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90 days until graduation.
Yaku doesn't know when it started. When Lev started to grow around him, like weeds in a garden, curling around his ankles as Yaku tried to run away. To get out of it.
He doesn't know when he started to think about Lev in the middle of his maths classes, or on his way to the park with his siblings, much less while he brush his teeths and wash his face, a lazy reflection facing him on the other side of the mirror, still sufficiently lulled to let his mind wander.
He doesn't know when Lev's eyes became green enough to be compared to an oasis, nor when silver stopped being too bright for his vision. Sometimes, when the night's silence becomes too much, Yaku just want to hear some excited scream of Yaku-san!!! Because they made Yaku feel warm. Even in the coldest months.
One day, Lev stumbled and it didn't seem so ridiculous. One day, Lev grazes his knee chasing a cat and it was almost captivating. One day, Lev slouched down to talk to Yaku and that didn’t even annoy him anymore.
He doesn't know when, how, where, or why.
But it was happening.
It is like some catchy pop song that is annoying at first, and, for a reason or another, you hate it. But it gets stuck in your head and before you could imagine, you are listening to it again and again and again. It's not that bad, the second time. Then comes a third, by this point the melody almost sounds familiar to your ears. In the fourth the lyrics jump out of your lips as if it were engraved in your tongue. In the fifth it flows like a blood river. On the sixth, they burn your lungs. When you finally realise what’s going on, it's too late. That song has already become your favourite.
Still, there are differences between songs and people, and Yaku is not ready. Saying that Lev is his favourite person would be rushing things, he has millions of flaws, just like anybody else. Lev is noisy, airheaded, clueless, and annoyingly tall. Yaku knows the problems he creates like the palm of his own hand. It’s just that when Lev smiles, wide and spontaneous, Yaku swears that time stops.
But it’s bullshit. Yaku doesn't even like guys. He is just confused, that's it. It is just a phase, he promises himself, before lying down. The teenage years are all about that; he has to live a little. Fall in love, regret it, break his heart and find out that none of it mattered at the end. Because Lev won't take him anywhere, even though he is always pulling Yaku's hand, leading him around.
If he dreams about Lev when he closes his eyes, then it's no one else's business but his own.
78 days until graduation.
Going to the karaoke became almost a regular event, since Tora's parents own one. Akane is usually there too, greeting them at reception and screaming while pushing them to the same room in the back (number 7, sits kind of worn out and stained, from the day Kenma got distracted with some video game and spilled coffee everywhere). Inuoka sings some japanese classic, giving everything he got, and Yaku throws himself on the couch, drinking his soda.
"Yaku-san!! Sing a duet with me, yeah?" Lev jumps to him, his head almost hitting the low ceiling. Yaku smiles.
"Ah, I don't know, Lev. Why would I want to do that?" He teases.
"Well..." Lev tilts his head, a thoughtful pout on his lips. "Because you like me a lot...?" He tries, a smile coming back to his face.
"Hmmm, I'm not really sure about that." Yaku says, as he spins the ice on the glass.
"Yaku-san! Come on, sing a duet with your favourite kouhai!" Lev exclaims, like a tantruming child. It should not be that cute.
"Sure, bring Shibayama here, so I can..."
"Don't be mean! Come on, pretty please?" Lev's eyes are big, full, pleading.
Yaku might pass out.
Instead, he just gets up and pulls Lev's jacket sleeve.
"Let's go, you big idiot. You know I would never deny you something like that."
I would never deny you anything.
The microphones smells like sake, if you lean in too close. Lev chooses a song, and Yaku complains about it, even though he doesn't care. The lights are flashing, his head is spinning and Midnight cruising starts playing. The song is, by definition, pretty 80's, with its beat's vivacity and lyrics fairly easy to follow. Yaku thinks he may like it.
Lev is not exactly a bad singer, but not exactly a good one either. Still, it's charming. He surrenders himself to the song, wrapped by the melody while his hair sways and his eyes shine. The lights turn Lev's skin into many shades of blue, and it's beautiful. Yaku feels like he is entering another dimension. One where there are only the two of them, cradled by the sweet and fast sound, looking for an adventure. In his ears, the music sounds too much like running with the wind on his cheeks and a giant smile on his lips.
Lev could be his midnight cruising, Yaku thinks.
When they are coming back home, still a little intoxicated by the song, he and Lev swing themselves through the streets. Yaku blunders in long steps and Kenma wants to pretend he doesn't know them. Midnight cruising throbs on his bones, and when Lev takes his hand and spins him, Yaku can only laugh.
"You are so fucked." Is everything Kuroo says, with that shitty smile, before they follow their own way home.
Yaku walks the rest of the route alone, and those three words reverberate through his brain.
He is not fucked, he is not. Kuroo thinks he is too smart, with that capitan title and sly look, but Yaku knows himself. Maybe he got carried away today, ok, but it is only one night. There is no problem with throwing yourself into trivialities like that once in a while, with living the moment. He likes Lev's eyes, Lev's voice, and Lev's attention. It doesn't have to mean anything.
When Yaku finally takes off his shoes to enter his house, he is already perfectly convinced of it.
After all, Lev Haiba is just a phase.
57 days until graduation.
The stars sprinkle the sky, turning purple what was black before. It's almost the colour of the bruises on Yaku's knee. Lev sighs, looking fragile and innocent, small on the grass, gigantic on the universe.
At the end of the day, he doesn't seem unattainable, too tall, too handsome, too lucky. Just Yaku's dumb kohai with infinity eyes. Even like that, Lev is still breathtaking.
He raised one of those slender, pale arms to the sky, swaying it against the wind. His fingers almost touch the stars.
Fuck, Lev is not human.
"You know, Yaku-san..." He whispers and Yaku almost cries. Lev is perfect. "Sometimes, I like to think that I am made of galaxies. That my breath is life, and my blood stars. That, even if I died I would still be something.
And it's true. When did Lev become so smart or self-conscious? Because it's true.
His hair is a nebula, his smiles are supernovae. His heart beats destroy universes, the bow on his lips revive empires. His eyes are the ice of creation and the fire of destruction, the brightest black holes ever, drawing Yaku without an ounce of mercy. Millions of bowling up suns borning and dying, smiling and crying, tearing him apart, taking him to his end.
Lev's skin is woven by galaxies, stories of hundreds intertwining where his veins cross.
Yaku would like to taste the spice of stars against his tongue.
However, the only thing he can say when he opens his mouth is:
"That's not how the universe works, Lev."
Yaku can only pray that his eyes tell the truth, the things he is afraid to say.
He swallowed hard. He is young, and idiot, and this is just another dumb and temporary obsession, like pokenon, collecting rocks, or that k-group he filled his room with posters and forgot the name next month.
It's ok.
It will pass.
Lev Haiba is just a phase.
45 days until graduation.
The rock that slides in Yakus' hand is warm. Hazy days, he snuggles a little closer into his jacket. These days should make him feel small, the sadness should curl around his limbs, but it doesn't. These days he sees himself smiling, immersed in some melancholic happiness that only the poets seem capable of understanding. Those that freezes his bones and makes him feel like an old man, one that has already lived everything he had to live. Resignation, maybe that's it. Knowing all the sweetness of the world and not caring about the pain.
He counts the breath out of his mouth. One, two, three.
The flowers soon will be pink, and Yaku remembers encouraging whispers against his skin. He thinks about baby's laughing and how his sister collects stamps. He inhales the humid air like an addict, and Yaku have lived so little, but it seems like much.
When Lev touches his cheeks it's soft and warm, and he thinks he might melt down. "Hey, Yaku-san! What are you thinking about?"
Yaku stares at him, and there seems to be only one right answer here.
"Tell me about your dreams, Lev."
And that's how they pass the evening, Yaku letting himself go by stories of greatness and fame. By unimaginable fates, by too ambitious wishes. Yet, while looking at Lev, Yaku thinks everything is possible.
34 days until graduation.
They go out on the streets of Tokyo, once in a while. It's Saturday and they are young, so that's expected. Kenma wanted a new game, Kuroo invited them to a restaurant, whatever. It doesn't really matter to Yaku. What matters is that they are here. They are here and they are young, and the avenue's artificial lights shine like fireworks.
The cold wind blows on his face, messing his hair and revealing secrets to him. There is a fresh smell in the air, like pines and toothpaste, but also something warm, like cinnamon and sugar, that screams home. His head spins in a pleasant way, numbed by all the sounds around.
Yaku feels alive.
The neon lights blink and twinkle, and suffuse Lev's skin. Colouring the alb derme with epigraphs that promise everything, millions of desires in his body. Blue, then green, then purple, then pink. Yaku sees himself enchanted by that, by how ethereal Lev seems. Only if he could touch it, map all the colours with his fingertips while whisper the compliments and
praises that right now threaten to slip out of his mouth.
Lev catches him staring, of course he does, and, suddenly, those big green eyes turn to Yaku. Brighter than all the outdoors, Yaku thinks, and immediately reprimands himself. But Lev only smiles, and so does Yaku.
"What are you looking at, Yaku-san?" Lev teases and, for some reason, it only widens his smile.
"Nothing, Lev... I just thought you were one of the skyscrapers." He teases back, watching a pout forming on the other's face.
"Mean Yaku-san!"
But it barely lasts, and soon Lev is smiling, taking his hand and dragging him ahead the group. "There is a disco shop around here that I love, Yaku-san! Come with me!" Of course he goes. Of course he goes.
He goes, and listens to some bad pop rock Lev loves for some reason, teases him because who still uses discos? And laugh so much that tears almost fall from his eyes. Being with Lev shouldn't be that easy.
But it is.
When they finally come back to the streets, cheeks blushing with happiness, they are long lost from the rest of Nekoma. But, for a moment, Yaku doesn't care. He just gulps the umid air, observes the sky, and enjoys the peaceful silence between them.
"Hey, Yaku-san..." Lev starts, and there is something in his eyes that Yaku doesn't understand. A glow of maturity and wisdom that looks weird on Lev. "What makes you feel alive?"
Yaku stays silent, contemplating the question. There are so many things. His siblings laugh, the pride on his parents eyes, the wind on his skin, the words he keeps to himself.
"Many things, Lev. Maybe the thrill of the ball burning against my arms, the way my muscles sting. Maybe silly nights like today, where my only worry is to be happy."
Maybe the way you smile.
But some things weren't made to be spoken, then he just swallowed those thoughts.
Lev is gorgeous. Lev is gorgeous, everyone knows that. But he is also his kouhai, and too young, and too dumb. It's ok Yaku thinks he is beautiful, it's all right. There is no problem rambling about the way his lips move, or losing himself at the slope of Lev's eyes when he smiles. If the fact that Lev breaths makes him want to write poetry, it's cause he is also too young, and too dumb, and the vivacity in the air of Tokyo is affecting him.
Haiba Lev is just a phase. Yaku Morisuke is just a kid. The romance of the moonlight is just stronger tonight.
"What about you, Lev?" Yaku whispers, almost breathless.
In the dark of night, Lev seems unreal.
"At the moment, the way you look at me."
26 days until graduation.
Kuroo finally approaches him.
"How long are you going to stay like this, Yakun?" He locks them in the club room after the training, convincing Yaku to stay late to help him in some shitty lie. Damn bastard.
"I don't know what you are talking about, Kuroo." He answers, turning to his backpack, as if looking away from his captain could protect him from this conversation.
Oh, denial. It fills the air of the room like the winter wind, condensing his breaths and freezing his lies. Yaku still can feel Kuroo's eyes on him, like a cat playing with its prey, and he barely can avoid the shudder.
Kuroo leans closer, his breath warm against Yaku's ears when he talks, his voice little more than a desperate whisper. "You can't just..."
"No, Kuroo." Yaku cuts him, but it doesn't sound much like a warning. Sounds more like tiredness, resignation. As if Yaku had already had this conversation a million times.
"But you..." Kuroo tries again, eyebrows furrowed, hands moving vehemently.
"Me nothing, Kuroo." Yaku sighs, still without spirit.
"No!" Kuroo claps his hands against his tights, exasperated, eyes wide as if to force Yaku into understandment. "You love him, Yaku! You love him..."
The silence fills the room.
"Don't talk about things you don't fucking know!" He finally explodes, turning to Kurro and glaring at him with eyes of steel.
Yaku is tired. Tired of it all. Tired of standing here and listening to Kuroo hurling everything at him like he didn't already know.
"Then why?" Kuroo mutters in such an unusual tone that it's even more piercing than any scream. A tone that says he thinks Yaku is stupid, that he's disappointed.
"Kuroo, I'm sorry, but I don't..." Yaku wants to run away from this conversation.
"Why Yaku?" Kuroo repeats, cold and hard like metal.
"Why what, Kuroo?! Have you ever seen Lev?" He snaps back and tears start to prick his eyes. "Lev shines in a way that might look like a firefly on a dark night, Kuroo, but it isn't." Yaku shakes his head. "It isn't, and if you follow that, you'll end up in a bonfire so big that even the steam can kill you. I don't know how to explain this to you, but I don't want to get burned."
Yaku's lips twitch, his knees shake. He just wants to be out of here.
"But you still love him." Kurro says, as if that changes everything, as if it is that simple.
"I..." Yaku chokes. "Don't be an idiot. We are seventeen, Kuroo. What can we possibly know about love? We are hormonal teenagers, and it's normal to have silly crushes." It is normal, Yaku says. His eyes burn. "It will pass. So fast that will be like it never happened. And, in the future, I will laugh about that, because it's nonsense!" A mad smile takes his face. "Because it's madness and I could never love Lev." His voice drops to a mutter when he finishes. It will pass. Haiba Lev is just a phase.
Kurro looks at him with deep pitying eyes, dark as an ocean, and gives him a smile flooded with melancholy. Yaku's stomach churns. He hates Kuroo, hates him from the bottom of his soul. Kuroo always manages to see right through his lies.
"You don't believe that." It's not a question.
Yaku shakes his head. "I know."
There's not much more after that.
And, if tears roll down Yaku's cheeks, Kuroo is kind enough to not comment.
5 days until graduation.
Lev kicks a rock down the street.
"Sooo, Russia, huh..."
"Yeah, Russia." Is all Yaku responds with. He doesn't know how to have this conversation.
The sun begins to set, and the orange seems to highlight Lev's thin, pale features. Their uniforms are a little sweaty from training, the street seems deserted, and the silence stretches. His hands are shaking.
"Just... Eat some blinis for me, yeah?"
"Of course." The tone is too condensing, weird in his tongue.
As soon as he gets home, Yaku throws himself in the shower. He bathes like a germaphobe, scrubbing his arms until they are red. It hurts, but it's good. Yaku washes every place Lev has ever touched, as if trying to erase the remnants of the other from himself. It will be easier to forget that way.
The water takes away the dirt, the soap, and the shampoo. But not his pain.
Yaku will avoid any and all desserts in Russia.
__
The airport smells like ozone. The flow of people is constant, and Yaku almost wishes he could get lost in the crowd. He's not really good with goodbyes. Kuroo is an idiot, and convinced the entire now ex-Nekoma team to come. Yaku wants to say that that wasn't necessary, that it is not a big deal, that he will be back soon. But talking becomes hard with the forming lump in his throat.
He feels so loved. This is his team, his friends, and Yaku remembers every silly little joke, every bruise, every crystalline moment of shared youth. Melancholy and nostalgia dance within him, like the melody of an old and hoarse piano.
It's not a big deal. He will just go to Russia, four hours away on a plane fast enough. His talent has been recognized internationally and there goes the little Yaku, merging into giants to get his place. His whole life has been like that, actually. If everyone is bigger than you, you work twice as hard to be seen.
It was worth it.
He's going to board, get on that disinfected plane and start a new life. He will step on Russian soil, barely speaking the basics of the native language, and he will grow. It almost feels fake, the prospect of becoming an adult. Yaku has always been told he is responsible, mature for his age, but he feels nothing. He feels like that reckless boy who ran through the Tokyo nights, who whispered secrets, who laughed shamelessly.
His heart sinks as he looks at Lev. Lev, who has his hands on the hem of his shirt, his face eyes downcasted. Lev, who seems quiet, but not in the poetic way Yaku loves, in a sickly, tired way. Lev, whose glow today seems flickering, faded.
But then Lev catches him staring, as he always does, and he smiles. Smiles, in a natural, spontaneous and fragile way. He smiles, as if the sun was rising and Yaku was promising him heaven. He smiles, as if this was a reunion and not a farewell.
Lev smiles, as if tears weren't about to fall from his eyes.
They don't roll, though. Because Lev holds them close and they just stay there, making those green orbs even brighter.
"It's all right, Yaku-san..." Lev starts and it's Yaku who is crying now.
He sucks at goodbyes and has been avoiding everything for far too long. Lev is so sweet, standing in that rowdy airport and talking like there's only the two of them in the world. Yaku doesn't want to leave him.
It hurts in his chest, how much he doesn't want to go. How much he wants to cling to Lev and promise everything he can't. The stars, his heart, to stay.
Tears start, of course they do. Yaku is going to Russia, and everything will be ok. Hundreds of beautiful Russian people to fall in love with, thousands of eyes of that deadly hue, endless new chances.
Still, a piece of him will stay here.
"No, Yaku-san!" Lev exclaims and shakes his hands. "Don't cry, okay?" His eyes are the definition of care, affection almost overflowing with tears. They crinkle as Lev smiles more and more, pure and innocent. "It's going to be fine. I'm just a phase."
Lev stares at him, eyes sad and reassuring, unselfish enough to accept that. Accept everything Yaku gives him, even if that everything is nothing. Accepting destiny without fear of its imperfections, without wanting to control it. Accepting being temporary for someone he loves, even if it hurts so bad in the end.
And that's when Yaku realises.
In hindsight, that was stupid. Yaku was an idiot. Idiot, and young, and dumb, really. He was a teenager, he fell in love, he regretted it, he didn't do anything about it and now his heart is pounding in his chest. It's not normal to compare your friends to deities, or to think of them wrapped around you when you wake up. It's not normal for a simple crush to drive you crazy and make you live, to pull you to the extreme and you like it. It's not right that he denied everything for so long, when he always knew the truth.
The last year passes him by like a movie, at the rhythm of the incessant pounding in his rib cage. Lev walking into the gym, taking his breath away. Lev grabbing his cheeks, telling him he's pretty. Lev hitting a catch, and smiling like it's unbelievable. Lev pulling him onto a swing, storming the playground. Lev meeting his sibblings, and messing up their hair. Lev dancing with him in the street, Lev saying things that surprise him. Lev smiling, Lev crying. Lev being a poet, Lev being the universe. Lev, Lev and Lev.
Of course.
Haiba Lev could never be just a phase.
When Yaku is in his arms, when Yaku is on his lips, he is sure.
"Don't be stupid Lev. How can you call my whole life 'just a phase'?"