Work Text:
“Thanks, John, I’ll see you next week?”
“Sure thing, Chikara, take care.”
Ennoshita stood on a chilly street corner, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, watching his Producer, John, walk to his car. Seattle weather wasn’t truly that different than Japan, similar latitudes, he always thought, but the ever looming threat of rain felt heavier on this side of the Pacific.
He first moved overseas right after college graduation. He was young and ambitious and eager to be a filmmaker. After three months in Los Angeles he knew that wasn’t the place for him, New York hadn’t been much better, he’d only made it half a year, but Seattle, Seattle seemed better. Of course the Pacific Northwest isn’t really known for its film industry, but the types of independent films Chikara really wanted to make weren’t being made by Hollywood, they were made wherever people wanted to make them. This directing job might be his first chance to prove himself.
Today was their final pre-production meeting. He had met with the producer, the writers, and even the actors he would soon be directing and he was exhausted. Shooting was to begin next week and Chikara planned to spend every minute between now and then locked in his small apartment pretending he was back in Japan.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Seattle, or the United States for that matter. It was different, sure, but he was fine with the differences. It was that he was incredibly, terribly homesick. He called his mother twice a week, every week, but that twenty minutes of speaking his native language wasn’t enough to sustain what he missed. He never thought he’d speak so much English that he was starting to forget the less common Japanese idioms. He even found himself dreaming in English and the shock of that realization had kept him up the rest of the night.
He began the mostly uphill 15 block walk back to his apartment. It wasn’t a hard walk, the hills were shallow, but the chance of rain was never insignificant except in the height of summer and it was May. He tightened his jacket around him and pulled the strap of his bag over his opposite shoulder, crossing his chest. He walked quickly up the sidewalk.
A few blocks later he heard a common sound: a man arguing. He was on the phone, judging by the fact that the argument sounded incredibly one sided, and it took Chikara about 30 seconds to realize why he even noticed: The man was speaking Japanese. He stopped and glanced around, not sure why, but he wanted to see the man to be sure his ears weren’t deceiving him. Hearing Japanese wasn’t entirely unknown in any major city on the West Coast, but far away from the tourist traps as he was, it was a less common occurrence.
He saw a man standing near an office building. Chikara could only see his back but he saw the phone to his ear and heard the angry words now, more clearly.
“No, you dumbass, you need to figure out how to handle that stuff on your own!” The man said in Japanese. He paused. “Just shut up, we’re both adults now I’m not your babysitter.” He turned slightly and Chikara could see his profile. His face didn’t look nearly as angry as his tone suggested and he also looked somewhat familiar. “Okay, okay, Asskawa, sure, I’ll talk to you Thursday. No. Thursday. Not tomorrow. Thursday.” He yanked the phone from his ear and frantically pushed at the end call button before sighing dramatically.
The man turned fully and faced Chikara. They were still twenty or so feet apart but he suddenly realized how odd it must look to be stopped on the sidewalk and staring. He quickly looked down and continued walking, although he was walking towards the man now.
As he passed the man, who was still standing with his phone in his hand, he heard him speak.
“Hey,” He said, in English this time, “Do I know you?”
Chikara stopped and turned to him. He had thought the man looked familiar, and the fact that the man thought so too seemed too coincidental to ignore. Plus it would be impolite to completely ignore the man he was just caught staring at.
“I’m not sure,” He answered, also in English. “I thought you looked familiar, sorry for staring though.” He felt embarrassed and his cheeks were probably red.
“No, I totally know you.” The man answered. And then, in Japanese, “Are you from Miyagi, by chance?”
Chikara froze and looked more closely at the man. There was something very familiar about him but he couldn’t place his face. Familiar and handsome, part of him pointed out. Perhaps he went to Karasuno?
“Yes, I am!” He answered, also in Japanese. It felt good to be speaking his language to someone in person, rather than just his mother over the phone.
“That’s what I thought, I’m pretty sure I remember you now. Karasuno volleyball. Number 6?”
Chikara was stunned. Okay, it was about volleyball. And then he remembered. His hair had been slightly shorter back then, and he looked different in a dark suit rather than a white and teal uniform, but that was him.
“Ennoshita Chikara.” He answered, “Aoba Johsai, right? You were the Ace. Number 4.” He held out his hand.
He took his hand and shook it. “Iwaizumi Hajime. What a coincidence, Ennoshita-san. I didn’t think I’d meet anyone I knew on this side of the Pacific.”
“I didn’t either.” Chikara answered as their hands separated and he unconsciously straightened his jacket. “What brings you to Seattle, Iwaizumi-san?”
“I live here now, working as a banker, it’s boring as hell, to be honest, but there’s chances for advancement and regular hours so I can spend my free time how I like. What about you?”
“I’m a filmmaker, well, I’m working as a Director at the moment. We’re making a movie here, but I live here too. Nothing flashy, just a character drama. I’ve lived here about 9 months.” He wasn’t sure why he elaborated quite so much to this high school acquaintance but just speaking Japanese was doing wonders for his aching homesickness.
“Wow, movies.” Iwaizumi said, sounding almost impressed. “Have you made any others? Anything I’ve seen?”
Ennoshita shook his head. “Afraid not. This is my first actual project. I brought a lot of coffee to a few different directors. Went to Hollywood first, then New York, those didn’t work out. I’ve been in the US almost 2 years now.”
“Well, congratulations on the first big job then.” He paused. Their conversation was decidedly to the point where small talk on the sidewalk was beginning to get awkward and Chikara could feel it too.
When he answered Iwaizumi tried to speak as well and they both stopped, afraid of interrupting each other. Ennoshita laughed softly.
“You first, Iwaizumi-san.”
“I was going to say, did you want to keep talking? I was just about to grab some dinner and head home. It’s pretty cold out here and I think it might rain soon.”
Chikara was about to gracefully exit the conversation and he was very glad he let Iwaizumi speak first. He did want to keep talking to him, but he didn’t want to presume that the feeling was mutual.
“Um, yeah actually, I could use a friend here. I mean, we could talk another time if you’re busy.” He didn’t want to seem too eager but the prospect of talking about Miyagi and volleyball was really too good to pass up.
“Nah, it’s cool, let’s get something to eat. No one besides my idiot best friend ever calls me and I’m curious if you have any interesting stories.”
They passed a Chinese/American restaurant a few blocks down and ducked inside just as the rain started to fall in earnest. The room was dark and it took Chikara’s a few seconds for his eyes to adjust from the bright overcast sky.
They were seated in a booth and handed menus before they continued talking.
“So, Ennoshita-san-”
“You can just call me Ennoshita.” He interrupted.
“Alright. Ennoshita, then. Do you still play volleyball?”
The question caught him off guard. He hadn’t really thought about volleyball in years, probably not since he left Japan.
“No. I haven’t played since High School. I was captain my third year but I didn’t play in college. Schools that specialize in film don’t have many sports programs.” He didn’t know why he sounded so sad. The lack of a team at his University hadn’t really been a consideration when he applied, and he didn’t miss playing so much as he missed his team once he graduated.
“That’s a shame. I played through University myself. Oikawa, you know, the setter from my school, well, him and I are old friends and he kind of followed me to University. Or maybe I followed him, I don’t know anymore, but we played together. Our team was pretty good actually. Oikawa had to quit halfway through our second year though because of his knee problems. We weren’t half as good without him.” Chikara thought Iwaizumi sounded sad, as well, but maybe for a different reason.
He nodded, not really sure what else to add to conversation.
Iwaizumi continued, “Why I asked, really, is because I just joined a local team and I thought you might be interested.” Chikara’s eyes widened. Ten minutes ago he hadn’t known he ever wanted to play volleyball again, but now he was certain he couldn’t live without it. “It’s just a neighborhood team really, there’s a city league and we play matches against local teams. It’s not serious, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Yes.” Ennoshita said immediately. “I mean, yeah that sounds really good I’d love to play. Is there room for another member of the team?”
“Yeah it’s informal. So far we’ve had two games and one of them we only had four members show up. We still won, but it was tougher than it should have been.” He laughed loudly. Chikara realized with a shock just how much he liked the sound. Iwaizumi didn’t seem like the type of guy who laughed all that often, his brow was stern and his shoulders were stiff in his black suit. When he laughed all that changed. His face opened up, his shoulders slumped, he looked like a kid again, or at least what Chikara imagined he may have looked like as a kid. The thought made him smile.
“Wow, you must be good. When’s the next practice? We start shooting next week so I may be too busy but until then I’m completely free.”
“It’s tomorrow, actually, 7pm. Give me your number and I’ll send you the address for the gym where we practice. It’s not too far from here.”
They exchanged numbers and kept talking through their meal, and for more than an hour after they’d finished eating. It was after dark, nearly 8pm, before Chikara thought to check the time and he was stunned to see they’d talked that long. They said their goodbyes and shook hands outside the restaurant before heading their separate ways. The rain had stopped and the streets were slick with puddles. Chikara didn’t stop smiling the whole way home.
Iwaizumi woke up the next morning groggy, as usual, but oddly excited about meeting Ennoshita after work. He got ready for work quickly and was out the door with just enough time to grab coffee before work.
In line for coffee he checked his phone: one missed call and three text messages, all from Oikawa. He’d told him he’d talk to him Thursday, and the fact that it was now Tuesday morning and that two of the text messages were from the night before didn’t seem to matter to his best friend. He typed out responses to the few messages that had anything worth responding to put his phone away.
He’d half hoped to see a message from Ennoshita, but that was stupid, it had been roughly 12 hours since they saw each other, and he had no reason to contact him. He tried not to think about how homesick he really was, being this far from Japan, but talking to Ennoshita had reminded him.
It had only been six months since his job had offered him the transfer and he accepted and he had spent the entire six months keeping as busy as possible. Oikawa constantly calling him and his dad sending him the occasional care package helped with the loneliness, but the fact still remained that he was alone. The constant struggle of speaking English was grating on his nerves.
Finding the neighborhood team had been a blessing. They weren’t very skilled, he was easily the best on the team, but just being able to expel his extra energy and focus on the thick smack of the ball hitting his hand was enough to alleviate a lot of his troubles.
And now there was Ennoshita. He seemed like a nice guy, interesting definitely, and cute. Not that Hajime was thinking about how cute he was. Being a foreigner in a new country was hard enough but being a bisexual foreigner would be harder so he had been avoiding those particular feelings and the issues that would come along with them.
He hadn’t dated since his second year of college, more than five years ago. There had been the occasional hook-up with both friends and strangers alike but no one he wanted to keep around for more than a few hours. He might be worth it, though, he thought, and then shook himself mentally. He didn’t even know if Ennoshita liked men, he didn’t know if he’d be interested even if he did. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Hajime.
Work passed at an agonizingly slow pace. He took phone calls, met with clients, laughed at jokes with English references he didn’t understand, and thought longingly of his palm against the padded rubber of a volleyball. When 5:45pm hit and his boss told him he could leave for the day he struggled to hold back the sigh of relief. He had just enough time to get to his apartment to change and meet up with Ennoshita to take him to volleyball practice.
He rushed home, stripped off his suit and tie, and dressed in his least ragged practice clothes. He’d been checking his phone all day, anxious that he’d miss a text from Ennoshita. He’d been continually disappointed, however, that the only texts he received were the daily narrations of Oikawa’s day. Those had stopped mid-morning, when Oikawa went to sleep, and resumed just as Hajime was pulling on his sneakers for practice.
[Good morning, Iwa-chan!]
[it’s not morning assikawa, it’s evening here]
[so mean, Iwa-chan. Won’t you wish your best friend good morning?]
[no]
Their conversation continued for a few minutes as Hajime threw some leftover pasta in the microwave and ate quickly. It was 6:15, if he left now he could meet Ennoshita and they could talk for a few minutes before heading to the gym. He texted Oikawa again.
[Hey, stop texting me, okay, I’ve got someone I need to text and I don’t want to get the conversations mixed up]
It was a risk, Hajime thought, telling Oikawa anything longer than a few words, but it was one he was willing to take. He didn’t want to end up accidentally treating Ennoshita the way he treats Oikawa. Of course Oikawa ignored his request.
[Iwa-chan! Do you have a girlfriend?????]
[Or!!!!! A BOYFRIEND?????????]
[TELL ME EVERYTHING. ARE THEY AMERICAN? DO THEY LIKE VOLLEYBALL?]
[shut up, dumbassikawa, not a boyfriend, just a friend, he’s Japanese, and yes he likes volleyball, please stop texting me.]
It physically hurt Hajime to say please to Oikawa but he didn’t think anything else would convey how serious he was.
[Okay, Iwa-chan but you better tell me everything about him later.]
With that Hajime felt it was finally safe to text Ennoshita.
[Hey, Ennoshita, it’s Iwaizumi. You still want to come to volleyball practice tonight?]
A few seconds passed and Hajime considered sending any number of clarifications. He didn’t have the chance, though, because Ennoshita texted him back.
[Hi. Yeah I was planning on it, do you want to meet before or should I meet you at the gym?]
Frankly he’d forgotten that he’d given Ennoshita the gym’s address last night and he really wanted to meet him before they were stuck in the loud gym.
[I’ll meet you by the Chinese restaurant. It’s not really far from the gym and we can walk together.]
Something about the simple statement made Hajime feel bold, like saying they could walk together was as good as a confession.
[Okay, see you soon. Fifteen minutes?]
Hajime would have to jog to get there in that much time, but he replied with yes before running out the door and down the stairs to the street. He overestimated the distance, or maybe underestimated his excitement, because he made it there in 10. He caught his breath while keeping an eye out for Ennoshita and checking his phone. True to his word, for once, Oikawa hadn’t texted back.
“Hello.” Hajime was startled by the voice close beside him.
“Shit, you’re quiet!” He said, “I mean, hi, sorry for swearing, you scared me.”
Ennoshita only laughed and Hajime felt a little better, at least he hadn’t offended him.
“I like to sneak up on people when I can, plus you seemed really lost in thought so it was easy.” He laughed again and Hajime noted how much he liked the sound of his voice. It wasn’t just because he was speaking comfortable Japanese, not anymore. His voice was low but warm. He spoke quietly but there was a level of humor beneath that he wanted to hear more of. He was half tempted to text Oikawa for advice on how to ask out the man of his dreams.
They walked to the gym side by side, chatting about their days. Ennoshita had spent his working, despite saying that he had the entire week off, he’d reviewed the script again and taken notes to pass on to the producer. Hajime told him about a particular joke he hadn’t understood until two hours after the client had made it and Ennoshita had laughed again, long and loud, in contrast to his quiet voice.
The gym doors were propped open and they heard the squeak of shoes against the wood floors before they even entered. There were four men inside, playing a strange half-game of two on two, which led to a lot of missed receives. They stopped when Hajime and Ennoshita entered and Hajime waved at them. He made their introductions but hesitated when asked what position Ennoshita played.
“Wing Spiker.” Ennoshita answered for him. They played the same position.
They set up a three on three match for a warm up and Hajime and Ennoshita were on the same team with an accountant named Jeff who had mousy brown hair and glasses. Jeff wasn’t much of a setter, but Hajime didn’t think it was fair if their actual setter was on the same team as him.
As it was they still beat their opponents handily. Ennoshita did seem rusty, but after the first few spike attempts he warmed up and slammed them down with almost as much force as Hajime. He thought the man’s blocks might have been better than his. Hajime had always been about spiking, and his receives were his second strongest skill.
Hajime wasn’t as focused as usual, however, as he kept being distracted by the pull of Ennoshita’s shirt away from his waist when he jumped, the span of his toned arms reached out for a receive, the sweat on the nape of his neck. Get it together, Hajime, now is not the time, he told himself.
The guys quickly warmed up to Ennoshita, begging him to come to their next game, and Hajime encouraged them as much as he could without sounding too invested in seeing Ennoshita again.
“I’d love to.” He replied and Hajime couldn’t keep the smile from showing on his face.
When practice ended around 10 PM Hajime and Ennoshita walked back towards the Chinese restaurant in silence. They were both sweaty and Hajime’s day had started before 6AM so he was tired as well. When they reached their destination, it’s lights off and sign dark, they stopped walking.
“That was really fun.” Ennoshita said, “I’m glad you invited me. Do you really want me to come to the next match?”
Iwaizumi nodded before he could speak. “Absolutely!” He was certain he sounded too eager now but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “You’re good, we need another Wing Spiker so they don’t block me constantly.”
“You’re right.” Ennoshita replied with a soft laugh and clapped him on the back. Hajime felt the warmth all the way through his thin jacket and shirt, despite how improbable it sounded.
“Well,” Ennoshita continued, “I guess I’ll see you at the next practice,” he hesitated and Hajime held his breath, “unless you wanted to have dinner again, sometime?”
The question sounded tentative but Hajime thought he saw a faint look in Ennoshita’s eyes that mirrored his feelings and his heart leapt in his chest.
“Yeah, I’d really like that. Just text or call me when you’re free, we can make plans.” Hajime felt as if his throat had turned to sand at the simple invitation and his hands were shaking in his pockets.
“Good, I’ll text you then. Bye!” Ennoshita said and waved slightly before turning to go, walking quickly up the sidewalk.
“Goodbye.” Hajime said, too quietly, at the quickly fading form of Ennoshita in the darkness. He turned the other direction and started walking to his apartment. He pulled his phone out. There were no new text messages from Oikawa, how considerate he’s being all of a sudden, he thought before punching in his friend’s contact info and starting a new message.
[Okay, there is a guy, and he’s perfect and I think we might have a tentative date. How the fuck do I do this, assikawa?]
The stream of laughing emojis he received in response made him wish he could reach through his phone and smack Oikawa in the back of the head, just for old time’s sake.