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“We’re graduating pretty soon, huh?”
You raise your gaze from your book to look at Yamaguchi—his notebook page is empty and his expression is melancholic, like he’s been thinking about the fact for a while. “Yeah,” you mumble, trying to ignore the throbbing in your chest. The thought’s been tumbling around in your head for a while now, and each time it surfaces, it feels like someone’s torn your heart out.
He puts his chin in his hand and looks back down at his own book, but makes no move to write. You grip your pencil a little tighter, trying to get your focus back to your studies. “I got a letter back from the university that I applied to,” Yamaguchi blurts. He smiles sheepishly. “I got it a couple days ago, I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
Blinking rapidly, you set the pencil down. “Were you…accepted?” The words almost catch in your throat, but you push them out anyways. You’re praying, hoping that they didn’t say yes; you know it’s terrible to think that, but the university is all the way in Tokyo, and you’ve already been accepted into a local college. You can’t even bear the thought of being that far away from him.
“Yeah,” he replies, and your stomach sinks. He’s smiling, waiting for your response, so you force a grin onto your face.
“That’s great!” Yamaguchi’s hesitant smile gets a little bigger at your positive congratulations.
“I thought so too,” he says, closing his book in the process. “Tsukki’s going to the same college, too. He got his letter last week.” He takes the hair tie on his wrist and gathers his hair up into a pony tail. His hair’s grown so much longer in the past three years that you’ve known him, and he hasn’t bothered to cut it again. It seems like so long ago, when the both of you were nervous first years, and he worried so much about what it looked like. You think he looks better this way, laid back and at ease.
“Well…I guess that’s that, then.” You close your book, too, and start gathering up your things. “I should head home, it’s starting to get dark out.” Glancing out of the library windows, you zip your backpack up and sling it over your shoulder.
Yamaguchi stands up quickly. “I’ll walk you!” Your heart thumps uncomfortably, but you nod anyways. Standing, you walk out of the almost empty library and out into the slightly cold spring air. He follows, quickly catching up to you and matching your pace easily.
Silence falls between you two, and you force yourself to look anywhere but him. Sounds of locusts and cicadas fill your ears, the low buzz bridging the gap of quiet between the both of you. Your mind is churning, looking for a solution but coming up with nothing. You can’t just let him leave, let him go to Tokyo and start a future while you’re stuck without him. Your fists clench, and Yamaguchi notices. “Is there something wrong?”
You stop at a street corner, under the light of a small street lamp, and look at him. His face is clouded with concern, and you scold yourself for making him worry. “Nothing,” you whisper, “nothing’s wrong.”
His eyebrows furrow. “You’re lying. You know how I can tell? You scrunched your nose when you said it, and you always do that when you’re lying. What’s wrong?” He asks gently. He’s too nice for his own good, and you wonder how he ever became friends with someone like Tsukishima.
You suck in a breath before letting your worries out. “I don’t want you to leave, because you’re going to go to Tokyo and you’ll get a good future and you might even get married and,” you pause to breath in shakily, because you’re seconds away from crying, “I’ll be stuck here, without you.”
“Why haven’t you said anything?” Your eyes are starting to hurt from how hard you’ve been concentrating on not bawling your eyes out.
“Because I want you to be happy!” You sob, your previous efforts failing. “I want you to have a nice future and a family because I love you!” You cover your mouth as soon as the words leave your mouth. “Oh my God,” you whisper against your fingers. “I need to go.”
“Wait–” But your legs are moving already, and soon you’re breaking into a run towards your home. There are no footsteps behind you, so you slow to a walk when you reach your street. The lights in your house are still on, but when you walk inside, you go straight to your room and throw your bag on the floor in anger; not at Yamaguchi, but at yourself, for being such an idiot.
Laying on your bed, you press your face into your pillow and finally let the tears flow out uninhibited. You stay like that for a while, squeezing the fabric of your sheets and sobbing. After a few minutes, you sniff a little and raise your head up at the sound of your phone going off from your bag. You retrieve it, bracing yourself for the onslaught of texts that you had probably received from Yamaguchi. He was never really one for confrontation unless it was deathly serious, and you knew this.
4 Missed Calls and 8 Messages, the screen of your phone read.
Please tell me you’re at your house safely.
Are you okay?
Why didn’t you tell me before?
Talk to me!
I can’t let this be nothing, you know that.
Answer my calls so we can talk.
I’ll just talk to you tomorrow at school, okay?
You let out a soft groan at the reminder of school tomorrow. You didn’t want to talk to him, but you couldn’t miss school, not with final exams right around the corner. Sighing, you open his last text message.
Everything’s going to be okay, alright? I love you too, and don’t forget it.
Eyes widening, you reread the last sentence over again. I love you too, and don’t forget it.
I
love
you
too.
Somehow, this feels much, much worse. He loved you, but in a week and a half, school would be over and nothing would ever become of what you felt for him. Yamaguchi would probably move on, find someone who was better for him, someone he actually deserved, and he’d forget about the four words he sent you and you’d be left alone to remember them forever.
–
The next morning, you dress slowly, trying to push away the inevitable conversation that would happen once you step outside your house—there was no way that he would wait until school, and the walk there would be hell.
Silently, you rehearse what you were going to say to him. I’m sorry for what I said last night. I know you only said it back because you felt pressured. I just want to spend this last week with you before I never see you again. You repeat that in your head like a mantra, all the way through your breakfast and out the door.
Once you step out the door, you are met with the sight of Yamaguchi and…Tsukishima? The blond has his headphones on his neck, as usual, and messes with his phone while your freckled friend says something to him. You stand in your doorway for a moment, taking in the situation before heading down your porch steps. Relief courses through you, and you thank Tsukishima in your head for being there and hopefully preventing a difficult conversation.
“Hey!” Yamaguchi smiles, and Tsukki glances at you quickly, pushing up his glasses with a slim finger.
“Hi,” you mumble. “Hey Tsukki.” He makes a little noise of acknowledgment before slipping his phone into his pocket and starting to walk with you.
“God, you took forever,” he sneers, although you know it’s all in good fun—until he continues. “Were you getting ready to see Yamaguchi?”
At that, you freeze before you narrow your eyes. “Fuck off,” you seethe. Yamaguchi looks surprised, and so does Tsukishima. “I’m going home.” You turn around and begin to walk back, not in the mood for his antics.
“Wait! Damn it, Tsukki, why do you have to be so rude?” You’re shocked by Yamaguchi’s venomous question, since he doesn’t snap at his best friend all that often, but you continue to walk. This time, however, he follows you, his long strides catching up to you quickly. “Hey,” he says gently, now at your side, “we still need to talk.”
“It seems like you’ve already sorted it out with Tsukishima.” You're much too angry, and you know it, but you feel so pissed off that you might punch someone in the face. “Is it some kind of joke to you?”
“What do you mean?” He sounds a little scandalized at your question.
“Is it a joke that you and Tsukki laugh about? From what he said, it seems like it.” You quicken your pace, trying to leave him behind, but he places a hand on your shoulder, preventing you from going anywhere. You stop, sighing, turning around to face him.
His face is so heartfelt, one that you’ve only seen when he’s gazing at his teammates fondly after a particularly hard game that they’re celebrating for. “Why would something like this be a joke? I love you.”
“Stop!”
“Why? It’s the truth.”
“Then why haven’t you said anything before?” You snap. “Why have you let it be? Why did you apply for Tokyo?”
“I wanted you to be happy,” Yamaguchi says simply. “I didn’t think you loved me back, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had an obligation to follow me.”
You chew your lip, processing his words. “Damn you, Tadashi.” You grab the front of his school jacket, holding the fabric so tightly that your knuckles turn white. “Do you know how long I’ve worried about this?”
Instead of answering, he places his hands on your waist so gently that you almost start to cry; he’s handling you like a prized possession, like something that he’d be devastated over if he broke it. His forehead presses into yours, and internally, you’re surprised at how bold he’s being. The shy Yamaguchi is gone for now, and this one has replaced him. It’s the determined personality that comes out on the court, the one that leads his team and pushes them through game after game.
You’re so close that you can count his freckles, though there’s no need to, since you’ve memorized their places after so many instances of longing gazes when he wasn’t looking. The warm breath from his nose tickles your face, and you strain your eyes to keep his gaze. He makes his move first, pressing forward. The first kiss is awkward, noses bumping together and your lips only connecting with his for a short moment before breaking apart. Only seconds pass before you move forward, fervently searching for contact again.
Hands moving up to his neck, you pull him, aching to be closer. He returns the action eagerly, and the kiss is like nothing you’ve ever imagined. Your worries still swirl in the back of your mind like a black cloud heavy with rain, but for now, you think, Maybe we’ll be okay.