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Yuki expects the locker room to be quiet. Practice has long since ended, dinner plans have been made or canceled, and goodbyes exchanged. Everyone should have gone home by now. However, after cleaning up and double checking everything, Yuki exits the gym to get his bag and leave himself, only to hear water running from the last shower. And from looking around at the only open locker and the bag left on the bench, he can guess who it is. Sighing, he grabs one of the extra towels the team keeps in a cabinet before making his way toward the last stall.
He’s careful to be quiet when he pulls the inside curtain aside, not wanting to startle his teammate. The first thing Yuki notices is that the water is freezing, and the second is that Masa has his head down, letting the ice cold water run over his back. The third is that Masa doesn’t seem to notice Yuki at all.
He reaches around him to turn off the water, and it’s only when the towel hits his shoulders that Masa reacts to Yuki’s intrusion. He jumps, before quickly recovering, dragging a hand down his face like he’s reapplying whatever mask he needs to face the rest of the team. Yuki is a little offended that Masa thinks he wouldn’t be just as impressed with whatever lies underneath.
Masa turns, hair dripping into his eyes, and Yuki can see that he’s shivering. When he looks up Yuki doesn’t find despair or anger, because Masa isn’t like that. He wouldn’t be upset with their coach or their teammates, and he wouldn’t feel sorry for himself, because he knows he’s just as capable as everyone else. What comes in place of those emotions is frustration. But Masa’s frustration doesn’t burn like Yuji’s. It’s more subtle, creeping through Masa and freezing him, extremely effective at incapacitating him.
And seeing him there, wrapped somewhat pitifully in a towel, defenseless, nearly breaks Yuki’s heart. He opens his arms, watching as Masa’s eyes widen, and then the mask shatters, and Masa is crashing into him, one hand clutching the towel and the other getting a fistful of Yuki’s shirt. And it’s all Yuki can do to turn them and lean back against the wall of the shower, letting Masa bury his face in his collarbone and shake in his arms. He supports Masa’s whole weight, the older’s body sagging as if his muscles have given up on him.
His skin is cold to the touch, which is why Yuki holds him tight, hoping the warmth from his own body will seep into Masa and bring him back to life. The hand fisted in Yuki’s shirt slowly unclenches, sliding around his torso to rest on his back. He listens to Masa’s breath as his temperature gradually stabilizes. When he finally stops trembling, Masa sinks further against Yuki, the exertion catching up to him. And Yuki is there to keep him upright.
He settles a hand on the back of Masa’s head before leaning down.
“Come on,” he whispers against his ear. “You need to dry off.”
And Masa nods, peeling himself off Yuki and leading the younger man out of the shower. Yuki lets him change, averting his eyes in a futile attempt to ignore how vulnerable Masa is at this moment. Fingers on his arm bring him back to Masa looking up at him, now fully dressed and his hair mostly dried, wide eyes the only thing betraying his calm facade.
Masa sounds restrained when he asks, “Are you free?”
Yuki can’t really trust his voice to respond, just dipping his chin in affirmation. A tiny grin breaks out across Masa’s face, and Yuki hopes he’ll never get used to it.
“Come home with me?” The edge is still there, like Masa is scared he’ll say no. As if Yuki can turn around and leave him alone after finding him shivering in a locker room shower, like nothing happened. Yuki can only nod again, watching the relief wash over Masa. And then the older is spinning around to grab his bag, so Yuki shoulders his own before they leave for the station together.
Masa orders their dinner on the bus ride back to his apartment, refusing Yuki’s offer to pay for his own food. Thankfully, Masa lives close enough to the stadium that the following silence doesn’t have time to become awkward. It’s not like Yuki hasn’t been to Masa’s apartment before. He has, plenty of times, but those occasions have always been happy, usually celebrating a win or unwinding after a long day of practice. And more often than not, with the rest of the team. Yuki can probably count the number of times he’s visited Masa alone on one hand.
Then Masa is unlocking the door, and Yuki crosses the threshold he’s crossed so many times before with apprehension curling in the pit of his stomach. They leave their things in the entry, and then he’s led past the kitchen and into the small living area, where he and Masa settle on the couch. Yuki looks around at the sparsely decorated apartment, recalling memories of team parties.
He doesn’t ask Masa what’s wrong, or if he’s okay. He respects him too much. But Yuki notices the way Masa is staring at the coffee table like it’ll disappear if he looks away for too long. The older is hunched over his knees, chin dropping heavily into his hands. Like a defeated man. And Yuki is left to observe Masa while Masa takes an extreme interest in his own furniture.
The arrival of their dinner breaks the tension, and Yuki has never been more grateful for the existence of udon. He practically jumps up from the couch to answer the door, partly to save Masa from having to face anyone else, and partly to save himself from having to face Masa any longer. He thanks the poor girl who delivered the food and lingers by the door for a moment to brace himself before heading back into the living room. Masa hasn’t moved, but he does look curiously at the noodles Yuki sets on the coffee table in front of him.
Consistent with the rest of the evening, they eat in silence. Yuki tries to enjoy his udon, but his dinner is plagued by worried glances at Masa. But Masa gives him one less thing to worry about by cleaning out his own container of noodles. Yuki almost sighs with relief.
Masa reaches for the TV remote lying on the coffee table, giving Yuki a stiff look before saying, “There’s this show I’ve been watching…”
And for what feels like the hundredth time, Yuki just nods at him, and then something is playing on the TV, but Yuki isn’t really paying attention. He’s distracted by Masa, who keeps running his hands through his hair and messing with his fingers. And then he leans back into the couch, face tilted toward the ceiling, with the most troubled expression Yuki has ever seen him wear. And that’s when Yuki decides he’s seen enough. He grabs the remote and mutes the show before turning on Masa.
“Masa…”
And there must be something in his voice, because Masa lets out a broken sigh and scrunches his eyebrows together. He sits up and looks at Yuki, his eyes full of anxiety. Yuki tips his head to the side and gives him a reassuring smile, wanting Masa to open up to him. And Masa looks like he’s going to cry when he shuffles closer.
Masa moves slowly. He reaches for Yuki’s arm while leaning back toward the armrest of the couch, letting the momentum pull Yuki with him. He holds Yuki’s confused gaze, until he’s stretched fully back on the couch, and Yuki is hovering right over him with his hands planted on either side of Masa’s torso. Masa still looks like he’s going to cry when he opens his legs around Yuki’s waist, and there’s a hand putting pressure on Yuki’s back, silently asking.
And when Yuki lowers himself fully onto Masa’s body, the older’s exhale sounds like an answered prayer. Masa’s eyes slide shut, and he loops his arms around Yuki’s shoulders, fingers splaying across his back. Yuki feels, rather than sees, the shudder that ripples through him.
Yuki doesn’t understand it, but he thinks Masa has needed this, might have needed him, for a long time.
Now on his forearms, Yuki reaches up to cup Masa’s face, forcing the older to meet his eyes. He searches for something, anything in Masa’s features that would tell him what he should do. But then Masa seems sheepish, breaking their eye contact. Yuki knows he wants to say something about the younger being named captain. He’ll say he expected it, knew he would be sidelined when he started playing as a pinch server. He’ll say Yuki will be better at it anyway; he’s younger and more inspiring to the team. Yuki won’t let him.
He kisses Masa.
It surprises both of them, but now Masa’s hands are tangling in his hair and he’s surging up to meet him, and Yuki knows he can’t pull away. He holds onto Masa’s waist with one hand and runs his thumb along his cheekbone with the other. Masa’s mouth welcomes him, and Yuki feels like he belongs here, pressed against Masa, kissing him until he runs out of breath. And when he does, they only separate for a few seconds before Yuki finds his lips again.
Masa lets him in even closer, coaxing Yuki’s tongue into his own mouth. Yuki wonders how he’s lasted this long without kissing Masa, now that he knows what it’s like. Masa’s hands are tugging through his hair and running over his neck and shoulders and back and Yuki feels starved. He switches the angle, fingers curling around the hem of Masa’s shirt, but before he can expose the skin of Masa’s hip, the older breaks the kiss.
So Yuki stops to take in the sight of him. Masa’s face is flushed, and he’s slightly breathless. And he’s looking up at Yuki like he’s just lost a war, but what he gained because of it was worth losing a thousand wars for. It’s unbearable, really, for Yuki to hold this man in his arms and see him like this when falling in love with Yanagida Masahiro was definitely not on his agenda for today. Still, he doesn’t protest when Masa pulls him down for one last kiss before Yuki settles on his chest.
He breathes in Masa and doesn’t worry about anything other than how long they can lie there before he loses the circulation in his arms.