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You'd think a party chock full of the chaotic personalities of Japan's most prominent high school tennis players would be nothing but a disaster, but Bunta can admit that Atobe is quite good at organizing. In the large, luxurious hall of the hotel that's been rented for the event, people mingle and eat and enjoy the festivities, their surroundings decorated with pink and black balloons and shiny garlands. Even the former high schoolers who attended the U-17 camp with them were invited, though Mouri-senpai and the others are in college now.
In the brief lull the party finds itself in, fifteen minutes before the clock strikes twelve, Akaya finds Bunta resting at the balcony where they're all supposed to gather.
"Had fun?" He says by way of greeting. The air is cool, the breeze gently blowing through his red hair, and he moves closer into Akaya's warmth when he bumps against him, shoulder-to-shoulder.
"Yeah, but Zaizen and Hiyoshi went off somewhere without me. They thought they were being so slick about it, too," Akaya grins, his hand brushing against Bunta's as it rests on the stone balustrade. "What about you, why are you alone? Where's Jackal-senpai and Akutagawa-san?"
"Jirou-kun tired himself out after eating, so Jackal went to find a couch somewhere so he can sleep. He carried him princess-style, you should have seen it." Bunta shrugged, smiling at the memory of Jackal's half-exasperated, half-endeared face. After his friends left him, and feeling pleasantly full from all the food, Bunta found himself going outside to the balcony a bit early for some fresh air.
Akaya simply rolls his eyes and grins, before he takes out his phone. "Anyway, I came to show you this, Marui-san. Do you remember next year's color?"
Only a few other people were here, though it'll start filling up in a few minutes. Perhaps this is why an arm easily wounds itself around Bunta's waist, Akaya's chin settling itself on his shoulder as he pulls him closer. Bunta contentedly rests on his broad chest, peering at the phone.
"Yeah, it's… magenta."
"It's your hair," Akaya's hold on him tightens. Bunta can feel him grinning against his shoulder. "Which means you're lucky for next year."
Bunta's eyebrows raise, "Just from who did you learn that from?"
"Yamabuki's Sengoku-san," Akaya answers simply. Bunta snorts. Of course it'd be Sengoku. "He was complaining because Akutsu-san didn't wear magenta to the party, and when he saw me he told me I should've worn it, too."
"So that explains Atobe's god awful outfit," Bunta grins. When he looks behind him into the huge door leading inside the hall, past the crowd he can see the party-planner himself, chatting with Irie with Oshitari at his side. Everytime he moves the sequins of his magenta dress-polo glint and sparkle under the warm light of the chandeliers, making him look like an oversized, shiny plum.
Akaya sees where he's looking and bursts into laughter. "And I thought Mizuki-san's was bad!"
The pleasant rumble of laughter against his chest is like a warm blanket immediately draping itself over him.
Bunta takes a second to glance over at the other people conversing at the other spots of the wide balcony, making sure they're occupied, before he presses his back closer to Akaya's chest.
"Say, Akaya?" His voice carefully takes on a mock questioning tone. "Doesn't this mean you're lucky for next year as well?"
When Bunta's head tilts, his fringe falling over his eyes, Akaya immediately catches on. His breathy laugh against Bunta's ear makes a pleasant feeling spread from his chest down to his toes. Bunta feels him gently grab his shoulders and turn him around so they're facing each other, and before he could think, Akaya is leaning down and pressing his lips to the top of his head.
"I'll have to keep you close this year too, then," Akaya's calloused hand strokes his hair. With this their height difference becomes far more apparent, as it widened gradually by the passage of time, and even further with Akaya's growth spurt in high school. Bunta feels a bit bitter most days, but this is one of the times where he's grateful about it.
"This year only?" Bunta leans into the touch. "What, are you going to let me go next year?"
He doesn't know how this particular set of green eyes could manage to look so kind whenever they stared right back at him. "Never, Marui-san."
Never, Akaya says. The word is loaded and complicated, yet it is so childishly and simply enunciated. It's just like Akaya to be so straightforward, but Bunta can still agree. When he looks to the future, he finds that Akaya's presence is something that's guaranteed. The seasons are turning once more, and another three-hundred and sixty-five days have come and gone. Bunta's not a sentimental person, so the way he thinks about this is just a matter of fact, and he thinks it as straightforwardly as Akaya's said it: there will be more years together.
When Akaya smiles at him, he thinks that's all there really is to it.
…Before that, though, he needs to set one thing straight.
“You know that’s not actually how that works, right?” Bunta grins. “I thought you’d have learned from the time we shared a room with Sengoku back at our first World Cup. He isn’t to be trusted when it comes to things like this.”
Akaya’s eyes widen. “Huh?”
“It’s the color of the year, but it has nothing to do with luck or feng shui or anything like that,” Bunta snickers. “Fuji-kun told me about it earlier.”
“Then why are all the decorations pink?” Akaya presses. “And why are so many people wearing it?”
“Magenta,” he corrects. “And that’s only because Atobe’s a huge design nerd who’s particular about things like that.”
“Then what’s the lucky color of the year?”
“If I remember correctly… Something like blue or green.”
Akaya stares at him helplessly. “...Marui-san, you are not going to dye your hair blue. You’re not allowed.”
At that, Bunta bursts into surprised laughter, his stomach hurting. When he looks up at the half-flabbergasted, half-unimpressed look on Akaya’s face, he can’t help himself – he pinches his cheek and watches as it turns into one of mild annoyance. “Ow. I’ll beat Sengoku-san up for messing with me!”
“Calm down, no one’s going to beat anyone. He probably didn’t know, either, it’s a common misconception,” Bunta pulls harder, and Akaya glares at him before he grabs at his hand, forcing it down.
When people begin to come and settle at the balcony, Bunta gently pushes him away, pulling Akaya's hands away from his wrist so he can hold one instead. He resists the urge to ruffle his hair when he sticks his tongue out at him playfully.
Jirou and Jackal arrive and settle next to them, and Bunta grins and waves with his free hand.
"Jirou-kun, did you sleep well?"
"Good morning, Marui-kunnn, I had a nice dream. Akaya-kun is here too I C~," How Jirou always manages to still sound so cheerful while sleepy, Bunta still has no idea, even after so many years. "Jackal-kun said the fireworks are coming soon."
When he looks over, he finds said boy right beside the strawberry-blond and holding his hand. His best friend gives him an uncharacteristically shy grin when they make eye-contact, and Bunta gives him a thumbs-up. Happy new year, partner!
Before he knows it, the countdown begins as the balcony has filled. The chatter that filled the previously silent air turns into excited yells of numbers counting down. Akaya steps closer to him. When he shivers from the breeze, the taller boy lets go of his hand and wraps his arm around him instead, giving him a smile that Bunta returns.
Three.
Two.
One.
Fireworks paint the night sky with bursts of light and sound that disappear with a crackle, over and over again, every boom seemingly matching Bunta's heartbeat. Akaya's delighted laughter sounds in his ears, and in a split second he's pulling the younger boy down by the hair, forcing him to look into his eyes.
"If you really want luck, this is the way to go," Bunta smiles up at him.
"I like that," Akaya whispers against him, breath warm against his lips, grinning his usual, cheeky grin. "Happy new year, Marui-san."
"Happy new year, Akaya," Bunta closes his eyes. The booming and crackling of the fireworks, the loud cheers of their friends, everything fades into the background as Akaya tugs him into a kiss. Their first one of the year.
When fingers tangle themselves in silky red hair, Bunta presses closer, thinking that – lucky color or not – their luck for the good year to come is ensured.