Work Text:
[ 6:33 AM ] Bokuto Koutarou :)
ON THE TRAIN NOW !!!!!!
SEE YOU SOON (つ｡˃ ᵕ ˂)つ ⸝♡
Keiji bites at his lip to stop an incriminating smile from spreading further across his face when the first of Koutarou's messages begin pinging his inbox. He's useless, though, against the furious warmth snaking its way up his neck and settling onto his cheeks. If anyone were to ask (and he worries they will), he could say he's still cooling down from his pre-practice jog. It's believable enough. He frequently jogs in the mornings, even if this morning wasn't one of them.
[ 6:34 AM ] Bokuto Koutarou :)
GONNA KISS THE HELL OUT OF YOU >:-)
Fuck.
Keiji sticks his head further inside his locker and carefully types back: See you soon.
Then, because it's been almost a month since they've last seen one another and he is a seventeen year-old boy experiencing falling in love for the first time, he adds: I'm looking forward to that.
He affords himself ten extra seconds in an attempt to regulate both his breathing and his hormones before he drops his phone into his bag and turns around to face his team. "I'm going to head over to start setting up the net," he says with near-perfect composure. "I want everyone stretched and ready to go by seven."
The first-years stare at him with blank expressions, but Anahori claps his hands together and says, "You heard the Captain. Let's head out."
Keiji trusts the team to follow behind him as he makes his way out of the club room and down the hallway leading to the primary gymnasium. The coaches won't be in for at least another fifteen minutes, but Keiji has made it one of his goals as team captain to make sure the gym is always ready to go—the team stretched and warming up—before they arrive.
He steps into the darkened gym ahead of everyone else and goes to find the light switch, then walks over to the equipment room to grab the key used for removing the covers that hide the holes where the poles go when the net is in use. He hears the voices of his teammates starting to trickle in, and sees them heading towards him in search of a job when he exits the equipment room.
It feels like any other morning.
Keiji crosses the court to remove the covers as two of the first-years come up to him with the poles balancing precariously in their arms. He picks the covers up and moves out of their way, telling them to be careful as the shorter of the two—Nishikori—struggles to line his pole up with the hole.
"You got it, Akaashi-san!" his underclassman says. He pitches forward to hold the pole steady as it slots into place.
Keiji keeps an extra eye on him to make sure he doesn't drop the pole before turning to walk back to the equipment room. He can see a few of his teammates still in there looking for the ball cart, net, and mops, talking as they work about something he figures is unimportant. When he reaches the door, though, he catches Mogami—the most troublesome of the first-years—asking the rest of them, "Does Akaashi-san seem off to you?" and feels the world come to a grinding halt.
"I don't think so." It's Onaga's voice. "Why?"
Keiji stays outside of the room, moving just enough to the side that they won't notice he's there, and listens to Mogami say, "I don't know… it's not like he's saying anything unusual, but when we were still in the club room, every time I looked over at him it seemed like he was smiling about something? Do you think he's planning an extra hard practice for us?"
"Oh." This time it's Anahori who responds, and a bit of laughter accompanies the next part. "Don't worry about it. It's probably because of Bokuto-san. I'm pretty sure he's supposed to come up from Osaka to visit this weekend. I bet Akaashi-san got a text from him saying he was on his way and that's what he was smiling about."
A dissonant clanging sound suddenly draws the attention of everyone in the gym, and only after the fact does Keiji realize it's because of him. He looks down at the metal covers he doesn't remember letting go of. They just barely missed landing on his feet. He stares at them another moment with a blend of mortification and disbelief before bending down to pick them up. "Sorry," he says to no one in particular as his teammates gather around him to locate the source of the noise.
He thinks he sees Anahori and Onaga exchange a look. He knows better than to acknowledge it.
"Let's finish setting up and begin our stretches," he says instead, making sure to sound as stern as possible. "Just because it's a Saturday doesn't mean we have a right to slack off."
"Yes, Captain!" a chorus of voices respond.
They finish setting up the gym and are nearing the end of their dynamic warm-up when Coach Yamiji and Assistant Coach Shima arrive. There's a pause to greet them before Keiji instructs the team to lunge from the baseline to the net, then back to the baseline where they switch to high knees. It's easy to compartmentalize the everything else happening around him when he has a clear objective needing to be met. And right now, when he orders the team to pair up for peppering after they finish their stretches, Keiji feels totally in control.
His performance throughout practice meets his standards, and he can tell the rest of the team is extra motivated, too. With Keiji and Onaga being the only two players from last year's starting lineup left in the rotation, the team has had to work hard to establish a new rhythm. Between early April and now, it's been a lot of trial and error, but Keiji likes the direction they're headed in with two weeks to go before inter-high prelims get underway. He feels a sense of pride at their progress, and with it, relief that his teammates didn't make a mistake by unanimously voting him team captain.
It's not that Keiji is presumptuous enough to think that he is solely responsible for the team's improved play, but with every hour logged, every set that leads to a clean kill, he feels himself earning more of their trust, and knows he can trust them in turn.
"How was that set?" he asks Sakai, a second-year opposite hitter, in the middle of a hitting drill. "I can put the next one a little further from the net if you think it would help?"
"And maybe a little higher?"
"Understood," Keiji says, and the next time he sets to Sakai, he does exactly that.
After Coach Yamiji decides he's pleased with the accuracy of their hits, he pivots to serve receive. He has the A Team get into their usual starting rotation. On the other side of the net, the B Team becomes responsible for serving the ball and blocking the A Team's attempts at running an offense.
It's the kind of drill they do every day. Keiji is used to the familiar rhythm of it, knows exactly where and when to move to account for every possible scenario. Even on a poor pass from one of the first-years, he adjusts well enough to give Sakai a chance for a clean hit.
Then, it happens.
When Anahori's hand connects with the ball to serve it over the net, Keiji moves into position. He watches their libero—Mima, the only other third-year on the team—easily dig it up. Keiji raises his hands up in preparation for a quick to Onaga.
In the brief second between keeping his eyes forward and tilting his head back to watch the ball meet his hands, he sees someone step through the gymnasium doorway, and it's this momentary break in concentration that begins to unravel every hour spent meticulously working on the mental side of his game.
The set dies on his fingertips. Keiji's hands are still raised, the ball still cradled by them, as his mind tries to work through any rational explanation for what just happened. Slowly, he draws his hands back down and tells his teammates, "Sorry," but he doubts anyone hears him.
They're too busy looking from him to the doorway, where Bokuto Koutarou stands with his hands on his hips, head tipped back in laughter over something Keiji can only guess at. An overnight bag sits at his feet.
"Hey! Hey! Hey!" he calls out.
Hearing his boyfriend's voice in-person for the first time in weeks threatens to take away whatever remains of Keiji's already fraught composure. He presses his nails into the ball to ground himself, and makes sure he is the last to leave the court when the rest of his teammates walk over to greet Fukurodani's former Ace. He hangs back and watches Koutarou slap Onaga on the back and give a fist-bump to Mima, then introduce himself to the first-years—all of whom stare at him with wonder on their bright red faces.
He waits with only a minimal amount of jealousy for Koutarou to speak to everyone in the gym. Then, when the other players have started to meander away to take a short water break, Keiji sets the volleyball down and walks over to him with a less-than-private smile overtaking his face.
"Hi," he says. It comes out a little breathless.
Koutarou's own smile widens as he closes the remaining distance between them and, just like they discussed, greets Keiji with a familiar, "Akaashi!" before pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug.
Keiji buries his face against the side of Koutarou's neck and takes in the realness of him: the rise and fall of his chest, the same vanilla and chestnut scent that used to overpower the team's club room whenever Koutarou sprayed too much cologne, how much stronger he's gotten since the last time they were together. He snakes his arms around Koutarou's middle and hugs him back just as hard.
They stay like this longer than best friends should, but it's obvious neither wants to be the first to let go. Only when Keiji realizes they have amassed an audience does he pull away and say, "You didn't tell me you were stopping by practice, Bokuto-san." He keeps his face as expressionless as possible.
"I wanted to surprise you!"
"Well, you certainly did that."
"I know, right?" Koutarou laughs loud enough to draw the remaining members of the team back over. "You totally flubbed that set when you saw me! Total rookie move!"
Keiji's eyes narrow. "Wh—" he starts to say, but whatever rebuttal he had wanted to give dies on his tongue at the change he notices in Koutarou's expression. There's a certain kind of hunger in the way he stands there—arms crossed over his chest, the light streaming in from the gym's windows catching the flecks of gold in his eyes—that knocks Keiji off-kilter. If they were anywhere else, Keiji would have already leaned forward to kiss the smug smirk off of his face.
But surrounded by the watchful eyes of his teammates and his coaches, all he can do is shake his head, push away that bead of desire pooling low in his stomach, and say, "I know. So please do not distract us for the rest of practice," before turning around and walking back onto court.
Behind him, he hears Coach Yamiji tell Koutarou, "Since you're here, I might as well add you to the serving rotation. Go warm yourself up," and the 'Whoop!' of approval Koutarou lets out in response.
Keiji bites at the inside of his cheek to stop a second wave of desire from spreading at the thought of playing on the opposite side of the net as him.
It will be good practice for the team, he reminds himself as he assumes his position in the two-spot. Do not think of this as a precursor for whatever happens once practice ends.
But fuck, has he missed watching Koutarou play.
Outwardly, Keiji maintains a focused façade, the way a captain should. When Sakai shanks Koutarou's first serve, he calls out words of encouragement to him, even as his mind zeros in on how Koutarou's thighs look in his slightly-too-short shorts, or the added confidence he carries himself with when he goes to toss the ball up again. There hasn't been an opportunity for him to see Koutarou's university team play in-person—anything he has seen being highlight reels that the team's social media account posts or videos Koutarou has personally sent him from private practice sessions—but now that they're here, in the same gym they spent countless hours practicing in over the two years they were allowed to share the court, Keiji is once again reminded what a star Koutarou is.
Serving, blocking, attacking, he is a marvel.
And he chose me.
The thought creeps up on Keiji so unexpectedly and with such force that he is grateful to hear Coach Yamiji announce the end of practice not long after. It doesn't stop him from standing there a moment longer, though, trying to process the significance of his realization as the rest of his team starts to circle up to hear their coaches' feedback. When he notices they're waiting for him, he schools his features and calmly walks off the court as if his heart isn't still threatening to rip his chest open over the simple fact that, out of everyone in the world, Bokuto Koutarou had looked at him and decided he was the one.
Keiji stands between Onaga and Mima and listens to his coaches go over everything they did well and everything that still needs improvement before inter-high prelims. After, Coach Yamiji asks Keiji to give his own thoughts on the practice.
"I think we're in a good place," Keiji says. "And I promise to work hard not to let myself get distracted by unexpected surprises during a real match." He makes a big show of looking over at Koutarou, which earns him the team's laughter.
But when his boyfriend's response is to wink at him, Keiji worries he's going to draw blood from how hard he has to bite his lip to stop some lovesick grin from spreading across his face. He turns back to his coaches and asks if they have any more feedback to give.
"I think that covers it," Assistant Coach Shima says, "but if our surprise guest has anything he wants to say…"
Koutarou jumps at the chance. He starts with the first-years, addressing each one by name in a way that causes their faces to light up with pride, before moving on to the second-years to do the same. He tells Anahori to be more confident in his serves and says that the next time he comes to practice, he wants to see him do a jump floater. To Onaga, he says his contact point on his hits can be even higher. Sakai has a great cross-shot, but needs to be more assertive hitting line. One-by-one, Koutarou works his way through each player until, finally, he turns his attention to Keiji.
Foolishly, Keiji wonders if anyone else feels the air leave the room. His voice doesn't sound quite right when he asks, "And what advice do you have for me, Bokuto-san?"
His boyfriend's smile only grows. "That last play, you were half a second late getting to your spot. The set was still good, but I know you can do even better. That was only you at 110 percent. You know I expect at least 120 from you."
"At least?" Keiji raises a brow at him. "How demanding. I'll try to keep that in mind."
Coach Yamiji thanks Koutarou for his feedback and tells him he is welcome to stop by whenever he's in Tokyo, then turns practice back over to Keiji to lead the team through their cooldown. Keiji has them form a circle and bring their right arm across their body, supporting it at the elbow with their left. When he starts the count to fifteen, he tells himself not to be surprised that Koutarou joins in, his voice louder than everyone else's combined.
Once they've finished stretching, Coach Yamiji tells the team to head home and get some rest. A few of the first-years start to walk over to the equipment closet to gather the mops and the rack the net goes on when it's not in use, but they stop—the way everyone in the gym stops—when Koutarou turns to Keiji and asks, "Wanna set for me?"
Without hesitation, Keiji tells him, "Of course."
Then, to his team, he says, "Practice is officially over, which means you are free to go. Don't worry about cleaning up the gym today. Bokuto-san will probably keep me here another hour. I'll make him help me put everything away once he decides we're done."
It's Mogami who asks, "Can we watch him hit?"
Never one to shy away from the attention, Koutarou encourages an audience, promising the first-years that Akaashi is the best setter he's ever partnered with and that, if they were impressed with his level before, they'll be even more impressed when they see the two working in tandem. Keiji, ever the voice of reason, tells them, "But it's been almost a month since I last set for him, so please don't be too disappointed if he misses the first attempt."
Koutarou sets his hands on his hips and tips his head back with a confident laugh. "I'm going to nail the hell out of my line shot first try."
The team moves out of the way to give the two of them the court. Koutarou grabs a ball and gets into position. Keiji stands in his normal setter slot, flexing his fingers a little as he works through exactly where he should place the ball to optimize Koutarou's chances of getting the hit he wants. He pushes away the excited chatter of his teammates, the fact that even his coaches have stuck around to watch, and lets his focus shrink to a single point: Koutarou throwing him the ball, him raising his arms up to send it back with just the right arc; then, the awe that never seems to lessen when he hears Koutarou's palm connect with the ball for a perfect shot down the line.
"Whoa," Mogami says behind him.
Keiji doesn't bother hiding his own satisfaction, and there's a hum of pleasure working its way through him when Koutarou goes to find another ball and says, "Akaashi, let's go again!" that has him selfishly wishing his teammates would hurry up and leave.
It takes watching Koutarou hit ten more shots to various parts of the court before Anahori finally grants him what he wants. The coaches had announced their departure after the third hit, leaving it to Anahori to round up the remaining team members by saying that Bokuto-san will keep them there another hour if they continue to encourage him. Keiji swears he sees him wink as he passes through the gym doors, but he momentarily chooses to let it go.
For the first time in almost a month, he and his boyfriend are together, in-person, and are completely alone. He ignores the request for another set and crosses the court to drape his arms around Koutarou's neck, then leans forward and brings their lips together the way he has done so many times before. He melts a little when he feels Koutarou's hands settle on his lower back, pushing their bodies closer, and parts his lips to let the kiss deepen.
The smell of sweat mixes with Koutarou's cologne in a dizzying rush. Keiji takes him in, kisses him harder. He catches traces of strawberry candies and mint the first time Koutarou runs his tongue over his. He feels the familiar gel Koutarou refuses to let go of when he slides his nails up the back of Koutarou's neck and into his hair. It's enough for any remaining semblance of composure to desert Keiji completely.
"You missed me, didn't you?" Koutarou teases when they stop to breathe. He juts out his tongue to wipe away the saliva gathered in the corner of his mouth.
"Of course I did. I wanted to do this sooner, but you insisted on showing off first."
Koutarou brings his lips down to kiss along Keiji's neck. "Showing off?" he echoes. His laughter rumbles off of Keiji's skin in a way that leaves Keiji feeling warm all over. His toes curl inside his shoes; his hips start to rock forward. "I just wanted everyone else to see why you're the best, but also to show them how perfect you are for me."
"Koutarou."
It's freeing, being able to exist like this, away from his teammates and their scrutiny, not having to hide behind formalities that now feel wrong in his mouth. Keiji closes his eyes at the first scrape of teeth over his throat and doesn't stop the sigh that escapes him when Koutarou's lips then trace back over the same patch of skin—just soft enough that they won't leave a mark. He lets himself be kissed this way until Koutarou's hands slip down over the curve of his ass.
"Careful," he says then, opening his eyes and drawing his hands out of Koutarou's hair. He rests them on Koutarou's shoulders to create the illusion of distance between them, though he does nothing about Koutarou's hands on his ass. "We are still on school property."
Koutarou sneaks a quick kiss to the underside of Keiji's jaw before saying, "It's kind of hot, though. Don't you think? I said I was going to kiss the hell out of you."
"And I said I was looking forward to that, but maybe we should go somewhere more private?"
"Oh yeah?" Koutarou's brows raise in challenge. "Like where? The club room? Orrr…" He looks over at the equipment room. "There?"
Keiji shakes his head at him, but the fondness burning his cheeks is unmistakable. "Both of those places are still school property, Koutarou."
"Keiiiiijiiiii."
"Help me put the gym back together."
"But—"
Keiji narrows his eyes at him, and it's enough for Koutarou to temporarily concede to his request. They walk to the equipment room with a respectable distance kept between them. Though, once they're inside, Koutarou eases Keiji against the stack of gym mats and kisses him harder than before.
There's a part of Keiji still cognizant of where they are, the fact that one of his teammates or coaches could pop back in at any moment and catch them, but it feels like a fleeting worry when Koutarou's hand slips underneath his t-shirt and starts to move its way up his stomach and over his chest. Keiji fists his hands around Koutarou's own shirt and brings their bodies closer.
He welcomes the slide of Koutarou's mouth against his, the teeth that nip at his lower lip and the bit of laughter Koutarou lets out whenever their eagerness causes their teeth to clash. Hips rock together with a growing sense of urgency. If Keiji weren't so enamored by him, he might tell Koutarou they need to slow down, wait until they're safely behind one of their bedroom's closed doors to let their obvious need progress, but he lets himself kiss and be kissed this way until they are both red in the face, foreheads pressed together as they struggle to catch their breath.
"I want to do this every day," Koutarou admits. He slides his hand out from underneath Keiji's shirt and moves it down to rest on his ass.
"That would be nice."
"And I mean, the kissing stuff is great and all, but like, I want to do other things every day, too." His nails press a little harder into Keiji's athletic shorts, hips rolling forward in a way that sends a thrum of pleasure up Keiji's spine. "Like play volleyball together."
A strangled sort of sound slips out of Keiji then—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh—and it takes him a beat before he's recovered enough to say, "That would also be nice."
"I mean, you can't blame me! Watching you from the other side of the net was torture! You looked so hot being all captain-like and I couldn't do anything about it! I want to see that every day. I want to see you every day."
A bit of a pout starts to form when he says it, and on instinct, Keiji places a soft kiss to his lips to quell it. "I want to see you every day, too," he says.
"Then we should do it!"
It's amazing, Keiji thinks, how easily his laughter comes whenever he's with Koutarou, how light his body feels. He moves his hands up his boyfriend's chest, then over his shoulders to thread them behind his neck, body still vibrating with the sum of his joy when he says, "That would be impractical and expensive. But," he pauses to give Koutarou another quick kiss, this time to the tip of his nose, "it would be nice."
"Right?!"
They stay like this longer than they should—joking about the logistics of daily travel between Tokyo and Osaka when both of them are in school and neither of them are employed, trading kisses that continue to grow in their intensity—before Keiji realizes they might spend all day in the equipment room if he doesn't say something. Koutarou whines a little when Keiji untangles their bodies, but at the promise of extending their reunion as soon as they leave school grounds, he works with a heightened determination to make sure everything is put back the way it should be.
On their way from the gym to the club room, Koutarou threads their fingers together and chatters on about all the things they should do in the thirty-six hours he's home. Keiji offers suggestions where necessary, but really, he's content just listening to his boyfriend talk. He's missed seeing how animated Koutarou gets when he sets his mind to something. A pixilated phone screen just doesn't do it justice.
When they enter the club room, Keiji drops his hand and instructs Koutarou to wait while he changes and gathers up his things. There's a bit of protest on Koutarou's end that Keiji leverages with a look stern enough to send him over to one of the folding chairs on the other side of the room. Koutarou plops down and begins narrating the contents of some article about the most romantic date spots in Tokyo he finds on his phone.
"We should go to the— Aw, come on!"
Keiji finishes swapping out his shirt and crosses the room to stand beside him. "What?" he says, leaning over a little to read the messages pulled up on Koutarou's screen.
[ 11:42 AM ] KONOHAAAA \( ﾟヮﾟ)/
You big bastard, why didn't you tell us you were coming to visit?
Saru, Komi, and I are getting dinner tonight.
They said you should come if you're not busy.
And bring Akaashi.
We know he's with you right now.
The last two messages in the thread send a brilliant red across Keiji's cheeks. "Well," he says. "I guess this was inevitable. Anahori probably said something about you coming to practice. We should go, though. It would be nice to see them again."
"But the planetarium!" Koutarou looks up at him with wide eyes. "I wanted to take you there!"
Keiji tries to hide his amusement at Koutarou's apparent distress over dinner with their friends getting in the way of a date idea he thought of less than five minutes ago, but there's still a slight smile burning his cheeks when he says, "We can do both, you know."
"I guess."
"Come on." Keiji runs a hand along his shoulder. "I want to go home and shower. You should do the same. Besides, I'm sure your family wants to see you. We can do the planetarium this afternoon and plan to meet everyone for dinner after. It's not like I won't be there for both of these things; we're not losing any time together."
Koutarou contemplates this a moment before he stands with a slight huff. "Fine, but I think you should let me come over now, then come with me to my house after. I bet my parents would even make us lunch if I asked. They always ask about you whenever I call them."
"Really?"
"Well, yeah, you're my best friend."
They both laugh at this, this joke shared between them. Koutarou wraps his arms around Keiji's waist and pulls him close, keeping their foreheads pressed together when he says, "It's true, though. I'm not totally lying when I tell people you're my best friend, because you are. You just happen to also be my boyfriend—even if we're the only two that know that part."
Keiji places a soft kiss to his lips. "Well, I do enjoy being your best friend."
"More than being my boyfriend?"
"I don't think there's a difference anymore." He kisses him again, a little harder this time, before pulling back to reiterate they have overstayed their welcome on school grounds and really should head out. "Besides, if we stay here all day, we won't have time for the planetarium, and I was starting to look forward to that."
"Urghhh, fine." Koutarou releases his hold on Keiji's waist. "But the next chance I get, I'm kissing the hell out of you."
"Then let's hope my parents aren't home."
Of course his parents are home.
When Keiji opens the front door and announces his presence, his mother is there to greet him. She steps into the entryway holding a duster in one hand, a few loose strands of dark hair escaping from her ponytail. "Oh," she says, quickly schooling her surprise into a warm smile. She sets the duster down on the entry table. "Bokuto-kun. It's nice to see you again. Keiji mentioned you were coming home this weekend. How's school?"
"Hard," Koutarou admits with a laugh. "But I'm figuring it out! All of the volleyball stuff is going great, though. I've even been invited to practice with MSBY a few times since one of their players is a Daikyodai alum."
"That's good to hear. You're studying Health and Physical Education, right?"
Koutarou nods. "My parents wanted me to have something to fall back on if playing volleyball professionally doesn't work out. I told them I plan on playing 'til I'm at least fifty, but doing a teaching program felt like a good backup—just in case."
Keiji finishes changing out of his tennis shoes and into a pair of slippers, then stands back up to say, "Wasn't I the one who told you to go with teaching?" He nudges Koutarou on the arm with a little too much affection. "You said you wanted to study astrophysics, remember? Even though you're terrible at math."
"Well, yeah! Because being able to call yourself a rocket scientist is awesome!"
"I think you need an engineering degree for that, Kou."
He doesn't realize his mistake until it's already out of his mouth.
With his mother still standing there, Keiji looks at his boyfriend with panic building in his eyes, but Koutarou just laughs it off and says, "Probably, but I could pull it off."
"I just came by to drop off my things," Keiji tells his mother then, abruptly moving around her to start down the hallway leading to his room. "We're going to stop by his family's house next. I don't know where we're going after that, but some of our old teammates want to get dinner. I shouldn't be out too late."
He leads Koutarou past the living room before she can question him. His father sits hunched in front of the low table currently covered in papers Keiji figures he has spent the better part of an hour meticulously sorting through ahead of Monday's lectures. He looks up to give his son and Koutarou a nod of acknowledgment before burying himself back in his work. Keiji appreciates his brevity. He continues through the house until he reaches his bedroom door. A chance to breathe comes only once he and Koutarou slip inside.
They gravitate towards the bed without word, letting their limbs tangle as they attempt to find a comfortable position on a mattress only meant for one. Bodies pressed close, Keiji buries his face in the crook of Koutarou's neck to prevent his boyfriend from seeing the humiliation covering it when he says, "I can't believe I did that."
He feels the rumble of Koutarou's laughter against his chest and the arms that hold tight around his middle. "I can't either! I always thought I would be the first to slip up, but who cares? It's just more proof I'm your best friend, right?"
Keiji lifts his head so Koutarou can see him roll his eyes. "The best of friends," he deadpans before pressing their lips together.
For someone who his prides himself on his sensibility and careful planning, there's something thrilling about making out with Koutarou when his parents are still in the house. Keiji knows there's a limit to what he's willing to do given their circumstances, but when Koutarou slides his hands underneath his t-shirt to drag his nails across his back, he decides this is an acceptable way to spend their time.
He doesn't realize an hour has passed until he hears the gurgle of Koutarou's stomach and remembers they were going to go to his family's house in search of food. Forcing himself to sit up, Keiji affords himself one last look at Koutarou's now-bare chest and the patches of reddish-purple that cover it before rolling off the bed to find his shirt and finally gather his things for a shower.
"Please behave until I get back," he tells Koutarou on his way out the door.
"I always behave!"
Keiji knows that's not the case, and confirms it when he looks in the bathroom mirror and sees the giant hickey on his neck. A startled "Fuck!" slips out of him louder than intended. The ones on his chest and his inner thighs he can handle; they're easily hidden by his clothes. This, though, is a problem he hadn't planned for. He doesn't think he can get away with turtlenecks this time of year.
As he continues to stand there, turning himself at different angles in a failing effort to will the hickey out of existence, Keiji's mind runs through every possible excuse he can give if someone were to ask about it (which he knows they will). Clarity doesn't reach him, though, until he finishes his shower and notices his mother's concealer next to his bottle of moisturizer. He figures it can't be that hard to apply, and by the time he's dabbed a decent amount onto his skin, he considers his problem solved. He exits the bathroom and returns to his room to show his boyfriend his handiwork.
"It's like it was never there!" Koutarou assures him, and Keiji breathes a sigh of relief.
"Good," he says. "That's good. As long as it doesn't wear off during practice, there should be nothing to worry about, right?"
"Not unless I give you another one…"
Keiji shakes his head at his boyfriend's antics. "That won't be happening. Now come on, we should have been at your house an hour ago. I can hear your stomach grumbling."
He walks out of his room before Koutarou can protest.
They stay on their best behavior at the Bokuto household. Koutarou's sisters aren't there, but sitting across the table from his parents as they offer them an array of freshly cooked foods—gyudon and umeboshi onigiri and yakimochi—Keiji makes sure to assume the role of the polite, respectful best friend. He falters only once, when Koutarou taps his foot underneath the table the way he likes to do when they're on a dinner date, but he recovers quickly, not letting anything show on his face when he taps Koutarou's foot back.
He remains at the table talking to Koutarou's mother about the azaleas blooming in her garden while Koutarou goes to shower and change. Keiji doesn't know much about botany, but he tries to keep up as she explains the planting process to him with the same enthusiastic hand gestures her son uses whenever he tells a story. Keiji thinks this is the first time he's ever been alone with her. It's nice, though, how welcome she makes him feel. When she asks if he's started thinking about the universities he wants to take the entrance exams for, Keiji can tell it's because she genuinely wants to know.
"Waseda would be the best fit," he admits. "They have the specific program I'm interested in, but I haven't ruled out the University of Osaka." He tells himself not to react to the grin that spreads across Koutarou's mother's face at the prospect of him joining her son in Osaka, even if it wouldn't be at the same school.
"And volleyball?" she asks, the smile still there.
Keiji shakes his head. "I plan to be done after high school. Making a career out of any sport was never a realistic path for me. I can't keep up with university-level athletes, let alone the professionals."
"But you keep up with Koutarou."
She says it with such earnestness that Keiji struggles to meet her gaze when he says back, a little quiet, "That's different. I don't think I ever had a choice when it comes to him."
This earns him a laugh. "He's always said you're the best setter he's ever partnered with. I know it was only for two years, but you made such an impact on him on the court—off it, too. All those hours you were here helping him study for his entrance exams made such a difference. He's so lucky to have a friend like you."
Again, Keiji has to will his features into something neutral, but he can feel the heat creeping over his cheeks and the smile pulling at his lips the longer he sits at the table talking to her about his friendship with her son. He's grateful when she pivots the conversation back to academics. "So no volleyball," she says. "But what about your course of study? I think Koutarou's mentioned you wanting to become an editor?"
"I do. I want to work for a literary magazine. Something like Bungakukai, if they would hire me."
"I keep saying he should work for Monthly Volleyball so he can just follow me around and interview me all the time." They both turn at the sound Koutarou's booming voice coming down the hall. He saunters up to them and takes a seat in the chair next to Keiji's, sitting close enough that his knee knocks against Keiji's in his excitement to talk about his hypothetical plan for their future. "Then it wouldn't be so bad that you're in Tokyo and I'm in Osaka. If they're paying you to follow my matches, I'd get to see you all the time again."
The familiar scent of vanilla and chestnut wafts off of him, and Keiji feels a little dizzy the closer to him Koutarou gets. He runs his hands over his pants, then gathers them in his lap to pull at his fingers, worried if he doesn't give them something to do he'll reach out to run his thumb over Koutarou's knee, or take his hand, or do anything else that would ruin the illusion of being best friends. Still, the fondness is there when he looks over at him and says, "They would have to hire me first, Bokuto-san."
"Why wouldn't they?"
"No open positions. I'm underqualified. They don't like my samples. They went with someone better. I think there are plenty of reasons not to choose me."
"I would hire you," Koutarou says like it's nothing. Keiji bites down hard on his lower lip.
Shaking his head, he says, "Too bad you're not the one making the decisions."
"I should be."
Keiji has to look away. There's a hungry determination caught in Koutarou's expression that leaves a familiar bead of desire pooling low in his stomach—the same way it did earlier, when Koutarou surprised him at practice. Devour me, is the thought that foolishly enters his head, but Keiji knows better than to act on his wants while seated across from Koutarou's mother. Even still, when he makes eye contact with her in his effort to latch onto something new, he finds her staring back, a knowing look resting on her face.
Keiji clears his throat and says, "That's still several years away. There are more important things to worry about now, like making it to the planetarium."
This brings Koutarou back to himself, and Keiji feels his shoulders relax when he watches him stand up from his chair and say, "You're right! Gah! I almost forgot about that."
"You're going to a planetarium?" his mother asks, beaming a little as she looks between them. "Do you think you'll be back for dinner?"
The question is addressed to both of them.
Keiji's chest tightens.
He's grateful that Koutarou readily jumps in to say they're meeting some of their former teammates for dinner, but will be back after that. "Maybe for dessert," he adds with a certain boyishness that causes his mother to laugh and an impossible lump to settle in Keiji's throat.
I love him, he thinks, then quickly tucks the thought away, knowing this isn't the time to say it aloud—not yet.
Standing up and pushing his chair back in, Keiji thanks Koutarou's mother for the lunch and asks if there's anything he can do to help clean up. She waves him off and tells him not to worry about it. "Go have fun," she says. "I'll make dorayaki for when you get back."
Koutarou launches into a litany of thank you's and you're the best's on his way to the genkan. Keiji follows behind him, giving his own, quieter thanks as he slips out of the slippers provided to him and back into his regular shoes.
A mid-afternoon breeze greets them when they step outside. Keiji welcomes the break from the heat as they start down the street together, their knuckles brushing in their need to be close. Still, he waits until the Bokuto family home is far enough behind them before saying, "I think that went well."
"Well, duh! Why wouldn't it? I told you, my parents are always asking about you."
"No, I know. I meant, I think we did a good job disguising our relationship. Your mother told me that you're lucky to have a friend like me."
Koutarou tips his head back and laughs. "I am lucky! Even luckier to have a boyfriend like you." He steals a quick kiss to the side of Keiji's head before twisting his expression into something more serious. "I do hate lying to her, though. I mean, it's not totally lying, but there have been so many times I've wanted to say things—not just to her, but to my dad and my sisters and my new teammates and my new classmates—and then had to stop myself. I just want everyone to know that you're the best and that you're my best."
"That doesn't even make sense," Keiji teases, nudging Koutarou on the arm. "But I appreciate the compliment."
"It's like, no matter where we are, I want to be able to point to you and say, 'See him? Can you believe I get to date someone that incredible?'"
Keiji walks with his hands gathered in front of him, the fingers on his left pulling at the ones on his right to disguise the sudden bout of nerves that overtake him. "Sorry," he says. "I feel like that's my fault."
"What? No!" Koutarou stops walking, and Keiji has to usher him off to the side so they don't disrupt the flow of traffic. "We agreed together that we wouldn't say anything."
"We agreed we wouldn't say anything right away," Keiji corrects. "I feel like I'm the one who keeps pushing back when we should say something, and it's for completely selfish reasons."
"You? Selfish?"
Keiji nods. "That is something I'm capable of being, Koutarou. It's just… been nice, having this one piece of you I don't have to share with anyone else. And I know that's a frivolous reason, but I got so used to sharing you with the team, with our friends, that it was nice being able to say there was one thing I could have that no one else knew about—even if the only person I was saying it to was myself."
He watches the grin that envelops Koutarou's face, how his entire body pitches forward, close enough that Keiji can smell the mint toothpaste on his breath when he says, "That's kind of the hottest thing you've ever said, and if we weren't standing in the middle of the sidewalk, I would have already kissed you. I still really want to kiss you, but I'm showing sooo much restraint because I know that's what you want. You should be really proud of me for the restraint I'm showing, Keiji."
The sound that slips out of Keiji is wet and slightly strangled, something between a hiccup and a laugh, but then it happens a second time—a third—before he's certain he's causing a scene with the sound of his continued whatever. It's still there, caught between his words, when he says, "You can kiss me later. I want to see the planetarium you promised me first."
From Koutarou's home in Chofu, it takes a little over an hour to reach the planetarium located inside Tokyo Skytree Town. They arrive at Oshiage Station just after four o'clock, navigating their way through the throng of tourists to reach the queue forming in front of the planetarium's ticketing counter. According to the digital board behind it, the next show begins at 16:50.
"That isn't too long of a wait," Keiji says. "Honestly, I was worried there would only be shows two or three times a day and we would have missed all of them."
"Give me more credit!" Koutarou whines. "I'm great at planning things!"
"So you knew about the different show times?"
Here, Koutarou falters. His face scrunches into a pout that leaves an amused smile playing at Keiji's lips. A bit of laughter follows when Koutarou tells him, "Well… no, but I just got the sense that it would all work out! Which it did! And that's why you should never doubt me!"
"You're right," Keiji says, the amusement still there. "How silly of me for even considering it."
They continue to stand in the slow-moving queue, quietly joking with one another until it's their turn to purchase tickets. Koutarou insists on paying; Keiji lets him with the condition that he will cover their next activity. They then step off to the side to wait to be let into the theater for their show. It's there, standing in front of a wall projecting images of shooting stars and shaking his head at one of his boyfriend's ridiculous anecdotes, that Keiji hears a familiar voice say, "Bokuto? Is that you? And… Akaashi? No way!"
They both turn.
Suzumeda and Shirofuku—the former Fukurodani managers—stand away from the ticketing counter with mirrored looks of surprise on their faces. Shirofuku is the one to wave them over. Koutarou crosses the room with three large strides, his excitement palpable when he gives a familiar, "Hey! Hey! Hey! What are you guys doing here?" as he approaches. Slower, Keiji follows behind.
"We saw an ad while we were grabbing lunch and figured we should check it out," Suzumeda says. "I think it's pretty new. What about you two?"
Keeping his voice as even as possible, Keiji responds before Koutarou can. "Bokuto-san is visiting for the weekend and thought it would be a fun activity. It was a last minute idea for us, too."
Shirofuku nudges Koutarou on the arm. "Aw, you didn't tell us you were visiting! But of course Akaashi got to know. Inseparable as always." Her tone is teasing, harmless, but it still causes Keiji to stand a little straighter. He feels a sudden warmth working its way up his neck that he wills not to reach his cheeks.
He clears his throat and says, "If it makes you feel any better, he didn't tell me he was stopping by practice this morning. He walked in when I was mid-set."
Koutarou's laughter is loud enough to draw the attention of a family waiting to their left. "You should have seen him!" he says, unconcerned with volume regulation. "Instead of setting it, he just caught the ball! It was awesome!"
"I wouldn't use a word like awesome," Keiji mutters. "It was embarrassing how I let myself get distracted like that."
"Hah! So you find me distracting?"
"Yes," comes out automatically.
From the corner of his eye, Keiji sees Suzumeda and Shirofuku exchange a look, and he thinks about playing his assertion off with a bit of levity to slow his building panic. He finds he doesn't have to, though, when Shirofuku's response is to sigh and say, "I know it's only been a few months since graduation, but it's amazing how little things have changed. You two are the same as always."
In the context of their not-yet-public relationship, Keiji decides to take this as a compliment.
Still, he shifts to asking about how the former managers are liking their university courses and if they're involved in any clubs, trading easy conversations until the theater doors open for their show. Their seats are on opposite sides of the room, but Koutarou promises they will meet up after. He and Keiji walk to the middle of the third row; Suzumeda and Shirofuku take their seats in the back corner. Along the walls of the dome-shaped room are projections of tall, slender trees that rise up to meet the star-filled sky twinkling on the ceiling.
Koutarou leans in to tell Keiji, "This is so cool!"
"The show hasn't even started yet," Keiji says back. "I doubt this is the most exciting thing we'll see."
And it's true. The show begins with the projection panning up, taking the scene out of the forest and into the night sky. A peaceful overture plays behind a woman's voice inviting them to witness the beauty of the cosmos. Certain stars begin to shine brighter the further into space they move, lines forming between them to signify the arrival of a constellation, and beside it, a star cluster. Keiji recognizes it from the books he used to read when he was younger.
"Subaru," he whispers to himself before the woman narrating the show reveals the name of the six-star cluster grouped with the constellation Taurus. She recites the same story about the magnificent white bull Zeus transformed into to abduct the Phoenician princess Europa that Keiji knows from the collection of Greek myths his mother bought for him the day he turned ten. The book is still sitting on the bookshelf in his bedroom, well-used and a little dusty from time. Maybe he'll flip through it when he gets home tonight. He thinks about showing it to Koutarou, too.
He loves this: the stars, the stories, how, in the dark of the theater, no one can see Koutarou reaching out to lace their fingers together, or how he gives Keiji's hand an excited squeeze whenever the images projected above and around them change. They recline as far back as their seats allow and lose themselves in the endless expanse of space.
When the show ends, returning them to Earth and the forest full of trees, Koutarou continues to keep their hands entwined. He leans across the armrest between their seats and says, "That was incredible!" with such wonder in his voice that Keiji has to resist the urge to kiss him.
He settles for giving Koutarou's hand one final squeeze and saying, "It was. Thank you for taking me," before letting go.
They stand up and follow the other attendees out of the theater, back to the waiting area with its miscellaneous souvenirs propped up on circular glass tables. Koutarou is deep into inspecting the different flavors of planet-shaped lollipops when Suzumeda and Shirofuku find them. "Did you like the show?" Keiji asks them.
Shirofuku nods. "I feel like I learned so much about space!"
"Akaashi already knew everything, didn't you?" Koutarou says, abandoning the lollipops to stand beside him. "He was pointing things out even before that woman's voice did!"
Keiji's eyes go wide. "I didn't think you heard that."
"Huh? I thought you were saying all of that stuff to me?"
"No, I— It doesn't matter. Besides, I didn't know everything, just most of it."
"That's why you always have the best grades!" Shirofuku teases.
Keiji gathers his hands in front of him and says, as evenly as he can, "My grades are fine. I think Ito-san's are better, though. She will probably finish top of the class." His body feels warm with something he's unsure how to name.
"Well, whatever," Suzumeda says, giving her head an amused shake. "Five years from now, where you ranked in your high school class won't matter. Right, Bokuto?"
Koutarou gapes at her. "Hey! I didn't even finish close to last! Akaashi doesn't have to worry about that, though. He's the best no matter what."
There's another look exchanged between Suzumeda and Shirofuku that Keiji chooses not to acknowledge. In the brief lull, he says instead, "Bokuto-san and I are getting dinner with Konoha-san and a few of our other old teammates tonight. You should join us."
"Hmm…" Suzumeda pretends to contemplate this, a manicured finger pressed to her lips. "Depends on where we're going."
After fifteen minutes of argumentative, unproductive texting between Koutarou and Konoha about where they should meet, they decide on a casual, Western-style hamburger place in Shibuya. It's relatively empty when the planetarium group gets there, and Koutarou suggests pushing two tables together so they don't have to sit in separate spots when the other three arrive. He and Keiji move them, then make it a point to sit across from, not next to, each other. Shirofuku sits to Keiji's left; Suzumeda sits beside Koutarou.
"I could eat the entire menu," Shirofuku says once they're settled, tipping her head back and sighing at the prospect of indulging on hamburgers and milkshakes and french fries.
Koutarou leans across the table and says, "Oooh! Yukie!" with such force and volume that Keiji sits back a little in surprise. "Is this a challenge we should take up?"
"Absolutely not," Keiji and Suzumeda respond in unison.
"What aren't you doing?" The four of them turn at the sound of Konoha's voice. He walks up to them with Komi and Sarukui following behind.
Instead of responding, Koutarou pushes his chair back and greets each of the newcomers with a warm hug. Keiji watches Konoha's face contort into a grimace when it's his turn to be embraced, but as soon as Koutarou lets go, there's an unmistakable fondness in the half-smile that follows. He keeps it there for as long as Koutarou's back remains to him. Then it's gone again, and Konoha's voice is full of a familiar sarcasm when he says, "Surprised the big university hotshot can make time to have dinner with us. How much is your autograph worth now?"
Koutarou laughs at this. "Probably a lot, but I would only charge you a million yen."
"You bastard."
They're prevented from escalating their back-and-forth by Shirofuku, who stands up from her chair and announces she's going to order her food. One-by-one they follow behind her. Koutarou stays with Keiji at the back of the line as they wait their turn, reading out every item on the menu and giving his thoughts on them, then asking for Keiji's opinion, too. Like this, it's easy to forget they're surrounded by the others. He tells himself Koutarou must also feel it when he hooks his chin onto Keiji's shoulder and says, "If I get the chocolate milkshake and you get the caramel one, we can get extra straws and share."
Keiji cranes his neck to look back at him. "What if I wanted black sesame?" he asks.
The whine this pulls out of Koutarou is just loud enough that the other five turn around to stare at him. His chin is still resting on Keiji's shoulder. Keiji feels his body stiffen. Taking a half-step forward to remove himself from Koutarou's touch, he says, casually, "Don't worry about him. Bokuto-san is just mad about my milkshake preferences."
Konoha's mouth remains slightly agape, but he huffs out a loud sigh, says something like, "Whatever," and turns back around to order his dinner.
Though, the first thing he asks when they're all settled back around the table with their trays of food is, "Sooo, anyone have any exciting life updates they want to share? New relationships? Old relationships they didn't think to tell anyone about?" His mistake, of course, is in looking down the table at Keiji when he says it, who knows better than to react to his obvious bait.
But before he can redirect the conversation, Koutarou does it for him, leaning forward and asking Konoha, "You're in a relationship?" in his too-loud voice.
"What?!" Konoha sputters. Keiji can't help but smirk at the unfortunate shade of red his face becomes. "No, you ass. I wasn't talking about myself."
"So it didn't work out with that one girl?" asks Komi. "I thought you said the first date went well? Wasn't that less than a week ago?"
"Why am I the one being interrogated? I asked the question first!"
Keiji takes a satisfying sip of his black sesame milkshake and watches his friends pivot to discussing things that do not concern him or his relationship with Koutarou. Underneath the table, he feels Koutarou tap his foot. Keiji taps his back. He focuses on finishing his hamburger and swatting Koutarou's hand away each time his boyfriend tries to steal one of his fries.
"You have your own," he warns.
Koutarou takes two the next time both of Keiji's hands are occupied.
They're pulled back into the conversation by Sarukui, who mentions how he hasn't touched a volleyball since the impromptu match the third-years (and Keiji, of course) played on the day of graduation. Komi says he hasn't either.
"We should play tomorrow!" Koutarou decides. "I know someone who can get us into the gym!"
Keiji's eyes narrow. "You do?"
"Well, duh! You've got the key!"
"Yeah," Konoha chimes in. "Come on, Captain. Abuse your privileges and let us into the gym."
"It's an off day," Keiji says.
Konoha doesn't budge, and Keiji figures this is probably payback for earlier. "For you. You don't have to participate."
With six sets of pleading eyes looking at him, Keiji sighs and tells them, "I'll see what I can do."
Conversation continues to come easily as they swap stories about everything that has happened since graduation. Komi's acting classes; Sarukui's part-time job. The girl that apparently did not want to go on a second date with Konoha. Keiji laughs at Shirofuku's rant about one of her professors and Suzumeda's rant about some guy in her Intro to Sports Broadcasting class that sounds like Kuroo, only worse. Koutarou talks the longest, naturally, but no one seems to mind. Nor do they seem ready to leave before giving Keiji a chance to talk about how things are going with the team.
It's nice.
Keiji hadn't realized how much he missed this.
"Too bad Washio couldn't be here," Shirofuku says once their trash has been thrown away, the tables put back in their appropriate spots, and they've started making their way towards the exit. "I wonder what he's up to."
"Probably getting really into birdwatching, or something," Komi jokes, and they all laugh.
There's a final bit of chatter and a solidifying of when to meet at Fukurodani tomorrow before goodbyes are said and the seven go their separate ways. Keiji and Koutarou maintain a respectful distance until they're on the Inokashira Line that will take them part of the way back to Chofu. There, seated together with pinkies entwined, Koutarou leans into Keiji and whispers, "Ha! We totally fooled them!"
"They don't suspect a thing," Keiji agrees, even though there's a growing part of him worried their charade isn't as strong as once thought. He tells himself not to be paranoid. His teammates have always been a little too invested in his relationship with Koutarou—irregardless of how they view it.
Still, when they settle onto a blanket in Koutarou's backyard, a plate of dorayaki resting between them, he doesn't stop himself from saying, "Maybe we should just tell everyone. If this is how it's going to be every time you come to visit, or I come to visit you, keeping up the act is going to be exhausting. I don't remember it being this hard before."
"Gah!" Koutarou flops onto his back, arms and legs spreading like a starfish. "It is hard! Do you know how hard it is not being able to kiss you whenever I want? Nothing's impossible, but this is pretty close to it."
Keiji moves the dorayaki plate to his left and settles down to curl into Koutarou's side. An arm warps around his waist; Keiji places a hand on Koutarou's chest. "We should make a plan. I think our parents should be the first to know, but it's too late in the day to say anything now. It needs to be before you go back to Osaka, though."
"What if we take them all out to lunch tomorrow? After volleyball?"
"That could work, as long as you stay on your best behavior at volleyball. We would have to think of a different time to tell the team, though. Then again, maybe we should just send them a group text then turn off our phones for a few hours."
Koutarou's laughter hums against Keiji's body as he pulls him closer. "Could you imagine! Konoha would be piiiiissed! I think we should do that!"
"It would be kind of amusing," Keiji admits. "If that's what you want…"
"I do now!"
"Okay, then that's what we'll do. Tomorrow we'll tell everyone. Our parents first, then our old team. I'm not concerned with telling my current teammates, but if they ask—and Anahori probably will—I won't deny it. Is there anyone else worth saying something to?"
Koutarou shrugs. "Kuroo?" he suggests, then follows it up with an immediate, "Nah!" and a bout of boisterous laughter that Keiji feels in his bones.
They stay like this until stars begin poking through the night sky—bodies curling into one another, Koutarou pointing to different stars and asking Keiji to name the constellations they go to.
"The reddish-colored one over there is Heike-boshi," Keiji says. "And at the bottom is Genji-boshi. At least, that's what they are historically known as. Most people today just refer to them by their Latin names, Betelgeuse and Rigel. They're part of the constellation Orion. He was a famous hunter in Greek mythology. Actually, most cultures also refer to this specific constellation as a hunter. I first learned it as Tsuzumi-boshi, though. The drum. See how it makes the hourglass shape?" He raises a finger to trace the outline of a tsuzumi. "And the three stars there are like the rope that goes around the middle of the drum."
"I can totally see it!" Koutarou says. "Gah! Keiji! You're so smart! I could listen to you talk about this kind of stuff for hours."
Keiji looks over at him in the limited light. "Really? I just read a lot about it growing up and I guess the information stuck. It's nice to know you enjoy it, though."
"Obviously I do! I enjoy everything about you." He shifts himself just enough to capture Keiji's lips in a kiss. "Hearing you talk about the things you like is just one of, like, the seven billion things I love about you."
"You—"
They both freeze as the gravity of what Koutarou's just said sinks in. There's a panic Keiji watches build in his eyes, and hears it reflected in his voice when he says, "Shit! Was that okay? I mean, it's true. I am in love with you. Agh! There I go saying it again! Did I just mess everything up?" His wide eyes scan Keiji's face for any indication as to how he feels.
Something shifts inside Keiji, laying there underneath the stars with his boyfriend's arm still holding tight to his waist. His limbs feel lighter, his chest looser, and he realizes then that he's experiencing an unbridled sense of freedom incomparable even to how he felt this morning, when he and Koutarou were left alone in the gym. He leans forward to press his lips to Koutarou's and says, "No, you didn't mess anything up. Actually, it's kind of a relief to hear you say that. I'm in love with you, too. I think I have been for a while."
"So that means I can say it again?"
"I would like it if you did."
It's after ten when Keiji sends a message to his mother saying the Bokuto family offered to let him stay the night, almost midnight by the time he and Koutarou finally slip beneath the sheets. The bed is much too small for both of them, but they manage to find a mostly comfortable configuration, and as Keiji starts to fall asleep to the sound of his boyfriend's steady breathing, he thinks to himself: I am so grateful for what my life has become.
At eight-thirty the following morning, Keiji unlocks the door to the primary gymnasium and ushers Koutarou inside. The official meeting time is not until nine, but he and Koutarou figured it wouldn't hurt to arrive a little early to set everything up and practice without prying eyes.
After they finish tightening the net and wrapping the protective pads around it, they move to the center of the court to do a few static stretches. Keiji leads them through the usual ones—arm crossovers and quad stretches and trunk rotations—before Koutarou says there are a few partner stretches they should do, too. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, Koutarou takes Keiji's hands in his and gently starts pulling him forward.
"Is this your excuse to get close to me?" Keiji teases, his body hovering over Koutarou's groin. "You could have just asked."
There's a devious sort of laugh Koutarou lets out as he eases Keiji a little closer. "Maybe," he says, then dips his head down to kiss him.
The angle is awkward, and Keiji's back is starting to hurt from how he's being pulled, but he savors the way Koutarou's mouth moves against his, the blend of mint and orange he tastes when Koutarou's tongue slips between his lips. They forget about the world around them as they abandon the stretch for a more comfortable position and let the kiss deepen, wholly unaware of approaching footsteps or the chatter voices until one of them says, louder than the rest, "Ha! I fucking knew it!"
It's like a blast of ice water to the face.
Keiji scrambles backwards, his eyes wide and his mind racing, but he knows there is nothing he can do or say that will wipe the smug smirk off of Konoha's face. Standing behind him in the doorway, Sarukui and Komi exchange a look, equally as smug and equally as knowing.
"Ohhhh!" comes Koutarou's voice to his right, but Keiji cannot bring himself to look at him. "You guys are here early!"
Konoha ignores this and stalks across the gym to stand over them. "When?" he demands. "I want the exact date and time."
Forcing himself out of his panic-stricken stupor, Keiji stands up and gathers his hands in front of him. "I don't see how that's important," he says, beginning to pull at his fingers.
"Trust me, it is."
Keiji looks around at his former teammates and their expectant faces, at Koutarou still sitting on the ground. With an encouraging nod from him, Keiji takes a breath and admits, "January 19. I came over after practice on a Saturday to help him prepare for his Daikyodai exam, and, I don't know, it just… happened? If you want the exact time, I don't have that for you, but it was probably around two in the afternoon."
He remembers Koutarou throwing his study guide on the floor and getting up to pace the room with a tread heavy enough that Keiji had worried one of his parents would knock on the door to ask what was wrong. From his spot on the bed, Keiji had silently sat and listened to Koutarou's long speech about how everything was changing and he how he missed going to practice and how, now that he was graduating soon, they wouldn't see each other every day. There had been a long pause then, before Koutarou turned to him with an almost haunted look on his face and said, "And on top of all that, the only thing I can think about right now is how much I want to kiss you!"
He remembers that first kiss. The awkwardness of it, how unsure they both were on where to place their hands or how much to move their mouths. The kiss hadn't lasted long, and after it ended, Koutarou had only grown more panicked as he lamented the fact that he forgot to close his eyes and insisted they should have a do-over. They spent a lot of time doing it over that day.
Keiji does not say any of this now, of course. He watches Konoha turn to Sarukui and Komi to deliberate before Konoha says, "Okay. So after Nationals, but before graduation. Dammit. That was Washio's guess, wasn't it? And he's not even here!"
"What do you mean his guess?"
This pulls a genuine laugh out of Konoha. "You're joking, right? Obviously we had a betting pool to see when the two of you would finally get together. I said it wouldn't be for another ten years. Honestly, I can't believe you two actually did something about this." He gestures vaguely between them.
"This?" Keiji settles his hands on his hips. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Dude… I spent two years dealing with you making heart eyes at each other! You know exactly what I mean by this."
Koutarou chooses now to pull himself off the ground and stand beside Keiji. "Well, yeah. Have you met him? How could I not look at him that way? He's incredible!"
Keiji kind of wants to sink beneath the floorboards—being the subject of so much attention—but he can't deny the little thrill of pleasure shooting through him hearing Koutarou talk about him so openly. Still, he reins himself back in and says, "I believe we came here to play volleyball, not discuss Koutarou and my's relationship," in as neutral a voice as he can manage.
He should have known that calling him Koutarou would only escalate his former teammates' teasing. Konoha pulls out his phone to call Washio. Washio congratulates them on their relationship, then asks Konoha when he can collect his earnings for winning the bet. Komi is put in charge of texting everyone else.
Despite everything, it's nice.
Laughter fills every corner of the gym, and stays there until they're all drenched in sweat and struggling to catch their breath after a grueling two hours of two-versus-two and four-versus-Koutarou games to fifteen. They lay sprawled out across the gym floor and listen to Konoha complain about getting older and the newfound ache in his knees. Koutarou says that he feels great, which only stands to piss Konoha off further. It's the kind of moment Keiji wants to bottle up and keep forever.
Eventually, they peel themselves off the sweat-slick floor and put the gym back together.
Eventually, Konoha, Sarukui, and Komi announce their departure.
The gym grows quiet in their absence.
With fatigue taking over, Keiji drifts over to Koutarou and drops his forehead onto his shoulder. "Well," he says with a heavy sigh. "Now they know."
"Before our parents, too!"
"Don't remind me that we have to do all of this again later." He wraps his arms around Koutarou's middle and pulls their bodies close. "This was exhausting enough."
Koutarou runs his hands down Keiji's sides. "Yeah, but then it will be done!"
"I guess that's true."
"Of course it's true! And after that, I can hold your hand and introduce you to everyone as my boyfriend and do this." He slips a hand underneath Keiji's t-shirt and uses the other to move Keiji's head just enough that he can kiss along his neck, right over the same patch of skin hastily re-covered by his mother's concealer when Keiji stopped home to change this morning.
"Maybe save the last part for when we're alone," he says. An involuntary sigh follows when Koutarou's tongue slides up his throat. "My mother does not need to see this."
Laughter warms his skin as Koutarou buries his face against his neck. "Then we should probably figure out a better way to cover all the hickeys I'm about to give you."
"I guess we should."
After months of hiding the nature of their relationship from everyone around them, the prospect of letting them in doesn't feel as daunting as Keiji once thought. Besides, when Koutarou presses a kiss to his ear and tells him he loves him—and when Keiji easily says it back—he knows that this is something they can keep just for themselves.
Because some things are better left unsaid.