Work Text:
.March 2013.
.
When Asahi can’t sleep, he reaches blindly under his pillows and grabs onto the corner of the paper he has memorized, at this point, from reading it over so many times. He has to make it through graduation. And then:
Dear Mr. Azumane,
We're writing to inform you of your official invitation to join the ranks of our fashion design students this fall. After careful consideration, we're proud to say we think you would be an excellent addition amongst our talented, passionate student body.
.
SUGAWARA KOUSHI [3:25 PM]: Don't you dare skip out on the goodbye ceremony, you hear me?
SUGAWARA KOUSHI [3:25 PM]: I will hunt you down
SUGAWARA KOUSHI [3:25 PM]: For sport
.
Asahi arrives at the club room approximately thirty seconds before he's supposed to meet Suga and Daichi there. He's so anxious he thinks he might vomit up his stomach - is that possible? He was terrible at human physiology last term. What if he did puke up all of his inner organs right now - then he’d probably have to go to the hospital, he guesses, and miss out on this moment with his friends, and his friends would probably be the ones to find him to they'd also miss out on this moment, and then it would be his fault, and then -
Asahi takes a breath.
Under threat of death, no less - he's here. He's going to walk in there with his two best friends and, well. Say goodbye. Turn in Suga’s keys, clean out three years worth of themselves from a space they dedicated their last teenage years to. Close the door for the last time. He swallows hard, once, twice.
“ There you are!”
Suga materializes in front of him and Asahi finds himself up the stairs and standing in the clubroom threshold before he can even think about it being bittersweet. Suga manages to hook an arm around Asahi’s neck and pull him down so he can rub his knuckles into Asahi’s scalp.
“I thought you'd chicken out!” Suga says, batting away Asahi’s protesting hands to his ministrations. “And I’d have to come drag you down here.”
Despite his words, Suga slows down his harassment and pulls Asahi into an awkward, bent-over hug. Quick, with a tight squeeze on one of Asahi’s shoulders, before he releases him.
Behind Suga, Daichi has his hands in his pockets. Ashai knows that smile - it's the one that says, “We fought as hard as we could. Now we walk.”
Asahi swallows hard, again. Blinks.
“Glad you're here, Asahi,” Daichi says. “Are you ready?”
Asahi shifts his weight. “Not really.”
Suga clucks out a laugh and whacks Asahi between the shoulderblades so hard he stumbles forward a step. “Too late! It’s now or never.”
They fall into silence. Stare at each other.
Finally, Daichi says, “Alright. Let’s go.”
Slowly, they circuit the room, collecting their personal belongings. There isn't much, which hurts a little in some weird way deep in Asahi’s chest. It's easy, quick to remove themselves from this room that belongs to them. Belonged to them. Asahi swallows again. How long does it take? Minutes? An hour? They're gathered together at the center of the room, their bags full of sweatshirts and papers days or years old. Memories they'll have to take with them when they go to make space for the new ones that will be made without them.
Asahi is grateful he's not the only one with wet eyes, when he looks at his friends.
“This is so hard,” he whispers, and the two of them squeeze their eyes and nod their heads and take a moment before speaking.
Daichi breathes in, deep. “I'm so proud of us.” They're all speaking so quietly, so unlike themselves. “And I'm so - there aren't two better people I would have spent all these years with.”
Asahi’s chest swells. Suga reaches over and hits Daichi's arm, a wet laugh stuttering out of him. “We aren't going anywhere, stop talking like we're dying. We'll still be friends, even after three days from now.” He breathes. “We’re all going to start our new terms in a few months, and we're still going to be friends. Okay?”
Asahi leaves for Tokyo in two weeks. He stares down Suga, and because he needs to, he has to, he believes him.
Daichi wipes his eyes. “Yeah, yes. You're right. Even this big lug here, going all the way to the big city ,” he teases, and Asahi stutters and blushes.
Suga hits Asahi, too, for good measure. “Don't forget about us.”
Asahi pulls them both into a tight hug, without even thinking about it. “Never,” he whispers, and this kind of emotional honesty is exhausting . He loves his friends so much. He’ll fight to hold onto them as tightly as he can. Forever, if they'll let him.
They break apart, snotty and sad . It's not the end, but it's the end of something. Of things being like this, the way they are now.
“Okay,” Daichi says, loud amongst their emotions. “Let’s say goodbye properly, we can’t stay in here all evening.”
They walk back towards the entrance and then turn back to the room. They bow to it, and each murmur their thanks for its service.
They stand there.
“Our third years didn’t tell us how silly this would feel,” Suga stage-whispers.
And they’re giggling. Then laughing. Then crying all over again.
It takes a few minutes to get it together, but standing there at the door, it feels like any day after practice. Just harder. And the last time.
Suga yawns and scrubs at his face, sniffing loudly but acting as if he hadn’t just been crying. He glances over at the clock. “That’s weird - Ennoshita is always early. He was supposed to be here 10 minutes ago to get the keys. I guess we can drop them off at -”
The door flies open. It bangs against the back wall and the three third-years jump.
“Hey, I’m here, sorry!”
It’s Noya. He’s yelling. His school uniform is a little rumpled, like maybe he’s been sprinting in it. Asahi bites back his grin.
Some things never change.
“Noya?” Asahi asks.
“Hey, Noya. What’s up? Is Ennoshita with you?” Suga asks.
“No, uh,” Noya laughs. “Chikara asked me to run over here, something about keys? He’s stuck in some Future Medical Students of Japan meeting, or something. I was already on my way home, sorry it took so long for me to get here.”
“No worries,” Daichi says. “Will you hand these over as soon as possible? And don’t lose them.”
Noya salutes. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Cap.”
Daichi sighs; Suga laughs and tosses the keys over.
Noya looks over the two of them, then glances over and locks eyes with Asahi. Asahi realizes, with a thudding heart, that he hasn’t seen Noya since before his final exams began. And now it’s three days until he graduates and is gone for good.
He feels more than sees Suga staring at him.
“Uhm - ” Asahi says.
“Well!” Suga claps his hands together, loud. “Daichi and I’ve got a very important thing to go do. Be good, Noya.” He snatches up Daichi - who stumbles but comes along, anyway, muttering, “We do?” - and pats Noya on the head on his way out the door. “See you tomorrow, Asahi!”
And they’re gone.
He and Noya stand there, for a heartbeat. Two. Just staring at each other.
“Hey, Asahi,” Noya says, quietly.
Noya jingles the keys between his fingers. Asahi can’t remember the last time he saw Noya at a true loss for words.
Asahi has a million things he wants to say, to ask for. His anxiety about all of those things lives right at the base of his throat. But, with a sudden clarity, he realizes he mostly just wants Noya’s time . So he says:
“Can I walk you home?”
Noya’s eyes widen a fraction, and then he grins, a million megawatt smile that Asahi can't help but mirror back at him.
“Sure,” he says. “Do you wanna stop and get a popsicle?”
.
They make it a block from Ukai’s shop, soda-flavored ice pops in their hands, before Asahi just. Stops walking.
“Uhm,” he says.
Noya stops, turns. “What's up?”
Asahi swallows. He's been worried for days that Noya will be upset with him for not immediately telling him the big news.
Asahi has been sleeping with his early acceptance letter to his top fashion school under his pillow. He found out just five days ago, but still. What if Noya gets angry? Feels like he is less important, or that Asahi didn't want to tell him, or is keeping secrets, or -
“Asahi?” Noya prompts. “What is it?”
Asahi takes in a deep breath. “I got accepted.”
Noya’s eyebrows knit together. “What?”
“I’m going to - I’m going to design school. In Tokyo. They accepted me.”
Asahi watches Noya’s brain catch up with his words. And then:
“ What? Asahi, that's so - I’m so fucking proud of you , that's great! When do you leave? Tell me all about it!”
Asahi isn't sure how he managed to convince himself that Noya, of all people, would give less than one hundred percent of his excitement towards someone following their dreams .
Asahi realizes that, as anxious as he may have been, he's also been looking forward to telling Noya. Excited about it. Of course.
He rattles off the details: he leaves in two weeks, it's a college in Shibuya City, his mom surprised him by saying he's got a family home to live in up there that belonged to his late great aunt. That he'll have to be entirely independent, which is terrifying. He’s going to have to take the Metro every day .
Noya listens intently, chiming in with little “woah, really?”s every now and then that urge Asahi to keep talking.
“Do you cook? I don't think you've ever mentioned that,” Noya wonders.
“No!” Asahi wails, and for a second, every single piece of the rest of his life feels way too overwhelming. “What am I going to do? ”
Noya shoulder-bumps him, running into his arm more than anything, but trips him up enough to counteract his shallow breathing. “You're going to be fine , Asahi. You're so smart, yaknow? You can do anything , what are you so worried about?”
“ Everything ,” Asahi whispers harshly, and Noya actually laughs in his face.
“Asahi, you are going to be an awesome, incredible fashion designer. And you're going to live in Tokyo and you're going to kill it there, and you're going to fall in love with all the cool art shit that happens down there, and even Sendai is going to feel too small to you, when you come home to visit your mom, or, uh - ” He reroutes. “You're going to love it. You're going to be amazing. And it's going to be okay. You've worked so hard already.”
Asahi shrinks. “I don’t know, Noya, I appreciate it, but - ”
Noya honest-to-God leaps onto the stone wall next to Asahi. He's now standing a foot or two above Asahi’s head, towering over him.
“Listen,” Noya says, stern. “You don't have to be not nervous , okay? What you have to be is brave . And I know you can do that. I've watched you do it, over and over again, in the gym, at Nationals . You've been brave for me , before, just like I've been brave for you. You can do this , Asahi. I believe in you.”
Asahi’s whole body warms up. He takes in a very, very deep breath. “Okay,” he whispers, but his brain is watching the way the setting sun is making Noya’s skin glow, the way his uniform jacket cuts a line along his neck, the way his eyes gleam when he's passionate. Asahi promised himself he wouldn't confess to Noya, wouldn't do that to either of them right before he just up and leaves, but. Maybe he can. One day.
Brave, brave, brave.
He isn't sure what he says next, but it makes Noya laugh so hard he snorts, and he’s crushing his popsicle stick between his teeth, and Asahi just. Pulls out his phone and takes a picture.
Noya blinks. “What'd you do that for?”
Asahi smiles a little. “I just want to make sure I’ve got a piece of this moment. So I will always remember. Be brave, right?”
Noya, incredibly, pinks in the face just a little. Asahi wants to make that happen a million more times.
“Oh,” Noya says, and then he's grinning. Manic, wild. “Yeah, okay. Don't ever forget, okay?”
Asahi bites his lip, and then he's mirroring Noya’s smile right back. All teeth. “I won't.”
.
That night, Noya stares at his ceiling and thinks, thinks about Asahi, about photos, about I just want to make sure I’ve got a piece of this moment. So I will always remember.
One more year until the rest of forever, huh?
.