Work Text:
The first time June came across Lakewood, it was during the first tournament of the year.
Autumn. Outside, heat sticks to exposed skin like oozing honey. It made everyone sweat. It made him sweat too, shifting shirts and shorts every few seconds to rid that uncomfortable friction over his skin.
The tournament’s building was a pure blessing. Not the noise nor the crowd, but the blatant air conditioning fanning over the air as a game drones on and on and on.
On the court, Lakewood molds into a formidable team. Not as well polished as his own, but they had weapons on the front line and safety nets for the back. The ball slams down to the other side, flies back up, gets bounced back by the awaiting libero.
It's fascinating watching volleyball like this: removed, thousands of spaces away from the eternally changing court. Here, June can study little specks of anatomy, how muscles ripple and tense as the ball constantly flies back to back.
It’s fascinating.
And it’s even more fascinating when a new face comes running into the little rectangular box, his substitution number paddle raised high into the sky.
More information. More plays to analyze, look over, understand. How does he play? How does he blend into the team, especially one as new as this?
The new person dons hair as bright as the rising sun. Up here, he can’t see any other features well, but faint freckles adorn his exposed limbs like sand.
“Hmm?” Beside him, Leo chews on a caramel candy. “Lakewood substituted a power cannon?”
“He looks our age,” June replies.
“Maybe younger, considering his height.”
The whistle blows. Someone serves, the ball goes high, received, flown to the other side, thrown into the air, and—
The thought that he was a star crosses June’s mind. Something so bright he could not take his eyes off. Not even once.
The new person goes flying into the air.
It’s as though he’s known exactly where to position himself, when to jump, when to get into the most optimal posture. The setter had placed the ball at the perfect spot, but the person had aligned himself with it so well it’s as though he had been on the starting setup this entire time.
And that jump. Powerful, dripping with pure ecstasy. He will be the best, and he’ll stay the best.
June can’t even fathom facing someone as hungry as that, much less being on the same team.
The person slams the ball into the blockers’ defenses, only this time, the ball hits their fingertips and goes flying off the court. So, so far into the horizon, into the countless screaming stands.
June finds himself releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. That—the seamless adaptation into the team, the power of a striker, the eyes that follow everyone on the court, and then more—that was…
“…Beautiful,” June murmurs.
“Insane,” Leo agrees. “He’ll be in the top 50 before we know it. I think Lakewood found their starting striker.”
June can’t help but agree, too. If polished well and smoothed over, he’ll be a nightmare to deal with on future occasions. With Leo’s approval, the best can only become the best.
Too bad he’s only a substitute player. It would give him more data to analyze if he stayed on the court longer, but after a while, he went right back onto the bench, seating everything right into the dark once more.
Watching this, Leo seems to weave together an excellent idea. “What if I kiss every straight guy under our top 50 when the list comes out?”
At that, June fidgets with his headphones. “And you think he’s going to be on it?”
“Of course. Anyone who plays like that is either crazy for volleyball or not even trying.” Leo smirks. “Either way, I wanted to ask him about his techniques, and a kiss won’t be much, right?”
“What? Like, now—?”
“God, no. When that list comes out, I'll track down everybody.” Leo laughs. “He should be at the top somewhere. If he's not, his coach is undermining the hell out of him.”
An amused smile begins to grow on June’s lips. It'll be funny to watch. Leo always makes things interesting, no matter how rigid it is. Leo always keeps everything on its toes.
June watches as the head of red hair sticks out from the substituting bench. He can’t see his eyes well, but he knows that gaze is focused on nowhere but the court. Always, always.
It’s a good look on him.
—
Ethan Reed.
“Second best spiker of our age, starting number something something…” Leo reads. “Pretty good all rounder. The other guy on his team beats him by pure power and energy, though. Who was it, Kei? He has crazy amounts of height on him.”
He twirls a marker around his fingers. Almost, June can picture them in his apartment: the whiteboard, the light falling neatly over both of their heads, the scribbles on pure white. He knows Leo can picture it too; everything Leo does is loud and straight to the point.
In front of them, the vending machine whirrs. Leo had found a random 20 dollar bill lying near where they’re standing, and instead of asking if someone lost it, he grabbed June and walked straight to the vending machines.
Not that June was complaining. Free snacks are free snacks.
As the aforementioned machine eats up the bill, Leo continues scrolling through the Lakewood player list, chin draped across his shoulder. “Still short as hell, but he’s a babe. Looks straight, too.”
“You should ask,” June chirps, pushes the button for his favorite bag of chips.
“Oh, I always do, silly. The real question is whether or not he’ll accept.” Leo hums. “Any bets?”
As always, June thinks. “Oliver did seem to have no problem with it, and he’s on the same team.”
“Oh, Oliver loves me. I always flirt with him at the front. I interacted a few times with Ethan, sure, but not any lingering conversations.”
“You should ask in the middle of a game next time.”
At that, Leo laughs, airy and amused. “Your thoughts are so beautiful, Junie."
June smiles at that. They're comfortable like this, pushing buttons for chips and scrolling through data.
Ethan, Ethan. He remembers his callouts, the way the team melts together into an all observing, all powerful weapon under his words. Every single command he states, the team follows them all. It must take absolute confidence to put yourself in that situation, much less make an entire team obedient under your hand.
He makes a good captain. When this year’s gone and he’s on the very front, that team will be a force to reckon with.
Especially him on the court, and especially him now, standing only a few spaces away from them.
Leo, much to his words, saunters right up to him, chips in one hand, a wave with the other. June only follows him.
This close, Ethan’s hair is parallels with the blinding sunrise. At the beach, when the waves are pouring and the sun slowly wakes up over the horizon, he can find snippets of grandeur, apricot-shattering colors there. It's like waking up from a dream only to see the universe is still at play, grasping his hand and guiding him into it again and again.
Now the world has bestowed June’s favorite sight onto this boy.
Ethan turns, a little whiteboard and marker in hand, and June thinks: blue. And then: freckles.
“Oh, hey,” Ethan greets. “You’re uhm… Leo. Leo Morelli, right? Setter?” He swiftly glances at June. “Hi.”
The ocean washes over him. Almost, June thinks he's submerged in cold, cold water, but his feet touch solid ground and Leo's smiling a little at his way beside him. How do people do this? How do people interact with one another and not glance over at the full sight of loveliness, of blues and oranges blending together until the horizon brightens?
“Hi,” June replies, short and sweet. Ethan only nods.
“Aw, so you do know me!” Leo chirps. On the stands, June sees some Lakewood heads turn their way.
Ethan snorts. “With the way you keep wanting to kill me on the court, I might as well know who I'm dealing with.”
“Aw, I'm only flirting, babe. Don’t take it too seriously. And we’ve barely had any games against each other, too.”
“I'm only looking out for competition, Morelli. My team needs to win this so they can flex on everybody else.” Ethan smirks.
“Too bad your setter’s not me.” Leo grins, amused. “I'll win everything before you know it.”
Ethan grins too, and June thinks it’s a good look on him.
“Is that a challenge?”
“When did volleyball exist without a challenge? Especially this one, too.”
That makes Ethan’s head tilt a little. “This one?”
“He’s on a mission,” someone says from the stands. Oliver, June thinks. “Kiss every straight guy in our top 50.”
Ethan raises an eyebrow. Leo only laughs, blowing a little kiss to Oliver to which Oliver only smiles and waves back.
“So you want to…” Ethan points at his lips, then to Leo.
“Of course. Think of it as a little conquest of the volleyball world.” Leo smirks. “Only if you say yes, though, babe. No pressure.”
Ethan lets out a realizing hum.
Then, “Do you bite?”
June can already hear Leo’s perfect response. “Only if you beg me to.”
At that, Ethan laughs. It's filling to the ears, like a big breeze over the ocean, sailing all ships and boats alike. June hasn't heard him laugh like that. It was always amusing smirks and bountiful snorts, sure, but this one sends warmth straight to his heart and keeps it beating. Idly, he thinks he would like to hear it again, keep it on replay until the record breaks.
“Sure, I accept,” Ethan replies, easy and grinning. “And then my team will be the final one standing.”
“You talk soo much shit, you know that.” Leo lets out an amused sigh.
Then, without anything else bashed in between them, they close the distance.
The entire Lakewood team erupts in cheers. June only lets out a small laugh, crunching on his chips on the side.
Ethan looks so much softer with his eyes closed. As Leo's hand traverses over his nape and stays there without any added pressure, Ethan looks as if all the stresses of the world, volleyball, everyone else, the entire world, has disappeared underneath his grasp. Only the feeling of warmth remains.
And Ethan’s not one to back down, either. His hands traverse up Leo’s shoulder, grasping his shirt and pulling him into orbit. They're two planets of control, of giggles and laughs between lips on lips and Lakewood’s whistles.
When they part, Leo only says, “you’re a freak, babe. I didn't know you had that in you.”
Ethan only rubs his bottom lip, rolling his eyes. “It’s ‘cause you came with all that challenge talk.”
“I’ll kiss you on the court again just to make you lose.” Leo grins.
And Ethan only copies the smile, waving him away for his best state of mind. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Walking back to their team, Leo hums happily.
“What a cutie,” he says. “Not my taste though, but I can see how he can charm a little lovesick somebody.”
June only laughs. “I'm glad he’s nice.”
“He needs a clear head to control those little Lakewood freaks the best he can next year, of course he’s nice.” Leo crunches on chips, satisfied. “Maybe I'll break my promise and kiss him again for good measure just to see his team fall apart.”
“You’re evil.”
“You'd do the same thing, babe.”
June wasn’t one to deny things when they’re laid out straight in front of him. He only smiles and listens to Leo’s little hums of victory, an answer burning within his lungs.
Leo already knows the words he’s going to say, anyways. June doesn’t even need to weave together coherency when the half of his soul understands every fidget, every minute action.
Quietly, June wonders if Leo saw the same sunrise colors as he did, too.
—
As always, the sun rises. As always, the sun hovers over his shoulders until the ocean flows over his body, but it is always there when he emerges.
Ethan, in his usual volleyball uniform, now marked with a 1. Leader. Ethan, sitting without a worry in the world on the changing room benches, talking and changing expressions at the others. Ethan, Ethan, Ethan.
The sun.
June can feel his stomach shriveling up at the sight of pure radiance. And the environment, too. New, filled to the brim with things he hasn’t explored yet, almost a fingertip away from exploding.
But then Ethan glances over to him when Lewis finishes his introduction, and it’s as though June takes a deep, deep breath of air after being submerged for too long.
June only wishes he can keep that sight forever.