Chapter Text
Turn around, look behind.
· · ·
Before the afternoon, there weren't any signs of a downpour. Two calloused hands descend onto something soft. Fabric prickle and notch into the crevice of fingers closing on them, lifting upward now. The polished flooring turning into concrete steps, open air feeling soggier than he anticipated. He needs a moment to feel it on his bare forearms – the rising of hair gets his attention. It's cold.
There's this dull sensation in the back of his head that blooms. It's been there for a month. Even If he thinks about it, he will still miss the meaning behind it. It is foreign, and Ushijima isn't going to unpack it. Maybe it takes shape soon, but right now, it feels like a dot.
"Waka-kuuun, you're leaving?" Somebody calls out from the gym, door wide open and doing nothing to block out the residual squeaks from others' shoes and voices. "It's nearly past 3, buddy— you headin' home? You usually stick around til later."
"Not home, no. Going out to the station," he replies, the scuffles of shoes behind the walkway almost drowning out his voice. Outside of the main gymnasium, Ushijima perched up against the railing leading out briefly. He doesn't have to be omnipotent to know Tendou was two steps—four steps now—behind him. "To Itabashi. I intend on visiting someone up there." Not a hint of who that was, a vague explanation to satisfy his mind and a secondary beside him. Not that it ever does satisfy Satori, no, the red-head was practically on top of everything.
Wakatoshi simply lets his line of sight to snag on a random patch of grass, as he hoisted something light upward; his pale purple sports bag, slung over neatly the left shoulder. Pairs of mahogany eyes on his back, and he can only imagine the skepticism on his face. "Visiting who? Waka-kun, Itabashi is faaarr out from Sendai, y'know," Ushijima could almost feel the curvature of Tendou's smile increasing tenfold, "must be so important, leaving right before practice is even finished… Oho oho! What a turnout! Seeing somebody—no, no, I know! It's that Nekoma setter, huh?"
No, Ushijima fights the word lodged in his throat, it is somebody else. It is somebody else who I mildly have interest in. It isn't important whatsoever.
Of course, he has to make it make sense somehow.
His subconscious leans into his expression, usually stone, mailable into something a tad more stiff; a crease in a corner of his mouth says a lot more. Satori caught on without saying a word. Lying to himself in his head always elicit such a reaction. "... Yes, I am seeing him today. We had plans to go see a park in the area."
"Yah-huh. And is this a casual outing?" his tone lacks any attempt to hide skepticism. Almost mocking had Ushijima been less inclined to understand the difference.
Ushijima looks back, a curve in his brow line, "I fail to see what you're implying, Tendou."
Was Satori always so… perceptive? Does he literally have to catch onto everything so quickly like that? He's actually, possibly, a freakish guess monster. If Ushijima has to be honest, he's quite unsettled by his attention to detail. Maybe Tendou just plays into the 'bit' too well, and is only teasing.
Unfortunately, Ushijima made the unconscious decision to be read so plainly; easy to grab and run with endlessly every single time with him. And Satori is always two steps smarter in reading faces than Ushijima ever will be.
"Isn't that, like, five or so hours? Itabashi isn't that close, is it?" Tendou queries in footfalls behind Ushijima, holding his own sports bag in a peculiar manner; swinging it around low, just a little past his knee and slipping it off every once in a while from his shoulders. Wakatoshi knows he fidgets a lot naturally, but it is a little excessive. "I am taking the train. Kozume is in Nerima, but he said he'll meet halfway. I do not see the fuss behind me going this far out for a visit—"
"No, no! I'm not sayin' it's an issue, bud," he stops a few inches from Ushijima's backside, both now by the crosswalk away from the gymnasium, "I honestly think it's great! Getting out of that bubble, you know! It's quite the development of yours Wakatoshi."
… Getting out of my bubble?, the olive haired boy surmised, is that what that is? It wasn't strange to go out and see somebody that so happens to live pretty far out, right? Ushijima's face is static for the most part, but as he's shifting from the pathway to the lisp of the sidewalk, it changes fully to one of genuine bafflement. That's… Okay, sure. MY bubble. Going to see somebody outside of my circle is…
A change. For certain, it is a definite change in behavior.
He's right, unfortunately. He's so terribly right that Wakatoshi's footsteps had ceased minutes ago and he is now halfway turned to Satori, shoulder tilted back and head somewhat facing him. "Is that… a bad thing?"
"Eh?" Tendou squeezed out, his lip twitching into that still smile. "Whacha mean?"
"To be out of my 'bubble', is that a bad thing—is it that noticeable?"
There's a notable pause, and all motions to swing that duffle around ceased. That's new for Tendou Satori. Now it extends to Wakatoshi, who has been waiting there for an answer for a few seconds. Seven seconds, a breath of nothing. Shoes against gravel, nothing.
Wakatoshi squints at him. There's a thin line where the ends of his lips meet, and it's straining a neutral look. Just say it. Please, just say it.
And he only smiles more. Yup, let him marinate in it for a little longer. Let him bask in that dumb, innocuous question without realizing what he was even trying to ask. Tendou's eyes look at everything but Ushijima, standing and bending weirdly to the left. The strap found his shoulder eventually, and the sports bag is now idle, as all has been. "You're on a date, don't overthink it buddy."
⠀
Date.
Ushijima fails to understand it. There's somebody standing in his peripheral mind.
This is a date.
He can't really parse it like he should. There's a graphic playing out in his head now, something that doesn't quite take shape. Maybe the back of somebody's head, face obscured by leaves.
This is a date, and Tendou knows that he—
"I think," Wakatoshi suddenly turns heel; from what was just his shoulder peaking back to somewhat face him, to his shoulder blade being the preface – backside wide and uninviting, "I think I know what I'm doing. I don't 'overthink', Satori." His words unintentionally stung, but that's okay. That's just how he is, and he doesn't need it to be a whole thing, not when his plate is already full. It's okay, because that's just Ushijima's way of saying 'you're teetering too close, stop it.'
But right now, it isn't okay. Because this absolutely isn't a date. And his intentions are to have a nice, relaxing time with the boy intruding his current thoughts.
"Oookay, okay!" surrenders Satori and he backs up to the concrete path again, suppressing something – his obnoxious laugh was just on that tongue of his, kept back for his sake. "You're kinda funny when you get like that. Don't turn into Semi-Semi on me, 'kay?"
"I physically cannot do that." Ushijima objects with his hand clutching the bottom loop of his bag.
"You—No, like—Okay. Don't act like him I mean." Tendou rolls his eyes and pushed back on his feet, pouting his lips at a angle. It's an awkward look on him, "I press that boy more than I do you! You know how he was before we got together, always so–"
"I'm not," Ushijima's eyes fell to the gravel and grass mixture next to him, looking less like a formidable individual and more like somebody caught in a weird loop. "I get the point. You can knock it off now." And yet, he doesn't. He's just saying that. "This isn't a date. This isn't anything else, that would be inappropriate. I don't think it is fair to paint it that way."
"Sure."
Ushijima didn't catch it, already straightening up. He isn't even looking at him when he speaks, knowing better not to. If he so much as gawked at him the taunting grin would be enough to unconsciously irk him. "When it is time to close up, please just hand the keys to Ojiro. Or, you can just give it to Eita. Do not overdo yourselves."
"Sure thing, Miracle boy…" Satori intones to the back of Ushijima's head, knowing he'll just push it by trying to rub it in. The mahogany of his sharp eyes catches Eita Semi standing by the doorway of the gym now, arms crossed and head tilted from where he stood. He couldn't stop himself; body facing fully towards the vice captain, both hands in the air and waving. Wakatoshi's subtle about catching this distanced interaction, and he's content on leaving it as just that. That same routine he's come to expect with those two; Practice, talk, maybe joke around and maybe look at each other for a second longer, go home.
Ushijima doesn't experience this solace like others' would come to expect of him. 'Tactless' or 'dull' would probably be the words he'd hear from somebody in his class. That's probably a good thing, it is a commentary on his surface appearance. Could be a bad thing too, untrue as it was. I am more than that, but pointing that out blatantly with that same coldness—that same stoicism he applies unconsciously to his words without rewriting himself—could backfire. The thought itself is enough to get Wakatoshi to unknowingly frown; he isn't a flat person, and he definitely isn't a person who's rude for no reason. Or at all, actually. Assumptions are what followed him like a stray dog.
Wakatoshi Ushijima does not overthink.
He is fine with sitting on that for now. That is definitely a lot of baggage for one boy to overthink for a uncertain amount of time. The gymnasium seems distant now from where he now slows to a steady gait, and it is—was—the idea to get to the platform down at Omiya Station.
The next thing that leaves Tendou Satori's mouth marks the first time that Ushijima Wakatoshi has ever felt sincerely mortified and stuck-fast in place. Dignity is a suggestion.
"Hey, Seeemii! Waka-kun is leaving for his date with Kozume!" shouted Tendou, the weight of it carrying over to the boy with sandy white hair; Eita Semi had left the confines of the gym back entrance by now, and stood by that same railing that Ushijima was leaning on just moments earlier, bemused at the declaration.
He couldn't see his expression, he was so focused on losing his composure over the spontaneous utterance from his best friend. His best friend who didn't know how to keep his trap shut.
Tendou's still waving like a buffoon.
"And that's supposed to be a riveting thing because…? Have you just been harassing him this entire time?" Semi doesn't seem interested in the slightest, not outwardly, but it is more clear to both Satori and (unfortunately) Ushijima that there's a tiny speck of amusement. This isn't a joke. "You still have to help clean up, dumbass."
"Weh?" Tendou bleats, "Aren't you going to say something about that?"
"Was that not me saying something?"
"Well, duh. But this is something crazy! Imagine it, Wakatoshi going out with the likes of Nekoma–it is VERY riveting if you ask me."
"You're harassing him, Sato. Knock it off before I come over there." Eita clearly makes no attempt to go over there. "Are you done? You have been out here for twenty-some minutes."
Has it actually been twenty minutes? For all of this, for him to feel utterly embarrassed with himself for ever being honest, he has been sitting here and talking to Tendou for twenty minutes? They are both talking now, back and forth bickering that flags as incomprehensible nonsense in his racing mind and nothing to bring him down from it. Wakatoshi's gaze fixes on the skyline once again, and he once again stiffens against a frown. It came out awkward, made his face feel tight, and that dull ache became more intrusive.
He doesn't give them time to say anything. He has to leave, and he doesn't feel like sticking around for any more humiliation rituals that his pair of friends want to hurl at him. And in that state of discomfort with it all, Wakatoshi feels as if Satori's correct. This is all an excuse, he's lying to himself and he's just trying to push from what is objectively true. But stubbornness is a habitual trait, so that falls flat.
And so, he departs finally—he should have done this moments ago instead of sitting there and letting himself get so sidetracked.
There's this unsteady rhythm in his chest. That's normal, right?