Chapter Text
Clatter and chatter echoed in his ears, the clinking of glasses incessant but anticipated. He downed and drowned himself in the conversation of his two closest friends, mirroring the burn in his throat as his glass fell empty once more. He could hear their boisterous laughter, perhaps a bit drunker than they’d like to admit; but it was his safe place. A place of comfort— of entertainment. But that wasn’t the case today- there was no trivial talk he could douse himself in; no foolish memories to reminisce over as they bantered endlessly; no one to send home knocked out as the sun peeked and greeted them. Far more unexpectedly, Daichi had found himself wandering inside the bar alone as the clock struck a chord; Cinderella was about to go home, but he was here waiting for his prince charming to offer the glass slipper instead.
Daichi needed a break. Not in an “I’m stressed and depressed” type of break; it was more of “I just want to go out and meet new people.” A change of pace, if anything, from his mini zoo he calls ‘kindergarten’. Or at least, that’s what he convinces himself. He sits on his hands, and a constant cycle of lying ensues. Perhaps, this could be deemed as inappropriate behaviour for someone in the academe; but he digresses. Anything other than the ice-cold burn of heartache would sting less. For the first time, Daichi visits alone which he and his friends frequent. Off-putting, and uncertain, but most of all– it was new.
His entertainment, however, was fulfilled by an eccentric man with an odd-looking haircut. The collar of his white polo was unbuttoned, a navy coat draped over his shoulders, and the dishevelled hair with a lazy grin yelled ‘office worker who just got off of overtime’. His gestures rendered unfamiliarity within the place, yet he greeted the workers with such enthusiasm that no one could miss the way he head-locked two of the bartenders; one in dirty blonde (whom Daichi was closely acquainted with) and a taller one with silver hair (he was still an intern, as far as Daichi could recall).
‘Odd’ was all Daichi could think as he unconsciously observed him upon entering, but for some reason, he was handsome. He carried himself with such flare that his piercing feline gaze could see right through anyone. Precisely why Daichi was caught off guard by furtive footsteps approaching him. Daichi wondered if he had accidentally requested a stronger drink, his palms growing warm against the now-slippery glass.
“I’m not giving you a strong one. I can’t be bothered to send you home again.” Kenma, one of the long-time bartenders, threw a placid look at the droll man. Daichi couldn’t help but snort as he watched from his peripherals, the situation amusing him with their comical conversation. They must have quite a tight bond to gab with each other.
“Hey! C’mon, Kenma! I’m no drunkard— and watch your words! Look, that man’s laughing, my poor reputation!” He petulantly whined, only further adding fire to the flame. The bartender with silver hair was obviously amused with their folly but zipped his lips shut when shot with a dirty glare. Kenma, for once, oozed seniority over a nearly 2-meter-tall man. Daichi couldn’t tell which scenario was more comical than the other. “He’s better off believing you are one. Sawamura-san, please ignore this weirdo,” Kenma’s words were patent, “He’s good, though.” He clarifies, further confirming Daichi’s belief in their knitted friendship.
Oh, ‘good’ was an understatement. Daichi could only look back to it now and remember how he was proven so terribly wrong— by a man who goes by the name of Kuroo Tetsurou. He draws blank retracing his memory of how they actually got to start talking, but the sensations he felt were nothing short of vivid. Daichi’s grin wrinkled his eyes as it reached from ear to ear, Kuroo mirroring his expression as he quipped a corny joke. Daichi could see Kenma from the corner of his eye, visibly cringing as he heard his friend’s nonsense, then quickly putting on a placid expression. Their friendship— fortunately, or unfortunately— stuck through thick and thin. He seemed used to this.
It started with a drink, wine and whiskey at hand; their sudden conversation approaching a farce; daft grins veiled their face with each gag; dubious stares from unsuspecting customers, leading to a good ol’ scolding for Kuroo and his meandering. But most of all, as they tumbled across the streets (just a teensy-bit tipsy, they argued), it ended underneath the wraps of pure-white, wrinkled sheets, drunk of golden and a clear liquid, and a memory too lucid to be a dream. He could feel his face grow hot upon recollection, he swore he was never this— bold.
It was all that damn drink’s fault. Or because he sat in the wrong seat, he should avoid sitting by the counter next time. Or maybe it was Kenma’s, for letting him inside the bar in the first place. No, wait, that was incredibly stupid— of course he’d let him in, let alone anyone; it was a bar for goodness sake. Kenma would be declaring bankruptcy by now if he unreasonably refused customers in the first place.
But, well, Daichi had the change of pace he yearned for; and it worked out well. Too well. In fact, Daichi’s stuck in a dilemma trying to figure out how he could leave the hotel room without alarming Kuroo. That, and, how he could leave the hotel without leaving anything behind; attachments, feelings, memories— they were all fallacies. And Daichi knew he can’t simply take his word.
A one-night stand, no strings attached, but god forbid them from ever meeting again; Daichi was certain he wouldn’t be able to let go of a man as perfect as he was. He was humorous, from the way he told stories of his kid, playful while knowing his boundaries, and a good listener at that too. His eyes bore into his calloused fingertips, wallowing in their conversation last night.
He was unforgettable, but a memory to let go of. There are some words and conversations that he’d never be able to utter to him, and Daichi thinks it’s better left that way.
Daichi’s pretty decent when it comes to handling kids— at least, he believes he’s decent enough to control their havoc. Surely, after having to deal with rowdy juniors during his high school and university days, he was a veteran at this point. Seeing paint splatters and crayon scribbles on non-paper surfaces, Daichi in teacher-mode was already stirring up ideas on how to gently teach the kids on what to do and not to do in the classroom. The first lesson would be not to get paint on another student’s face; and not on his face, either. Calling for another co-teacher to watch over the kids, he rushes to the bathroom to clear up the color staining his cheeks.
The sound of the faucet running fills in the deafening silence, wet fingertips covered in suds in desperate attempts to scrub the dry bits off his skin. Daichi stares into his reflection in the mirror, a chuckle escaping his lips as he rethinks and recalls the timeline of events in his life. What originally started as a temporary position as a kindergarten teacher to substitute for a university friend, ended up being his full-time job for nearly 2 years now. Not that Daichi regrets it, of course; he stayed, even when said friend had already left the position, finding a higher teaching position somewhere in Tokyo.
Turning off the faucet and drying his hands on his painting apron, Daichi headed back to his classroom and thanked his co-worker for temporarily making sure the kids don’t accidentally injure one another, or themselves. The day went on to be uneventful and nothing to take note of, not when his days consisted of listening to kids blabber on about the most existential-crisis-inducing questions ever. Children were smarter than adults would like to admit, Daichi thinks. One minute, they would be talking about some walking-talking-shark wearing sneakers, and the next would be arguing about whether the universe was inside a black hole because it started similarly to how a black hole is formed, ‘Big Bang’ and all that. Just thinking about their conversations was giving Daichi a massive headache worse than last week's hangover.
Despite the constant migraines and sleepless nights, Daichi found himself enduring each day looking forward to going to his kindergarten classes. Caffeine wafts through the air of his kitchen as the sun rises, shining through his window; it was a boring yet familiar morning to the teacher. Perhaps it was the unserious and incessant chatter that kids had of mundane topics that it made each day bearable. He didn’t have to think about troublesome relationships, or how his current housing problem was also weighing his chest down.
But while his children were both a source and a relief of his stress, there was a particular kid that bore the embodiment of this. Black, unruly, and stubborn hair that seemed like it wouldn’t sit still no matter how hard Daichi tries to keep it ‘kept’. Well, he was only 5, after all. The kid fully embraced it, proud of its style. Haruya Kuroo, a certain student of his that would always play with him late after school. His energy levels were beyond comprehension. Daichi found himself always worn out by the end of the day when he played with Mitsuya, who was always picked up late. Everyday at 12:00 P.M., Haruya already had a volleyball in his hands, cheeks stretching into a devilish, sweet smile, and eyes glittering as he looked up to his fellow volleyball partner. With a playful sigh and wave of his hand, Daichi groans jokingly, “okay, okay— I get it, Haruya. We’ll play once everyone gets picked up, okay?”
Daichi swore he had never seen a nod of agreement so aggressive and as excited as he was. Although cheeky and often smug towards his peers, Haruya was adorable, nonetheless. Straightforward, pure, and most of all— perceptive. Daichi couldn’t help but agree to his request every time, not when volleyball was also his first love. Haruya had great basics too, always receiving the ball with a decent foundation and proper form. He sees a reflection mirroring Haruya; while he didn’t want to impose a future on the young kid with expectations, he couldn’t help but hope Haruya continued to play this sport that he truly adores.
The clock soon struck at 6 in the evening. A woman— presumably in her late 30’s or 40’s— came to pick Haruya up. A sense of relief washes over Daichi every time he sees him being picked up. For one, he’s worried over how late he gets home, worried over his safety; he’s glad that he could rest at home after spending almost an entire day at the daycare. The other reason is because of Haruya’s bright smile as he leaves the kindergarten, radiating a warm and infectious energy of joy.
Daichi was always scheduled to end his shift by 3 o’clock, but oftentimes, he left the kindergarten by the time the sun had set. Instead, the moonlight gleam blanketed his being; the moon was the guiding light for the living in the dark. Each dreadful step brought him further and further away from his source of joy in his day, a sinking weight drowning him each second. Daichi fiddles with his keys as he approaches the porch of his 1LDK flat, another sigh escaping his lips. Although every inch of happiness kept leaving, he still needed to look at the bright side; he had a place he could call home, sheltered from unforgiving circumstances outside.
Stepping in the kitchen, he’s thankful he has food in the pantry, fully stocked with instant noodles and canned goods. He goes to heat up some water in a kettle, and his attention drifts to the faucet that kept leaking. The drips were forming puddles on the dishes in the sink, but he can deal with that later, he thinks. He enters his bedroom while he waits for the water to boil, dropping his work bag on the floor littered with clothes. Whether some of it were clean was debateable. But then again, Daichi’s thankful that he had a single-size bed with a pillow and a blanket to sleep on— although the lack of bedsheets felt like a questionable interior design choice. He hears the kettle turn off, and he prepares his instant noodles to eat while he heads to the living room to relax. He had a decently sized television in the living room to catch up on telenovelas or news, but he recalls how he still hadn’t paid for this month’s subscription. Not that it matters, he barely had time to idly watch when he had lesson plans to do everyday. All he can do is be thankful for what he has, and get through each day without a problem. His future self can deal with the rest, eventually.