Chapter Text
Seven minutes.
Shirabu had been waiting for a grand total of seven minutes.
He checked his watch again, just to be sure he wasn’t too early, checked his phone and checked the street sign to make sure he wasn’t in the wrong place. All good. So where the hell was everyone?
To be fair, it wasn’t exactly time yet. Tendou’s text had said The captain has spoken!! !! !!!!! Team dinner and movie night tomo!!! Meet @ 5PM!! ! ! The conbini @ corner of Wakano 3-chome! See yoooouuUUuUU guyzzzz~ followed by a slew of emojis that Shirabu had stopped trying to glean meaning from after seeing the love hotel emoji.
(Though he did take the time to admire the selfie that came with the text: Tendou with an arm slung around a stone-faced Ushijima’s shoulder while he made a peace sign with bandaged fingers, probably taken just after Saturday practice).
Shirabu blew out a puff of frustration. Shirabu wasn’t entirely sure how Tendou did it, talking Ushijima into saying yes to literally anything he suggested: from watching the newest anime or drama or movie to having a team bonding activity on a Sunday. As if the three hours six times a week still wasn’t enough for them to be sick of each other’s faces.
Then again, Shirabu definitely wouldn’t say no to seeing Ushijima on all days of the week if he were a more honest person—which he wasn’t, so he was dead set on pretending that all this was bothersome and a gigantic waste of time he’d rather spend doing…nothing really.
Another quick glance at his watch confirmed that it just turned 4:58PM, the third hand wagging like a taunt as it ticked with every passing second. Usually most of them would be here by now. Reon and Yamagata would’ve been here before he’d even arrived. In the two years that he’d known the seniors, it seemed as if they’d always been early to arrive for anything.
Five minutes before the designated meetup time Tendou and Semi would usually show up, standing far too close and whispering just a little too softly (which was suspicious, if one knew Tendou, because it was almost like he was born with the inability to speak any lower than 85 decibels and if there was one skill Semi had that Shirabu wanted more than anything, it was the ability to make Tendou quiet down around him).
Right on time would be Kawanishi (and Shirabu had always harbored this theory that he’d just be dallying around one block away until it was actually time to meet, to avoid having to interact with them any more than he had to).
Then always, always late was Goshiki, who would rush in panting and spewing out some excuse that Shirabu never really bothered to listen to.
Ushijima, of course, would arrive on time as well, sometimes just a minute or two early, and Shirabu was pretty sure it wasn’t out of any desire to get out of spending more time with them, but simply because the invite said a certain time and it would only be logical to arrive at said time.
“Shirabu?”
Shirabu nearly jumped. Nearly. But he managed to grab his dignity by the throat and grasp it between sweaty, sweaty hands before turning to face Ushijima, who, again, had arrived right on time, as confirmed by a quick glance at his watch.
“Ushijima-san.” Shirabu greeted, bowing slightly. “I was almost afraid I got the wrong place.”
“No one is here yet?” Ushijima asked, glanced at the street sign, as if making sure that this was, indeed, Wakano 3-chome. He blinked and pulled his phone out, Shirabu’s eyes drawing straight to the silver eagle charm hanging from the side. “Let me contact Tendou.”
He put his phone to his ear, and Shirabu took that time to lazily drag his eyes (because yeah, sure that was totally not sleazy at all, checking out your senior while they were distracted) over Ushijima’s outfit. He rarely ever saw him in anything but sports attire, so it came as a wonderful surprise to find out that he actually had a pretty solid fashion sense. Nice-fitting jeans and a v-neck shirt layered with an expensive-looking jacket that went just past his hips, only barely obscuring his view of that ass—
Which was suddenly not in view anymore, because Ushijima had turned to face him again, the slight hint of a frown on his face.
“He said he got sick from the rain last night. And that Semi was sick as well because they had walked home together without umbrellas.” Ushijima pressed his phone to his ear again. “I’m calling Reon.”
“I’ll call Kawanishi and Goshiki.” He volunteered, suddenly feeling a crawling in his gut as he flicked his phone open and browsed his contacts. No way, there was no way. Surely none of them were that evil.
Wait. Scratch that.
Kawanishi hadn’t answered at all, even after five consecutive calls, and when Goshiki’s turn came he simply rejected the call after the third ring, and Shirabu received a hurried, typo-ridden message that basically said SORRY SENPAI, TENDOU-SAN’S ORDERS and nothing else.
“Reon said his grandfather suddenly asked him to walk their dogs. Yamagata’s not picking up.”
“That’s…strange.” Shirabu answered, sounding a bit strangled. He was going to kill them. Kill them. He’d kill them and Washijou-sensei wouldn’t even give him any grief about it because it wasn’t like the volleyball club didn’t have a hundred other members—
“Shirabu.”
Shirabu looked up, hoping that none of his murderous intent showed on his face. “Yes?”
“I apologize.” Ushijima said, hand flexing around his phone in a habit Shirabu recognized as something Ushijima did when he was at a loss. “I know you live a bit far from here and—”
“It’s fine!” Shirabu gently cut off, quickly put his hands up in reassurance. “I had nothing planned for today anyway.”
There was silence for a while. Heavy, uncertain silence eased only by Shirabu’s mind working up a list of ways to dispose of his teammates’ bodies. Ushijima looked deep in thought, as he always did, and Shirabu was mentally debating the efficiency of concentrated sulfuric acid when Ushijima spoke up again.
“In that case, would you still like to go see that movie? Even with just the two of us?”
Shirabu’s pretty sure if this was an anime, this would be the sequence where he’d have smoke blowing out of his ears, face glowing an unnatural shade of pink, with matching sound effects and a record scratch and kyaa, kyaaa—
“Of course.” He replied, fighting to keep his voice even. “I mean, if that’s alright with you.” Easy. Monotone. Totally not suspicious at all. He brought a hand up to brush back his bangs, subtly feeling for his face’s temperature. Not any warmer than normal. Good. Thank his genes for tiny peripheral capillaries.
Ushijima nodded, satisfied, and started on his way. Shirabu docilely followed, keeping a safe distance.
His teammates were so dead.
-
From 3-chome it was only a short walk to the bus stop, one that would drop them off at the only mall in the vicinity. Of course, he and Ushijima had to be sat next to each other, Shirabu had already expected that. What he didn’t expect was the fresh, clean scent of Ushijima’s detergent that came with every inhale. He realized he’d never actually sat next to Ushijima. Ever. Not for any of their trips to a practice match or to a tournament, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he regretted that fact or not. Would it have helped him be more prepared for this moment? Maybe. Would it have helped quell his spiralling-out-of-control, anything-but-innocent attraction for his senior? Absolutely not.
To distract himself (which was kind of futile, because every breath only served as a reminder that he was literally shoulder-to-shoulder with his middle-school-idol-turned-high-school-crush) he pulled up the mall cinema’s schedule on his phone, looking through the selections. There was a zombie film, a slice-of-life comedy, a book adaptation...
“Do you have any movie preferences, Ushijima-san?”
“None.” Ushijima answered, eyes straight ahead. “I think I would’ve been alright with whatever Tendou would have picked.”
Shirabu ignored the slight pang at the easy mention of Tendou’s name. He continued to browse, checking the timeslots and matching them up with their ETA at the mall.
“Would you like to have dinner before the movie?”
There were probably a lot of good answers to that question: yes or no being the ideal ones, but caught off-guard, Shirabu could only reply with a very articulate “huh?”
“Would you like to have dinner before the movie?” Ushijima repeated neatly, tone consistent. “I believe that was the original plan? Dinner then the movie.”
“Dinner.” Shirabu said, realized that didn’t really mean anything and cursed his brain for failing him at such a crucial moment. “Right. Dinner sounds great. Ushijima-san.”
If Ushijima had noticed anything off, he wasn’t showing it. Then again, he never really did show much of anything. His senior only nodded, and went right back to staring into space.
Fuck dead. Shirabu would kill his teammates, perform some forbidden and quite possibly demonic ritual that might involve sacrificing a goat to bring them back to life, kill them again, and repeat until he was satisfied. Or until he ran out of goats.
They’d all be better fucking fearing for their lives.