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There's not much Chihiro knows other than volleyball. He's not an amazing student and his social life is lacking, but if he has anything going for him- it's volleyball. He picked up the sport when he was a kid after watching his dad play a pickup game with some of his old high school buddies- including Shiba. He was around often and the driving force behind Chihiro’s interest in the sport, so like any good family friend, he took Chihiro in under his wing and taught him how to play.
His love for the sport never really blossomed into anything significant until high school. That's when he met Hakuri Sazanami, a beautiful boy that he had to compete with to see who would be the team’s starting setter. He had near perfect form, but lacked stamina to last more than a round or two. So, when Chihiro edged him out for the starting position in their second year, he felt like he was on top of the world. There was always one thing that disappointed him, though, and it was how aloof Hakuri was with him. Chihiro got along with his other teammates- they hung out after practice sometimes and studied together occasionally. Even if Hakuri was present during these events he never spoke with Chihiro. Not much, anyways. There were a few words here or there when necessary but there was a gap between them that Chihiro couldn't seem to close no matter how hard he tried.
So, when they both got sent to a volleyball camp during the summer of their second year Chihiro was excited. They had been the only ones from their school to be invited, making it the perfect opportunity to bond. That's what Chihiro thought would happen. What actually happened was Hakuri avoiding him like the plague the entire time they were there. Was he hurt? A little, but they had their differences, Chihiro wasn't going to harbor any ill will against Hakuri for it. Maybe he just wasn't worth Hakuri’s time. That's fine. Chihiro can change that. He can be worth Hakuri’s time.
___
Hakuri has a miserable home life; his family hates him, he’s an awful student, and worst of all: he's a second rate setter. He had been good, once. It was the only time his family paid him any attention; when he was the starting setter for his middle school volleyball team. And then Rokuhira came along. A prodigy setter with skills that made him look like an idiot. And worst of all? He was nice. High school was the beginning of the end for Hakuri and his family (though they didn't like him much before, at least he wasn't a complete disappointment) and it was the start of his seemingly one sided rivalry with Rokuhira. He doesn't even see Hakuri as a big enough threat to be his rival, it’s pathetic.
He hates Rokuhira.
Well, hate is a strong word, but it could be applicable here. To put it a little better, Hakuri is jealous.
It's infuriating, having to watch Rokuhira play during games, except he can never look away. His eyes stay locked on Rokuhira at all times when he's on the bench, as if he can somehow turn his observations into skills. He hates how much he watches, but there's nothing else for him to do until the coach subs him in (which rarely happens). There's moments where Rokuhira looks over at the bench- usually after a particularly good set- that sets Hakiri’s blood on fire. He's bragging and they both know it.
Hakuri wants him. No-
Hakuri wants to be him.
He wants to be Rokuhira, he wants his skill, he wants his friends, he wants his life; his happy-go-lucky, supportive dad, his stupid goldfish he talks about so much, his volleyball mentor. Shiba Togo, a professional volleyball player who retired after only two years because of a career ending injury, he was the one who taught Rokuhira how to play volleyball. Completely unfair.
—
It’s a normal practice day, they've been running around practicing whatever they have to. There's nothing out of the ordinary, except at the end of practice when they're all supposed to clean up, there's a suspicious air around the rest of Hakuri's teammates. One of the underclassmen comes up to him, and he expects the worst, but all he does is ask him if he can grab something from the supply closet for him. Hakuri just nods and ignores the rest of his team watching them. Maybe they've just been gossiping about him for some reason, he doesn't know or really care too much. Just as long as he can keep being on this team.
He walks out of the gym and towards the back where their supply closet is. Closet isn’t exactly the right word, it’s more of a shed, the only thing remotely “closet”-y about it is that it’s technically attached to the gym. He’s surprised when he opens the door and finds Rokuhira inside already, putting volleyballs back into their cage. He doesn't pay him any attention as he walks further inside, squeezing past Rokuhira to look through one of the boxes for what his underclassman wanted. Rokuhira doesn’t say anything, just watches Hakuri closely, his gaze makes Hakuri’s skin itch.
While Hakuri is still looking for what he needs, Rokuhira finishes up putting everything away and tries to leave. The operative word is: tries. The door doesn’t budge from Rokuhira’s attempts to open it, the rattling sound of the walls shaking from his attempts is what catches Hakuri’s attention.
“What are you doing?” Hakuri asks, he tries not to sound so annoyed, but he lets a little malice slip into his words.
“Sorry,” Rokuhira apologizes, “I think the door is jammed…”
“Huh?” Hakuri stops what he’s doing and joins Rokuhira at the front of the closet.
He stands just behind him to look at the door. There’s not quite enough room for them to both stand right in front of the door. Rokuhira moves out of the way, or as out of the way he can get, and Hakuri has a go at trying to open the door. And, just as Rokuhira had said, the door knob doesn’t move when he tries to turn it. They stay like that for a minute, letting the situation soak in. Hakuri eventually steps back and frowns, the last thing he wants is to be trapped in the stupid supply closet with Rokuhira of all people.
“Damn,” he sighs, annoyed. “This is not what I needed today…” he mutters under his breath, apparently just loud enough for Rokuhira to hear.
“Uh, Sazanami-san,” he pauses, then “do you happen to have your phone?”
“No.”
“Rats.”
“...”
“...”
“Do you have your phone?”
“...No.”
Hakuri groans and sits down on the floor. They’re probably going to be stuck here for a while. He stews in his anger for a minute or so until Rokuhira sits down next to him, which catches his attention briefly. They don’t speak, Rokuhira just watches Hakuri and Hakuri tries really hard not to get annoyed about his staring. It’s something he does with everyone, he just watches. It’s fine on the court and Hakuri’s certain he just zones out while looking at people most of the time, but here? Now? It feels like he’s being observed, like Rokuhira is trying to figure him out, for some reason.
“Can you stop staring?” Hakuri asks shortly.
“Sorry,” Rokuhira apologizes, looking away slightly pink.
There’s a minute of peace before Hakuri feels Rokuhira’s gaze on him again. When he looks up, he catches him turning away. He doesn’t say anything, no matter how much it annoys him. It’s cramped. Hakuri has to hug his knees to his chest to properly sit down in the limited floor space. Rokuhira is right next to him, their shoulders are pressed together, Rokuhira is still warm from practice. Hakuri really wishes they weren’t so close, the contact is all he can think about for some reason. He feels Rokuhira’s stare again.
“I told you to stop staring at me,” he snaps, looking up, catching Rokuhira staring shamelessly at him. Again.
“I’m-”
“And don’t say you’re sorry,” Hakuri interrupts, jabbing his finger into Rokuhira’s chest to make a point, “seriously, what’s your problem?”
Rokuhira doesn’t say anything, he just frowns and looks away. Hakuri feels bad, suddenly. Rokuhira probably didn’t deserve that, he should apologize…
Except he can’t bring himself to say anything. The words catch in his throat and he ends up looking down at his hands instead. Minutes of agonizingly guilty silence on Hakuri’s end pass. He glances over at Rokuhira, who’s still looking the other way, Hakuri can’t see his expression but if he had to guess, he probably looks like a kicked puppy. Fuck. He tries to apologize again, but can’t. Hakuri just stares at Rokuhira, trying to get the words out of his mouth.
“You’re staring, now,” Rokuhira observes, turning his head to meet Hakuri’s gaze.
“I-” he stops himself, feeling heat blossom across his entire face, “I’m sorry.”
Rokuhira lets the words hang in the air for a few seconds before he responds, “what’s your problem?”
“You-” Hakuri feels like punching Rokuhira, “look, I said I was sorry. You don’t need to make fun of me.”
“I was being genuine,” he replies. Oh, now Hakuri feels like a total jerk.
He doesn’t answer and Rokuhira doesn’t push for an answer. They sit in silence for a few more minutes as Hakuri tries to come up with one.
“I don’t hate you,” Hakuri mumbles suddenly.
“I wouldn’t have guessed,” he replies, dryly.
“You’re just…” he trails off and groans, leaning back against the volleyball cage, “you’re a lot better than me at everything, it’s annoying.”
“Oh…” Hakuri looks over and Rokuhira looks genuinely surprised by his admission.
“Don’t look so surprised, literally everyone knows this.”
“I didn’t.”
“You didn’t know you’re better than me?”
Rokuhira frowns again, “I don’t think I’m better than you.”
Hakuri opens his mouth to reply, but closes it as soon as he realizes he has no idea what to say to that. Rokuhira looks upset, not like he had been a minute ago, more frustrated.
“Have you-” Rokuhira stops himself and takes a deep breath before continuing, “have you been under this impression the whole time we’ve known each other?”
“Well, yeah,” Hakuri answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world, “I thought you knew this.”
“My ego is not that big.”
“Well, it sure seems like it,” Hakuri retorts.
“How?”
Hakuri scoffs and rolls his eyes, “are you seriously asking me that? I’ve seen those smug looks you give me during games, you’re obviously just showing off.”
Rokuhira looks confused, then he looks horrified. Rokuhira’s entire face lights up red in embarrassment. There's a minute where he doesn’t say anything and silently panics; Hakuri lets him. He’s obviously mortified over being called out so easily.
“That’s not what I was trying to do,” Rokuhira tries to explain, Hakuri cuts him off.
“Then what were you trying to do?”
“I was just- ugh-”
And then Rokuhira’s kissing Hakuri.
And Hakuri feels like he’s just been shot into the sky.
And then Rokuhira isn’t kissing him anymore.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t-”
Hakuri doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence, instead he grabs Rokuhira by his jersey and pulls him in for another kiss. It’s addicting, kissing Rokuhira; it feels like something has been rewired in Hakuri’s brain, neurons that weren’t doing anything before are suddenly firing at full capacity. Rokuhira’s hand finds his and he untangles Hakuri’s fingers from his jersey. Rokuhira places Hakuri’s hand on his hip as he breaks the kiss.
“Rokuhira-” he whines, getting cut off by Rokuhira moving so he straddling Hakuri. They’re so close in this enclosed space that Chihiro unintentionally- or intentionally, who the hell cares anyways- grinds against Hakuri. He can feel how hard he already is through his shorts.
Chihiro puts his hands on Hakuri’s shoulders, pushes him back against the volleyball cage, and leans in, “yes, Hakuri?”
Hakuri's grip on Chihiro’s hip tightens and he moves his free hand to the back of Chihiro’s neck so he can pull him in for another kiss. It’s less of a kiss this time and more spit and tongue. Chihiro still tastes like the coconut water he always drinks during practice. Hakuri’s hips grind upwards as he guides Chihiro to meet him halfway by pushing him down slightly by the hip, they’re both desperately seeking friction not really caring about anything else. He shifts again slightly to deepen the kiss when the door flies open, startling both of them so much that Chihiro jumps back and loudly smacks the back of his head on the metal shelf behind him.
Their coach is in the doorway, completely taken by surprise. He closes the door and clears his throat loud enough for them to hear and they both scramble to stand and fix their clothes. A moment later, their coach opens the door again and sighs, rubbing his temples.
“You two, just… go home.”
“Yes, coach!”
They both leave the supply closet as quickly as they can, hand in hand.