Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Semi Eita feels miserable.

His life, actually, isn't that miserable. He's graduated university with high honors in spite of his mental health, passed the civil servant exam, and now works for the Tokyo prefecture for one of the suburbs. To describe his job would be as interesting as describing a plain wall: he's the one in charge of the financial budget for the roads and buildings built in the area, to put it simply.

But the advantages of this job are numerous, given he works for the government. It's a steady job that grants him plenty of holidays and a stable position for years to come, which is really nice to have in today's economy. Unfortunately, his pay is lower than what he could aim for and he still works his ass off like any of his peers; but at least, he has a job that won't lay him off.

The civil service exam wasn't that easy to pass, but Semi still managed to do it, and his family was happier for it than he even was. Perhaps because civil engineering was never something that really interested Semi, just a degree he took because he needed to do something with his life.

Something that wouldn't be volleyball.

Of course, that degree should also be able to pay the bills in the future; hence why he didn't choose to pursue a music degree (his parents would've killed him if he did that, anyway).

But he craves music, and it's not a surprise that Semi joined a band during his university days and that they, somehow, managed to stick together (okay, not entirely true. One member left, but that's inherent to any music group, right). They all more or less graduated, so they have more free time than during their hellish uni days to do concerts and festivals. Semi likes it. He likes strumming his electric guitar, hearing his baby crackle.

Semi still feels miserable, though. He doesn't know why, but there's a hole in his chest that he can't seem to fill no matter what. It's weird, because he does have a lot of friends sticking to him (Tendou still calls him every week, even while being on the other side of the planet — the bastard doesn't even take into account their timezone differences and sometimes calls in the nights. Good thing Semi's a late owl, huh).

He has had his fair lot of romantic experiences too. One night stands to longer relationships, to nothing at all. Admittedly, maybe that's the part of his life that works less, but it's not like it's not working. He just hasn't found the right person, but it's not a big deal. His romantic life doesn't define him and he has friends to count on, so that's not why he's feeling miserable, actually.

Perhaps that's simply how all people going through their twenties live like, though. The uncertainty of the future, the "what now?" once the road that everyone follows ends and they all start to be their own person, following their own paths. Some marrying, some going on trips, some career-oriented, when they were all once snotty kids that cried because they had to go to school for the first time.

Semi doesn't know where he fits.

"Hey, Eita. Get ready, we have to leave in five minutes."

Takuma Akira, one of his bandmates, is glaring at him with his dark eyes and messy dark hair, pins in it and earrings decorating his ears, chokers on his neck to perfect the look. Takuma is all ready to go, of course, and that's why he's here to pick Semi up.

Semi lies there on his bed, unwilling to move. He just got home from work and now, he has a show to give. How exhausting. Why did he decide to keep being in this band again?

"You think my patience goes on that long? Get the fuck up, Eita."

Semi groans. "You're not the one who stared at a screen all day long writing a report about a fucking sidewalk, Akira."

"And you're not the one who had to go outside in the rain to take measurements of the fucking soil to make sure the building you want to build is feasible, so get the fuck up before I make you regret being even born."

Semi rolls his eyes. Sometimes, he and Takuma's complaints sound the same, but because Takuma's an architect overworked to death and Semi's a civil engineer also overworked to death and, on top of that, for pointless tasks. But at least, the job pays.

Not like shows do, but from shows, Semi simply gets the thrill he never gets otherwise. The distant feeling that he's alive. Something beats under his skin and it's enough to make him want to keep strumming his guitar, since nothing else he does seems to wake him up.

Takuma starts moving and Semi gets up. Yeah, he's not risking Takuma actually hitting him; with time, Semi has learned not to press Takuma's buttons too much. One wrong press and he's dead, hit as hard as the drums Takuma hits.

"Alright, I'm coming," Semi yawns, exhausted.

The fact that all of this is a result of his own choices is truly, a poor life decision from his part.

Takuma glares at him, and Semi blinks.

In those half-asleep states he finds himself in, sometimes he'd look at Takuma and find him oddly similar to someone from his past. Someone with ruler-like bangs, caramel hair and glaring light brown eyes.

But another blink, and the image disappears to give place to the Takuma he's known for years, ready to whoop his ass if he doesn't actually get up in the next five seconds.

Despite Takuma being the one who drove to Semi's, it's Semi who's driving them to the bar where they're going to be performing (a punishment for making Takuma take a detour just to make sure Semi Eita will show up at the performance). If high school Semi saw the state of adult Semi, he'd probably be horrified. High school Semi never missed practice, after all. Perhaps he does need Coach Washijou to terrify him into it, but one thought of it and he shivers.

Semi parks perfectly, because one thing that Semi is for sure proud of is his driving skills and better, parking skills (actually, he got really good at parking only because someone once stuck a sticker on his windshield saying he parked like an ass, and it angered him so much he actually took lessons to park better. Tendou said he was so easy to ragebait, and that also ragebaited Semi).

Takuma gets out of the car first, his drums already set on stage while Semi carries his guitar on his back. It's just a small restaurant-bar they usually perform at every week for the entire evening. Semi is familiar with the place, so he simply yawns as he trails behind Takuma.

The bar is great. There are a lot of high round tables and stools in the center of the room, all covered in colored spots moving across the walls and furniture as the disco ball over their head turns on itself. The stage lays at the back and in front of it, there's a space where people can jump and dance. Then, on the sides of the room are calmer spots, where people can eat and dine while still enjoying a nice show.

Semi likes the place. It's great. Good drinks, good food, the owner is welcoming too. Too bad Semi is an exhausted working adult, so every time he comes, he's tired as hell. But one day he'd like to come here with a fresh mind. Bringing a date here would be a nice idea, if he had anyone to bring.

Semi mentally curses at himself. That sounded pathetic. It's not like Semi couldn't have anyone in his bed if he tried; he knows that, if he put a bit of effort, he'd be able to get anyone he wants. Problem being, Semi doesn't have the energy to be doing that. Freshman him? A whole different person than the one he is today.

Still, it's not because Semi isn't willing to enter the dating pool that the dating pool doesn't notice him. As soon as Takuma and Semi make their way to the stage, whispers and hushes rise around them. Takuma scowls at it, but Semi is so used to it that he doesn't really take notice of it.

He's styled to attract attention, after all: piercings in his ears, catching light whenever the disco ball shines on it, dressed in a black t-shirt that hangs loosely on his body, cargo pants held up together with a metallic belt, tucked into high boots. He put on a fake lip ring even if he's starting to regret it, because it's always so uncomfortable since it can easily slip off — perhaps this is a sign to get a real one. But if he did get a piercing in the mouth area, it'd probably be on the tongue. Alas, his day job doesn't allow him to anyway, and even if he were, once again, Semi isn't put together enough to do something that requires a lot of care for now. Maybe he'll see with his job if he can still get one, once he feels better.

If he ever does.

"You're almost late!" someone shouts.

Semi recognizes the voice. It's Kaku Rei, their bassist and also, Takuma's boyfriend.

He comes running and the next thing he knows, Kaku has Takuma imprisoned in his grip, holding onto him on dear life like they're both going to die if Kaku breathes even an inch away from Takuma. Yes, Kaku is extremely clingy. Yes, he's also very annoying, but Semi tolerates him still.

"Your fault, huh?" Kaku shoots to Semi with a grin.

Kaku has a slight accent when he speaks Japanese since he's Chinese. His real name is Guo Lei, but the character for Guo can be read as Kaku, so he went for his Japanese name as Kaku Rei. Also, Kaku is a big nerd and finding out he can share a name with one of his favorite One Piece characters has definitely not fallen on deaf ears.

In any case, his eyes are the smallest out of them four, especially when he smiles. His bangs on his face have strips of magenta, color that often changes depending on Kaku's mood. This month, he feels like pink apparently. Next month, he could become blue; no one ever knows, not even Takuma. One thing he does like to do though is to show with strips of all seven colors of the rainbow for Pride Month but it's a bit early now, since they're only in March.

"Be happy I even showed up," Semi rolls his eyes.

"Semi!"

He gets a hug from another person and this one, Semi likes much better.

It's the only girl of their group, Kujou Haruka. Hair cut into a short bob, stylish and cool, she sometimes reminds Semi of his own little sister that he misses, ever since he left home. Kujou is the singer of their group and has an incredible voice, easily attracting everyone's attention when she opens her mouth. Semi likes listening to her and so, didn't feel anything when they decided to switch their singer from Semi to Kujou when she joined them.

Maybe it was easier to bear since it had already happened to him, once.

He knew he would never be the final choice.

"How are you?" she asks, giving him back his personal space before she squints, her eyes behind her squared glasses. "Oh, wait. You look like shit."

Semi gives an honest laugh at that. "You could be nicer, Kujou."

"Come on, let's set up," Takuma calls them all into order.

"Yes!" Kaku yells back and runs to the stage.

Sometimes, just sometimes, with his group members surrounding him and moving towards the same direction, he gets reminded of his days playing volleyball. All wearing the same jersey, all running towards the court for the love of volleyball.

It's been a while, since Semi last touched a ball.

He doesn't know if he misses it or not.

Semi sets up, tunes his guitar, and gives a strum to his baby. The vibrations run through his body, pump into his dying heart. Semi gives a smile. One thing he's definitely happy about nowadays is finding back his love for music. He had always liked both volleyball and music, and ultimately had to make a choice. He dedicated his youth to volleyball, and decided he'd dedicate the rest of his life to music. Music's a way for him to vent his emotions, even during his school days. He liked playing the guitar when he felt angry with the world, notes coming to him easier than words to express his feelings.

It's still true today.

Instead of voicing out all of his concerns, he simply plays.

The room cheers for them, gives a collective "woo" when they hear Kujou's voice, gasps at Semi's solo in one for their songs. Semi's expression softens, his fatigue washed away by the melody he produces together with his band.

That's why Semi keeps giving those shows, despite feeling tired.

It makes him feel more alive than ever; just like his high school days, when he played with Shiratorizawa. When he set for Ushijima, when he entered the court as a pinch server, when his hand came into contact with the ball for a second for a serve, a pass, a save.

But everything comes to an end, and after a few songs played, they get to rest. Takuma entertains the room with a solo drum performance, the rest of them taking a break. Kujou needs it the most, having to carry most of their songs with her voice. Sometimes, Semi backs her up, but she still sings the most.

Kaku and Kujou go order a drink at the bar while Semi excuses himself to the bathroom. As he finds himself alone, he sighs. He doesn't like being alone, especially not with his thoughts. He does his best at thinking of tonight's performance, nothing else, as he washes his hands and looks at himself in the mirror. Sure, makeup did the work on his face, but Semi still sees what's underneath: a tired man.

He's not even twenty-five yet, hell.

He checks his phone and sees texts from Tendou, telling him about his misadventures of being a chocolatier (do you realize? The temperature was off by one degree and it messed up my preparation!). Oohira has also contacted him, asking to meet because he wants to watch a movie together. That makes him think that it's been a while since he last checked on his underclassmen. He should probably send a text to them: Goshiki, Kawanishi, Yunohama.

Shirabu too.

Maybe.

It's been even longer for Shirabu, after all. If Semi's relationship with everyone was rather good, Shirabu was the exception. Semi felt awkward checking on him like everything was normal. He tried to, during Shirabu's third year but Shirabu's answers were always so curt, it annoyed Semi, so he gave up.

And now, it's been six years.

He's heard from the others that Shirabu is a med student, now. It made him chuckle when he first heard of that. That does fit this uncute underclassman, huh. At least Semi doesn't have too many health problems, he's sure he won't meet Shirabu by accident since they both live in Tokyo now.

Though he's not avoiding Shirabu, of course.

Semi gets out of the bathroom, but stops when he sees a man right outside the women's bathroom, standing too close to someone extremely familiar. Short black hair, head lowered and black clothes: that's Kujou, who looks uncomfortable. Semi's instincts kick off and his jaw tightens as he speeds up, reaching Kujou in no time and pushing the guy away, glaring at him.

"Hey. What's your business?"

The man raises his eyebrows, seeming unimpressed. "Me? Nothing much, I was just chatting with the young lady."

Semi scoffs. "Chatting? Standing that close?"

Now that he's come closer to the guy, the guy reeks of alcohol. That doesn't smell too good.

"Yeah. We were just getting to the good part, now get out of my-"

The guy tries to move past Semi but Semi stands in the way, now pissed off. He frowns, fists tense and jaw held up, anger vibrating in every cell of his body, like notes from his electric guitar, like a volleyball spiked on the floor.

"Just fuck off when I'm still asking nicely," Semi says through gritted teeth.

"You bastard!" the guy screams.

He shoves Semi away with uncontrollable force and the next thing Semi knows, he's ejected to the side and crashes down on a table, glasses tipping over.

Just as the guy takes a step towards Kujou, Semi sees red.

He clenches his fist and punches the guy right in the face, his head connecting to the wall in a crash.

"Listen, don't be so stubborn. You have to get that checked," Takuma tells him.

After a trip to the police station and Semi getting away with it, no one getting verbalized despite the wounds they both inflicted to each other, they were let off the hook. The guy, now all sobered up, glared at Semi before running away. Now, Semi has to deal with a distant pain in his head and something hurts his back too, but he doesn't know why exactly. Might just pass with a good night's sleep: he really needs that one.

"No, it's fine. I'll just go to sleep," Semi grumbles.

"In that state? Eita, don't make it more difficult for me and come with me to the hospital. We'll talk about things later."

Semi pulls a face at that. Well, yeah, the owner was suddenly much less welcoming to them after what happened, and told them this was the last time they were going to perform here. They have to find a new place where to perform, but that's a problem for later. Maybe the band can also disband right there (and then what? Will Semi feel better if he can just sleep all of his evenings away, knowing it was his fault the band stopped?). Fucking brain.

Semi doesn't want to make a trip to the hospital for some minor concussion, but with Takuma's serious glare, Semi can't say no. "Alright, fine," he concedes, exhausted.

Kaku and Kujou were both worried for Semi too but Takuma told them to go home. Kujou apologized relentlessly to them and Semi shook his head. It wasn't her fault, but that bastard's. And now they aren't even allowed back in the bar.

Great.

Takuma drives them to the hospital, and Semi follows Takuma like a child that was dragged here out of his volition. A nurse takes them in and tells them a doctor will be coming soon to check on him, and Semi sighs, sitting on the bed. It's not that bad, he swears, but Takuma still won't leave his side. It makes Semi oddly pressured, actually.

"Hey, uh, I'm thirsty. Buy me a bottle of water," he says as an excuse to be left alone.

"Seriously?"

Takuma stares at him, trying to assess if Semi's lying or not. Semi does his best at returning his heterochromatic eyes, one eye blue, the other dark. It's intimidating enough when Takuma isn't mad at him, it's worse when he is (like 90% of the time).

But Takuma decides to let him get away with it and sighs. "Alright, I'll be back. Don't you dare move."

"Yeah, yeah."

He wants to lean on his arms but winces because it hurts, for some reason. Did he hurt his shoulder?

Fortunately, Takuma doesn't see this as he's already left, Semi watching his silhouette until he's not here anymore. In the meantime, Semi stares at the ceiling, craning his neck. It's white, like anyone would expect. He licks his lips, and realizes something.

His lip ring is gone.

Damn.

Of course it'd be, with how the stranger punched him back in the face. It flew away during their fight, probably.

Fuck. That was one of his favorites.

Semi sighs loudly, running a hand in his hair. Now, he wonders if all of his rings have stayed put or if he lost some of them too. God, he hopes not. He loves all of his rings. Especially the one on his index finger. It's an-

"Hello, how may I…"

Semi snaps his head up and loses all of his composure, recognizing the face and voice at the same time.

He freezes.

Shirabu Kenjirou is standing here, wearing a white blouse like all doctors do, with a pen tucked nicely in his front pocket and a notebook in his other hand. He's bare faced, dark circles under his eyes like any med student would have, but he's still so Shirabu, stoic and standing straight like confidence has never been something he lacked.

For once, he does look surprised. Semi can't blame him: he's as surprised as him, seeing him when it has easily been like what, two years since they last saw each other at the last big Shiratorizawa volleyball team gathering party? They didn't even talk to each other, apart from greetings and didn't even sit next to each other. Semi doesn't remember much of that night anyway, since he was still much too young and got wasted pretty fast.

In any case, Shirabu still has the same ridiculous haircut, which would make Semi laugh were they under any other circumstances. Nine years have passed since Semi first met Shirabu, and the guy hasn't changed his haircut in nine years.

Well. Not that surprising, when you know Shirabu.

"Semi?" Shirabu ends up saying first.

His voice didn't change either. At least, it's still the same as two years ago. The same annoying voice that replied "yes, I understand" whenever Semi tried to give him advice. So uncute.

He's still not cute today.

"Hey, Shirabu," Semi says like it's perfectly normal to meet him in the hospital.

Semi suddenly thinks of how he's dressed: not like the civil servant you'd expect in a suit and tie, but a rockstar with his black clothes and accessories. With time, he's pretty sure the eyeliner he put on his eyes wore off and that his hair must be so disheveled too, especially after the fight.

Oh god, the fight.

He's showing up in front of Shirabu after a fight, like he's sixteen again instead of twenty-four. He's supposed to be an adult now, for the love of god. And yet, he's showing up like this in front of his junior, someone that's supposed to look up to him.

Well. Since Shirabu has never once looked up to him, he guesses it doesn't have much of an impact.

"What… happened?" Shirabu asks.

Semi sighs, running a hand in his hair. "Well, I got into a fight with some guy who was sexually harassing my friend. I don't think I got anything too concerning but better be safe than sorry, and my bandmate wouldn't let me go home without getting checked first. So."

"Oh."

Yeah. Awkward.

Semi looks at Shirabu again. Shirabu has stopped looking at him in the eye, probably because he's busy inspecting his body. With his eyes trailing on him, Semi feels weirdly overconscious, in a way he doesn't when doctors check up his body. Shirabu is simply doing his job, why is he nervous?

"Did you beat him up hard?"

"Huh?"

"The guy. Did you beat him up hard?"

"Oh. Yeah, I did! Hard, like that."

Semi does a punching motion with his fist, smiling. He clearly didn't expect that question from Shirabu but it's nice. It's not often that Shirabu asks him questions, even if that might be part of his job now.

Shirabu takes his hand, his delicate fingers curling around Semi's wrist, pulling it closer to him as Shirabu takes a look at his hand.

For some reason, Semi's heart leaped to his throat.

"I see. Your knuckles are hurt and damaged," Shirabu says as a matter-of-fact.

He looks at Semi in the eye again, eyes half hidden by his bangs and Semi maintains their eye contact, letting his hand rest in Shirabu's.

"Yeah. But I'll be fine, right?"

Shirabu averts his gaze first. "Yeah, you will be. I'll just have to take a look at your body, treat your wounds and you'll be free to go."

Semi nods. "Well, okay."

Shirabu lets go of his hand and stands in front of Semi, looking at his face instead of his eyes. "Where are you hurt?"

Semi looks up, thinking. "Uh… I think I punched too hard, my shoulder hurts a bit. My back too? At the start of the fight I got flung away and crashed on a table."

"Okay," Shirabu says. "I will you make you do some movements to check everything's okay. Stop me if it hurts."

Semi nods again. "Alright."

Semi wouldn't feel weird if the doctor was a stranger, young or old, female or male. By now, he'd probably get lost in his thoughts, replaying what happened tonight in his head, trying to find solutions for the problem he created with new places to look for.

But because it's Shirabu, all Semi can think of is Shirabu. His hands on his body, making him do gentle circles with his arm to check if his right shoulder's fine. His body close to his, closer than he ever was, even when they sometimes sat next to each other by coincidence during team meetings.

Shirabu and he have never been that close, despite being on the same team. But Semi can't help but think he wouldn't feel like that if that happened with someone else, like Goshiki for example, even if they have never been that close either. Maybe it's just because of the nature of his relationship with Shirabu. The fact that Shirabu and he have always been at each other's throats but still tolerated each other for the sake of the team, the fact that Shirabu took his place from the team and Semi resented him so much, before letting go of his hatred.

In a time where Semi hates his miserable monotonous life, meeting Shirabu again really feels like a punishment.

Look how well Shirabu is doing, compared to you.

He has always done better than you.

"How's your life going, Shirabu?" Semi asks out of nowhere.

Shirabu pauses as he was checking his back. "What?"

"In med school. Or in life, whatever. Just tell me. It's been a while."

Shirabu shrugs. "Don't do your 'nice senpai' act with me. I know you don't really care what I become."

Semi huffs. So fucking uncute. "What do you take me for, a monster? Shirabu, it's been ages since our feud ended. I'm not mad anymore and I don't hate you. I'm genuinely curious."

Shirabu stays silent, and Semi feels the need to talk more.

"I mean it. The team was really important to me, so were you, even if you took my position in the team. I was just a frustrated teenager who found nothing better than to vent my anger at you, but Coach was right to trust you for the team. You did better than me."

"Shut up," Shirabu mutters as he presses a cotton soaked in alcohol on Semi's knuckles, and Semi shrieks. "We only went to Nationals once with me as a setter."

That's true, and that was when Semi was still here, for the Summer tournament. After that, they kept losing to Karasuno, even with Shirabu as the captain. Recovering the loss of Ushijima wasn't easy, after all. Semi isn't sure he'd have done better. No, he knows he'd have done worse.

"What, you think we lost because of you?"

Shirabu stays silent and keeps padding the cotton on his knuckles, even if they're disinfected enough. Semi is annoyed, and here it is, that old emotion he hasn't felt in a long time: the annoyance that only Shirabu can bring up, tearing into his chest to dig out the ugliest emotions from the depths of Semi.

Semi catches Shirabu's wrist, tugging on it. "Shirabu."

His voice was firm, firm enough to make Shirabu turn his head away, brows furrowed in irritation. "No."

Semi raises his eyebrows. "Well then?"

Shirabu decides not to talk. He starts to disinfect the wounds on Semi's face, with cuts on his cheek and then, his lips. Semi doesn't feel nice enough to drop the topic though, so he keeps looking at Shirabu in the eye even if the latter is focused on his task, trying to make him feel pressured.

But Shirabu's touches on his face distract him, and he loses his track of thoughts. After all, Shirabu never touched his face before. They might have fought a lot verbally, but never once physically. And even if they did touch before, Shirabu never held his face for so long. Semi knows it's only part of his job, but it still feels a bit weird. Makes his heart pound harder in his chest.

"Oh, Doctor!" a nurse calls, startling Semi and Shirabu both. "You don't have to do that, just let me-"

"Oh, I can handle that."

The nurse cocks her head, unimpressed. "Well yes, I'm sure you can, but don't you have more important matters to attend to?"

Other stuff?

Semi quirks one eyebrow, still looking at Shirabu. "You chose to treat me instead of your other tasks?"

Shirabu picks up his stuff notably fast. "I was just putting them off."

Semi chuckles. "So you can feel lazy too, huh."

Shirabu frowns at him. "What do you take me for?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Shirabu still frowns while Semi smiles at him. Somehow, the atmosphere between them feels lighter than any of the times they met.

"Oh, you know each other? Sorry, I'll just let you to it then," the nurse says but Shirabu shakes his head.

"No, it's fine. I do have other check-ups to do," Shirabu answers as he's ready to leave.

The nurse and Shirabu exchange some words about Semi's condition that doesn't look concerning, she just has to finish up and she nods before Shirabu starts to walk away.

"Hey, Shirabu!"

Shirabu stops and turns around, glaring at him with his light brown eyes that Semi remembers so well. He snorts.

"Let's catch up one of these days, okay?"

Shirabu doesn't answer and walks away. Semi tsks, rolling his eyes. That brat.

The nurse tells him he's okay and doesn't suffer from any major injuries but it's a good thing that he still came to check up, and that she'll be finishing the treatment. Semi nods but now that the distraction of Shirabu is over, lightness leaves Semi's chest as fast as it came, leaving him feeling heavy all over again. He didn't expect to see Shirabu here, but he guesses it wasn't too bad.

Now that he thinks of it, where did Takuma go?

Semi doesn't bother answering.

Two weeks later, Takuma found another bar that agreed for them to perform. He also made Semi promise to behave and Semi rolled his eyes at that, like he was the problem.

He sent a text to Shirabu too, but Shirabu never answered.

That brat.

Whatever. Semi was somewhat happy to have some news of Shirabu, but if Shirabu doesn't want to talk to him, it can't be helped. It's not like they're on the same team and have to work together to get along, they can ignore each other now. Semi just thought it was nice to talk to him, the last time.

His wounds have also all healed, of course. It wasn't anything big enough to go to the hospital in the first place, but anyway. The day after Shirabu patched him up, Semi looked at one of the band-aids on his arms for far longer than he should've had, and peeled it off.

Takuma enters the bar first, followed by Kaku and Kujou, then Semi.

The bar's atmosphere seems nice, already. Much more alternative than the previous bar they performed at.

"Hello, we're The Eagles. We talked on the phone," Takuma introduces them to the guy at the counter who looks like the owner of the place.

Hair in a bun and slim body, he looks like in his thirties. His eyes light up when he figures who they are and a smile appears on his face.

"Oh that's you! Wonderful, I was excited to hear you perform. So, for the stage…"

"Semi?"

Semi blinks and looks to his right, meeting with a familiar dark ginger head.

"Kawanishi?"

Kawanishi's lips break into a smile as he comes closer to Semi. Last time Semi saw Kawanishi has to be over a year, he thinks. They caught up with Goshiki and Oohira too, that time. Last time he heard of him, Kawanishi was pursuing a master's degree after a gap year and also part-timing in a bar, but Semi didn't expect the bar to be this bar, out of all the bars that exist in Tokyo.

"Wow, it's really you. You really do look different when you're going to perform."

Semi shrugs, smirking. "Well, yeah. Music's all about the vibes. But you also look different when you're dressed as a barman, Kawanishi."

Kawanishi grins. "Maybe, but not as cool as you."

"Like hell, don't give me that."

Kawanishi laughs while Semi feels his bandmates watching him, their eyes full of curiosity and questions. Semi motions them to go first, and Kawanishi's eyes follow them as they walk away.

"Your bandmates?"

"Yeah. You never saw me perform, did you?"

"Nope! But that's great, 'cause Kenjirou never saw you perform either."

Shirabu?

Kawanishi points with his thumb to farther away behind him, and there he is. Shirabu is sitting on a stool facing the counter, a drink in front of him as his eyes were watching them. As soon as Semi notices him, Shirabu averts his eyes like he didn't want to be noticed. Semi huffs.

Their styles couldn't clash more: while Semi is wearing a large black sweater with a choker, Shirabu is wearing a soft cardigan.

Semi laughs.

He walks towards Shirabu, and leans one arm on the counter next to Shirabu, his other hand holding the strap of his guitar case on his back.

"Hey, Shirabu."

"Hey," he nods back.

He's still not looking at him, picking at his drink, and Semi is already pissed off.

"You saw my text?" he asks with a forced smile.

"No," Shirabu answers as he plays with the straw of his cocktail.

"Stop lying."

Shirabu stays silent for a while, Semi watching him. For every second this silence stretches on, Semi feels more and more annoyed, like a ticking bomb is attached to his heart and ready to explode in anger.

"I was busy," Shirabu ends up saying.

"Like I'm not," Semi scoffs. "But, whatever. If you don't want to talk to me, so be it. I'm not going to be that petty."

Despite saying that, he is petty and feels even more ridiculous for it.

"Nah, you got it all wrong Semi," Kawanishi interjects as he's now between Shirabu and Semi, behind the counter. "Your text probably got Kenjirou so stressed that he pref-"

Kawanishi's sentence gets muffled behind Shirabu's hands as the latter slapped them on his best friend's mouth, eyes wide in anger. Semi frowns. What is Shirabu hiding?

When Shirabu releases Kawanishi, Kawanishi is gasping for air and he shakes his head.

"Yeah uh, so. Semi, you're performing tonight right? My boss told me it was your first time here and that if it goes well, you guys might become a regular thing?"

Weird change of topic, but Semi takes it still. "Yeah. We usually performed weekly at another place but… we got kicked out two weeks ago, so we're looking for alternatives now. I didn't know you worked here though, Kawanishi."

Shirabu's finally looking at him but as Semi looks at him too, he looks away. Brat.

Though, Shirabu must have been reminded about their encounter two weeks ago, with Semi wounded because he fought with a guy. Shirabu must have understood the fight happened in the bar they got kicked out.

"I'd be happy if you performed here, we could see each other more," Kawanishi says. "Also, Kenjirou often comes by so we'd all get to meet more."

Shirabu glares at Kawanishi, who raises his eyebrows back at him. Semi doesn't know exactly what's going on, but he can see that Shirabu still doesn't like his guts.

Whatever. Semi will not feel petty about it.

(He is, though.)

"Eita!" Kujou calls him from afar. "We have to set up now!"

"Okay, 'coming!"

He turns to his two ex-teammates and smiles to them.

"Well, I have to go."

While Kawanishi tells him good luck, Shirabu's eyes are trained on Kujou like he's wondering who she is.

"That's Kujou Haruka. The voice of our group," Semi explains as Kawanishi excuses himself to serve a customer.

"Your girlfriend?" Shirabu asks.

Semi frowns. "Uh, no. A friend."

Where did Shirabu get the idea that Kujou could be his girlfriend?

It's only then that Shirabu's eyes return to him but he's as cold as ever, simply nodding. "Ah, I see."

Semi nods to himself. That was weird. "Yeah. Anyway, I'll get going."

As he turns around, Semi hears Shirabu's voice calling him and he stops, looking at him again. This time, Shirabu doesn't avoid his gaze and stares at him front on, and Semi cocks his head.

"Uh… Are your wounds better now?"

Semi blinks. He didn't expect that. "Oh, yeah! I'm all patched up, don't worry. You took good care of me!"

"I see."

Shirabu goes back to his drink like the information Semi just delivered to him wasn't that interesting after all, and Semi feels annoyed all over again. Just when he was happy that Shirabu voiced out his concern over him, tsk. What an uncute underclassman.

"Anyway, see you, Shirabu. And answer my texts from now on!"

This time too, Shirabu doesn't grace him with an answer.

Brat.

The bar is more cramped than the bar-restaurant they used to perform at, but at least Semi can have an overview of the entire room now. People are still chatting between themselves, getting drunk, but Semi knows it will all stop once Takuma hits the first beats, and everyone's attention will be on them.

Not like he wants it: he never really craved attention. All because Semi's always the center of attention, whether he wants it to be or not: even when he was benched during his last year of high school, you couldn't help but notice him, standing outside of the court. Everyone knew him, that talented third year setter, one of the school's secret heartthrobs too. No one outright admitted to Semi that they liked him as he was far too intimidating to do so, but everyone knew how popular he was — only Semi didn't know, and still doesn't know.

So, Semi isn't someone who plays music for the attention it gets. Semi only plays music because he likes it, because he can express himself through it. More than having eyes on his group, he wants ears listening to their music.

Hear us. Hear our voices.

And here it goes.

Semi immediately gets into it. All of his frustration from his daily job, the stupid paperwork he has to write, the stupid meetings he has to attend, the stupid small talks he has to bear, he pours it all into his guitar who helps him regulate his emotions.

And, for the first time in a long time, he also pours his frustration over Shirabu's behavior. His eyes barely meeting his, like he can't even bear to look at someone as miserable as Semi. His short answers, like Semi doesn't deserve anything more. His lack of answers too, like Semi doesn't even deserve a reply, actually.

It feels like high school all over again, when Semi would play his guitar in frustration after practice when Shirabu really pissed him off. Tendou laughed at him in these moments, and Semi would play louder, his hatred for Tendou also making it into his melody. Ushijima would listen like it's classical music, and Oohira and Yamagata would laugh at it.

God, Semi misses it, his high school years with the third years.

He even misses fighting with Shirabu every day.

Like on cue, Semi's eyes go to the crowd and there he spots them, those ruler-like bangs. Shirabu is watching him and from that far, Semi can't see what expression Shirabu is making exactly. But it feels like a win, to have someone as stuck-up as Shirabu watching him play rock, so his smile gets bigger as his eyes lock into Shirabu's.

Hear my frustration, Shirabu.

Hear me.

After a few songs, they're taking their first break and Semi slides on a stool on the counter, tired. He can still feel the adrenaline pumping into his veins like when he used to play volleyball, and he wants to get back on stage despite his exhaustion; funny, right? Semi complains every minute before they actually get to play, but once they do, Semi doesn't want to stop. He thinks he's a bit of a masochist to enjoy this process, really.

Like he did with volleyball.

"Holy fuck, you guys were so good," Kawanishi compliments them.

"Thanks," Semi says. "Give me a cocktail."

Kawanishi frowns at that. "Uh. You sure about that?"

Semi frowns harder, annoyed. "What?"

"I mean, you're supposed to still be playing for a while… and given your alcohol tolerance…"

Kawanishi is fully mocking him, smirking. Semi's ticked off, jaw tightening. "Who do you take me for? I can handle one drink, for fuck's sake."

Kawanishi shrugs. "Well, I wouldn't want poor Kenjirou to bring you home again."

Semi chokes. "Shirabu did what?"

Kawanishi blinks at him. "What, you don't remember? You blacked out that hard?" He laughs, and Semi considers murder. "You know, two years ago when we had our last big gathering party with Ushijima and Tendou here too? You drank too much and since Kenjirou was one of the few who wasn't drunk, he got you home."

Hell. Now that Kawanishi's bringing it up, Semi does remember that. At least, only the next morning when he asked how he ended up in his own room and Ushijima replied it was thanks to Shirabu. Embarrassed, Semi thanked Shirabu in private and Shirabu never answered (that brat, seriously). With the years, Semi's brain preferred to forget and god, he wishes he could forget about it again.

"Ah," Semi croaks out, embarrassed.

He's not the one who's taken care of, usually. He's the one who takes care of other people, especially those younger than him. His exception is somewhat Takuma, since the latter is older than him and Takuma likes taking care of other people. Otherwise, maybe because he's a big brother, but he's the one making sure everyone's fine.

Being taken care of is extremely embarrassing for Semi Eita.

"Kenjirou!" Kawanishi greets his best friend, and Semi tenses up.

Shirabu sits quietly next to him.

"You remember, right? That night two years ago when Semi got-"

"What did you think of the performance?" Semi cuts him off.

Kawanishi looks like he wants to continue his sentence, but one look from Semi and he shuts up. Shirabu looks a bit confused, but he goes along (thank god).

"It was… fine, I guess," Shirabu says like it costed him to say that.

"Brat," Semi mutters, one hand holding up his cheek, leaning on the counter. Shirabu's as constipated as ever, Semi shouldn't even be surprised by this answer. If he didn't like it, it doesn't matter to Semi anyway. It's not like he plays for Shirabu. "Give me a cocktail, Kawanishi," he asks, petty.

"Well, as I said-"

"If I do get too drunk — which isn't going to happen — one of my bandmates will take me home. It's fine."

Kawanishi suddenly grows nosy, leaning on the counter with his two forearms. "Oh? Which one?"

Semi scowls. "Takuma, probably. The drummer and our leader. Kaku, the bassist, should not be trusted with a wheel and Kujou doesn't have her driver's license yet, so."

"Oh, yeah. The drummer's pretty hot," Kawanishi grins.

Semi glares at him again. "Don't. Kaku and Takuma are dating, you know."

"Ah. A shame," Kawanishi shrugs and glances at Shirabu, who has stayed quiet all the while. "Then what about Kujou? She's pretty cute. Nothing happened between you?"

Now, Semi's outright annoyed. "Ugh, what's with people's assumptions on bands that everyone fucks together? No, nothing fucking happened between us and it never will. Kujou's into girls."

"Ah, I see… But you're into girls right?"

"Girls and boys, for fuck's sake, and I don't even see your point. Just do your job and get me a fucking drink. Your best one, I don't care."

"Okay okay geez, I'll do that. What about you, Kenjirou? You want something?"

"No, I'm good. I'm leaving, I have to rest for my shift tomorrow," Shirabu says as he gets up.

Huh. Shirabu's leaving already?

"Ah, okay," Kawanishi says, waving bye at his friend as he walks away to prepare Semi's drink. "See you then!"

Shirabu waves back and packs his stuff quietly, not even acknowledging Semi's presence. That irks him.

"You're not staying? Our band will continue playing," he asks.

Shirabu raises his eyes on him, giving him a deadpan.

"And?"

Semi huffs. Fucking brat. "Yeah, okay. Get your sleep."

"I will," Shirabu says like he used to say back in high school. No emotions attached, stoically and politely, in a way that so easily spiked Semi's blood pressure. He doesn't know why he bothers with Shirabu, really. Maybe he really is that much of a masochist, as he keeps going at things that hurt him. "Oh, and Semi."

"Mh?"

"Don't drink too much."

Semi blinks. Shirabu bows slightly to him, then leaves.

So Shirabu remembers that night, and knows what Kawanishi was talking about. He just pretended to buy Semi's change of topic and was now messing with him.

Semi feels embarrassed all over again, biting on his lips as he watches Shirabu leave.

"Fucking brat," he curses under his mouth.

There's truly no one in the world that annoys Semi as much as Shirabu does, even after all those years.