Work Text:
To solve a problem, you have to know exactly what the root of the problem is.
Yuutarou comes home for three weeks. The season just ended, the Tamaden Elephants having placed third in Division Two, and he has managed to get a three-week leave at work. It’s rare and Akira has been anticipating her arrival for the past two months. They had cleaned their room for the occasion, too. Something they usually need a a strict reminder from both Yuutarou and their parents to do.
They know they’re not the only one who’s thrilled to have Yuutarou come home. Goshiki, despite being busy with matches in Division One, counted the days in their group chat (which Akira has on mute) and underlined each message with a new gif. Koganegawa has had nothing better to do other than pacing around their apartment ever since the season ended, changing absolutely insignificant details in their decoration to give her hands something to do.
If the circumstances had been different, Akira would have been more than annoyed with Koganegawa coming to their home as much, but she always brings food (either take out or horribly burnt tofu). Sometimes, Tsukishima and Kyoutani would come with her and Akira finds them far more tolerable. Besides, they can understand why she’s so over the moon; Yuutarou is easy to miss, even if she doesn’t believe it herself.
It is most definitely the only reason why Akira allows not only their former teammates who still live in Miyagi but Tsukishima, Koganegawa, and even Goshiki—who booked a train to Sendai the second she found out that both her partners would be there together for once—to wait for Yuutarou in their apartment. They’re all gathered in a room that’s just big enough to fit Akira’s kitchen and an area that’s both: their living and dining room. It’s not a lot of space for the seven of them, but for Yuutarou, Akira can accept it.
Even when his train gets delayed and four in the afternoon turns into three in the morning, Akira lets them stay. Because fuck it, they love Yuutarou and no matter how much Akira sometimes wants to keep her all to themselves, they think that she should receive everyone’s love all the time.
It’s fine when Yuutarou arrives and immediately has six people who aren’t Akira up in his space. It’s fine when Yahaba hugs her before Akira even gets the chance to, when Matsukawa ruffles his hair that Akira hasn’t touched in months, when Kyoutani squeezes her shoulder, Tsukishima mumbles something into his ear, even when Goshiki kisses Yuutarou square on the lips and Koganegawa lifts him off the ground.
It’s fine, Akira tells themselves, it’s fine.
In the end, it’s them who Yuutarou beams at and who she races towards.
“Can I hug you?” he asks even when Akira can see his fingers twitch and his entire body physically gravitate towards them.
It only takes a second for them to nod and Yuutarou to pull them into a crushing bear hug. It’s a good hug, the kind where they’re so closely pressed together that it’s calmingly firm rather than limbs uncomfortably hovering over their skin.
Yuutarou smells like sweat and raunchy train stations, and Akira loves it more than they should. They breathe it in like it’s her usual wooden smell because either way, it’s still their Yuutarou. And Akira finally has him back.
So, it’s fine when he pulls away and immediately gets tugged away by a pouting Goshiki and a practically vibrating Koganegawa. It’s fine that she sits in between them for the next two hours that the gathering lasts, while Akira has to deal with Yahaba and Tsukishima surrounding them. It’s fine that Koganegawa drapes herself over Yuutarou’s lap at one point and Goshiki falls asleep with her head on his shoulder.
It’s absolutely fine, Akira tells themselves again after all their guests have left and only Koganegawa and Goshiki are still there, fast asleep around Yuutarou and keeping Akira from pulling him into them. It’s fine for them to sleep with Yuutarou in the room that Akira has reserved for him even though she usually sneaks off into their room every time she visits. It’s definitely fine.
Except it’s not.
Because Akira was here first. They were the one to stick with Yuutarou when he was at his worst, hung up on guilt, anger, and grief to the point that he didn’t seem to be feeling anything else. Akira had been there and Akira had been waiting for her back then just like they had waited now.
It should be them to keep Yuutarou to themselves first, not those two leeches who tore their way into the space Akira and Yuutarou had shared before.
Akira has mastered step one; finding that the root of the problem of not being alone with yuutarou are their very clingy significant others.
Goshiki is a possessive brat who claimed Yuutarou for themselves after they kissed once while Akira had already kissed him multiple times before that, and Koganegawa simply has no concept in understanding why Akira does not want to squeeze themselves between her, Goshiki and Yuutarou when all of them are huddled together.
Yuutarou is even worse than them. That oblivious, beautiful idiot doesn’t even realize what’s happening. Even though all of them have told him they love him many times before, he is blind to the way Goshiki and Koganegawa (Akira probably too) look at him like he hung the stars and moon in the sky.
On occasion, they just want to grab her by the shoulder and shake her until she understands that a lot of people are absolutely enthralled by her.
Maybe then, he would understand that he needs to make sure that there’s space for Akira, too. For the person who’s loved her the first, the longest, and, most definitely, loves her the most.
Step two: let them know that there is a problem.
Now, Akira is not necessarily the best at open and healthy communication. To be fair, they had an entire middle school experience playing into that flaw. It’s barely even their fault.
However, despite not being able to voice each and every concern out loud, Akira sure has their ways of getting their point across.
When they enter their living room, the three others are all huddled on the floor, squeezed between Akira’s table and the small TV. They’re playing a game of cards and it looks like Goshiki is winning from the few cards left in their hand.
“Yuutarou.”
From where she’s sitting on the floor, five cards in her hands, Yuutarou turns around to look at them. Koganegawa looks up too, waving so excitedly that some of her cards fall from her hand and she hurries to pick them up from the floor before Goshiki can catch a glance at them.
They don’t even bother to look away from their hand.
“Akira?” Yuutarou asks when they haven’t said anything. He tilts his head like a confused puppy and inches a little closer to where they’re standing in the door frame to their living room. It’s so endearing that Akira feels even more furious that they haven’t gotten some proper alone time with her.
“You know, I also took three weeks off from work,” they state, hoping that it’ll do, “I really don’t want my very limited days off to go to waste.”
At that, Goshiki glances in their direction, a very present frown on their face. They’re pouting like they haven’t been destroying every chance Akira had of spending time with their partner, best friend, and the person they love most.
Yuutarou’s brows furrow and Akira can see her thinking. He’s translating their words into the meaning behind them, but just when he opens his mouth—possibly to throw his significant others out, to assure Akira that he’ll have time for them later—Koganegawa chimes in, cheery as ever:
“You can play with us if you’d like!” She pats the free space between her and Goshiki like it isn’t the floor of Akira’s apartment and smiles brightly.
Step two has failed rather gracelessly.
The “No” Akira wants to say is almost past her lips, however, when they catch the way Yuutarou’s entire face lights up; with wide, hopeful eyes she looks up at them and they’re so, so weak. Really, it’s almost embarrassing.
“Aren’t you in the middle of the game?” they ask even when their feet have already betrayed them, moving towards the space that Koganegawa made for them.
“We can restart,” she says, throwing all her cards down. Goshiki makes an offended squawk.
“Hey!” they exclaim, “I would have won this round.”
“Oops.” The wink Koganegawa gives Akira is not even close to subtle. Yet, she grins as if they are both now in cahoots with each other. Goshiki just scoffs and collects all the cards.
“We can go to the park later,” Yuutarou suggests while her pouting partner hands out the cards, “The weather is nice and you really shouldn’t be wasting all your days off just sitting at home.”
Now, while he is saying this, he is looking directly at Akira. Her eyes could not be any more focused on them. He’s using the tone of voice that used to be reserved solely for them and he’s referencing a place clearly known only to the two of them. So, why, pray tell, do both Koganegawa and Goshiki shoot up where they’re sitting?
“Yes!” Koganegawa flaps her hands excitedly. “We can get ice cream, too!”
Akira does not like ice cream. It’s cold and it gets disgustingly soft in warm weather. They also don’t like people intruding on their time alone, but it seems like they’ll just have to cut their losses.
“Do you not have jobs?” Akira almost asks, but just a glance at the soft look in Yuutarou’s eyes makes them swallow it down. They can play nice. They can.
“We could get take out from that one shop,” Goshiki suggests and Akira doesn’t know if they’re as unaware as Koganegawa is or if they just really hate the idea of Yuutarou spending time alone with someone who isn’t them. They would almost bet that it’s the latter.
“That would be nice. Right, Akira?” For the first time since Yuutarou arrived, Akira is grateful for the fact that Koganegawa cannot seem to understand subtle hints. She looks at them with wide, happy eyes and even her three, brown horns of hair seem to stand up straighter now.
And it’s then that an idea forms in their head. Step three to their little plan that has not been going to well so far: if they were not going to get any time alone with Yuutarou, then they would just make sure Goshiki and Koganegawa wouldn’t get any either.
Step three is set in motion immediately.
Akira sits through four rounds of their card game, even when they’re sick of it. The only thing making that boring, repetitive match better is the fact that they beat Goshiki every single time and their head gets redder and redder with every card they have to add to their hand.
When Akira wins the fourth time, Goshiki glares daggers at them. They stick out their tongue and give them a peace sign. That’s all it takes for Goshiki to try lunging at them, only held back by Yuutarou grabbing them by their arms.
Karma, Akira thinks.
Their stroll through the park is actually not as bad as Akira expects it to be. They haven’t been to the place in ages, partially because they just live farther away now and because it’s not the same when Yuutarou isn’t there.
If they go to the park alone, then there’s only Akira, occasional gusts of wind, and distant chatters from other people. It’s barely worth the effort, really. With Yuutarou, there’s an ever-present voice by their side, someone to laugh with when they catch a couple having a public fight, and someone to carry them when their limbs start hurting.
Not a lot has changed ever since the last time they came here. Someone repainted the wooden climbing scaffold on the playground where Yuutarou and Akira used to hide from their parents when they were kids. It looks more vibrant now. Usually, Akira isn’t too fond of changes but this one isn’t too bad. It’s not like they rebuilt the entire construct, they just gave it back its old color.
“Man, I feel so old,” Yuutarou complains. He slips from his place between Goshiki and Koganegawa to Akira’s left and, honestly, that’s absolutely a win. “Remember when we came here after our last match in middle school and fell asleep and our parents thought we had gone missing? That was ages ago!”
Akira does remember that. The second they had been settled underneath the slide, hidden from the rest of the world, Yuutarou had burst into tears and she hadn’t stopped crying until an hour had passed. If someone had told them then, or even three years later in high school, that Yuutarou would ever speak this nonchalantly about middle school, they would never have believed it.
They can only hope that Yuutarou knows how proud they are of him.
“We won in middle school,” Goshiki reminisces, “My parents let me stay up late because of it and I watched a horror movie.” They pause and Akira tries to imagine Goshiki—superstitious, scared of everything Goshiki—watching a horror movie. “It was awful. I couldn’t sleep for two weeks after.”
Yuutarou bursts into loud cackles and it sounds so mean that it’s honestly kind of funny. Akira can’t help but laugh too, snickering into the palm of their hand.
“Shut up,” Goshiki hisses, face flushed by embarrassment. They reach around Akira to smack the back of Yuutarou’s head but she expertly dodges.
“Horror movies aren’t that scary really,” Koganegawa thinks out loud, ignoring her partners who have now moved on to chasing each other down the pathway like they’re ten and not twenty-five. “After spending two years with Futakuchi as a captain, they’re pretty harmless.”
She even shivers a little, which admittedly makes Akira chuckle.
“Not as bad as Oikawa,” they mutter, “No matter how hard I tried to slack off, they always caught me.”
Further down the road, Goshiki finally manages to get ahold of Yuutarou. She’s still laughing when they whirl her around and she doesn’t stop even when Goshiki decides that the proper punishment for making fun of them is kissing every inch of Yuutarou’s face.
A group of teenagers walk past, one of them snickering at Goshiki’s and Yuutarou’s behaviour and Akira considers tripping them when she passes them and Koganegawa. Instead, they just send them a glare.
“Why did you even slack anyway?” As usual, Koganegawa’s feelings and thoughts are spelled out on her face. Her nose is scrunched up, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed as she thinks. “You were so good even when you didn’t try. I bet if you put in your all you could have been, like, unbeatable.”
She gestures so wildly with her hands while she talks that Akira has to duck their head once or twice to avoid getting hit in the face.
They had a similar conversation at their training camp in their first year. Back then, Koganegawa had seemed far more mad about their lack of effort, but back then, she had also struggled far more with actually being good at volleyball.
Teenage Akira had glowered at her back then, the words hot and sharp under their skin, and they had left the conversation immediately. But Yuutarou is not the only one who’s grown since middle school. Even though the words still leave an annoyed prickle under Akira’s skin, they stay right where they are.
“I just don’t like exhausting myself,” they respond because it’s not untrue, “Sometimes, effort just feels like a hassle. That’s all really.”
“Hm,” Koganegawa says, clearly unsatisfied. Before she can ask anything else, they’ve finally caught up with Goshiki and Yuutarou. The former lets go of Yuutarou’s face to reach for his hand and squeezes both of them in between Akira and Koganegawa.
Once again, Yuutarou is trapped between Goshiki and Koganegawa. Akira can feel their mood sour, but they don’t move to change it.
The next day, Yuutarou visits his family. Koganegawa kisses her goodbye at the door of Akira’s apartment like she’s leaving for war, and then goes back inside. Goshiki is on a run when Yuutarou leaves and when she comes back and doesn’t find both her partners inside, she looks dejected like she doesn’t expect Yuutarou to ever come back. And yet she doesn’t leave.
Akira knows for a fact that Koganegawa has her own place and Goshiki may not live in Sendai but she could stay at her parents’ house or just rent a hotel room. But no, they just have to hang around at Akira’s apartment and they can’t even throw them out because Yuutarou is here for only three weeks, and Akira doesn’t want to risk ruining even a single day for him.
So, they don’t say a word.
A little while after her run, Goshiki comes out of the shower, her hair flat against her forehead and smelling suspiciously like Yuutarou’s shampoo. There’s the usual, all too familiar pout on her face when she stops right in the middle of Akira’s living room.
“I was going to ask Yuutarou to drive me somewhere,” she announces to the whole room.
Akira is sitting at the table in the middle of their living room, their torso practically draped over the wood while they try to make sense of the mess of messages that’s been sent to the Seijoh group chat yesterday. Something about whether or not Yahaba is allowed to insult the kids she’s supposed to teach when they’ve insulted her first.
Koganegawa is doing stretching exercises in the free space between the living room area and the kitchen. It’s not really the right place for that, but Akira doesn’t care enough to tell her.
No one responds to Goshiki and she clears her throat demandingly. Not bothering to hide that they’re rolling their eyes, Akira responds, “Don’t you have a license? Just take my car.”
Now, it’s at Goshiki not to answer, and when Akira looks at her over their shoulder, they can see that her face is flushed completely red in embarrassment.
“No,” she admits, pouting, “I failed three times.”
“Ha,” Akira laughs quietly. It’s more to themselves than at Goshiki, really, but she seems to hear it nonetheless, judging from the annoyed “Tsk” that follows right after.
“I don’t need one,” Koganegawa adds, the usual happy sing-song in her voice gone with how focused she is on her stretches, “Tsukki drives me everywhere. Or I just take the train.”
“I’ll just ask Yuutarou when she comes back,” Goshiki sighs.
No, you won’t, they think angrily. When Yuutarou comes back, Akira definitely won’t just let him leave again so that he can, what, drive Goshiki around? No, absolutely not.
“I’ll drive you,” they say begrudgingly, forcing themselves to get on their feet.
Goshiki gives them a long, doubtful look.
“Can you drive?”
“I have a car.”
The two of them stare at each other for what feels like another two minutes, before Goshiki huffs, raises their chin so suddenly that their hair flies up in the air, and stalks through the hallway towards the door. “Fine!”
“Have fun!” Koganegawa yells after her, but she’s already out the door. Then, to Akira, “Good luck.”
Wordlessly, Akira makes their way out of the apartment, out of the structure and towards their car. Goshiki is standing there already, arms crossed and chest puffed. They don’t say anything when they get in the car or when Goshiki types the address into Akira’s phone. They don’t exchange a single word until twenty minutes later when their phones tells them that they’ve arrived at their destination.
They’re somewhere near the Shiratorizawa campus. Even though it’s been a while, Akira recognizes the street from when they’d drive to the school for training camps. Yuutarou and them always stopped at the little store at the corner to grab salted caramel chocolate because the store was one of the few that had Akira’s favorite brand.
There are mainly residential houses in the street—all of them big and fancy and with expensive cars parking in front of them—but, aside from the shop at the corner, there is also a tiny café on the other side of the street and a shop of which Akira never really knew what it sold.
“There!” Goshiki perks up in her seat, pointing at the latter, “Stop driving!”
Akira squeezes the car into a small spot that they probably can’t occupy for long, considering that most of the cars around seem to belong to residents.
Goshiki practically presses her nose to the window as she stares at the small shop. It looks entirely out of place next to all the mansions and pretty buildings; the paint is flaking off the door, the sign that may have spelled out the shop name once is torn and the windows are so dirty that it’s nearly impossible to look inside. It’s cute, in a slightly raunchy way, but not something that Akira would ever imagine Goshiki in.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a thrift shop,” she explains excitedly, swirling around in her seat, “Tendou and Semi took me there in my first year. They had all sorts of strange stuff. A bunch of really cool jewelry, too!”
Akira supposes that shops like these offer excitement and freedom that’s not usually found at a boarding school. Also, it seems like the type of place that Tendou and Semi would go. They don’t know them that well, but they’ve heard enough stories that it seems fitting.
“I wanted to see if it was still there,” Goshiki says and her overjoyed smile drops almost immediately. She falls back into her seat, her fingers digging into the fabric of her skirt. Just like with Yuutarou and Koganegawa, her feelings might as well be spelled out on her face.
She looks strangely human like this; when the arrogance and bratty demeanor fade away. It is both unsettling and comforting to be reminded that there’s more to her than just the snide remarks and petty pouting. Akira doesn’t really know what to make of it.
Akira doesn’t know what to say. With Yuutarou however, they’re good at comforting him because they know him well enough. She doesn’t have to explain anything anymore, because Akira knows all the things that might trouble her and how to deal with them. They don’t really know much about Goshiki.
“Do you miss school?” Akira asks because it’s the only thing they can think of. And just sitting in silence feels painful, almost, like a constant scrub under their skin.
“No,” Goshiki says immediately, firmly, “It’s just that -“ She takes a deep breath and they can see tears glistening in her eyes. “Ushjima is going to play at the Olympics again this year. After, they’ll go to Poland because they got an offer.” Her lip is wobbling and she digs her fingers even deeper into her skirt.
“You’ll miss them,” they assume. They get that, at least. They think of Iwaizumi in America, only returning to be present at the Olympics this year, too, and they think of Oikawa in Argentina, who may never come back. They even think of Watari and Hanamaki in Tokyo and Yuutarou, in Saitama.
“No. Yes. I mean-” Frustrated, Goshiki inhales deeply and blinks away a few tears. “It’s just that I’m still here.”
Unable to stop themselves, they send her a disbelieving look. Goshiki is a player in Division One. She probably makes four times the money they make and she’s accomplished five times as much as the ordinary person. If anyone should feel bad for being stuck in place, it should be Akira.
“I just wanted to make it out to the world, too.”
This time, they really, really put in an effort not to sigh in exasperation. With every volleyball idiot who cries about striving higher than they can reach, an angel loses its wings. But Akira knows full well how much passion can hurt so they wouldn’t say that out loud. Not even to Goshiki.
“You don’t stop playing this year, do you?” The answer is obviously no. Goshiki is only twenty-five, she still has a few years to climb all the mountains she builds for herself. “I don’t see why that means anything. If you’re so desperate to leave Japan, you can still do that in five years.”
This time, it’s Goshiki who looks at them in disbelief. They’ve shocked the tears right out of her eyes, and she blinks a few times before responding.
“Right,” is what she decides to say and something like a coy smile appears on her face. Akira knows they’ve said the right thing, but the air between them feels thicker somehow, the space around them far tighter.
“Do you want to go inside?” they ask because the thought of being stuck in the car for much longer suddenly feels unbearable.
Goshiki hesitates for a moment, but then she nods.
When they come back from their trip, Yuutarou has already been back at home for several hours. Goshiki gives her a kiss and exchanges a glance with Akira like they’re in on something that no one else knows about.
“Yuu,” Koganegawa half sings, half screeches as she skips out of the bathroom. Akira almost runs into her when they walk out of their room and for a moment, they curse the small size of their hallway.
“Yes?” Yuutarou calls back from the from the shared space in between Akira’s kitchen, dining, and living room. He’s been offering to make dinner as a thanks for letting him stay over and he’s been at it for about an hour. Akira thinks it’s unnecessary. If anyone should do something to thank them, it should be Yuutarou’s partners and not her.
Half skipping, half sliding, Koganegawa rushes down the hallway and Akira follows just a few steps behind, their eyes more focused on their phone than their surroundings.
Someone from work, Kobayashi Hana—who had her apprenticeship at the same time as Akira and hasn’t stopped pestering them since—wants to meet up on the weekend. To get a drink or something. Kageyama has sent a rather blurry picture of a cat to their group chat. Hanamaki is complaining about hir new job. They send Kageyama back a cat gif they know they’ll enjoy, text a quick response into the Seijoh group chat, and leave Kobayashi’s messages be.
“Can you do my hair?” Koganegawa asks, skidding to a halt so abruptly that Akira almost runs into her a second time. She swirls a bunch of hair ties around her finger. One of them flies off and through half the room, but Koganegawa is too focused on Yuutarou to notice.
“Give me a bit.” As she says it, Yuutarou appears from behind the kitchen counter. He’s wearing that ridiculous, neon blue apron that Yahaba dumped at Akira’s apartment when she got it from Futakuchi. Akira can’t see what exactly it is that Yuutarou’s preparing because most of it is hidden in pans, pots and bowls, but whatever it is, smells absolutely delicious. “I need to finish some stuff first.”
Koganegawa’s shoulders drop and then rise back to her ears like she can’t decide if she’s disappointed that she has to wait or excited that she got her way.
“I can do your hair,” offers Akira then, throwing their phone across the room so that it safely lands on the one, horribly patterned armchair they were allowed to take with them from home when they moved out.
Koganegawa looks over her shoulder, eyeing Akira’s short, side-parted hair like she’s not sure if she can believe them.
“I did my sister’s hair a lot,” they add, shrugging, “It’s not that hard.”
Looking for a credible second opinion, Koganegawa turns back to Yuutarou. Something complicated happens on his face. Eyebrows rise, furrow, then smoothen, his mouth opens and closes, his lips shape into a smile, then a pout until they rest in a straight line. Akira, ever the Yuutarou expert, can see joy, disdain, and guilt flash through her eyes before they become completely blank.
“Akira’s good,” he says, “And I kind of have my hands full.”
“Okay!” Koganegawa swirls around to face Akira and, standing so close to her, they have to look up to see her eyes. “Where can we go?”
Instead of saying anything, Akira walks over to their armchair and, after putting their phone away, sits down. Koganegawa settles on the floor in front of them, handing them her hair ties over her head. Even from behind her, they can see her fiddle with her fingers.
“How do you want it?,” they ask.
“Something braided,” Koganegawa responds, ever so excited, and then adds, “Please.”
Akira can’t help but snort a little in amusement when they reach for Koganegawa’s hair. It only reaches her shoulder so they definitely won’t be able to braid all of it, but Akira prefers it that way. They’ll just braid a bit of hair, pull it back and then call it a day. She can put a flower in it if that’s not enough for her.
Koganegawa’s hair is surprisingly soft. Even though she bleaches it, it’s not as dry and broken as Akira expects it to be. Her roots are showing a little, the same dark brown as her eyebrows and the three little horns that she usually spikes up. Akira experimentally rakes her fingers through the strands.
“Do you need a brush?” Even though Akira’s fingers are tangled in her hair, Koganegawa turns to look over her shoulder. She moves so much and Akira is like half sure that she isn’t even aware of it.
“It’s fine,” they say and push her head back until she looks straight forward, “It’s not knotted.”
“Thank you.” Proudly, Koganegawa puffs out her chest and sits up straighter.
“Don’t move so much,” Akira chides her, “Do you want me to do this for you or not?”
Her shoulders slump, but she finally stays in place. Only her fingers are moving, but it’s not like they can do anything about it. They sit in silence for a while, Koganegawa stretching her fingers out while Akira picks out a few strands of hair on her left side to braid.
Surprisingly, even to themselves, they’re the first to break through the quiet.
“Does Yuutarou always do your hair?” They don’t really know what else to ask. It’s also a stupid question because like all of them, Koganegawa and Yuutarou don’t even see each other that much.
“Sometimes,” Koganegawa hums, “Kyouken does it, too. It never really turns out how I want it to when I try it.“
“Hm,” Akira makes. They try to imagine Kyoutani braid someone’s hair and the image inevitably makes them chuckle a little.
“I’m getting better at it though.” Akira catches her head twitch slightly upwards and stops herself before she can move much more. “If you do something again and again, it’s bound to work sooner or later.”
When they freeze, they don’t even really know why. It’s not like the concept is unfamiliar to them, but hearing Koganegawa of all people declare it so firmly and matter-of-factly is almost a little disorienting.
“That’s how I got better at volleyball,” she happily chatters on, “I had some problems when I first started and now I might play in Division One.”
“You sucked at first,” Akira confirms. They put a tie in the part they just braided and picked up a few strands from the other side of Koganegawa’s head. She squawks in offense, before Akira continues: “But you really did get better. I guess that’s what happens when someone is so overly eager to improve.”
That seems to stun Koganegawa into silence. Even her fingers stop moving for a second and it lets Akira finish her second braid in peace. They reach for her last hair tie to tie both parts together at the back of Koganegawa’s head. It looks nice. Probably not as neat as when Yuutarou does it, but Akira’s still satisfied. They’re about to say something when Koganegawa opens her mouth again.
“You were always good at a lot of stuff,” she notes and the compliment makes them feel uncomfortably aware of themselves, “You didn’t really need to improve on a lot, did you?”
“There are always things to improve on,” Akira responds as their face burns up, “They’re just not as simple as volleyball or braiding someone’s hair.”
Unable to keep themselves from doing it, they glance up to catch a glimpse of Yuutarou in the kitchen. Unexpectedly, he’s staring right back at them, blinking repeatedly before he turns away, shoulders moving up to his ears like he’s been caught red-handed.
“So, you are bad at some things,” Koganegawa teases, a provocative edge to her voice that Akira knows from Goshiki and Yuutarou and not her. For some reason, a small grin grows on their lips.
They shove her head a little and she squeaks.
“Keep talking like that if you want me to undo your hair.”
“You’re done?”
“Yes. Now bother someone else.”
Rather than taking it personally, Koganegawa just laughs and jumps on her feet. She dances over to Yuutarou and Akira vaguely registers her asking “Do I look pretty?” and Yuutarou answers, all smitten,
“Yes, very.”
Akira grabs their phone, not really interested in the lovesick couple across the room. There’s another message from Kobayashi. Akira decides to ignore it for now.
It happens more and more after that. Akira convinces Goshiki to bake cookies with them instead of Yuutarou, they go grocery shopping with Koganegawa and even bear to spend time with the two of them like when Goshiki practically begs someone to drive them over to the mall. Somewhere along the lines, Akira finds themselves playing Mahjong with Koganegawa while Yuutarou is somewhere else and they suddenly remember that this was supposed to get them more time with him and not his partners.
And then, during the fifth night of Yuutarou’s stay at Akira’s apartment, there’s a knock on the door to their room. It’s quiet but Akira hears it nonetheless. They’re still on their phone, scrolling through an article they stopped actually reading a few minutes ago, even though it’s already two in the morning.
When they hear another knock, they freeze.
“Akira?” Hearing Yuutarou’s hushed voice from the other side of the door isn’t particularly surprising, but it still sends a pleased thrill up Akira’s spine. “Are you awake?”
“Come in.”
The door opens slowly and hesitantly. Yuutarou sticks his head into the room before he fully enters. His silhouette is only vague in the darkness, but Akira can see his sleep-ridden, half-opened eyes and messed up hair. Only when she sees Akira, sitting up in their bed with their phone in their hand, she slip into the room and carefully shut the door.
He awkwardly stands there for a bit, hovering between the piles of clothes from the last days, unread but opened books scattered over the floor, and Akira’s furniture. She doesn’t really ask if she can sleep over anymore, but she still waits for a sign that she can get into the bed next to Akira. It’s much appreciated even if the answer is always yes.
Sighing without actually meaning it, Akira puts down their phone on their nightstand and pats the mattress. Yuutarou’s face lights up and he practically jumps on the bed. The frame squeaks a little under the movement, not used to as much weight and enthusiasm. Akira barely even breathes when they sleep.
Yuutarou makes himself comfortable on the sparse twin-size bed. When Akira lays back down, pulling their blanket over the two of them, they’re face to face with each other. They can feel her breath against their face and her hands under their chin. The grin he gives them is so wide that it’s contagious and Akira doesn’t have the energy to bite back the smile that spreads on their lips.
“Hi,” Yuutarou mumbles.
“Hi,” Akira gives back.
“Can I touch you?”
They nod.
The second Yuutarou’s fingers run over the palm of Akira’s hand, they release a breath so deep that their entire body seems to shrink in on itself. She smiles, giving them a soft look before she focuses on moving her hand up Akira’s arms, over their shoulders and their back, to their neck, and lastly up to their face. It’s warm and soft and Akira didn’t realize just how much they missed it until they could feel it again. He cups their cheek so gently that it aches and they close their eyes and lean into it like they always do.
Yuutarou presses a kiss to their nose, their cheek, their temple, and lastly the corner of their mouth. She tastes like toothpaste and Akira can smell Koganegawa’s vanilla perfume and Goshiki’s flowery laundry detergent somewhere under her usual smell.
“I love you,” he says after a while, gently knocking his forehead against Akira’s, “And I miss you.”
It’s enough to get them to open one eye again, squinting at her.
“And whose fault is that?” they ask, a little pettily.
“Sorry.” The sheepish smile on Yuutarou’s face is enough to make every bit of anger leave their body. “I didn’t want them to be disappointed so I told them they could stay. I’ll make it up to you.”
“It’s okay.” They pause. “But you’re paying for their food.”
And then, because it feels wrong to just let it hang in the room unanswered, “I love you, too.”
At that, Yuutarou smiles softly but clearly satisfied.
Akira inches closer until their head is tucked neatly under hers. Their hands are trapped between both of their bodies and, just for good measure, they place one leg over his. He snickers but wraps an arm around them nonetheless.
“My mother wants you to come over again,” Yuutarou tells them, voice muffled due to him speaking into their hair, “She said she misses you.”
“Tell her I’ll come over soon.” Akira makes a mental note not to forget about it. Yuutarou’s mother may as well be their own with how much she dotes on them. “I promise.”
“Okay.” She inches impossibly closer and Akira can feel her chin on top of their head. “When we met, Yahaba said-”
“You met up with Yahaba?”
“Don’t interrupt me,” Yuutarou snaps with no heat, flicking Akira’s back, “Where did you think I was yesterday?”
“I don’t know,” they hum, “School?”
“No.” While speaking, he starts drawing circles on Akira’s back. “I met up with Yahaba and she told me that she’s thinking of, like, hosting some sort of watch party for when Japan plays against Argentina during the Olympics. If they play, of course, but I don’t doubt that will happen.”
He continues talking, in intricate detail, about the lineup for both teams before he moves back to what Yahaba is planning. Somewhere between Yuuarou’s rambles about Oikawa’s serves and Kageyama’s sets, and her retelling of Yahaba’s exclusive guest list, Akira drifts off to sleep.
When they wake up, Yuutarou is still snoring into their ear, holding Akira close to her. They make no move until he wakes up, fifteen minutes later. She continues to lay next to them for another hour, before Goshiki screeches in the kitchen and their bubble bursts.
And Akira really thought that that would’ve done it, that Yuutarou would finally come back to them for good, but she lets Goshiki sit next to her at dinner, she doesn’t stop Koganegawa from coming with Akira and her to the park and—even though Akira waits until the sun is almost rising again— she doesn’t knock on the door that night.
Step three isn’t enough it seems. So, Akira stays in bed longer that morning, staring at their black phone screen and contemplating what to do. They already have an idea, but the sole thought is sending warm waves of embarrassment all over their body.
In the end, it’s no use.
Step four: get help.
And, unfortunately, there is only one person whom Akira can expect to understand exactly what they’re going through. While they dial the number, they already regret it a little, but if they want to get Yuutarou back for the limited time that he’s there, then they’ll have to force themselves through this.
“Kunimi-chan,” Oikawa’s groggy voice replies, “I love you, but do you know what time it is over here?”
One in the morning. Approximately.
“Oops,” Akira replies dryly, “But you’re awake, aren’t you?”
“I’m awake now,” they whine.
“Just put your phone on silent when you sleep.”
Pause. The line is completely quiet for a while. Akira almost wonders if Oikawa hung up on them until they hear rustling and an annoyed groan.
“Is it so wrong to want to be available for my kouhai?” Oikawa says in xyr usual fake sing-song, “Now, how can I help you?”
This time it’s at Akira to draw out a response. Pouting, they stare at the phone screen. This is the annoying part, they know.
“I need advice,” they force themselves to say despite that, “Please.”
“Oh?” Akira can practically hear their former captain typing out a message to the other third years. They know that all of them gossip about most of what they hear from their underclassmen because Matsukawa drunkenly told all of them last year.
“Of course,” Oikawa says, finally, “Your captain will come to your aid!”
A part of them hopes that Oikawa can physically feel the annoyed grimace they pull then. A different part of them feels a warm flutter at the reminder that even after those years apart, even with all those miles and hours between them, they’re still a team.
“What did you do when Iwaizumi started dating Ushijima?”
Hypotheticals are cowardly, Akira knows. But they’re also easy. Easier than talking about what’s actually the problem, at least.
“Hm,” Oikawa thinks out loud, “First of all, I blocked him because how dare he.”
“I’m going to hang up.”
“No!” xe protests, “Don’t!”
“Fine.”
“Is this about Kindaichi?” they ask and the tone in their voice shifts so drastically, from melodic and cheery jokes to low, serious sympathy, that Akira shivers a little. It’s a quality that they both appreciated and admired a lot when they were younger; how Oikawa always seemed to know the right place and the right time to become almost scarily understanding.
“Yes.” It comes out quieter than Akira expects it to and they feel hot all over their body the second the word leaves their mouth.
“I know that you two are very close and always have been.” The way Oikawa says it is soft yet brutally honest and it makes Akira feel young, so much like when they were still a first year at Seijoh, that they might cry. “But the older you get, the more people you meet. It takes time to adjust to it, but you have to accept that you don’t belong to just each other anymore.”
This time, Akira actually considers hanging up. Not because it’s wrong but because it’s such an uncomfortably true thing to sit with. They know that Yuutarou isn’t just theirs anymore, he never really has been, but it still strikes them like a bullet to hear someone else say it out loud.
Yuutarou, despite all her issues with realizing it and letting it happen, has never been alone. Aside from Akira, she’s had all of Aoba Johsai, Goshiki, Koganegawa, Tsukishima, Hyakuzawa, Hinata and now Kageyama again. He has his new team and his new job in his new hometown. She’s gotten so accustomed to growth that now, even when she’s no longer forced into it, she can’t seem to stop reaching.
And Akira knows that they aren’t alone either. Most of the people Yuutarou is close with, they are, too. Even Goshiki and Koganegawa are, in some ways, their friends.
But they’ve never had the same drive. They’ve never wanted to be more, to have more, in the same desperate way that Yuutarou does. And it’s absolutely terrifying to imagine that he may never stop growing while they are stuck in place, somewhere where they can’t reach him anymore.
“At least, that’s the way I see it,” Oikawa continues when Akira still hasn’t said anything, “Don’t think of it as less than before. There’s just more around it now.”
Akira doesn’t know if they can see it that way, but they appreciate the sentiment.
“Okay,” they answer finally, their throat dry and closed up, “Thank you.”
“It’s no problem, Kunimi-chan!” The sing-song is back in xyr voice just as quickly as it left it. “Do you need anything else?”
“No,” Akira croaks out. Something burns behind their eyes, but they blink it away. “That was it.”
“Kunimi-chan,” Oikawa starts then and the concern in their voice weighs heavy on Akira’s shoulders.
“Goodbye, Oikawa-san,” they say, “I hope you sleep well.”
They hang up before their captain can say another word. When they put down their phone, they see another message from Kobayashi pop up on their screen. Blinking away more tears, Akira moves to swipe it away but halts in their movement.
Oikawa’s words replay in their head, the events of the past few days only underlining what they said. Yuutarou keeps growing and growing; from the guilt-ridden kid he used to be to the ambitious adult he is now to whatever great thing he may become.
It’s time that Akira catches up.
Step five of their plan is just step one of a brand new one, but it’s too much of a hassle to separate them now.
Accept that you’ll have to let her go.
That’s all it is, really.
“Where are you going?” Yuutarou asks when Akira walks towards the door of their apartment later that day. He’s standing in the door frame to the living room and even though his hair nearly touches the top, he suddenly looks small.
“Out,” is all they respond, “Don’t wait for me with dinner.”
“Out?” Yuutarou repeats, saying the word like it’s a foreign one.
“With a friend from work.” Akira grabs their keys from the drawer in the hallway. It’s not quite true, Kobayashi isn’t really their friend, but it feels oddly nice to say.
“Have fun.” It doesn’t sound like she means it. Akira tries to ignore the churning pull in their chest to turn around and spend the evening inside, possibly next to Yuutarou or possibly with one of his partners between them.
“I will.” They answer and before she can say another word, they rush out of the house.
Kobayashi, as it turns out, is not as bad as Akira was making her out to be in their head. She’s talkative but becomes silent when they speak until they’re completely finished. She asks a lot of questions but accepts a no without even seeming the slightest bit offended. She wants to take them to a bar or a club or somewhere with a lot of music and people but offers to take them home the second they want to leave.
It’s difficult to actually dislike her unless you really want to, Akira notices after only ten minutes with her. She brings them to a small bar somewhere they haven’t been before and she introduces them to a good handful of people that she all seems to know personally.
It’s a lot and Akira feels overwhelmed, if triumphant, when they leave, far later than they anticipated they would. Kobayashi insists on paying for their drinks and their ride and waves them off, asking them to please text her when they’re home. It’s thoughtful.
When Akira comes home that night, Yuutarou doesn’t knock at their door. They text Kobayashi that they would like to meet up with her again. She says that she needs someone to look for a birthday present with her and Akira says that they’ll be there.
Kobayashi asks about Akira’s family and friends and everything else. When they mention Yuutarou, a soft smile on their face, she grins.
“Wow,” she says, whistling through her teeth, “You must really love him.”
In that single moment, Akira misses Yuutarou so badly that it aches. Like a breath they’ve stopped themselves from taking, it’s sharp and painful in their lungs and chest. They’ve been apart before, but never like this, never separated by something other than space. Never on purpose.
That night, when Yuutarou knocks on their door, Akira pretends to be asleep.
It’s not like she doesn’t have anyone to go back to.
Yuutarou and Akira never fought much. They disagreed on plenty of things, on some more than others, but they never really fought. This is the first bad fight they’ve ever had and something, a cruel and wary but not unreasonable voice, tells Akira that it won’t be the last.
It’s not loud. Akira isn’t a loud person and when it comes down to it, neither is Yuutarou. But it still takes up space. It feels so heavy, so large and thick that they can barely breathe through it.
They’re in the hallway when it happens, which is fitting with how many turning points of their lives have taken place in hallways. Not in this one, but in the hallway at Kitagawa Daiichi, at Aoba Johsai, at tournaments. Akira slips out of their room, eyes dangerously close to falling shut even while they are standing, and Yuutarou waits for them there, jaw tense and fingers clenched.
“You’re going out a lot.”
That’s what starts it, the sharp edge to Yuutarou’s voice and the blank expression on her face. He gets mean when he’s uneasy, Akira knows. When she feels cornered, be it by her emotions or the people around her, she starts lashing out in all the ways she thinks may save her. It’s never been directed at Akira before.
“You’re staying in a lot,” they say back. It’s not the diplomatic answer, not the one they know will soothe the beast baring its teeth in Yuutarou’s chest. But it is the answer that appeases the low and dark humming under their own skin.
“I thought you might not want to leave the house.”
It sounds reproachful as if she wants them to thank her for sitting in their living room with Goshiki and Koganegawa. As if he expects Akira to apologize for making him stay inside as if he doesn’t have an ability to make decisions for himself.
“You’re staying in for me?” they respond, clenching their fists, “How noble of you.”
An exaggerated groan follows and Yuutarou rolls his eyes.
“Akira,” she says, “Don’t be like that.”
Like what? They almost want to snap back. You’re the one who started this.
A part of them wants to yell and cry and be loud just like they know Yuutarou tends to do when he feels this way. But it’s not something they were ever that good at and not something they have the energy for either. Where Yuutarou lashes out, all fangs and claws, Akira only knows steady silence and careful breaths.
“I’m not being like anything.” Their voice sounds so monotone that it scares them a little. Yuutarou doesn’t deal well with apathy that cold, but Akira wields it like a sword.
“Okay,” she scoffs, “sure.”
They stare at each other from across the small space, glaring daggers into their bodies until Akira feels them pierce through their heart. It’s too sharp, too violent, to bear it much longer and every part of them screams to just leave.
“I’m going out.” They march towards the door, pushing past Yuutarou, “You can stay in if you want.”
“I will.”
In that moment, Akira curses their ability to read Yuutarou this well. Maybe, this would hurt less if they couldn’t hear the tremble in her voice and picture the miserable look on her face. But they force themselves to leave the apartment anyway. With the door falling shut behind them, Akira can feel the earth tear open under their feet, a rift growing where they had never expected it to be.
They come across Goshiki and Koganegawa on their way out of the building. They’re in their running clothes, sweaty all over and their breathing shallow.
“Kunimi?” Koganegawa exclaims upon seeing them, “You’re leaving already?”
“Yes.” They bite back from between clenched teeth.
Koganegawa and Goshiki exchange a concerned look and Akira wonders just what must show on their face when even those two—who aren’t really known for their strong sense of empathy—can tell that there’s something wrong.
“Is everything alright?” Goshiki asks, carefully like he’s trying to talk sense into a wounded dog. It only makes Akira want to snap at him more.
“I’m fine.” They say and with that, they’re out of the building and out of sight.
Akira can’t sleep that night. Their mattress, barely wide enough to fit themselves on it, feels too big and the space under their blanket too empty. Their own quiet, regular breaths echoing through their room are driving them insane, the noise simultaneously too loud to ignore and too quiet to feel right.
They turn for the dozenth time that night, groaning into their pillow. Their back faces the wall—the one that separates their room from Yuutarou’s—and for only a second they feel the ghost of her back pressed up against theirs. The feeling fades as quickly as it came, leaving behind only a warm prickling on Akira’s skin.
It stings, a sharp cut right up their spine like someone had torn off a limb. Yuutarou isn’t a part of Akira, not stitched to their skin or grown into their bones, but they miss him like he is. The emptiness behind them is so crushing that Akira can’t help but roll over on their back, hoping that the feeling of the mattress under their shoulders will mute the yearning pull in their chest.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t go away. It’s a constant noise, flashes of a too-familiar face in front of them, and phantoms of touches all over their arms and face. Akira wishes they could scratch it off of them, wash Yuutarou from their bones until the distance feels natural and not like a torture method.
But then again, no matter how much her absence may hurt right now, Akira would never want to reduce her presence to nothing. Not when he’s the only one who knows them down to their heart. Not when Akira knows nearly every inch of her and loves it, too.
For the first time since they have this apartment—for the first time in their life, really—Akira decides not to wait for Yuutarou anymore. They throw their blanket aside and move out of their bed. Even though they wear warm, fuzzy socks, Akira shivers when their feet touch the ground.
They know they don’t have to worry about waking anyone up—the walls of their apartment are thin and Koganegawa and Goshiki are rather heavy sleepers—but they still move as quietly as they can. When they open the door, they only leave enough space for them to slip outside and they close it so carefully that there’s nearly no noise when it falls shut.
The hallway is empty. Akira can see as much even when the only light coming in is the dim orange shine from street lamps outside, stretching from the window in their kitchen towards them. A part of them hoped that Yuutarou would be standing here, only a step away from knocking at Akira’s door. They swallow the bitter taste of disappointment, unable to take the dull sting in their chest down with it.
The door to Yuutarou’s room is almost right next to their own and if Akira was a more sentimental person and more of a lyricist, they may have waxed poetry about how the two of them always seem to stand side by side, no matter in what form.
Akira’s hand hovers above the door knob long enough for their arm to hurt with tired heaviness. Hot flames seem to lick up at their palm from the metal, a silent warning for something even if Akira has no idea what.
The breath they take is shallow and shaky. They don’t even know what they’re afraid of. Yuutarou and them have been mean to each other before; maybe not as purposefully as this time, but it has happened. And they’ve never fallen apart because of it.
Still, it takes them another four unsure breaths before they can urge themselves to move.
The second their fingers touch the icy metal of the knob, the door opens. Akira blinks just when Yuutarou jumps backward, trying to silence a startled yelp.
Checking if they woke anyone up, Yuutarou throws a look over his shoulder, before he hurries out into the hallway and shuts the door behind him.
“Akira,” she hisses out, the shock from before still very clear in her voice, “What are you doing here?”
Trying to comprehend what’s happening, Akira blinks another few times. Had they waited another few minutes, Yuutarou would’ve come to them by himself. Even after Akira ignored him the night before. Even after they snapped each other only a few hours previously. Even when Akira thought that maybe Yuutarou had already let go of them entirely.
“I was going to knock,” they say after a moment of silence.
“Why?” Yuutarou looks so utterly baffled at the idea that Akira might come to him first that they half expect his eyes to pop out of his skull.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
They settle for what’s easiest to say. Yuutarou will know what they mean.
From the way her eyes go even wider before her face morphs into an expression that Akira very lovingly dubbed her ‘too-many-feelings-face’ (formerly known also as ‘Kageyama-face’)—her eyebrows furrowed but her gaze still soft, a smile on her face that looks more pained than anything—it seems like she understands.
He doesn’t say anything, though. Akira can’t tell if it’s on purpose or just because he’s so caught up in the intensity of all the things he’s feeling that he forgot how conversations usually work.
“I didn’t mean it,” they blurt out because even if it isn’t on purpose, the silence between them is still unbearable. Usually, it’s nice how quiet they can be with each other, but not when there are so many unsaid things hanging in the air around them.
It’s not like either of them really said any hurtful things during their fight—they barely even said anything—but when you know someone so well that you can hear a plea for help in just a gaze and a love confession in only a touch, then you also notice the accusations in vague statements.
“I know.” That pulled Yuutarou out of whatever trance he was in. The feelings that clouded her eyes before leaving in only the blink of an eye. The look he gives them now is so clear and so purely him that Akira needs a second to collect themselves. “And I’m glad you’re going out more.”
It’s only then that Akira really understands what Oikawa was trying to tell them. In the same way that they would never want to be around Yuutarou less just because they’re trying to build more of a life around her, Yuutarou hasn’t let them go just because she has other people to hold onto now.
With how much Yuutarou suffers from jealousy and feelings of inadequacy, Akira probably should’ve known that they hadn’t been the only one to struggle with them during the past few days.
“I missed you.” This time, it’s Akira who says it, their voice rough with all the emotions boiling up in their chest.
“I missed you, too.”
Yuutarou hesitantly reaches out a hand. His sagged shoulders, the messy hair, and the pleading look in his eyes make him look a little like a small dog asking for head pats. Akira’s fingers curl around her waist, as gently as they can be, and they bring her hand up to her face to press a kiss to her knuckles. He beams at them and affection blooms warmly in their chest.
“Can you sleep over?”
They squeeze his hand a little and he squeezes right back. He opens his mouth and it’s shaped like a “yes”, but then he stops and looks over his shoulder toward the closed door. Akira freezes but when they try to let her hand go, she doesn’t let them.
“They were kind of upset when I was just gone last time,” he explains and offers them a soft, hesitant smile, “But you could sleep over if it’s okay with you. I can bring your mattress over if you don’t -“
“No,” Akira interrupts and then, when Yuutarou’s shoulders drop, hurries to add, “You don’t have to do that. I’ll sleep over.”
She smiles so brightly that it blinds them a little bit.
“But,” they continue, “can you come to my room tomorrow? When they know you won’t be there when they wake up?”
It’s a start, a compromise that serves as a bridge between Akira and Goshiki and Koganegawa. Yuutarou nods eagerly and leaves a kiss on the palm of Akira’s hand.
“We can do that,” he says.
She pulls Akira into her room. It has the gigantic king bed in it that Akira purchased when they had saved enough money. It had only taken them one night in it to notice that they preferred a twin-size mattress rather than a frame so wide that it only reminded them that they were lying there all by themselves.
Goshiki half sits up when they come in, peering past the edge of her blanket. She blinks slowly and rubs her eyes. Her hair is so messy that the bowl-cut is far less noticeable and she’s wearing a shirt that Akira knows for sure belongs to Yuutarou.
“Kunimi?” she asks, slowly and drawn out, “’s everything okay?”
“Yes,” Yuutarou begins to explain, “Can-”
Next to her partner, Koganegawa stirs. She yawns and then she moves up too, her eyes half closed and her usual three spikes of hair hanging flat down over her forehead.
“What’s happening?” It’s unexpectedly sweet when Goshiki absentmindedly brushes a strand of hair out of her face and Koganegawa leans into her touch, yawning yet again. Even more unexpected is the fond swell in their chest when Akira catches Yuutarou’s soft smile from the corner of their eye.
“Is it okay if I sleep over?” they ask, a wave of nervous heat crushing over them. Once again, they don’t even know what they’re scared of. Even if Koganegawa and Goshiki send them away, at least they know now that Yuutarou will come back to them.
The two of them exchange a look that looks both relieved and just very sleepy.
“‘Course,” Goshiki says then, “Just don’t kick me.”
Akira sighs louder than they mean to and Yuutarou squeezes their hand once again.
“Yay.” Koganegawa falls back onto the mattress, throwing an arm over her partner. “Good night, then.”
Gently petting her head, Goshiki yawns again before she curls up against her, disappearing in the sea of pillows they arranged around them.
Still holding Akira’s hand, Yuutarou climbs into the bed next to Goshiki, a soft hum greeting him as soon as he runs a hand through her hair. He moves close enough to her that there’s a good amount of space for Akira left.
The thought of sharing a bed with Koganegawa and Goshiki leaves a little bit of an uneasy pressure on their skin, but at least they know that they’ll be next to Yuutarou. After a short moment of hesitation, they lay down as well.
Just before they fall asleep, they can feel Yuutarou’s fingers slip back in between theirs.
When they wake up in the morning, Yuutarou’s hand still joined with theirs and Goshiki’s hand on his chest only a few inches away, Akira mentally adds a last step to their list.
Let her live, but don’t let her go.