami patiently waits off to the side. He recognizes one of the moves you pull against an invisible opponent as one that is close to his own and his lips curve into a satisfied smile.
“Takao,” Miyaji says, waving his hand in a bid for attention.
You jump and Takao’s eyes go wide as your skirt crests up too high. He has to blink and quickly divert his attention to the safety of the hoop, where the ball spins round and round. That was way too close for comfort, and in fact, he shifts a little in his seat. “Is it hot in here?” he asks absently.
“What are you… hey, Takao, seriously. What are you looking at?”
From the corner of his hawk eye, Takao accidentally sees Miyaji also peer out of the window.
“Man, that Kagami is a total monster,” Miyaji says. “But he’s incredible to watch. Oh no, this is too good, don’t tell me he’s challenged her to a one-on-one? Hey! Guys, you have to come see this. He’s lost his mind!”
No, don't look, Takao implores internally. He grimaces. No, no, no!
“Oh no, wait, they’re just messing around. Nevermind."
Takao doesn’t realize that his nose is pressed to the glass until he’s fogging it up. He watches as you run down the parking lot, occasionally using both hands to dribble the ball, until you stop at the net, at which point his heart sinks into his stomach like it has stumbled into a pitfall trap. Kagami picks you up easily, like you weigh nothing at all, and you dunk the ball through the net, but it’s not the basketball Takao watches: it's your elated smile. It’s the way you slide down Kagami’s chest as he puts you down. It’s the back of your neck turning a brilliant scarlet as you and he exchange words. It’s you, standing there alone, for a long moment.
It’s you, who had taken his breath away when you had first wandered up dressed in innocent curiosity and your casual clothes, that he watches when you finally turn back to the hotel in a pink-cheeked mess. Takao exhales a breath he’s been holding in for far too long.
It’s… fine.
It’s fine if you like Kagami.
It’s fine if he has to pack away dreams of surprise kissing you over a travel mug of hot chocolate in a park in the winter or impressing you with a backflip or holding your hand or offering to make you dinner. What matters most is your happiness. What matters most is that you smile.
“I’m —” he announces loudly, “gonna hit the bath. Shin-chan, I’m going to need your duck.”
He doesn’t go to the bath right away. He flops down on the floor of the shared bedroom and clutches his hand to his chest and fists his shirt. He can feel his heart pounding away incessantly, which is somewhat reassuring and grounding, and he lies there for a very long moment before he gets up, grabs Midorima’s former lucky item for company, and heads to the bath.
Takao nearly misses the bench to lay his stuff on as he undresses but pays the distraction no mind. He grabs a towel and the rubber duck and exhales a long breath, running his hand through his hair as he does, before he heads in with resolve. Kagami isn’t the only one who can make you smile, and he knows he’s not crazy for having felt a connection with you. You had hardly been able to look away when you had caught him staring, like he has done so many times before, and not because it had made you uncomfortable. Your lips had parted softly and you had looked at him like you have never looked at anyone else — he should know, he has been watching.
He has to tell you, he decides, because if he doesn’t, someone else will make a move first. How could they not? You’re so positive, fun, kind, and perfect.
You're also, quite unmistakably, alone in the bath.
Takao heats up like a stove element and stares at the ceiling.
“Takao,” you say quietly, but he can hear the stuttering shock in your voice.
“Oh, ha, why don’t you just call me Kazunari,” he both grins and grimaces and squeezes his eyes shut. “I think we just crossed over to first name territory. Don’t you?”
Your giggle at the absurdity of the situation echoes through the room. “Okay, Kazunari. Um, so this is the ladies’ bath. But the… the curtain is… wrinkled. The symbol is... it's hard to… see.”
Takao’s glib tongue fails him and he stands there, staring at the ceiling for far too long, acutely aware that there’s only a towel between him and your gaze and, based on your tone of voice, he suspects that you’re not looking away.
“Taka— Kazunari,” you say, pitching your voice playfully low and simultaneously sounding completely out of your depth. “It’s okay. I won’t look at your butt as you leave.”
He laughs. He laughs and laughs and presses the towel to his stomach to make sure it doesn’t slip as he laughs harder when you join in. Between you rests a veil of quiet, innocent desperation that he knows you sense, too. When he finally finds his voice again, he grins and focuses his sharp eyes on the old wooden beam. “Go ahead and look. It’s just as fine as the rest of me. Unrelatedly, I’m dying inside.”
“Me too,” you murmur. “I’ve had a really… it’s been a weird day. Oh, I like the duck!”
His heart nearly stops and his mind goes blank and his mouth dries up. There’s no way you said what he heard. He could kick himself. What is wrong with him!? It’s like, take a step into the wrong bath where the love of his life is soaking away naked and alone and she says something that sounds deceptively close to the dangerous and desired, and all of a sudden he can’t keep it together?
You don’t seem to notice his momentary silence. Or if you do, you’re even better at compartmentalizing than he is. “The top hat is cute! That’s Shin-chan’s lucky item from yesterday, right?”
“Sure is,” Takao replies quickly. He rolls it between his fingers before tossing it blindly to the general bath area where it lands with a tiny splash. “And he actually said you can just have it if you want. That is absolutely the reason I am here right now. So here you go! Enjoy.”
“Unexpected,” your voice falters uncertainly. “But thank you?”
“I’m —” Takao announces loudly, overcome with a strong sense of deja-vu, as he drags his free hand down his face, “gonna go for a run. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye!” you say warmly, obviously overcome by the strangeness of the encounter and defaulting to sound as normal as if the situation was as simple as meeting at practice.
Takao gets changed in a blur before he takes off, bare-footed, and simply runs. He overtakes two of Seirin’s second year players, their six and seven, and hardly notices them in time to spare a friendly wave as he tears across the beach with his calves on fire and his breath burning in his chest. He considers how really excellent it would be if a shark somehow managed to flop up onto the shore and just ate him. That would be ideal right about now. Or what about a giant monster attack? Or alien abduction — perfect, yeah, aliens. Great. Or perhaps these are all just scenes from his trading cards and he's seriously panicking, but the fact of the matter is that his mind is otherwise blank and he would be happy for even a brief reprieve from the overwhelming heat that burns his cheeks.
You’re worried. It has grown late, and while no one else seems to particularly mind, you can’t help but notice that Takao missed dinner. So you wait, shivering a little, by the hotel entrance.
Kuroko’s sudden appearance takes you by surprise, but you’re too concerned to be jumpy. He gives you a small smile and extends a folded zip-up hoodie.
You cock your head to the side questioningly.
“Kagami-kun wants you to have this,” he says. You can’t help but relax a little. For all of Midorima’s understated praise and Takao’s professional dislike of him, Kuroko is just a person just like anyone else.
You offer a small smile and reach for it hesitantly, then drop your hand.
“It’s okay,” Kuroko clarifies. “He doesn’t exactly know I took it. But I know he’d like for you to have it. You’re a very nice person. You bring light with you wherever you go. I’m sure that, in time, Kagami-kun will understand that’s all it is between you.”
“I didn’t mean to confuse him,” you murmur, but anything that might follow lodges uncomfortably in your throat. You decide to feel gratitude at Kuroko’s understanding rather than discomfort about the general situation, but it’s so very difficult after a day like this. “Did you see us?”
“I didn’t have to. I saw him afterwards,” Kuroko says quietly. “Please take it. You look cold.”
“Okay,” you say and accept the shirt. “Thank you. Wait, please, Kuroko — really, thank you. Also, I wanted to say that I think you still have so much potential. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”
Kuroko startles as if your words have struck a gold vein. After a long moment, he bows his head lightly. “Thank you very much, miss manager. Have a nice evening.”
“You too,” you say and turn your attention back to the sea. “Take care.”
You wait a little longer, now well-wrapped in a huge shirt that you have no business wearing but for which you’re grateful, before you wander down to the beach and take off your shoes. You don’t know which direction Takao would have chosen, if he had even gone down to the beach at all, but you turn to the left and walk slowly in the surf. It may be dark, but there are few clouds in the sky and there are plenty of stars. The moon hangs in a plump crescent and gives off enough light that you can comfortably see your way.
You look up suddenly at the sound of shifting sand.
Takao stops quite some distance away from you and rests his hands on his knees to catch his breath. You observe what you can of his every movement, but his attention is fully fixed on you and he hardly turns his gaze from you for a moment. You can’t make out his expression, though something in his posture makes you think he might consider just turning back around, so you beckon him forward with a single, outstretched finger.
Takao doesn’t move for a long moment, so you slowly wind your way over to him until he relents and, drawn to you like the waves are pulled by the moon, he meets you in the middle.
“Hello Takao,” you say with a smile.
Takao smiles with his sparkling eyes if not with his mouth. He forces himself to look away from the unthreatening sky above as if he’s scanning for a comet that might barrel straight to the earth right this moment. “Manager,” he acknowledges tightly.
“Sir.”
“Madam.”
“Your Honour.”
“My liege.”
“Oh, that’s a good one,” you say through a smile that comes all too easily around him. “I’m sorry. I will get used to calling you Kazunari.”
“Whatever you like,” he says. He scans you quickly, and nothing changes in his demeanour, not even the slightest tell, but you frown anyway.
“If you want to say something…” you trail off. You’re keenly aware that you’re out far too late with your hair a mess, in only your soft pyjamas and a borrowed shirt. The tail end of that thought strikes you as unbelievable, as does most of the evening on the whole, and you blush. Takao seems to intuitively feel the shift of your energy and he glances down at the plaid collar; when he does, the corners of his mouth tug down into a small frown. “One of the Seirin team members let me borrow this,” you say quickly. “They’re all very kind. Don’t worry! I’m not going through their things and trying to steal their game plans or anything! At least, not anymore,” you finish lightly, but anything else you might say dies and your eyes widen. “Kazunari? Hello?”
Before you can catch yourself, you reach out and take one of his hands in both of yours. He’s warm to the touch yet looks as distant as a sunset. Other than his eyes that scan over your face and the fingers that he twines loosely into your hold, Takao doesn’t move. And so you stand there, in a tense silence softened by the gentle waves. You think of nothing and try to focus on all of the grounding things around you, like Takao’s touch, his closeness, how beautiful his eyes are even in the dark, and how the milky moonlight highlights each fine line of his silhouette so well. You so desperately wish to reach up and take his face in your hands, press your forehead to his, breathe each other in, and simply exist together.
Takao squeezes your hand at length. “I actually do have to tell you something.”
“I didn’t actually look through their stuff. I would never do something… like…” you trail off as two figures round the bend. The motion is enough to break your concentration, for which a small part of you is grateful because this situation leaves you so out of your depth; Takao and yourself, together like this, touching and uncertain, is almost too much to bear. You’re about to smile at the two Seirin second-years, but a magnetic pull tugs your attention back to Takao.
You can’t see into his thoughts. You don’t understand the meaning of this pensive gaze he has resting on you. You can’t know how he feels.
“I’m going out of my mind here,” Takao says quietly. You don’t quite fathom his tone, and it must show in your face, for his brow knits just a little.
You don’t pull your hands away but you do soften your touch. “I’m sorry,” you say, achingly genuine, “but I don’t understand.”
“I know,” Takao murmurs, and only now does he tilt his head back to look directly into your eyes. His expression pulls a physical breath from you, at which, in turn, his chest rises and falls heavily.
“Know wh—”
Takao steps in close until your hands are pressed flush against both of your bodies and he quickly smooths a little moisture into his lips before he leans down. When he presses his lips against yours, you let out a soft noise of appreciation and he relaxes into the kiss. And there it is: a simple meeting, as innocuous as it is exploratory, and enough to leave you both smiling and reeling. You open your eyes, which you hadn’t realized you had closed, to see Takao’s stare slanted down at you. Had he had his eyes open the whole time?
“Can we call that my confession?” he asks, his tone gentle but his voice hoarse.
You blink and lean up, thinking to kiss him again but you stop before you do when you see the shift of his throat and the way his eyes start to close. “I think that’s fair,” you say quietly. “But I have a confession to make. A real one. I owe you.”
It would appear that Takao’s heart swan dives into his stomach for the way his fingers tense around you, but he puts on a game face and braces for impact. “Okay, I’m listening.”
You realize too late that his gaze dipped briefly to the borrowed shirt, and your words come out far too quickly, as if that will somehow make up for the misunderstanding. “I saw your butt!”
“Ah,” he tilts his head and his expression turns from concerned to questioning. “Wait, what?”
“In the bath. I, um, I saw. I — oh, ha, this is awkward — okay, so I looked. I looked at your butt when when you were leaving, Takao. Shoot, Kazunari! Ugh, I’m a mess!”
At long last, a wide grin splits his face and it feels like you have come home. He snickers, then outright laughs, and has to let go of you because he’s grasping his sides and wiping away a tear, and you join in on the best, giddiest catharsis imaginable.
“And?” he says when he can choke out the words. “What did you think?”
“No,” you plead through your laughter. “Don’t do this to me. Please don’t make me say it.”
“I’m not the one who looked! I was a gentleman the whole time! Except, possibly, the tiniest part where I burst in on you in the bath.”
“I’m just glad it was me you walked in on!” your voice comes out very high pitched and you cast your eyes firmly to the ground. “It is… as nice as the rest of you.”
“Which is…?” he presses, and you don’t miss the way his laughter gives way to something more mischievous as he regains the upper hand. “How nice?”
“Very,” you squeak. “Is there anything else you wanted to say?”
Takao watches you for a moment, and he almost fools you for the way he suddenly appears so serious. You certainly shake off your earlier giddiness quickly and prepare for whatever he’s ready to throw at you. His hair falls into his eyes and he blinks as he looks you over thoughtfully as you fight the urge to push it away. “Hm,” he mutters and steps forward, which forces you to step back. “Just this.”
You back up another step to find the sand cool and wet under your feet. Takao leans forward and kisses the top of your head. You smile in response, and he looks as though he has won a jackpot when he takes in the sight of you. He’s not alone in feeling lucky; you could watch every quirk of his lips and the way he smiles with his eyes, and the manner in which he tilts his head when he’s thinking, and listen to every word he says for hours.
He reverts back to playacting and looks at you as if unsatisfied. “No, no, that’s not it. Maybe… this?” Takao reaches out to touch your shoulders gently and kisses your forehead.
You laugh and that elicits a smile that you feel against your skin. You both glow a subtle pink even in the cold moonlight. You push against him and the gentle waves lap at your feet and you sink into the sand a little together as if turning to statues together. That would be okay with you, you think briefly: a moment like this, caught forever. But perhaps it’s exactly that, exactly the stillness and the calmness and the tranquility that forces you into action, because you just can’t stay still for long. You circle him and he turns his back to the water and he wears a crown of moonlight atop his dark hair.
“No,” you whisper. “You got it all wrong. I think you mean… this?”
You lean in and tilt your face up. You’re so close, and he starts to blush furiously as you close in on his mouth.
“Yeah, that’s a little more what I had in mind,” Takao whispers and shuts his eyes as you hover over his lips.
You can’t help the twist of your grin. Too late does he see the glint in your eye, and he’s too distracted to raise his hands quickly enough before you shove him back and scurry backwards like a rock crab, snickering, as he falls into the shallow water.
“I probably deserve that,” Takao says, watching you cackling away with the dry sand covering your feet and ankles. He sits there in silence, smiling and observing every contour of your body until you finally stop laughing and look at him with pink cheeks and a brilliant smile.
“Kazunari?” you ask, offering your hand.
He doesn’t take it, tempting though it might be to pull you into the water with him. He looks up. “You’re so beautiful. Sometimes, it takes my breath away when I look at you. Like, literally. I forget to breathe because I’m watching you so closely. It’s like you’re the only other person who exists. And,” he swallows reflexively but his voice is perfectly calm as he continues, “I run my mouth like crazy, especially when you’re around, so I’m just trying to be quiet and enjoy the moment right now. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
You kneel and the wet sand presses into your skin and the water sloshes up over your knees. “Maybe let’s call that your confession,” you say, low and breathless. “But what’s bothering you? It still looks like something’s wrong.”
“No one can find out,” Takao says quietly, watching your face for any signs of distress.
“Well, the team will. They’re going to know as soon as they see us, even if we’re on opposite sides of the room.”
He reaches out with a dripping hand to touch your cheek, but thinks better of it and grins and wipes it off haphazardly on his shirt. His hand is still wet and sand-gritty when he strokes your cheek, but you smile and accept the touch all the same. He breathes in and lets the breath out slowly. “So, is this where we leave it?”
“I really, really like you, Kazunari,” you whisper.
He blinks and those slate eyes of his cloud over as his brow knits. When he finally remembers how to speak, he also remembers to move his hand and he continues to stroke your cheek. “That’s a no, then.”
“I really don’t want this to be the end of us,” you say, raising your hand and placing it over his own. “I don’t think it’s against any rules for us to be dating.”
“It’s frowned on. For you, that is,” he says, and his consternation is evident. “I don’t want anyone thinking less of you. I’m not talking about the team. No one will care about that other than the obvious talk about how, if we break up, I’m still expected to show up and practice. Hell, I’ll probably get congratulated. The team freaking loves you. It’s… everyone else in the school. I don’t want rumours or gossip to hurt you. The thought really makes me upset.”
“I don’t mind,” you whisper through the warm rush of his words. You inhale deeply to try to recover some sense and straighten up. He’s so sweet and considerate. “So we’ll keep it low-key. I’m not going to hide it if someone asks, but we don’t have to advertise it. How about we be upfront with the team and chill to everyone else?” You wait for his nod of assent before continuing. “Okay, good. Wow. I feel like this is all something I just dreamed up, you know? Now, come on, your nice butt is probably getting pruney."
He snorts immediately despite himself. “I never thought I’d hear all those words together in a sentence.”
“Pruney butt,” you repeat, grinning as you take his hand and pull him up.
“Nice pruney butt, actually,” he smiles as he pulls you close by the waist. It’s a tentative gesture, but one you allow and encourage by wrapping your arms around his. “Let’s think of a plan to let the team know tonight and talk about it tomorrow, okay?”
“Yeah,” you reply as you let your head fall against his shoulder and pull him close. “That sounds perfect.”
You don’t catch the smile he wears as he kisses the top of your head again and threads his fingers loosely through your hair. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs softly into the breeze.