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The Olympic village is bustling, familiar and unfamiliar faces squeezing around each other as they grab lunch and squeeze onto tables. Ushijima finds a relatively quiet table toward the back of the canteen. Scrolling through his schedule as the chair in front of him scrapes against the polished floor.
Wakatoshi doesn’t have to look to know who’s joining him, his glance is merely courtesy. Just as expected when his eyes trail upward they settle upon Argentina’s starting setter, someone Ushijima is well acquainted with.
“Hello, Toru.” Greeting the brunette with as much indifference as he can muster up. Snatching his water bottle from the table in a rapid motion. Sparing another peek at his company before wrapping his lips around the water bottle. It’s a shoddy attempt at a buffer. Especially when all he wishes to do is recite poetry and hold the man in his arms like some love sick puppy.
Quirking an eyebrow at the silence he’s met with. Perhaps he has warranted the all famous silent treatment, as childish as he thinks it is. It seems best not to acknowledge the behaviour and most importantly not play into it. Placing the bottle down on the table so he can return to what he was doing before Oikawa had come to sit with him.
Only looking up again when a hand pushes his device down, molten hazel in his direct eyeline. Invading his space. “How come you haven’t come to see me yet?” Ushijima sighs at the question he’s been asked about a hundred times over by the same man in front of him. Dropping his phone face down onto the table in defeat. All hopes of memorising the next block of training match ups thrown to the wind.
“Toru, we agreed it was better if we spent our time here apart.” Of course, it isn’t ideal but seeing as neither of them have bothered to make their relationship public, and the fact they’re on opposing teams, it’s better for them to keep apart at least until one of them loses.
Ushijima’s eyes trail downward to plush lips, leaning back before he can act on instinct. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be” Holding onto any semblance of restraint, flexing his fingers as he reaches for his lunch. “Shouldn’t you be eating too?” That distraction was short lived, now fighting against his own resolve to not feed his boyfriend. It really is hard out here.
Wakatoshi sighs, Oikawa’s pouty lips running havoc in his mind. “Go on, I’ll see you at the end of the week.”
—
Wakatoshi’s palm smacks against the ball with a resounding whack. Dug straight back up by Argentina’s libero the ball sails back over onto Japan’s side of the court. That's got to have hurt..
The game drags out, frustrations high as energy levels decline. Ushijima barely hears the timeout called. Grabbing his water batter with the thirst of a thousand men. Ready to push forward for a win.
It doesn’t come, Argentina fights tooth and nail for the winning point. Applause ringing in his ears. The loss stings but as he glances over to the other side of the court he finds himself soothed. A small smile directed right at him, stretched across Oikawa’s face.
It’s not what they’re supposed to do but his legs have other ideas as they move him across the court, ducking underneath the net onto the opposing team's side.
Oikawa breaks out of the celebratory hug, jogging toward Ushijima.
“Good game.”
Ushijima can’t help but huff out an amused chuckle. Despite the loss he doesn’t feel bitter. In fact he feels rather fulfilled. A little hungry even.
“You played well.” Ushijima nods curtly, though as they keep each other's gaze it’s clear there is more behind the obligatory niceties spoken after a game.
“I cannot wait any longer.” Face scrunching as if it pains him to say. It’s been too difficult to hold back, when everyone knows that half the Olympic roster have sunken in beds. His remains intact, for how much longer it’s uncertain. Curling an arm around Toru’s waist and sweat sheened arms curl around his neck.
The two of them mirroring smiles on a volleyball court, just like they always had. Perhaps this time around he can finally say he’s happy with the loss. Inhaling deeply as their noses brush together in a sweet nuzzle. “I’m so proud of you.” Ushijima whispers under the noise of teammates chattering and a billion eyes watching the match today.
Closing the gap after weeks of holding himself back. Squeezing Oikawa’s side firmly in his palm. Camera’s catch their moment and broadcast it to the whole world but Wakatoshi doesn’t care. This is their statement. Breaking apart far too soon. “Go celebrate your win, I will find you later.” And that’s a promise. Fully unprepared for the barrage of questions directed at him by fans and journalists alike. “Toru is a wonderful setter. I’m glad I lost to him.” His dismissive statement leaves questions that Oikawa answers with eagerness. “Oh? Wakatoshi? He’s been mine since the day we met in middle school.”