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He threaded his slightly aching fingers through his hair absentmindedly, chin resting on his folded arm on the desk, staring at the doodles and carvings in the wooden surface as if they might provide some sort of answer to the questions that had been swirling in his mind.
The teacher’s voice droned on, fading into a dull hum against the roar of his thoughts. They drifted like clouds - too distant, too hazy to grasp. Sunlight poured in through the windows, beating down on him relentlessly. He wondered if he’d leave class with a tan or if the heat would simply melt him into a puddle of bone and meat, steaming and unrecognizable.
With a slow inhale, he straightened up, catching the attention of a few of his classmates as he blinked warily for a moment, taking in his surroundings. It smelled of sweat and the heat was pressing in on him, filling the spaces between his ribs and suffocating him from the inside out.
He felt a kick at his chair from behind. With a glance to the teacher to make sure she wasn't looking, he turned his head to see Terushima looking up at him with those eyes that looked an almost sickly sweet honey color when the sunlight hit them just right.
"What?" Kazuma nodded his head at him.
Terushima flashed him a lopsided grin, one Kazuma wondered if he'd been taking for granted. "Do you think Misaki would go out with me? I've been thinking, right, and I've realised she's one of those girls that..."
His voice eventually faded away, melting into the distant whispers of other students, the ticking clock, someone's phone buzzing with a notification.
Kazuma narrowed his eyes, barely conscious of his actions anymore, following the silver piercing on Terushima's tongue that, every other word, reflected the light and momentarily blinded him.
"Thinking? That's new for you." was Kazuma's long awaited reply once he realised Terushima had gone quiet and was drumming his fingers against his book expectantly.
"Ouch," Terushima snorted, making Kazuma cast another glance towards the teacher cautiously. Terushima leaned back in his chair, legs stretching out under his desk and nudging Kazuma's chair. "You good?"
Kazuma yawned, not bothering to cover up his mouth, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. "Yeah, man. It's hot in here." he paused. "I think you'd scare her off if you tried to hit on her. Like, more than you do already. Bad relationship."
Terushima pursed his lips, and Kazuma briefly wondered if his reply was selfish. After all, who was he to say? Perhaps he just wanted to have him all to himself.
But Terushima was not his to keep. Terushima was for the world to see, the universe's own breeze, and Kazuma couldn't take him away, not when the world was at Terushima's grasp.
"Or," he started, then bit his lip, "She's, like, quiet. You're kinda... obnoxious, I guess."
"You think that?" Terushima asked with a tilt of his head, and there was a stutter in his tone. It was so small that no one else would have noticed, but Kazuma did, and it made something shift in his chest. He tried to convince himself it was just his training, his volleyball instincts picking up on the smallest details, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. There was a subtle, fleeting moment of vulnerability in Terushima's voice, almost hesitant.
"For her, I mean. Not in general, y'know. Not for me." Kazuma added, as if it mattered.
The words hung in the air longer than Kazuma would've liked, and he cursed himself for mentioning that last part, as if he was inserting himself into Terushima's love life. The heat in the room was suffocating, but it wasn't just the temperature that made him uncomfortable anymore.
"Obviously," Terushima said with a grin and a raised eyebrow, effectively breaking the silence. "Or else you wouldn't have stuck around for, what, ten years now?"
Kazuma’s throat went dry, and for a moment, he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or turn back around and pretend today never happened. Ten years. Had it really been that long since he was just a shy kid that fell for Terushima's charm? He opened his mouth, but the words caught in his chest, heavy and unspoken. Instead, he stared at Terushima, who seemed far too comfortable, too smug for the situation.
"Right," Kazuma finally said with a small chuckle, his voice a little too strained, too careful. He dragged his gaze down to the desk, pretending to focus on the random shapes there. Anything to avoid Terushima’s intense stare. "Ten years."
It wasn't long before both their names rang out of the teacher’s mouth, sharp and cutting, and they were met with a stern look and something about after class.
Kazuma turned back in his seat, facing the front again. He could've continued his conversation with Terushima, lord knows he's used to getting into trouble and Kazuma tagging along, but he found himself preferring the view of the back of his classmate's head instead of warm brown eyes and soft pink lips, just this once.
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The bathroom was far too small for four people, and Kazuma had to try his best to ignore the way Futamata was pressed against his side, peering over his shoulder at the instructions on the box of bleach.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" Futamata asked, his voice skeptical as he leaned in closer.
Kazuma huffed, shaking the box slightly for emphasis. "It’s not that hard. Mix, apply, wait. What’s the worst that could happen?"
"Your hair falls out," Numajiri chimed in from his spot on the edge of the bathtub, casually flipping through a magazine he must've found somewhere in Terushima's room. "Or it turns orange."
Terushima, sitting on the closed toilet lid with a towel draped over his shoulders, snorted. "Orange could be a vibe."
Futamata clicked his tongue before settling down on the edge of the counter beside the toilet. "Your hair is already basically orange. Do you even use toner?"
Terushima shrugged. "Sometimes."
Kazuma raised an eyebrow, then locked eyes with both Numajiri and Futamata, and shook his head.
Terushima’s hair, while undeniably blond, was admittedly not far from orange. The tips were a lighter, sun-kissed hue that made him look like he spent more time in the sun than anyone should. But his roots were growing out - dark and messy - and it was becoming increasingly obvious that the bleach job wasn’t exactly a high-maintenance routine. Kazuma noticed it now more than ever. It wasn’t a bad look - on Terushima, it was almost endearing.
What affected him the most, though, was the way Terushima's hair wasn't pushed back like usual. It framed his face, falling in soft waves that made him look less put-together, more... vulnerable, in a way. He wasn’t used to seeing Terushima in such an unpolished state, the usual wild confidence toned down by the untamed strands that hung loosely over his forehead.
Kazuma sighed before turning his attention back to the bleach, shaking the box open and pouring the contents into a bowl. The instructions were simple enough, but his hands felt clumsy as he mixed the solution, almost like he was trying to avoid something else entirely.
"I'm not taking responsibility if you end up bald," Kazuma muttered, grabbing the brush and dipping it into the mixture. He could feel the weight of Terushima’s gaze on him, even from the odd angle, and it was almost like the whole world had narrowed down to just the two of them. Terushima only grinned lazily in response.
Kazuma could hear Futamata and Numajiri bantering in the background, but all he could focus on now was Terushima sitting there, looking completely relaxed and natural.
Kazuma swore under his breath as he moved to apply the bleach to Terushima’s roots, his hands steady despite everything. But as his fingers brushed against the back of Terushima's neck, he couldn’t help but notice how soft the skin was, how the warmth radiating off him was almost inviting.
"Holy shit, look," Numajiri suddenly interrupted, turning the magazine towards Futamata with a grin plastered across his face. "You gotta see this, man."
Kazuma couldn’t help but glance over at the magazine, distracted for a split second by the sudden shift in the room. Numajiri was practically shoving it in Futamata’s face, his eyes wide as if he had just uncovered some kind of holy grail.
Futamata let out a low laugh, taking the magazine. "Damn," he said appreciatively.
"What is it?" Terushima asked eagerly, stretching forward to catch a glimpse of the picture, making Kazuma huff in annoyance.
Futamata turned the magazine towards the two of them, the page revealing the picture of a sexy model posing on a beach in an outrageously skimpy bikini. Terushima whistled low, a grin spreading across his face as he leaned closer.
"'Damn' is right," Terushima said, voice full of approval. "She's hot."
Kazuma clenched his jaw and bit back a sarcastic reply, attempting to look as casual as he could while his heart tightened in unfamiliar ways, something too close to jealousy. Instead, he tugged at a strand of Terushima’s hair. "Don't move, dumbass."
Terushima, completely unaware of the turmoil brewing inside Kazuma, gave another lazy grin, still watching the picture in Futamata's hands with too much interest. "Man, you'd think she was made of fire the way she's burning up that page."
Kazuma’s grip tightened around the strand of hair he was holding, forcing himself to focus. He didn’t want to think about Terushima’s smile, or the way his laugh sounded a little too warm, a little too carefree. He didn’t want to acknowledge that every word Terushima spoke seemed to hit Kazuma like a punch to the gut.
"Yeah, yeah," Kazuma muttered, forcing a nonchalant tone as he tugged another strand, trying to distract himself with the bleach. "Just hold still, you idiot."
For a moment, there was only the sound of bleach being applied and the soft rustle of magazine pages turning. Kazuma tried to calm his mind, telling himself it didn’t matter. Terushima could look at whoever he wanted, could talk about whoever he wanted, could flirt with whoever he wanted. He wasn’t Kazuma's.
The thought sat in his mind like a weight, and for a moment he wondered why he even agreed to this, how Terushima managed to convince him to touch up his hair with a simple arm around his shoulders and a vague request for 'help'.
Kazuma exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus as he continued applying the bleach, keeping his eyes firmly away from Terushima's.
Later, of course, Terushima got distracted, completely losing track of time. The bleach sat in his hair far too long, turning his roots a ridiculous shade of near-white platinum.
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• • •
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He rolled up his sleeves clumsily, greasy fingers fumbling with the fabric as he leaned back against the booth. The whole team had crammed into their usual spot at a small, noisy food place at the local mall, the air thick with the scent of grilled meat and fried food. The energy was high, everyone still buzzing from the rush of a good, productive practice match.
Kazuma exhaled, the noise of his teammates washing over him as he finally managed to push his sleeves up past his elbows. His fingers still felt slick with sweat and lingering oil from the food, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The evening was warm, the restaurant even warmer, and the heat from both the grill and the press of bodies made everything feel a little heavier, a little hazier.
Misaki was talking, her voice carrying over the clatter of plates and the hum of conversation. Something about their blocking being tighter this match, their defense looking more coordinated. She was smiling, which meant she was pleased with their performance, and it wasn’t often she gave out praise so freely.
Kazuma let the words drift around him, half-listening as he reached for his drink, the condensation cooling his fingers. Around the table, the team was still buzzing - Numajiri was leaned back in his seat, smiling and zoning out like he owned the place, while Futamata was engaged in some animated discussion with Higashiyama, gesturing with his chopsticks mid-sentence.
Terushima, of course, was eating like he hadn’t seen food in weeks, stealing fries off Kazuma's plate in between bites of his own meal.
Kazuma let him, naturally. It's been a sort of routine since they were younger, and he was too tired to bother putting up a fight. It wasn’t like he had much of an appetite, anyway, not with the warmth pressing down on him and the lingering adrenaline from the match still making his limbs feel a little restless. He pushed his plate closer to Terushima in surrender, and Terushima gave him a wide grin in response.
The noise of the restaurant slowly died down as the team finished up their meals, plates scraped clean and glasses drained. Everyone seemed to be in a rush to leave, heading out in scattered groups, exchanging high-fives and jokes as they made their way to the door. Kazuma felt the shift as the energy in the room started to dissipate, leaving behind a quiet hum in his ears. He finished his soda, the ice clinking softly in the glass, and leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath.
Futamata and Numajiri, who’d been planning to tag along on Kazuma's search for a birthday present for his dad, had suddenly come up with some lame excuse about needing to 'check on something' and slipped out just as casually, leaving Kazuma and Terushima alone in the booth. Kazuma glanced at the clock. It was getting late, but still early enough for all the shops to be open. He glanced at Terushima, who was already picking up his jacket from where it had fallen on the floor.
"You ready to go?" Terushima asked casually, standing up and stretching, his joints popping softly.
Kazuma hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on Terushima as he adjusted the collar of his jacket. There was something about the way he moved - effortless, like he had all the time in the world - that made Kazuma’s chest tighten, just a bit.
"Yeah," Kazuma replied, getting to his feet and gathering his things as well.
They soon stepped out of the restaurant into the cooler air of the mall, the noise of the food court fading behind them. The place was quieter now, with most of the crowds dissipating for the night. The dim lights overhead cast long shadows along the tiled floors, giving the space a strangely serene feel. Kazuma shifted his jacket on his shoulders as he followed Terushima, his footsteps echoing in the hollow spaces between the stores.
Terushima, as usual, walked with that confident, almost cocky stride of his, hands shoved in his jacket pockets as he looked around the shops. "So, do you actually know what to get him, or?"
Kazuma sucked in a breath through his teeth. "No idea." then he looked at Terushima. "You really wanna come along? Those two dickheads bolted instantly, you saw it."
Terushima shrugged, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Eh, why not? I’ve got nothing better to do, and it beats hanging out at home, staring at my ceiling. Plus, I’m sure I could help you pick something decent. I’m a great gift advisor."
Kazuma snorted, but there was a trace of appreciation in his eyes. “Yeah, sure. As long as you don't start buying my dad some weird stuff again.”
"Hey, the socks were a thoughtful touch," Terushima argued, raising an eyebrow, looking entirely too pleased with himself. The time he bought Kazuma's father custom made socks with his face on them wasn't going to be forgotten anytime soon. "Who doesn't need socks?"
Kazuma narrowed his eyes, his lips curving into a smile. "You're lucky my dad actually wore those. Otherwise, I'd get disowned for having... 'extraordinary' friends."
Terushima laughed, the sound light and carefree, and Kazuma couldn't help but feel a little lighter in turn.
They wandered through the mall in relative silence for a while, the hum of the dimly lit stores and the distant chatter of other shoppers making a peaceful backdrop. The energy of the evening had shifted, and now it felt like a casual stroll, just the two of them drifting from store to store. Kazuma couldn't help but notice how much quieter the mall was at this hour, the sense of solitude almost comforting.
They passed a few clothing stores and a tech shop, their footsteps light and steady on the polished floor. Kazuma glanced at a few things here and there, but none of them felt quite right for his dad.
Soon enough, they stumbled into a small shop tucked away in a quieter corner of the complex. It was one of those places that had everything from quirky knick-knacks to retro items, with rows of mismatched shelves crammed with things that looked like they could’ve come from a forgotten era. Kazuma wasn’t sure why he had wandered in. Maybe because Terushima had led the way, or maybe it was the dim, cozy lighting inside that made everything seem less like a store and more like a place to escape.
Kazuma’s eyes flicked over a collection of odd trinkets - a small, antique-looking clock, a set of mismatched teacups, and some delicate, handcrafted ornaments. He pursed his lips, already looking for Terushima and turning to leave. But then, Terushima waved him over, and Kazuma, with a sigh, complied.
He reluctantly approached Terushima at the back of the store, where he found him standing beside an old, retro cassette player. The kind that looked like it belonged in a dusty corner of a thrift shop, not in a mall. Terushima was holding a cassette tape in his hand, inspecting it like it was the most important thing he'd ever seen.
"What are you doing?" Kazuma asked, his voice laced with confusion as he stepped closer, peering over Terushima's shoulder, his height giving him an advantage.
"You should get this," Terushima grinned, pushing the casette into Kazuma's hands.
Kazuma raised an eyebrow. "You think my dad wants a random casette tape?" he asked dryly.
"Not for him. For you. You already have that cassette player in your basement, too."
Kazuma raised an eyebrow, eyeing the cassette tape in his hands. It was old, clearly vintage, with no title or markings to indicate what was on it. The tape itself looked worn, edges fraying slightly, but the label was completely blank with only a few smudges of ink. It felt like a mystery in his hands, the kind of thing you’d find in a forgotten box of old junk.
"You really think I’d want this?" Kazuma asked, turning the tape over and examining it again. "Is there even anything on it?"
Terushima nodded eagerly, pointing at the cassette player he must've been occupied with while Kazuma was trying to find his father a gift. "Trust me, man. You have to get it. I'll get it for you, actually." he suddenly perked up, grabbing the tape again and leaving to pay for it as Kazuma followed him with his eyes, caught off guard.
When Terushima returned, he beamed at him like the sun itself, and Kazuma averted his gaze as he slipped the cassette into his bag with a small smile.
Afterwards, they went to a clothing shop and Kazuma got his dad a pair of socks with old cartoon characters as a last resort. At home, he played the tape. The unmistakable riff of 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' by Nirvana blasted from the speakers, followed by tracks from bands such as The Smashing Pumpkins and Green Day alike, all 90's grunge songs Kazuma had always quietly loved, and he wondered how it was Terushima remembered that.
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• • • •
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When the Johzenji team got invited to a week long training camp, everyone was ecstatic. The gym whirred with energy the moment their coach made the announcement, and within seconds, the team had erupted into loud cheers and half-baked plans about what they’d do once they got there.
Kazuma wasn’t quite as vocal as the others, but he was just as excited at the thought of playing against new teams, testing himself in a new environment. It was a chance to push his limits, and maybe, if he was lucky, it would distract him from certain things that had been on his mind more than he’d like to admit.
Speaking of distractions-
"Yo, Kazuma!" Terushima’s voice cut through the chatter as he draped himself over Kazuma’s shoulders, grinning ear to ear. "Rooming together, yeah?"
Kazuma rolled his eyes but didn’t push him off. "You don’t even know how room assignments work yet."
Terushima shrugged, unfazed. "Doesn’t matter. We’ll make it work."
Kazuma huffed out a laugh, then nodded. "Hell yeah."
And so, however long later, they were on the way to the town over for training camp.
The bus ride was as chaotic as anyone who has heard about their team would expect. A few guys were playing cards on the pull-out trays, others shouting nonsense, and Terushima had cycled through four different playlists on the speaker he'd smuggled in. Still, they made it in one piece.
The gym was huge - three full courts, high ceilings, and the faint echo of volleyballs being passed back and forth. It smelled like sweat and hardwood, like potential.
It wasn't long before they settled in and got to playing. Kazuma found himself falling into the rhythm of it quickly. The adrenaline of quick plays, the satisfying smack of the ball against his palm, the way his team adapted on the fly, it was all exhilarating. Even when they messed up, they laughed it off, bouncing back with even more energy.
The first few hours had flown by in a blur of serves, digs, and passes, and by the time the team gathered for a short break, the gym’s stuffy air felt almost comforting. His legs were sore, his arms tingling, but it was the good kind of exhaustion. The kind that made him feel alive, like he was finally doing something right.
As they were paired up and sorted into their respective rooms, the mood shifted a little. It had been a long day of practice, and everyone was tired in that way where the excitement of the camp was wearing off, replaced by the quiet tension of settling in for the night. Kazuma and Terushima were allowed to room together, as they usually did on any trips the team took.
After brushing his teeth, Kazuma returned to their room to find Terushima already sprawled across the bed by the window, his feet hanging off the edge as he scrolled through his phone. There was a kind of calmness in the room now, the type that makes you yawn uncontrollably.
The next few moments were spent in silence after Kazuma plopped down onto his own bed, both of them lost in their own thoughts. But just as Kazuma was starting to feel the pull of sleep, a voice came from beside him.
“Hey, Kazuma?” Terushima said, his voice low but steady. “You ever think about what happens after all this?”
Kazuma didn’t answer immediately, unsure of where this conversation was going. “What do you mean?”
Terushima hesitated for a second before speaking again. “You know... once high school ends, and we all go our separate ways. What then?”
Kazuma blinked. It wasn’t like him to ask questions like that. Sure, they’d known each other since they were kids, but moments like this - quiet, vulnerable, serious - rarely came from Terushima. He was always the one with a joke, with a grin, the one who never seemed to care about what came next.
Kazuma turned his head toward him, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a faint shadow on Terushima’s face. He was staring at the ceiling now, looking uncharacteristically contemplative.
Kazuma swallowed, trying to push away the feeling of something coiling tight in his chest. “I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice quieter than usual, not quite sure how to respond. “We’ve still got a while, right? We’re here, now, that’s what matters.”
But Terushima didn’t seem convinced. He shifted slightly, turning his head to look at Kazuma, his usual smirk absent, replaced by something unreadable. Kazuma had always been able to read him, until now.
“Yeah,” Terushima said after a moment, voice a little more uncertain. “I guess so.”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine, Yuuji,” Kazuma added, trying to fill the gap. “We’ll figure it out, like we always do.”
Terushima hummed, and that was the end of that. Kazuma’s lips pressed into a thin line as he closed his eyes, turning his head away and passing out in a matter of seconds.
What he didn’t see was Terushima draping his own blanket over Kazuma before going to change.
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• • • • •
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The sand was warm against his feet, the heat sinking in just enough to be pleasant but not unbearable. Kazuma let out a slow breath, squinting against the sun as he listened to the sound of waves crashing against the shore.
They had only just arrived, yet the beach already felt like it belonged to them. The sun hung high in the sky, the salty breeze ruffling Kazuma’s hair as he took a slow step forward, feeling the grains of sand shift underneath him.
"Finally!" Terushima shouted, tossing his bag onto the ground without a second thought. "I’ve been waiting for this all damn week."
Kazuma huffed out a laugh, watching as Terushima stretched his arms over his head, already looking like he was meant to be there, as if the beach had been waiting for him just as much as Kazuma still was.
Futamata dropped his bag down beside Terushima’s, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. You were basically vibrating the whole way here."
Kazuma and Numajiri shared a glance. "Something was vibrating, alright." Numajiri spoke conspiratorially with a smirk.
Kazuma snickered, and Terushima immediately turned to shove Numajiri, who barely stumbled back, laughing. "Shut the hell up," Terushima said, but there was no real heat behind it, just amusement hidden under faux annoyance. He was too excited to be pissed off, anyway.
Terushima wasted no time before kicking off his shoes and pulling his shirt over his head. The light caught his skin, highlighting the faint tan lines on his shoulders and the way his toned muscles shifted as he moved. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking out the sand that had already somehow found its way into the messy strands, before turning back to face the others with a wide grin.
Kazuma had to look away before he started blushing and had to pull some flimsy 'already getting sunburnt' excuse out of his ass.
The four of them were in the water in seconds, the initial shock of the cool waves quickly giving way to exhilaration. The sun glared down, reflecting off the surface in scattered patches of light as Kazuma waded in, the salty water swirling around his calves before he took the plunge.
"Shit, it's cold!" Futamata hissed, shaking the water from his arms as he surfaced.
"Stop being a pussy," Terushima cackled, already chest-deep and diving under again with hardly a second thought.
Kazuma ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it out of his eyes while blinking against the saltwater that clung to his lashes. "It's fucking freezing," he barely managed to mutter before he was dunked underwater.
He flailed for a second before pushing himself back up, coughing as he wiped his face, already knowing exactly who was responsible.
"Yuuji, you ass-"
Before he could finish, Terushima was already laughing, his stupid grin on full display as he splashed water in Kazuma's direction.
The next few minutes dissolved into chaos. Water splashed in every direction as they wrestled in the waves, laughter spilling out between breaths. Numajiri got caught up in the mess, trying to duck away from Futamata’s attempts to pull him under while dodging Terushima and Kazuma's all-out war.
At some point, Kazuma managed to shove Terushima into a wave, only to be taken down with him. They surfaced at the same time, breathless and grinning, their faces close in the water. Kazuma felt a sudden rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the sun, but before he could even process it, Terushima was already splashing him again, breaking the moment.
They spent hours out there, the sun slowly creeping lower in the sky. Eventually, exhaustion started to set in, and one by one, they dragged themselves back onto the sand, collapsing into a pile of tangled limbs and heavy breaths.
They managed to dry off, more or less, with their towels, and soon Futamata hit Numajiri over the head, mumbling something about something, and the two ran away like little idiots.
Kazuma barely had the energy to watch them go, their laughter fading into the distance as they sprinted down the shoreline, kicking up sand in their wake. He sighed, shaking his head before flopping back onto his towel, arms stretched out at his sides. The warmth of the sun still lingered in his skin, but the cool breeze rolling off the ocean made everything feel pleasantly lazy.
Terushima, still beside him, stretched with a content groan, rubbing at his hair with a towel before letting it drop onto his lap. "Man, I could sleep right here," he muttered, voice thick with drowsiness.
Kazuma turned his head slightly, watching as Terushima leaned back on his elbows, gaze fixed on the waves. His hair was still damp, sticking up in places, and the sunlight cast a golden glow on his skin. He wanted to say something, but every coherent word suddenly caught in his throat and he found himself unable to.
Instead, he turned his gaze to the water, too, watching the sun set, painting everything in gold, almost pink hues.
The water shimmered like liquid fire, each wave catching the light and breaking into foamy white at the shore. The colors spread through the sky in gradient layers. Deep oranges blending into the fading blue, the last remnants of daylight clinging to the world before darkness crept in.
It was quieter now, most of the people already having left. It felt as if the world narrowed down until it was just him and Terushima, all alone, in their little bubble of unspoken feelings. Kazuma's heart thudded in his chest, a light fluttering.
The breeze picked up suddenly, cooler than before, rustling through the grass at the edge of the beach and brushing against Kazuma’s skin. He shivered slightly, a chill running up his spine, not entirely from the cold, but something else that made him feel hyper-aware of his own presence.
He felt Terushima's eyes flicker to him for the briefest moment, and it took all his will to not glance back.
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Kazuma sighed, slumping further down onto his desk as he stared at the open textbook in front of him. The words were starting to blur together, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was actually tired or if his brain had just completely given up on absorbing anything useful.
Not far from him, Terushima sat cross-legged on Kazuma’s bed, effortlessly spinning a pen between his fingers as he glanced at the same textbook, looking way too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be suffering through this study session with him.
Kasuma pursed his lips, then threw his book at Terushima's head. It hit him square in the forehead with a dull thump.
"Ow- what the fuck, dude?" Terushima yelped, rubbing the spot where the book had made impact. The pen he'd been spinning slipped from his fingers, landing somewhere in Kazuma’s mess of blankets.
Kazuma barely looked remorseful, crossing his arms as he sank further into his chair. "How the hell are you just sitting there like this isn’t killing you?" he grumbled, glaring at the pile of notes and highlighted pages in front of him.
Terushima, despite being attacked, just grinned. "Because I actually get this shit." he leaned over and picked up the textbook, flipping it open like nothing had happened. "Unlike you, apparently."
Kazuma frowned, spinning on his chair once, then twice, before standing up and sauntering to his bed. Kazuma snatched the book back with a huff, but Terushima didn’t put up a fight. If anything, he looked amused, watching as Kazuma flopped onto the bed beside him, the mattress dipping under his weight.
"You could at least pretend to struggle a little," Kazuma grumbled, flipping through the pages half-heartedly.
Terushima smirked, propping himself up on one elbow after stretching his legs out, one folded, the other touching Kazuma's. "Sorry, genius genes. Can’t help it."
Kazuma scoffed, shoving him lightly with his shoulder. Terushima let himself be pushed, barely shifting before rolling onto his back, arms stretched above his head. His t-shirt rode up slightly with the movement, and Kazuma had to force himself not to stare, turning his eyes back to the book instead.
They laid there in silence for a moment, the room settling into a comfortable lull. The only sounds were the faint tapping of Kazuma’s nails against the book cover and the occasional creak of the bed as one of them shifted.
The small bed was hardly big enough for even Kazuma alone, nevermind the both of them, and their arms brushed every time one of them so much as breathed. Kazuma tried not to think about it, but it was impossible to ignore the warmth radiating from Terushima’s skin, the way his presence filled every inch of space between them.
Terushima didn’t seem to mind, or maybe he just didn’t notice. He let out a long breath, shifting slightly so his knee knocked against Kazuma’s. “Your bed is nice,” he murmured, almost absentmindedly.
Kazuma swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close they were. His fingers tightened around the textbook before he forced himself to relax, exhaling slowly through his nose. “You’re supposed to be helping me study,” he pointed out, voice quieter than before. "You know if I fail this test I'm gonna be fucked."
Terushima hummed in response, shifting onto his side so he was facing Kazuma, propping his head up with one hand. His knee was still casually pressed against Kazuma’s. “You’re not gonna fail,” he said lazily. “You’re just being dramatic.”
Kazuma scowled, turning a page without actually reading it. “You’re way too confident in me.”
"You'll do fine, man, I swear." Terushima leaned in closer without really thinking about it, his face just a little too close, his breath warm against Kazuma’s cheek. "And if you do, I'll personally buy you... a house."
Kazuma snorted, finally looking over at him. "A house?"
"Yeah," Terushima grinned, unbothered by how close they were. "A big one. Right by the ocean. Fancy shit."
Kazuma rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched like he was fighting back a smile. "Oh, sure. With what money, exactly?"
Terushima shrugged, still grinning. "Dunno. I’ll figure it out. Maybe I'll go pro in volleyball, maybe I’ll become, like, an underground poker legend. Either way, you’ll have a house. My treat."
Kazuma shook his head, finally setting the book down on his chest, gaze flickering to Terushima’s lips before meeting his eyes. "You're so fucking stupid."
Terushima only laughed, folding his arm and resting his head atop of it, still facing Kazuma, waiting.
Kazuma could still feel the press of Terushima’s skin against his, the casual way he leaned in, like there was no reason to think twice about it. Maybe, for him, there wasn’t. But for Kazuma, it felt like every little point of contact was magnified, burning against his flesh, sinking in deeper than it had any right to.
He stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore it, trying to pretend like this was just like any other moment, but it wasn’t. It never was, not with Terushima. Not when his laughter got stuck in Kazuma’s head longer than it should. Not when his stupid, carefree grins made Kazuma feel something tight and restless in his chest. Not when he looked at him like this, eyes bright even in the dim lighting, waiting for Kazuma to say something.
But Kazuma didn’t. He just let his fingers drum idly against the book still resting on his chest, swallowing down whatever words he could’ve said, whatever feelings threatened to push their way up.
"I like you." Kazuma spoke suddenly.
"What?"
"What?" Kazuma froze, his heart skipping a beat as the words hung in the air between them. He hadn’t meant to say it - hadn’t even realized the thought had slipped from his mouth until it was too late.
He glanced over at Terushima, who was now leaning on his elbow, looking at Kazuma with wide, surprised eyes. His expression softened, confusion flickering for just a second before it was replaced with something else, something that Kazuma couldn’t quite place.
Kazuma quickly averted his gaze, his face burning with embarrassment, and the words rushed out in a frantic, almost apologetic whisper. “Forget it. I- forget I said that.”
But Terushima shifted closer, just enough for Kazuma to feel the shift in the air, feel the weight of his presence growing heavier again. “You can’t just say something like that and expect me to forget it. What do you mean? You like me?"
Kazuma's breath hitched, his mind racing to find something, anything, to take the sting out of the moment. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to blurt that out. It felt like he had just pulled the pin from a grenade and now he had no idea how to handle it.
His eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, trying to avoid the weight of Terushima’s gaze, his heart pounding in his chest as the silence between them stretched. He wanted to move, to run away and maybe flee the country entirely, but he found himself unable to do anything.
Terushima’s voice came again, quieter this time, but there was an underlying softness to it that caught Kazuma off guard. “Kazuma.”
Kazuma swallowed, biting back the anxiety rising in his throat, and finally turned his head, only to find Terushima closer than before, studying him with a curious, slightly tilted smile.
“I...” Kazuma faltered, unsure how to explain. His stomach twisted. “I didn’t mean it like that, seriously-”
Before Kazuma could finish his sentence, before he could scramble to fix whatever had gone wrong, Terushima’s hand was on his shoulder, pulling him gently but firmly closer.
Kazuma’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the heat of Terushima’s skin, the way his presence enveloped him. And then, without warning, Terushima leaned in, brushing his lips against Kazuma’s in a soft, almost hesitant kiss.
It was quick, over in a flash, but the world seemed to stop, every sound in the room drowned out by the rush of blood in Kazuma’s cheeks, the sharp, sudden awareness of how close they were. His heart was thudding wildly in his chest, every nerve alight as he laid frozen, caught off guard, unable to move or think.
Terushima pulled away just enough to look at him, eyes searching, a glimmer of something gentler than usual in his gaze. He didn’t say anything at first, giving Kazuma a chance to react, to say something, anything, but Kazuma’s brain was a mess of static, and he couldn’t look away from Terushima's uncertain eyes and parted lips.
The room was silent except for the quiet ticking of the clock on Kazuma’s wall, counting the seconds that expanded unbearably between them.
Terushima didn’t put much distance between them, just enough to let Kazuma process, to let him decide what to do next. Kazuma should’ve looked away, should’ve scrambled for some half-assed excuse, but he didn’t.
For once, he didn’t.
His breath was uneven, heart now full on hammering in his chest as he stared at Terushima’s face, so close, so unusually patient despite how reckless he always was.
He didn’t know what to do or say. He didn’t think as he reached out, fingers curling into the fabric of Terushima’s shirt as he pulled him back in. Their lips met again, and this time, it wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t rushed, either. It was slow, deliberate, like Kazuma was trying to commit the feeling to memory.
Terushima made a soft noise against his lips, surprised for only a second before he melted into it, tilting his head slightly to deepen the kiss. His hand slid from Kazuma’s shoulder to his jaw, touch feather-light.
Kazuma barely noticed the way his textbook slipped off his chest, hitting the floor with a soft thud. The only thing he could focus on was the warmth of Terushima’s lips, the way he tasted faintly of spearmint gum, the way his thumb brushed over Kazuma’s cheek like he was afraid he’d disappear if he wasn’t careful.
They pulled apart just enough to breathe, foreheads nearly touching, their breaths mingling in the space between them. Kazuma’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Terushima’s gaze, and for once, there was no teasing smirk, no cocky remark. Just something soft and undeniably real.
“You did mean it like that,” Terushima murmured, his voice quiet but sure.
Kazuma hummed, lips quirking up into a small smile. "Yeah." he replied quietly.
Terushima grinned, genuine and warm, and if Kazuma's heart doubled over in affection, it was nobody's business. Because if Terushima is the sun, Kazuma can be his moon, and if Terushima is the breeze on a warm spring day, Kazuma can be the stillness to get swept away.
And maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s what he’s been waiting for this whole time - something steady and wild all at once.
Terushima doesn’t say anything, doesn’t rush to fill the silence the way he usually does. He just looks at Kazuma with that same sincere grin, like this was always inevitable, like he’s been waiting just as long.
And Kazuma thinks about all the little things, the way Terushima remembers the little things Kazuma likes, the way he pulls Kazuma into things before he has the chance to say no, because he knows Kazuma won’t, the way he allows the quiet settle into something comfortable around Kazuma and no one else, the way he opens up and lets himself be vulnerable.
All of Terushima’s loud, reckless ways of caring, all the ways he’s been saying it without saying anything at all.
Kazuma exhales, slow, steady, and he doesn’t look away, because he knows he no longer has to. Never did.