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Shirabu wrung the edges of his sleeves. He was used to pressure; standing in front of a crowd at nationals, being filmed for it, bearing the responsibility of tosses and strategies for the team. It had always been there since middle school.
Nothing could prepare him for confessing. Even if it was an inevitable occurrence in life, Shirabu didn't want to do it. He didn't want to run through the reasons why he didn't want to do it, but they existed, and he didn't want to do it.
Shirabu sighed and opened his locker. The conditioned air of the building kept the bouquet cool and fresh, as crisp as this morning, when he went out and bought it.
He closed the locker and twisted the combination lock several times for good measure. His hand shook for a second in its hold, and he withdrew it under a snort.
"I'm not nervous," he mumbled to himself. He was tempted to reopen the locker and slam it shut, but it was a nuisance to open in the first place, and he left.
"Woooooaaaah!" Goshiki's voice made Shirabu flinch. He hurried closer to inspect the flowers. "What's that for? Is it for a third year?"
Shirabu scrambled to cover his mouth with his free hand. "Be quiet. I don't want everyone running over here," he hissed. He glanced around the hallway.
"Do you have a cousin graduating?"
"No." Shirabu looked at him and fixed him with a determined gaze, slightly hunched from trying to redirect his voice lower, as if he could make himself quieter. "Do you know where Ushijima-san is?"
"Tendou's at the club room."
"That's not Ushijima's name."
"I don't know where he is..."
Shirabu grumbled. "Thanks. I'll go check there," he added to disguise his sarcasm.
Goshiki waved at him and headed away. Shirabu turned and ran his hand through his hair. Just enough to channel his frustration and anxiety, but not to send it into a mess.
He stalked outside, across the lawn to the club room. Groups of people travelled across campus for the final hours before graduation, and Shirabu glanced them over, scouting for Ushijima or at least someone else from the team, but he couldn't find anyone.
He stopped in front of the club room. The winded walk unsettled the flowers, and he used the pause to rearrange them, flaring the petals back to their original flourish with a hand. He smoothed his hand over the stems to gather them in a tight grip and hide them behind his back, but before he could finish, the door opened.
Tendou glanced down at him. "Kenjirou, you shouldn't have," he said, waving his hand at him.
"It's not for you." Shirabu gathered his hand closer to himself. He rose a little higher on his feet, leaning to the side to see past Tendou. "Have you seen Ushijima?"
Tendou hooked his thumb in the air behind himself. "He's in there with Eita and some others." He slowed in lowering his hand, and he reoriented himself to close the door and lean against it. His grin stretched slyly. "Wakatoshi? Why're you looking for him?"
Shirabu motioned over the gift. "It should be obvious."
"It's been obvious this whole time," Tendou said. "But maybe not to Wakatoshi-kun." He gestured to the bouquet with his chin. "Where'd you get this?"
"At a flower shop in town. I got it this morning."
"You woke up early on your own?" Tendou snickered into his hand. "Wakatoshi sure has you."
"Stop it."
"Did you write him some poetry? Cook something for him?"
"No."
"Get him chocolate? Chocolate's romantic."
"You're the one who likes chocolate."
"Ooh, you get it. Tell it to my secret admirer, if you ever find out I have one."
"You're about to graduate. If you haven't had one by now, then you're not going to have one."
Tendou's breath clipped in a huff. "I'm getting bored." He unfolded his arms and slid away, freeing the door. "He's yours."
Shirabu grumbled in this throat and chewed his lip in annoyance as he walked by. Tendou's head tilted back to tip his chin up in the air, his eyes following him in smug entertainment.
He hid the bouquet behind his back and stepped inside. Ushijima turned, along with all the other third years, and a few second and first years. Shirabu's eyes landed on Ushijima.
"Can I talk to you outside, Ushijima-san?"
Ushijima nodded. "Of course." He waved to end the conversation with Reon and Soekawa, and he advanced to the doorway.
Shirabu's gaze flitted side to side, suddenly unable to confront the upcoming reality. This could be one of the last times he ever talked to Ushijima, unless a magic chord really struck with them to keep them together across the distance. Ushijima's approach stretched heavy in his eyesight, like every experience with him had culminated into one image, an image in slow motion, with afterimages.
Shirabu yanked on Tendou's arm. "Leave," he hissed.
Tendou's hands rose defensively. "I will, I will."
He waited for Ushijima to pass, and he slipped into the door and shut it. Shirabu managed to maneuver himself to face Ushijima the whole time without revealing the bouquet.
Ushijima looked down and regarded him with interest. "What is it, Shirabu?"
Shirabu rolled his voice around in his head, reveling in the sound of his name framed in Ushijima's voice for one last time.
He brought his eyes to Ushijima's face. "Ushijima-san... I really like you."
Ushijima's arms relaxed, drawing down from his shoulders. "You do?"
"Yes. I've always. I thought." Shirabu scratched his head. Both his arms swung forward as his hands rifled into his hair, and the flowers moved with them. Ushijima latched on to the sight.
"Are those roses?"
Shirabu lowered his arms, extending them in front of himself slowly. "Yeah, they're roses. I don't know what your favorite flower is, so I picked roses."
"They're for me?"
Shirabu stretched his arm out further and pushed it into his chest, his eyes averted. "I wouldn't give them to anyone else."
Ushijima accepted them, his hands warmly brushing Shirabu's. He brought them close to his face. "They're very beautiful."
"I'm glad you like them." Shirabu linked his hands together, cracking his fingers quietly and returning eye contact. "I've always liked you, Ushijima-san. I admired you in middle school, and I like you now. You're part of the reason I came to Shiratorizawa."
Ushijima's face turned soft. "I'm flattered, Shirabu."
"Let me finish before you do things like that," Shirabu mumbled. He collected himself again. "I like you. I have feelings for you that haven't gone away." Shirabu fiddled with his sleeve again, his mouth in a conflicted frown, his teeth making an irritated appearance on his lip.
"...Shirabu?"
"I'll miss you," Shirabu said lowly. After a pause, he crossed his arms to still his hands. "I'm going to hate being captain."
"I'm sure you'll do great."
"You don't get it. I chose Shiratorizawa because of you. You don't get to leave."
Ushijima raised an eyebrow.
"That came out wrong." Shirabu dragged his foot on the floor. "I didn't think this through. I didn't think about what happens after you leave."
"I'll still come and visit you."
"Hn..."
Ushijima stepped closer to him. "I sincerely think you'll do a great job with the team. The match with Karasuno taught everyone a lot." He placed a hand on Shirabu's shoulder, securing him in a gentle hold as his head tilted lower to maintain eye contact.
"You understand what I'm saying, right?" Shirabu asked. He balanced on his feet to rise higher, and he moved his hands to Ushijima's collar.
"You like me," Ushijima said plainly.
Shirabu tugged a little harder on his collar. He swallowed. "A lot."
His hand shook again, but Ushijima didn't move away, and Shirabu didn't withdraw. His eyes stayed on Shirabu as Shirabu rose higher, his hands gripping tighter and insistently, pulling him down with slight roughness.
Ushijima's lips felt warm on Shirabu's mouth, giving way in a softness that ran red to Shirabu's face. Ushijima barely moved his mouth, only his bottom lip to follow Shirabu's brief movement.
Shirabu's legs ached from being on his tiptoes. He descended to his normal height, sliding down Ushijima's chest.
Shirabu tried to redirect his expectant gaze back up at him, but instead, he stared into Ushijima's chest in front of him. He could see the roses in the periphery of his vision, and Ushijima's hands, one of them going to Shirabu's neck.
Ushijima nudged his head up and kissed him again. His arms wrapped around Shirabu's back, and he bent his knees, almost stumbling as his body rose over Shirabu. He caught himself with widened legs for balance. His mouth rolled over Shirabu's, sucking in a breath with a muffled noise.
They both gasped when Ushijima let go. Shirabu held his arm. "What was that?"
Ushijima's eyes shifted. A light red lingered under his eyes, and the blush brought out a quiet sheepish reluctance in admission. "I really like you, too, Shirabu. Romantically."
Shirabu released his arm. "Say my name again," he said.
"I promise I'll visit to see you, Shirabu." Ushijima circled his arms around Shirabu again, this time bringing him to his chest. Shirabu's face buried in him, and he felt warm muscle all over, arms around his own and squeezing him at his sides and back.
"I'll hold you to that and more," Shirabu said with his crushed breath.