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He was aware that Teruki skated. Every so often, when they hung out at his apartment, Teruki would take apart his wheels to clean them or tighten the screws on his blocks, talking animatedly about whatever new trick he was trying to perfect. Shigeo was pleased that he'd found a new hobby, since it seemed like the first time in a long while that Teruki had felt like he could genuinely enjoy something like that, and it made Shigeo happy to see Teruki happy, a concept he couldn't quite wrap his head around but was nice nevertheless. However, Shigeo never foresaw himself getting involved.
“Hey, Kageyama-kun,” Teruki began one afternoon on their walk from school to Spirits and Such, a phenomenon that had been happening increasingly often since Claw’s world domination plans had been foiled, “Would you like to come skating with me this week?”
Shigeo paused considerately. In isolation, skating didn’t strictly appeal to him, though it might be an interesting way to develop balance and coordination, something the Body Improvement Club might be interested in hearing about. His scepticism about the skating part of the proposal quickly crumbled in the face of spending an evening trying out something new and exciting with Teruki.
Beside him, Teruki had begun to stress under the silence of his contemplation, a faint red rising on his cheekbones as he looked ready to stutter out some excuse.
“It’s no big deal or anything if you don’t—”
“I’d really like to go skating with you, I’m glad you want to share your hobby with me.”
This, rather than taming his flustered look, made Teruki flush even redder. He stopped for a moment, Shigeo ending up a few paces in front. He looked back to see Teruki’s face break out into a winning smile which made his heart skip a beat.
“The rink is not far from the sports centre, so I meet you at your house and we can walk over,” Teruki said as they fell back in step with one another.
“Alright.”
The late afternoon sun hung low in shop windows as they passed, providing spectacular lighting for a walk like every other walk they’d taken down the same old streets, talking about this and that and nothing much. Shigeo was constantly grateful for the ease with which Teruki filled the air with comforting noise, not overwhelming but endearingly passionate, not minding that he preferred to talk less than many other people. The distance between them and Spirits and Such was quickly eaten up, a fact that he regretted not the first time in his life.
Up the stairs they traipsed, school bags slipping from shoulders and Teruki’s tie loosening about his neck. In the interest of politeness, Shigeo always knocked before he let himself into the office, where they were greeted that afternoon by the sight of Reigen standing on a desk chair, trying to balance a plant on a small shelf installed over the doorframe with a harried Serizawa wringing his hands behind him.
“Oh, hi boys,” he greeted, chair tilting precariously, “I wasn’t expecting both of you today.”
Shigeo edged around him and settled his bag near the desk while Teruki stayed in the doorway.
“Don’t get your hopes up, old man. I’ve got grocery shopping to do so I can’t hang about.”
Reigen huffed, “Whatever kid, just make sure you’re not late for dinner.”
Shigeo glanced up at Reigen momentarily as he continued to perch dangerously on the chair; he knew that Reigen had Teruki over once a week for what he had called ‘family dinner’, a term Teruki didn’t look particularly thrilled about but never leapt to dispute.
With a roll of his eyes, Teruki gave a final wave to Shigeo and Serizawa before making his way back down the stairs and plunging back into the sunset streets.
Just as he was pondering the fact that, despite what many people may say, Shigeo knew his master was a good person, Reigen tipped just a little too far one way or another and came crashing down with a strangled yelp. He was saved only by Serizawa’s power leaping out at the last second to prevent a nasty collision with the edge of the coffee table while Shigeo quietly retrieved all the many pieces the plant pot had shattered into in the hope they could be restored.
The next day at school, it was all Shigeo could do to not be distracted by the anticipation of his evening with Teruki at every turn. Perhaps, in the beginning, he could’ve played it down as nerves about skating—he’d never skated before, and was admittedly a little apprehensive of the idea—but as the flutter of his heart persisted throughout his lessons and ate into club time, he had to consider the idea that there was something else bothering him.
“Hey, is something up, Mob-kun?” Mezato called from where she had perched herself on the table, next to Tome, “Usually you’re gone by the time I show up.”
“He’s been standing there for a couple minutes now. I guessed he would figure out whatever he was trying to figure out and leave eventually— Wait! Maybe he’s talking telepathically to someone! Can you do that Mob?” Tome said, leaning forward with interest.
Pulled back into the room, Shigeo jolted and looked between the two.
“Have you ever been roller skating?”
Tome frowned at the lack of anything remotely telepathic about the idea and laid her head down on the table again, playing on her handheld console. In contrast, Mezato’s face lit up with enthusiasm, surely her reporter’s instincts sensed something more to the question.
“Sure, I’ve been once or twice, why do you ask?”
“I’m going with someone tonight but I’ve never skated before. I don’t want to disappoint them if I’m not very good at it.”
“Well, do they skate normally or are you both beginners?”
“Oh, he skates a lot!” Shigeo perked up, an area he knew where he stood. “He can do all kinds of tricks.”
“That settles it then. Whoever it is, he’s probably looking forward to teaching you,” Mezato concluded, resting her chin considerately on her hand, the other reaching for the snacks on the table.
“Really?” He thought about the way Teruki seemed to glow with excitement when Shigeo accepted his offer and thought that perhaps, just being there with Teruki would be enough to have a nice time—as it always seemed to be. In fact, getting taught to skate by him sounded like it could be fun even if it went poorly.
“Sure thing. Now, who is it that you’re going with, huh? Are they from this school, from our class?” Mezato leaned forward with a sly grin.
“N-no, he’s from Black Vinegar. Hanazawa Teruki,” he stumbled out, unsure what kind of incrimination he felt as if he’d just subjected himself to.
“Hold on!” Tome suddenly threw down her console and pointed accusingly at Shigeo. “Isn’t that the guy with the hair?” She gestured a good two feet above her own head. “You never told me if he was an esper or not!”
“He doesn’t have the hair anymore.”
“I’ve heard of him. My sources say that he was the shadow leader of the school but all of a sudden, he completely changed after a fight with some guys from here. You know anything about that, Mob-kun?”
“Uh…” The weight of the two’s stares bore down on him, equally as impassioned as each other and certainly destined to get the better of Shigeo if he stayed any longer. “I should probably catch up with the others now…”
“Come on, Mob-kun! One more question, is it a date?” Mezato giggled, her voice carrying out of the door, too late as Shigeo scrambled after the rest of the Body Improvement Club.
The sound of knuckles against the door still jolted him even when Shigeo had been sitting anxiously by the door a good ten minutes before Teruki was due to arrive. He’d never been so nervous to try a new activity before, especially with someone he knew, and he would’ve been utterly lost if not for Mezato’s final question still ringing in his ears. It wasn’t a date, was it? They’d done all kinds of things together and never called them dates, which was fine, of course! Unless—
Another rap on the door. Ah. He leapt up to pull it open and was greeted by the stunningly bright sight of Teruki on the doorstep, a pair of roller skates slung over his shoulder and a dazzling smile on his face.
“Hey Kageyama-kun, you look great! Are you ready to go?”
Shigeo thought that perhaps his heart wouldn’t be able to take much more stress in a single day, feeling it practically leap out of his chest at such a brazen compliment. He ducked back into the house for a moment to grab a jacket and hope that the blush developing on his face would die down before facing Teruki once again.
“Ready,” he said, closing the door behind him.
“Perfect!”
He let Teruki guide them to the rink and felt his anxiety ease as they slipped into their usual pace of conversation. Teruki’s skates clacked together every time he took a step; that too became a comforting element of the backdrop to their journey, a mere fifteen-minute walk that felt as if it stretched into hours, the number of times Shigeo snuck a longer look than usual at the way the evening lit up Teruki’s hair or the crinkling of his eyes when he grinned or the extravagant gestures he must’ve learnt from Reigen. He’d never really thought about how handsome his friend really was, but now he was forgetting to step up kerbs properly, the way he kept getting distracted.
“Are you alright, Kageyama-kun?”
“Huh?” Teruki was giving him a look equal parts concerned and amused as he waited in front of what could only be the door to the roller rink.
“We’re here. Do you want to come in?”
“Ah, yes, sorry!”
“Don’t worry about it,” Teruki said, holding the door, “Like I was saying, the rink is calmer tonight, fewer people and the music is much quieter than usual. I thought that maybe coming when it was normal would be a bit much…”
Shigeo paused. Did that mean that Teruki brought him on a quiet night, particularly so it wouldn’t be overwhelming for him? A flutter surged in his chest and his throat clammed up momentarily, struck by the consideration.
“Thank you, Hanazawa-kun,” he managed to get out. He was glad for the dim lighting of the hallway—only a soft yellow glow produced by tubes of neon lining the ceiling that reminded him abruptly of Teruki’s aura—as he felt the urge to hide his face from such a sudden surge of affection.
They approached a desk staffed by what Shigeo would describe as the only person that he’d met that could be compared to Teruki’s fashion eccentricity, mind-bending layers upon layers of brightly coloured garments accompanying an impressive set of piercings. The desk itself had the appearance of being completely covered in all kinds of stickers on every available surface, and behind were racks of roller skates lined up in size order. Next to them, Shigeo could just see into the rink itself through the open doorway, the faint murmur of activity seeping through.
As they drew closer, the woman’s face lit up in recognition when she spotted Teruki, who in turn gave a wave.
“Nakano-san!”
“Teru-kun, good to see you! Don’t you usually come in on a Wednesday?”
“Yeah, but I’ve uh… brought a friend.” He tipped his head shyly towards Shigeo, who had never seen him so bashful.
Nakano turned to him with an appraising eye and smiled kindly.
“You new, kid? Let me grab you some skates and you two can go right on through,” she said before turning to grab a pair of roller skates from the nearest rack.
“But Nakano-san—”
“Don’t worry about it, now get going!” A solid thump hit the desk as Nakano presented the skates and Shigeo retrieved them, surprised by the weight.
Teruki thanked her enthusiastically and beckoned for Shigeo to follow him as they moved into the next room.
The space opened up into a giant open area, with the rink itself dominating the space while benches, lockers, and squat tables lined the two free walls. To their left stood a place that looked like it was where they served drinks and sold skate equipment, spare wheels and the like; a few groups of people were gathered on high stools, swinging their skate-clad feet as they happily chattered. On the rink, there were also a handful of skaters, probably no more than a dozen, some lone and some accompanying another. Shigeo thought he could see a rainbow painted on the far wall, but most of the lighting was focused on the rink, making it hard to discern. Behind it all, wordless music was being channelled through large speakers in the ceiling—the kind of music that was so much bass that it felt like it was beating your heart for you if it was loud enough—at a volume that made it a pleasant background hum rather than overpowering any conversation.
He took a breath. It was nice here, and it was even nicer to see Teruki get even more thrilled when the rink was in sight, turning back to face Shigeo with yet another brilliant smile. His stomach exploded with the feeling of a hundred butterflies. As long as he kept smiling like that, Shigeo thought, anything could happen and he would still consider himself lucky to be in such company. Now that he’d started noticing it—how he felt around Teruki—it became impossible to ignore.
“You ready to have a go?” Teruki said, finding a bench near an entrance ramp to rest his things on. He looked expectantly at Shigeo, the colourful light playing on his cheekbones.
“Yes,” he insisted if only to see Teruki smile even wider.
As they sat to put on their skates, he managed to admire the well-kept nature of Teruki’s pair, which had been customised with what may have been every conceivable addition a pair of skates could possibly have. The boots themselves were purple suede and laced with a vibrant yellow which matched with the marble of his orange wheels; looped into one of the eyelets was a small blue, pink and white charm; between the wheels were what Shigeo understood to be blocks, large chunks of white plastic that enabled some kinds of tricks; on the front of the skates, there were short pink toe plugs in the shape of stars and teal-coloured toe caps looped into his laces. They were incredibly fitting for the kind of person Teruki was, he thought.
He slid his own skates on, laced them tightly, and rolled them a little back and forth, getting used to the alien sensation.
“There’s no need to be scared, you’ll get used to it in no time!” Teruki stood before him, bouncing slightly at the knees. He held out a hand. “Want some help, Kageyama-kun?”
For a moment, Shigeo simply stared at the offered hand and wondered absently if he was allowed to touch Teruki so deliberately. Perhaps their auras would clash like two opposing armies or slide off each other like oil and water—or maybe Shigeo would simply short circuit—but he found that there was a growing desire in him to hold Teruki’s hand even for a moment and so he reached out and let himself be pulled to unsteady feet.
They carefully stepped over to the ramp that led to the rink, all the while the main thought that was clamouring for attention inside his head was of how wonderful it was to hold Teruki’s hand, to feel its steadiness and calloused skin against his own.
“You’ll want to tip one foot forward to rest on your toe stop and use the other to step onto the rink, alright?” Teruki announced, mounting the step with practised ease. Thankfully, he didn’t let go, just left enough distance between them so that Shigeo could step into his own space.
Shigeo did as instructed, trusting Teruki’s experience, and shifted forward on his right, testing the transfer of weight onto one leg. Once secure, he took a bold swing in the direction of the rink, left followed quickly by right, and he was on! He risked a glance up and was rewarded for his efforts by the sight of Teruki beaming like the sun, so much so that Shigeo could definitely feel the heat on his face. Other skaters flew past them at varying speeds, all seeming far more at home on eight wheels than he could ever imagine feeling.
“What do I do now?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you! See, if you make a V shape with your feet like this…”
Teruki had whirled elegantly around to stand next to him instead of in front, his hand slipping from Shigeo’s—a presence he immediately mourned—and began coaching him on the basics of moving forward with a patience usually only reserved for explaining algebra (to him and him only, it had not gone entirely unnoticed).
Soon enough, Shigeo felt steady enough to pick up a reasonable amount of speed and managed to keep pace with Teruki, who was stepping over his own feet languidly as they rolled. Every time he did something correctly, Teruki would burst out with a bit of praise that set his heart stuttering all over again. He wouldn’t admit to nearly tripping over a small bump in the flooring because he was too caught up in basking in Teruki’s kind words.
“How are you finding it so far?”
“it’s scarier than people make it look, but I think I’m enjoying it. I can see why you like it so much, Hanazawa-kun,” he said, trying to meet Teruki’s smile with one of his own, which only seemed to knock him off balance, much as Shigeo felt.
“Right! That’s kind of you to say, Kageyama-kun.” He looked around at the other skaters. “Nothing will probably happen since it’s so quiet but just in case, you should probably know how to stop safely—”
“Teru-kun!”
All of a sudden, three people careened past him and Teruki, coming to abrupt and impressive stops just in front of the two, wheels screeching on the flooring. All seemed to be a few years older than them but greeted Teruki with familiarity.
“Ah, hi guys, I didn’t realise you also came on Thursdays!”
The middle person, the tallest with pink hair half in braids, laughed kindly,
“We try to come every other week. I didn’t think we’d be seeing you tonight, is that to do with your friend here?”
Teruki abruptly turned his gaze to the side, hand at the back of his neck.
“I suppose I should introduce you. Everyone, this is Kageyama-kun; Kageyama-kun, this is Niro-san, Isekiri-san, and Okisano-san.” He gestured to the group in turn, first to the one with short ash-coloured hair, then to another with gold-rimmed glasses, and finally to the one that had been speaking.
“Oh, so this is the Kageyama-kun?” Isekiri smiled and Shigeo felt a jolt of shock lance through him. Had Teruki talked about him to his skating friends? His renown both scared and delighted him—to mean so much to Teruki that he was known by people that he’d never met, never before had his reputation preceded him so.
Teruki, on the other hand, only seemed to find himself more timid.
“Maybe,” he murmured.
“It’s good to finally meet you, Kageyama-kun! Teru-kun has told us quite a lot about you, it seems like every time we see him, he’s got something new to say,” Okisano said and oh did that make the storm of emotions in Shigeo’s chest swirl with intensity.
“Okisano-san!” Shigeo peered at Teruki to catch the sight of his cheeks develop a flustered pink.
“Come on guys, let’s leave them to it,” Niro finally placated, “We’ll catch you later, Teru-kun.”
With that, the three set off again, laughter following them as they picked up speed across the rink. Teruki turned with an apologetic smile, not quite meeting Shigeo’s gaze.
“Sorry about them, they can be a lot…”
“It’s ok, they seemed like good friends, Hanazawa-kun,” he said, happy that Teruki had people that had a genuine care for him outside of Shigeo’s immediate circle, a worry that had been troubling him ever since he understood that Teruki lived alone.
Teruki gestured for them to continue moving slowly and Shigeo obliged with growing confidence. Just like everything he’d done with the Body Improvement Club, skating just took some patience and willingness to try.
They continued for a while longer just making circuits of the rink, weaving in and out of the other skaters who courteously gave Shigeo space to manoeuvre. Every so often, Teruki would suggest that he attempt something simple like picking a foot up for as long as he could or making ovals while skating instead of the V shape.
Shigeo didn’t mean to be duplicitous but when he was instructed so, he may have pushed himself a little further than necessary, just so that Teruki would offer a hand in aid which Shigeo was more than delighted to take. Every time they touched, it felt like there were sparks on his fingertips and he was filled with such elation that he simply didn’t know how Teruki couldn’t hear the way his heartbeat thumped so loudly it overpowered thought; he kept checking to make sure that he hadn’t inadvertently lost control of his psychic powers and begun levitating.
Eventually, though, Shigeo began to feel a pull of tiredness and the excitement of the evening bore down on him a little too heavy. Teruki seemed to notice and gave him a kind look, mouth tilted up in a soft way that melted Shigeo more than the exertion had.
“Do you want to sit down for a minute?”
He nodded, fighting the temptation to lean his head on Teruki’s shoulder despite the fact they were still rolling.
“They do milkshakes here, how about it?”
Soon they were trekking again across the carpet in their skates towards the drinks counter which was populated by a few other skaters that Shigeo had recognised from the rink. As, it seemed, with everyone else in the rink, Teruki seemed to be at a degree of familiarity with the older woman behind the counter and chatted politely with her while Shigeo asked for a milkshake. He had swooped in when Shigeo went to pay, insisting that he would instead.
“This was my idea,” he said, “Would you let me do this for you?”
His words were so tender that Shigeo could hardly process the way Teruki had looked at him before the milkshake was paid for and there was nothing to be done about it anyway.
They sat themselves on tall stools, resting elbows contentedly on the table while Shigeo drank and Teruki absently slid his blocks back and forth on the bar of the seat. For a moment, things were still as they watched the rink. Shigeo, emboldened by some odd combination of joy and tiredness, slid his arm across the table and carefully linked his fingers with Teruki’s. Warmth spread from their joined hands all the way up his arm and down his spine, tingling in a pleasant manner.
The response he got was a jolt of shock in Teruki and a slow, eventual glance around to him. Without the pretext of skating, it seemed that all his touch-confidence had evaporated and was reduced to a blushing statue.
“K-kageyama-kun, what are—”
“Is this ok?” He asked because all of a sudden it struck him that Teruki was the kind of person that gave out touch constantly and never seemed to anticipate its return and perhaps Shigeo was making him uncomfortable by not asking and maybe even all the times they’d touched all evening really meant nothing and he was reading things all wrong again—
“It’s fine!” Teruki asserted more hastily than he probably meant to. Slowly, he went back to staring at the other skaters, still a delightfully handsome shade of pink, and squeezed Shigeo’s hand in reassurance. Shigeo wondered if anyone would notice if the things around him started floating.
After a few minutes of idle talk, Shigeo asking after the three that seemed to hear so much about him and Teruki asking after his family and classmates, the music changed and Teruki snapped to attention with a hesitant look. The change was sudden but not unwelcome, and Shigeo was ever more interested in what was going on when Teruki’s enthusiasm seemed to grow upon seeing Niro, Isekiri and Okisano still out on the rink. He turned back to Shigeo with a winning grin, energy infectious, and said,
“Watch this.”
He broke their contact—a much-lamented fact—and was in a second dashing across the room and leaping into the rink. Of course, Teruki didn’t need to make such a request; Shigeo had long since found that it was hard to pry his gaze from him anyway, always the brightest star in the room, a sun that was so impressive that Shigeo didn’t even mind being caught in his orbit. An invitation to look was merely permission to openly stare in wonder as Teruki picked up unimaginable speed and joined his friends who had begun to do the same, cheering when they spotted him. Was this what Teruki was holding back all this time for Shigeo’s sake? Rather than guilty, the thought made him feel rather affected. He could still feel the ghost of Teruki’s touch in his palm.
Out on the rink, Teruki, still hurtling at speed, leapt up and for a tense half-second, Shigeo’s heart was in his throat, until he pivoted and landed back down with a decisive slam, now skating backwards. Isekiri, Okisano and Niro all slipped in alongside him, laughing and congratulating him. From across the room, their gazes met and Teruki’s eyes lit up as if to say ‘are you watching? did you see that?’. Another foolish question. Of course he did; there was nothing and no one in the world at that moment that could’ve convinced Shigeo to stop watching.
Far be it for Teruki to be done with just that, he dropped his speed and, before Shigeo’s eyes, entered into a totally new kind of skating, dipping and twisting and stepping every kind of way in what Shigeo could only attempt to call dancing on wheels. Around him, other skaters had picked up on his idea and joined in, creating their own spontaneous dance routines.
The sight was impressive, that much was clear, and filled Shigeo with a kind of warmth that he often felt around those he cared about. He wondered what it would be like to be out there with him, able to keep pace by his side… Teruki had always been someone slightly inconceivable to him, but he found that it didn’t really matter if they were never the same as long as they were together.
The song Teruki had been so excited for came to an end and, after saying a few words to the others who continued to dance, he slipped out of the thoroughfare towards Shigeo, who abandoned his now empty milkshake to meet him. He was leaning against the rink wall to catch his breath in the excitement but still wore a smile that spoke to his delight, rosy-cheeked and shining.
“That was incredible, Hanazawa-kun. You make it look so easy,” he said, basking in the warmth of Teruki’s pride.
“Ah, well, it’s just practice. Now that I don’t use my psychic powers for things, stuff like this is much more rewarding! I can never thank you enough for that, Kageyama-kun.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I’m just glad I get to see how much you’ve grown.”
Teruki averted his eyes sheepishly.
“I’m glad you’re here too.” He huffed out a laugh and eventually seemed to compose himself, glancing back out onto the rink. “You up for a little more?”
A few people were still gathered in the centre of the rink, gathered in a community of dancers, while others had returned to making circuits, some still going backwards though at a more leisurely pace. Refreshed by the whole affair, Shigeo nodded,
“I am. Lead the way, Hanazawa-kun.”
They ventured back out into the flow of people, Shigeo reacclimatising to the ways of the rink, having people move around him with a hypnotic self-assurance or race across the floor faster than he could imagine. Beside him, Teruki was chatting enthusiastically about the practice it took for him to get the backwards jumping transition right.
“And every time I would tip onto my toe stop, which often meant I’d fall immediately forward. I almost broke my nose once or twice which is when Nakano-san told me to stop…” He turned to Shigeo suddenly with a curious smile. “Would you like to have a go backwards? It takes a bit more concentration than normal, but I’m sure you can do it!”
Well, if Teruki had that much confidence in him then he was sure he could do just about anything running purely on the elated, fuzzy feeling that ached in him at the sheer sincerity that Teruki had impressed upon him.
“If you show me first, that might help.”
“Of course!”
Yet again, Teruki slid into a backwards direction with a far more understated transition than his first. He pointed out various notes about his form to Shigeo as they rolled, slowing it down so that it was more comprehensible to an amateur. Here, Teruki was clearly in his element with the ability to speak in-depth about skating and thrum with palpable joy even when coaching someone so inexperienced.
They moved closer to the edge of the rink so that Shigeo could try it out, tentatively making bubbles like he was shown. There was a certain spike of panic that gripped him when his speed got away from him and he felt as if he’d tip face-first onto the floor, but stopping backwards was easier than forwards and wasn’t as likely to make him fall over, so he stuck with it. Teruki watching on eagerly in front of him had nothing to do with the surge of his heart or the way he always picked his feet up and tried again after he came to a stop, of course.
“You’re right, Hanazawa-kun, it’s much harder. Everyone earlier looked like they were moving with such little effort,” he said after managing a whole length of the rink without losing his balance.
“We all started where you are, I promise. You’re doing really well for your first try!”
Shigeo set his shoulders with determination. He would be able to make it all the way around once, turning and all, without stopping if he concentrated well enough, he was sure. That way he could show Teruki just how much his patience and praise meant to him. He angled his skates outwards slightly and set off again, Teruki following him with a faithful smile.
He managed the first stretch relatively easily. Everyone still gave him a wide clearance so it was less about avoiding a collision and more about keeping upright.
His conviction slowly elevated as he met the wide turn of the rink and managed to keep going at a reasonable pace, pushing his outer foot in and out in progressively more powerful sweeps. Sure enough, he cleared the first turn without so much as a pause and only gained speed as he swept down the next stretch of straight.
“Don’t get too far ahead, alright?” Teruki called but Shigeo was rapidly approaching the next turn and was dead-set on making it.
Too late did he realise, while leaning into the corner, that his angle was far too wide to avoid a high-speed backwards collision with the wall and by the time he did, he was well on his way to doing so.
Panic replaced all the tips Teruki had given him that evening. If he had remembered, he would’ve attempted to stop in a more controlled manner, but instead he stumbled, trying to orientate himself so that he’d be colliding forwards into the barrier rather than backwards, sticking out his hands to brace. Rather than having the desired effect, this just tripped him into a trajectory that would smash his teeth into the handrail instead. He lurched forward, but all of a sudden, Teruki was between him and the wall, stumbling backwards too with the force of his urgency. They both fell and, for a heart-stopping moment, everything seemed like it was going to end in a heap of pain—
And then the world became very, haltingly still. Shigeo had stopped falling forward and Teruki was leant backwards, having managed to catch himself on the handrail, one hand stretched outwards and encasing Shigeo in his powers. He heaved a sigh of relief and flashed a smile.
“That was a close one, huh Kageyama-kun?”
Shigeo nodded.
“It was, I’m sorry. I thought I could make it all the way around in one go.”
“Don’t be sorry. It was really impressive until that point—you were really impressive,” Teruki insisted, still with one hand directing his energy towards Shigeo.
They were very close, Shigeo suddenly thought, and while the comforting static feeling of being wrapped in Teruki’s aura was more pleasant than he’d expected, he wondered if they might be closer.
“Could you release me?” He couldn’t meet Teruki’s eyes while he asked, but he felt the momentary spike of emotion through his aura as he did.
“Yeah, of course…”
Slowly, Teruki’s powers retreated into him and gently let Shigeo support himself instead. Shigeo’s hands came to rest on the handrail either side of Teruki as he tried to stand upright but only succeeded in putting their faces mere inches away from each other.
Ah. There was something he wanted to do now, something that he couldn’t well put off for much longer. His gaze flicked up to meet Teruki’s, whose face was burning an incredible pink and eyes were bright with anticipation.
Shigeo closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together, softly, hesitantly, and his heart thrummed with pure elation when he felt Teruki reciprocate with an ardent tenderness, breaking their connection for a moment to smile against his mouth before coming back for another. He tipped onto his toe stop to try and even out the height between them as he melted into the feeling. The hand that Teruki previously had directing his powers came to gently curl around Shigeo’s face as if handling the most precious treasure in the world. If Teruki was the sun normally, then Shigeo felt as if the kiss was a supernova—a brilliant implosion of the star that was his affection for Teruki, the end of one phase and the birth of a vast, unknown and completely thrilling new one. They could’ve been the only people in the rink, for all the attention Shigeo was paying the rest of the skaters—the world had shrunk, if for a moment, to the space of two teenagers on roller skates sharing a kiss. He was almost sure he had never felt such a height of bliss in his life.
Teruki pulled back to let them stand up properly and Shigeo was half-tempted to chase after another kiss and the euphoria that went with it, but remained content with watching the bright-eyed surprise on Teruki’s face fade to something so painfully fond, that Shigeo couldn’t quite believe it was aimed at him.
“You really are too much, Kageyama-kun,” he murmured and Shigeo knew he meant it in a way that could never possibly be cruel.
And that was something else he wanted to do.
“Shigeo, please?” He asked plainly, hoping that his complete sincerity would show.
To hear his name in Teruki’s voice… perhaps it was too fast, but perhaps between two people that had faced villainous organisations and violent espers and spirits that threatened lives and still found each other, it was just right.
“O-of course.” Teruki laughed, nervous in the giddy kind of way that still shook Shigeo to the core. “I’ve been waiting for you to call me Teru, you know?”
Teru. To be fair, Shigeo had also been waiting, wondering if he had the right, looking to others to whom Teru was always Teru and never Teruki. The name was just waiting to spring past his teeth, pushed out by all the emotion that had pooled in his heart and began expanding rapidly with nowhere to go but out.
“I really like you, Teru-kun!”
And that was it, the simplest way to say all that he was trying to from the start. He could feel the way his face burnt something fierce but couldn’t find enough space to care when Teru beamed and pressed another feather-touch kiss to his cheek with a happy hum.
“I really like you too, Shigeo-kun.”
After that evening, Shigeo could safely say that, while roller skating was fun, walking home in the glow of the streetlamps holding Teru’s hand and getting a meek goodbye kiss on the doorstep before closing his front door and immediately sinking, weak-kneed, down it was far, far more enjoyable.