Chapter Text
If you had told Suga from one year prior that one day, he would be in a predicament like this, he wouldn’t believe you. He would nervously laugh at the mere notion and say “No, that’s not possible,” because things like that didn’t happen to Suga at that time. Suga from a year prior never would’ve imagined a situation in which he would be able to talk so comfortably about his sexuality it almost became an inside joke with his friends.
But Suga from a year ago did not know Makki just yet. And the current Suga, the one that knew exactly that bullsh*t and misfortune followed him like a plague anytime Hanamaki Takahiro was involved in something, even so much as mentioned in a conversation, he would not be spared the ridiculousness of it all. The Suga of today would’ve normally predicted something like this would happen.
And that was precisely why he was so mad at himself that he didn’t.
“So let me get this straight,” he said, despite the fact that there wasn’t anything even remotely straight about his current predicament, not at all, “You’re asking me, of all people, for permission to ask Makki out on a date? …you know I’m not his parent right? And anyway, what gave you the idea to come to me like you’re asking for his hand in marriage? What is this, medieval times?!”
Matsukawa Issei did not even blink, did not feel even a shade of embarrassment at kneeling on the dirty floor of a classroom in perfect seiza, spine ramrod and his expression set into a determined frown, “You are his gay younger brother from another mother, so of course I had to ask.”
Suga pinched his brows in exasperation, “How many times do I need to tell you two idiots to stop calling me that? I’m older than both of you!”
“Holy sh*t I wish I had grabbed some popcorn for this,” Tooru said with a giggle, echoing the sentiment of literally every other student of class 2-5 present, because why would Mattsun feel the need to bother with subtlety? Or have a little bit of decorum to at least not make this into a ridiculous public spectacle of sheer stupidity?
Suga privately suspected the little sh*t did that on purpose just to torture him.
“Mattsun, please, throw me a bone here and tell me what this really is about,” the silver-haired teen pleaded frantically, hands clasped together in front of him in mimed prayer, “You cannot tell me you haven’t noticed Makki making moon eyes at you since literally forever, you are not that blind Mattsun, surely.”
“Well, yeah,” Mattsun shrugged, but still continued kneeling on the dusty linoleum, “I think he likes me back a little bit, at least, to some degree. I know I could probably just pull him aside and ask him out, but you and I both know he would not accept, even if he feels the same way, unless I make it absolutely special for him.”
Tooru tilted his head up in confusion, “What, he wants you to make a scene out of it because he’s a menace?”
Suga sighed deeply, “No, it’s because he’s a hopeless romantic at heart. He will not settle for anything half-assed like a simple confession, he wants all the fireworks. And I suppose your silly little display is part of your grand wooing plan?”
“Kinda. I just thought if word reached him about it, he’d find it absolutely hilarious,” Mattsun confirmed the libero’s suspicions that, ‘He really did just do it to torture me.’ And if that wasn’t enough, his dark eyes took on a strangely intense quality for the usually laid-back teen as he continued, “To be honest, I came here to ask for advice. I’ve been thinking about what to do a lot but I haven’t come as far as the actual confession part. I hoped you could give me some pointers.”
Suga loudly groaned and slammed his forehead onto his desk with a resounding bang, “End my suffering.”
“Don’t mind, don’t mind,” Tooru patted his back a few times, trying to be reassuring, but the hint of glee in his tone completely ruined his intended image. “Come on, Suga-chan, don’t you wanna help some young love blossom?”
“If their love is a blossom it’s definitely some sort of carnivorous flower,” Suga mumbled dejectedly, but did straighten up from his slouch and started pondering. ‘What would Makki like? Something exaggerated probably, but Mattsun already knows that. It needs to be both funny and romantic, so the cheesier the better. On that note…’ “Serenade him.”
Mattsun blinked at him owlishly, curiosity picked, judging from the rise of his left eyebrow, “Say what?”
“Serenade him,” Suga repeated more insistently, much more assured that this would be the correct approach, “Or something equivalent to that. Make it a huge declaration and the public execution of your school reputation and he will definitely accept. Also, if you manage to make it so seriously unserious it would make him laugh to the point of tears, then he’ll forever be yours.”
“Hahaha wait wait,” Tooru waved his arms around frantically, miming a time-out with his hands, “You’re telling him to turn his confession into a meme?”
The silver-haired libero shrugged, “There are only two things that could get you Makki’s eternal love: comedy and sweets. It’s how we became friends in the first place.”
Mattsun nodded sagely, “It might just work.”
“I can’t believe this,” the chocolate-haired teen slumped in his chair like a puppet with all its strings cut off, seemingly worn out by the current situation despite the fact that he was clearly not the victim here, “You gotta tell us exactly when you’re gonna confess Mattsun, cause I will not believe it unless I see it clearly with my own two eyes, m’kay?”
“Yeah yeah, whatever,” finally, to Suga’s utter relief, Mattsun stood back up, shifting a few times from one foot to the other and patting his calves to get rid of the pins and needless that have definitely settled in due to poor circulation. Once he was at no risk of his knees buckling and sending him sprawling to the floor, the middle blocker asked, “Now that’s out of the way, do you mind if we talked in private for a bit Suga?”
“What, you didn’t have enough of torturing me?” Suga whined petulantly, but as Mattsun kept staring at him expectantly, he heaved a sigh and got back to his feet as well, “Fine, let’s talk outside.”
So they left the classroom that was in the middle of forgetting the disaster that had just happened inside the room and headed towards one of the side staircases connecting the general education wing with the college preparatory classes. Break was coming to an end, so the area itself was blissfully empty, most of the students having already scuttled back to their classes to make it before the bell.
“So what did you wanna talk about?” Suga pried consciously, eyeing his taller friend as the middle-blocker slouched against the wall in a deceptively relaxed posture. Deceptively, because the libero could tell that whatever it was that Mattsun wanted to talk about was making him a little nervous.
Mattsun’s black eyes were trained on Suga’s hazel ones speculatively, as if trying to gauge the answer before even asking his question. When the silver-haired teen merely crossed his arms and stared at his friend pointedly, Mattsun had to relent with a sigh, “Look, I know we like joking around a lot about yours and Makki’s friendship, but let’s be serious for a second. Are you sure you wouldn’t mind me dating him? I need an honest answer.”
“Why would I mind?” Suga asked incredulously, blinking up at the taller boy in confusion, “Makki’s had a crush on you practically since day one, you think I would keep quiet and fake being supportive if I had something against you?”
“No, of course not,” Mattsun waved him off, quickly diffusing the situation. He grabbed a fistful of his messy curls and pulled it with a frustrated groan and, ‘Is that a blush? He can do that? What the heck…’ “It’s just that… he’s your best friend and we both know how protective you are for each other. I just don’t wanna make anything between you two awkward or make you feel like I’m stealing him from you… or something…”
‘Aww…’ Suga cooed internally, as he watched the intimidating middle blocker squirm in place with discomfort, pointedly looking anywhere but at the little libero’s face, ‘He’s so scared of stepping over our boundaries, and for what?’
“I say this respectfully and with love Mattsun, but you’re an idiot.”
“I uh-” the middle blocker stammered for a bit before sighing in resignation, “Yeah.”
“I spent months watching Makki stew in his astronomical crush and sheer blindness because somehow that oblivious little sh*t still thinks you’re as straight as a ruler,” this made Mattsun choke on a little laugh, that quickly devolved into a small coughing fit, “So how about you do me a favor and take him out so that I may finally be spared from Makki’s excessive pining and endless rants about your dreamy eyebrows?”
Clearing his throat with a final cough, Mattsun replied, “I don’t think the latter’s gonna stop just because I asked him out.”
Suga let out a long-suffering sigh, “True, it might just give him more fap material straight from the source. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
“Pfft,” Mattsun snorted, wiping a little tear from the corner of his eye and Suga immediately decided that he liked him more this way. Worry was not a good look on him, at all, “Still, Imma take you to that chinese place you like if all goes well.”
The silver-haired teen slapped him on the back with a laugh, “What, so that you can pay for my matchmaking services?”
“Yeah sure,” Mattsun wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Gotta pay the bride price somehow.”
“Oh for the love of- I am not his father and he is not your bride!” Suga jabbed his finger into the middle blocker’s chest with each word, but the other teen merely winked conspiratorially and said, “Yet.”
“Mattsun!” Suga’s whines fell on deaf ears and no amount of karate chops would stop the taller boy from laughing hysterically, mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done.
‘Still, can’t believe it’s finally happening,’ Suga thought to himself on the walk back to his own classroom, having bid Mattsun farewell on the stairwell a few minutes prior, ‘It feels like everyone is getting together these days. What is this, the love season? So strange-’ “Ack!”
He got so lost in his musings he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings and so, when he bumped into something, he could not catch himself in time, falling to the floor in an ungraceful heap, “Ow.”
“Oh my god, are you alright?” an unfamiliar voice asked with concern, arms waving in front Suga’s face frantically. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going!”
Blinking the faint haze and dizziness that blurred his vision upon the fall, Suga took in the person unfortunate enough to run into him at full speed in the middle of a deserted corridor. He appeared to be a second-year, taller than Suga by a few inches but not by much, probably around Makki’s height. He had soft, light brown hair tousled messily on top of his head, the sides shaved into a precise undercut. A pair of dark blue eyes stared apologetically at Suga and a hand with many calluses and two fingers taped tightly together extended to help the silver-haired teen up.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, grasping the hand with his own and letting the other teen pull him back to his feet, “Thank you.”
The taller boy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and replied, “It’s the least I can do to make up for almost tackling you like that,” he did a pause there, looking him up and down as if he had only just now recognized who he bumped into, “You’re… Sugawara, right? From class 2-5?”
“Uh, yeah,” Suga tilted his head up curiously, “Did we meet somewhere?”
“Oh no, not at all,” the other quickly dissuaded, “I’m Mikoshiba Kaito, from class 2-6. There’s a guy from the volleyball team in my class, I think his name was Iwaizumi? He talked about you a few times.”
“Oh, really?” the libero’s eyes lit up, “Hajime? What did he say?”
Mikoshiba hummed in thought, looking a bit to the side as he was rifling through his memory, “He mentioned something about you being an amazing libero? That’s like a defense master, right?” he shook his head with a small chuckle, “I guess you’re a really dependable guy, huh?”
“Oh uh,” the silver-haired teen stuttered for a bit, blushing at the unexpected praise, “Thank you, Mikoshiba-kun, that’s very kind of you, but I’m not that good, really.”
“I’m having a hard time believing that, you’re selling yourself too short,” then those deep blue eyes met Suga’s hazel eyes and the taller boy sent him an honest to god wink, “In fact, I’d love to see you play. I’m pretty busy with club practice myself, but maybe one day I’ll manage to catch your match, how about that?”
He phrased it like a roundabout invitation, almost asking for Suga’s permission, but before he could even think of a reply, the bell signaling the beginning of a next period rang.
“Crap! I was supposed to carry this to the faculty office” Mikoshiba cursed under his breath, indicating the stack of folders balanced precariously under his left armpit. He smiled apologetically at Suga, “Sorry about that, seems I gotta go. But uh, I’ll see you around yeah?”
“Y-yeah, sure! Bye bye, Mikoshiba-kun, it was very nice to meet you!”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Mikoshiba replied with a smile, cheeks bright with little dimples in full view, and jogged a bit down the corridor. He still turned around to give Suga one last tiny wave before he disappeared in the direction of the staff’s offices.
‘That was… a little weird,’ Suga thought to himself, skipping towards his own classroom with a strange pep in his step, ‘I wonder which club he’s in?’
***
“Everybody line up,” Coach Mizoguchi shouted as soon as their opponents left the gym, marking the last practice match of this year’s Golden Week.
“What do you think this is about?” Makki asked Suga in a theatrical whisper as everyone promptly finished their tasks and joined the assembly in a more or less orderly fashion, “We’ve already had a post-match debriefing and the jerseys have been assigned, so what else can there be?”
Suga simply shrugged, not having a slightest clue himself. But, after giving it a little thought, he murmured, “Maybe he wants to announce the lineup for the exhibition match? You know, for the sports festival?”
Mattsun hummed contemplatively at Suga’s right, brows scrunching in a little frown, “You think he’d want somebody outside the first string to participate? That would be a first.”
Standing behind Suga, Tooru visibly shuddered, “Urgh, please don’t let it be Mad Dog-chan, I so do not wanna deal with him for this.”
The entire group murmured their agreement, making Suga wince.
Just like Makki said, after almost a month of observation, the coaches have assigned the first string jerseys right before Golden Week, no doubt so that they could focus on team formation during the camp and polishing the skills of their starters. Unsurprisingly to anyone, both Suga and Tooru retained their places in the starting lineup with the addition of Hajime as their ace, and Mattsun on the bench as a reserve middle blocker. The starting lineup was completed by Tashiro-san and Irine-senpai, captain and vice-captain respectively, as well as Jun and Kuboyasu for the middle.
Out of the newcoming first-years the only one to have made the first string was Watari-kun as Suga’s reserve libero. Kyoutani did not get a jersey.
Of course, before he went ahead and dragged Kyoutani-kun back to practice, Suga made sure to stress that this was a possibility, but he still dreaded the outburst it may have caused. Fortunately enough, it seems that his idea to pit Kyoutani-kun and Yahaba-kun against each other was working out splendidly in keeping their respective tempers in check - despite their clashing personalities, they were balancing each other fairly well.
Maybe their preferred method of “balancing” left a lot to be desired, as anyone who happened to be within earshot of the two first-years when they began their screaming match of the day would tell you, but at least it was working. It seemed those two tired each other out by arguing so much that they had no energy left to mouth off to any upperclassmen, so Suga counted that as a win.
Even if it was a win achieved by paying the small price of Watari-kun’s sanity.
“As you all know, in less than a month Aoba Johsai will be holding its sports festival,” Mizoguchi’s voice cut through Suga’s musings, bringing him back to the here and now, “And as you know, there is an on-going tradition for the majority of the sports clubs, including the volleyball club, to conduct an exhibition match for the occasion, as a means of attracting new club members.”
That was a little exaggeration. In truth, there were really no new members in the history of Seijoh’s volleyball team who decided to join after watching the exhibition match. That was because Seijoh was a powerhouse school famous for its volleyball division, so students from all over Miyagi applied here just for a chance to join such a prestigious team. Rarely had they ever welcomed new members at any time other than the beginning of the year, with some rare and newfound talents like Jun making the exception to that rule by virtue of the existing club members dragging their friends for try-outs sometimes.
So for the volleyball team, who had no need for new members, having already more than enough to choose from, the exhibition match was really just a pretext to get out of participating in the regular festival activities. Who would want to run a marathon in the sweltering heat of early June or participate in the boring inter-class field games if they could play just one or two sets and call it a day? At least the exhibition match could still count as practice, whereas the festival as a whole was a giant waste of time.
“However,” Mizoguchi’s face shifted into an expression of such murderous intent that the entire team collectively shuddered. That expression was solely reserved for their most troublesome opponents and yet, “The principal and some of the faculty decided that they wish for this year’s sports festival, and the ones to come, to focus more on cultivating the spirit of friendship and unity amongst the students. Therefore all exhibition matches were canceled and members of the sports clubs are expected to participate as well.”
There was a wave of displeased murmurs and exasperated groans spreading around the assembly, each player clearly annoyed and already busy with figuring out a way to get out of the whole ordeal.
“I didn’t even get to the bad part yet,” Mizoguchi’s admission shut everyone up, giving rise to an even greater wave of trepidation, “The student council came up with a set of inter-class tournaments for this occasion. Boys will participate in volleyball, basketball, soccer and baseball tournaments, while girls will compete in softball, volleyball and track and field. Each year will form two teams for every discipline mentioned, one for college prep and general studies, who will then compete first with the team from their respective year, before advancing to the round-robin phase with the representatives from different years chosen this way.”
‘This doesn’t sound too bad,’ Suga, like many of the other team members, thought just then, ‘So we could just join the volleyball tournament and call it a day. At least that’s better than the marathon.’
“Don’t get excited just yet,” the younger coach deadpanned and then, as if having read everyone’s minds, said the words that the team had least wanted to hear, “To ensure a fair competition, all members of the sports clubs are therefore banned from participating in the tournament of the sport they attend club activities for. So it’s either you join a different tournament, or run in the marathon. Good luck. Dismissed.”
And with that, he left the gym, followed by a vaguely amused Coach Irihata who was chuckling to himself quietly about his younger coworker’s overly-dramatic assessment of the new form of the festival. But judging by the various shades of frustrated disbelief written all over everyone’s faces, many of the players shared Mizoguchi’s sentiment on the matter. So much so that even the majority of the usual after-hours gang didn’t stick around for extra practice, leaving only the first string members, the trio of first-years and Suga’s little group in the room.
“Great. Fantastic even!” Tooru whined, throwing his arms in the air angrily, “What am I supposed to do about this? Iwa-chan, we’re doomed!”
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s just you,” Hajime shrugged, pointedly ignoring the betrayed expression his best friend was leveling him with in favor of asking Makki, “I think I’m gonna sign up for baseball, you in?”
“Oh abso-f*cking-lutely,” Makki replied, shaking the spiker’s hand resolutely with an absolutely feral grin, “The game is on, I’m gonna crush your little team into the ground, smarty pants.”
Leaving those two idiots to their glaring contest, Suga bounded over to Mattsun and asked him, “What about you Mattsun? Any ideas?”
The tall middle blocker merely shrugged, “I haven’t played anything other than volleyball really, but I think I could sign up for basketball - it’s all about height there anyway. Can’t be that bad.”
“That’s a great idea!” the silver-haired libero beamed at his friend and then was struck by a sudden thought, “Could you maybe drag Tooru with you as well? I think he could do well in basketball too.”
A little to the side, Tooru was having a bit of an existential crisis. On one hand, he had no intention of running in the marathon - he was always the one who whined the loudest when their group had to run penalty laps, so there was no way he would willingly sign up for anything remotely similar. But then on the other hand, he has never played any other sport, dedicating his whole life thus far to volleyball and volleyball only. Sure, he got to experience baseball somewhat in the batting cages, but that was mainly just to let off steam and Suga doubted the chocolate-haired teen wanted anything to do with it ever again.
“You’re not gonna sign up with him together?” Mattsun asked with a frown.
“I don’t think I can, really. I suck at baseball, I’m probably too short for basketball and I don’t know the first thing about soccer. I think I’m just gonna resign myself to running the marathon.”
“Ouch,” the middle blocker winced apologetically, patting his shorter friend in the back emphatically, “Why don’t you ask your secret admirer what he’s signing up for? He can’t play basketball after all.”
To Suga’s absolute surprise and disbelief, over the course of the Golden Week, he had glimpsed Mikoshiba-kun on the stands a few times during the matches with neighboring schools or the local university players. According to Hajime, Mikoshiba was a starting member of Seijoh’s basketball team, playing on the right wing. Apparently he was even the top scorer in last year’s fall tournament, helping their school advance to the prefectural finals for the first time since a few years.
That and his more than average looks garnered him certain levels of popularity in the school. And yet, for some reason, every day without fail Mikoshiba would find at least a few minutes to watch Suga’s games for the past week, quietly observing and giving him encouraging thumbs up whenever the libero happened to notice him, before being quickly whisked away by his teammates to get back to their own training camp. It was honestly baffling and a little strange for a guy that knew virtually nothing about him to express such levels of friendliness, but Suga wasn’t one to judge.
The same couldn’t be said about Makki and Mattsun though.
“He’s not my secret admirer,” Suga scoffed, kicking his feet nervously. Honestly, why did they have to get it into their heads that the first classmate that happens to be nice to him has to have a crush on him? Him, of all people? A guy like that? No way in hell, “You’re just imagining things.”
The middle blocker remained unconvinced, but wisely dropped the subject. Well, not before adding, “Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” for good measure.
Suga silently elbowed Mattsun in the gut for his trouble.
***
“Oh yeah? That’s rich coming from you, Ruuka-chan,” Tooru seethed into his phone, feeling a vein pop on his forehead from listening to her insult him on the other end, “Yeah well, maybe I will! Have fun being single, I hope you lose this number so I’ll never have to talk to you again!”
With one last profanity being thrown his way from the girl, he hung up, promptly blocking the number before deleting it from his contacts. Then, he collapsed in a heap onto the couch, groaning into the emptiness of the room in frustration.
“Trouble in paradise?” except it wasn’t empty after all because of course his brother would find just the right timing to show up and probably witness the entire explosive exchange, “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Urgh, why are girls so complicated, Nii-chan? It’s like they say one thing and mean something completely opposite, it doesn’t make sense!”
“Wait wait, hold on,” Makoto stopped his tirade, staring down at his prone form with disbelief, mouth gaping open and thin wire glasses balancing precariously on the tip of his nose, only seconds away from sliding off, “You mean you actually got dumped? By a girl?”
“Uh, yeah?” Tooru lifted the arm covering his eyes to look at his brother questioningly, “What’s so strange about that? Didn’t you tell me I should get a girlfriend yourself?”
“I uh- Yeah but- That’s not what I-” about a hundred different emotions flickered in Makoto’s stormy gray eyes before settling on a look of complete and utter defeat, “Nevermind. Forget I ever said anything.”
He made a move to walk away, but Tooru shot up and grabbed his arm before he could go too far and whined, “Noo, don’t leave me alone, be a big brother and help me! Someone needs to console my poor broken heart!”
The moment the words were out of his mouth, Tooru felt the need to slap himself over how cringe worthy they were. Sure, he and Makoto were close but they never had that kind of relationship. They never had heart to heart conversations about stuff as mushy as feelings or shared little secrets like gossipy teenagers. Their relationship was an uneven mix of vicious teasing, silly little mind games and a few rare moments of silent companionship born from mutual understanding of being the odd ones out in their family full of successful doctors and businessmen.
Contrary to that, they were both single-minded idiots chasing recklessly after their own stupid goals.
“As if I have any more experience in romance than you do, idiot!” Makoto bit back, causing Tooru to gape in disbelief, ‘Then what the hell was that dating advice for? What the f*ck…’ This is why they never talked about feelings, this sh*t never ends well between the two of them! “But well… Do you have anything to do at the moment?”
Tooru tilted his head in confusion, “No, why?”
Makoto grinned at him sweetly, “Cool, then you can accompany me somewhere.”
And that’s how Tooru ended up in the passenger’s seat of Makoto’s stupid car that he definitely liked more than he should, on a ride between one old-fashioned suburban neighborhood to another, the stupid little sh*t not divulging where exactly they were going no matter how pressed. In his own words, “I was about to go run some errands so you might as well just come with me, get your mind off of things.”
And that was that. Though, to be perfectly fair, no matter how much he pouted and grumbled, seeming outwardly affronted at the situation, a tiny little part of Tooru was happy at such a menial excuse to spend time with his brother. They don't get many opportunities to hang out together nowadays, with Makoto all the way in Tokyo for university and only coming back home for visits during the summer, holidays and some odd weekend here and there.
Not that they hung out much before Makoto moved out anyway. They used to be much closer, practically attached at the hip, whenever Tooru wasn’t spending time with Iwa-chan that is, but that changed when Tooru entered middle school and Makoto high school, respectively. Suddenly both of them got so absorbed with their passions, Tooru with volleyball and Makoto with photography, that they hardly ever saw each other at home, busy with practice and whatever the hell Makoto was doing when he was not at school.
He used to be somewhat of a hooligan during his time at Seijoh, skipping classes more often than not, teetering the fine line of keeping his attendance at the required minimum for passing. He got a lot of trouble for it from their parents and his teachers, but to the absolute befuddlement of both, his grades had never slipped, miraculously staying at a near perfect level.
Only Tooru knew that the reason Makoto’s grades never slipped was that he was staying up late at night, binge-studying before every exam to make up for all the potential study time he had lost during the day. When he came home one day in his third-year announcing to the whole house that he had won a pretty big cash prize from a photography competition, Tooru thought that perhaps that was what he was doing when he was not in class, kinda like him with his extracurricular practice.
And then a letter from Tokyo University of the Arts came, surprising everyone with the offer of a full scholarship for Makoto, except for the guy in question and Tooru. Because of course Makoto couldn’t win just a regular competition, he had to go and win one on an international level, taking the photography world by storm with a single picture. When it came to his life’s calling, Tooru’s brother did not go for half-measures, and neither did he.
Tooru had seen that picture of course. That was when he first became so acutely aware of just how viciously skilled Makoto was. He always knew they were a similar flavor of a monster, just in different fields, but that one photograph really put everything he knew about his brother into a different context.
He never congratulated him though. Just like Makoto never congratulated Tooru on his wins or consoled him for his losses, even though Tooru knew he never missed a single match in Tooru’s whole volleyball career. Always lurking in the stands, silently cheering him on and taking a few pictures for the memories with his ever-present camera.
Makoto was a bit sentimental like that.
So before long, Tooru found himself rambling about anything and everything to the acknowledging hums of his brother and occasional interjections. He told him about the formation of this year’s team, the trio of explosive first-years that Suga-chan managed to wrangle into some semblance of coherent teamwork by the power of his hundred thousand kilowatt smiles, the training camp during Golden Week and the dreadful revelation of the sports festival.
“Just sign up for basketball,” Makoto answered to that particular bit of Tooru’s whining with a shrug, taking a left turn when the streetlights turned green, “You’re tall, it’s probably gonna be enough to win a game or two. And if not, then isn’t that batter? To my understanding, as long as you participate in the tournament, you don’t need to do anything else, so if you lost the first game, wouldn’t you have free time after that?”
“Well yeah, probably,” Tooru’s reply was a little unsure, as he hadn’t thought of that before. Still, “Even if I lose the first game, it’s not like I could go practice, the volleyball gym will be occupied for that stupid little tournament I can’t participate in.”
“True, but you could at least hang out with your friends. That’s at least something.”
He spared Makoto all the details about his, so far, two failed relationships and instead launched into the story of Mattsun’s little scene and plans on the most ridiculous and hilarious love confession him and Suga-chan had a hand in planning-
“Man, Suga-kun is your favorite person in the world, eh?” Makoto interrupted, wiggling his eyebrows with a sh*t-eating grin he usually wore after getting his hands on some more evidence of Tooru’s misfortune for his blackmail folder, “All your stories seem to revolve around him one way or another.”
“S-shut up!” Tooru spluttered indignantly, slapping his brother’s forearm lightly as they pulled into a stop at a parking lot next to a small convenience store. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing at all,” Makoto said, in a tone that most definitely implied there was in fact, something wrong with it, but before Tooru could protest, added, “Then again, I think Suga-kun just about might be my favorite person too. He gets you to make all sorts of funny expressions after all.”
It took a few seconds for Tooru’s brain to process the information, like a cartoonish dot dot dot forming over his head, but when clarity came he shouted indignantly, “Hah?! What’s that supposed to mean?!” but to his chagrin, Makoto simply got out of the car, cackling loudly.
Grumbling insults under his breath, Tooru popped out of the passenger seat and stretched lazily, eyeing his surroundings. They were somewhere on the outskirts of Sendai, on the entirely opposite side of the city judging from how far it took Makoto to drive here. Here being a pretty normal looking neighborhood with narrow traditional Japanese houses squeezed into every bit of flat land you could find among the rising Miyagi hills and mountains. All the streets were equally as narrow and steep, all houses had tiny little gardens overgrown with various greenery and Tooru could even see a cat or two lounging on the high walls next to the sidewalk.
Makoto led him silently through a few twists and turns, weirdly familiar with this place, until they emerged in front of a small residential building. It was pretty normal-looking all things considered, with white walls, dark wooden door frames and a bit rickety windows decorated with multiple intricate wind chimes twinkling in the sun, and some sort of store at the bottom floor judging by a sign with hand-painted “Hazawa Textiles” above the double doors.
The older Oikawa strutted inside confidently, another set of windchimes signaling his arrival and Tooru had only a split second to gape open in awe at the sights inside - all the colorful rolls of fabric stacked up on shelves all the way up to the ceiling, some filling up baskets lining the walls and some pinned to sewing mannequins to show the beautiful contrast between the vibrant cloth and skin color - before his gaze settled on the silvery locks on the head of the shopkeeper.
Very familiar silvery locks on the head of a very familiar shopkeeper.
“Welcome to Hazawa Textiles, how may I help- oh!” Suga-chan started, picking his nose out of the math homework he was doing at the comically large front desk before stopping himself upon recognizing his customers. Tooru’s heart did a little fluttery thing when the little crease in his friend’s brow smoothened together with his pout into one of those beaming smiles of his, “Tooru, Makoto-san! It’s been a while!”
It’s been like, less than a day since he had last seen Tooru, but the chocolate-haired teen suspected he meant his brother. Probably since the sleepover… but wait, if that was the case, ‘How did Nii-chan know of this place? And is Suga-chan a part-timer here? He never told me any of this!’
“Yahoo, Suga-kun,” Makoto sauntered over to the front desk with a grin, totally not stealing Tooru’s preferred form of a greeting, “I came here to pick up my order from last time.”
‘Last time?!’ Tooru’s mind screeched to a halt, but Suga-chan chirped in understanding, “Right! Hold on a second, I’ll go get my mom.”
With that, he disappeared into the back room for a few minutes, during which Tooru proceeded to glare at his brother like when they were little and Makoto stole the last of his favorite popsicles from the refrigerator in the middle of a hot summer day.
“What?” Makoto shrugged, trying to look unbothered when in fact Tooru bet the f*cker was taking in every tick on the setter’s forehead with unfiltered glee, “Remember how Suga-kun said over dinner that his mother is a seamstress and runs her own textile shop? It just so happened that I was looking for someone to help me make some clothes alterations, so I asked him for the address. Tsk tsk,” he tutted, slinging an arm over Tooru’s shoulder and continued in a mock-patronizing way, “It’s not my fault you didn’t remember such a crucial detail. You need to pay attention to what people say, that’s what a good friend does.”
“You little-”
“Ah, Makoto-kun, it’s nice to see you again!” before Tooru had the chance to contemplate the various gruesome methods of murder he could use on his brother, Suga-chan was back, this time accompanied by an older woman that was so much his spitting image, she could only be his friend’s mother. Sugawara-san smiled sweetly at his brother, before shifting her warm gaze to Tooru, little creases forming on her cheeks as she exclaimed with delight, “And you must be Tooru-kun! Koushi has told me so much about you.”
“R-right, yes. It’s very nice to meet you, Sugawara-san,” Tooru stammered nervously, suddenly feeling a bit shy, because ‘This is Suga-chan’s mom? And she knows my name? Suga-chan was talking about me?’
“Maiko-san, hello~” Makoto on the other hand, had no shame, winking at the middle-aged lady with one of those obnoxious little smirks of his that never failed to charm any auntie in their neighborhood. Then, with the enthusiasm of an over-excited puppy, he asked, “Is my order done yet? Can I see? Please please, pretty please!”
Maiko-san chuckled heartily, hiding her lips behind her palm and gestured, “Of course, of course. Why don’t we all come in the back so you can try them on? I hope everything is fine, but just in case you’ll need adjustments…”
“Yay! Thanks, Maiko-san,” Makoto chirped happily and disappeared with the woman in the backroom, a little pep in his step. Shrugging helplessly at his brother’s shenanigans, Tooru followed after Suga with a tired sigh.
But then had to do a double take, because the backroom looked like an entirely different second shop, “Whoa…”
It was a fully furnished workshop, a little messy with cut up fabrics strewn all over the cluster of tables in the middle, forming a colorful pile around three sets of sewing machines. One wall was made entirely of shelves with square cubicles filled with labeled paper bags, ‘Orders for customers maybe?’ On the far wall there was a small changing room blocked away from the rest of the room by a pale pink curtain with a sakura pattern, and every inch of empty space was occupied by countless mannequins, some with pretty designs of kimonos in various stages of completion, while others served as oversized pin cushions.
“Sorry for the mess,” Suga-chan exclaimed with a nervous giggle, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “We always get super busy in the summer due to festival season. You wouldn’t believe how many people want to order a custom-made kimono every year.”
“Are you kidding me?” Tooru unpaused himself finally, clicking his slack jaw closed, “This is amazing. It looks so cool~ Do you often help out your mom in the shop?”
“Yeah!” the silver-haired teen perked up in excitement, counting on his fingers, “There’s another part-timer working the register on the weekends and my aunt usually works with my mom in the back, but one of my cousins got sick so she had to take a few days off. But I’m usually here every day after practice, either helping out in the back or running the front.”
“Maiko-san you outdid yourself!” they looked over in unison to watch Makoto walk out of the changing room in a white shirt with ridiculously puffy sleeves. It had ruffles near the collar and on the cuffs, making him look half pirate half bard from medieval times, but of course he was able to pull it off. The Oikawa genes blessed him with a pretty face and he definitely knew how to use it, handsome bastard.
Sugawara-san clapped her hands in excitement, bounding over to look at her handiwork from up close, “Oh you look fantastic, Makoto-kun! Is it not too tight around the collar?”
“Nope, not at all,” his brother replied, grinning like a maniac, “And it’s the right height too!”
As he watched his brother try on a few more shirts in a similar style and even one or two overcoats with so much embroidery Tooru couldn’t find a different word to describe them other than “princely”, he sighed, “You know, I really don’t understand your sense of fashion anymore.”
“Haiyaa~, that’s cause your silly little brain can only comprehend volleyball, Tooru-chan,” Makoto chimed in a sickly sweet tone, gray eyes getting a steely quality as he gestured to his own clothing for emphasis, “This is called ouji fashion and it’s a well-established style, dating all the way back to the eighties! Not that you would understand, you filthy country bumpkin.”
“Look who’s talking! You’re a country bumpkin too, less than two years in Tokyo are not gonna change that!” Tooru bristled, but Makoto didn’t pay his insults any mind, sticking his tongue out and disappearing behind the curtain again, “Where did you even get these things?”
“You can thrift almost anything as long as you know where to look!” Makoto shouted in reply, “But the things I find rarely have a high enough collar. That’s why Maiko-san is my savior, truly a miracle worker!”
Tooru couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but sometime during his time in Seijoh, Makoto became weirdly obsessed with high collars. No matter what temperature or weather it was outside, you could never catch him with his neckline exposed. Open back shirts and blouses? Sure. Precariously placed chest windows? Why not? But goodness forbid Makoto ever showed a sliver of a neck or collarbone, like some sort of twisted Victorian maiden afraid of men catching a glimpse of her ankles.
Well, if that Victorian maiden also happened to dress like sex on legs.
He secretly suspected his brother got himself a tattoo in high school and that’s where the high collar thing came from. It certainly looked badass when Makoto first started changing his style, pairing fitted turtleneck sweaters with ripped jeans and leather jackets, but then he moved all the way to Tokyo and started adding both traditional and futuristic clothes into the mix, even an occasional skirt and a pair of high heels or two. And like the absolute beast he was, he looked amazing in anything he wore, but it was definitely a learning curve to reconcile the image of his snotty older brother with the fashion entity he was molding himself into.
“Flatterer,” Maiko-san chided with a chuckle, “I take it that everything fits just fine then?”
“Yup” Makoto emerged wearing the clothes that he came in here - plain black turtleneck sweater, a pair of dark navy hakama pants and high platform boots - and grinned, “And for the record- it’s not flattery if it’s true.”
Sugawara-san waved him off, leading their merry little group back to the main part of the shop. Suga-chan raced ahead of her to pointedly shove his scattered textbooks to one side of the large front desk as his mom started counting up the total, “Anything else I can do for you sweetie?”
“As a matter of fact, yes there is,” Tooru’s brother replied, eyeing the rolls of fabrics decorating the walls with a calculating look, “I’m planning a shoot for my midterm assignment and I was thinking about using some silk draperies as props. I need them to be smooth and reflective, but not too light so they don’t flap too wildly when I turn on the wind blower. Rich hues if you can please.”
“Hmm,” Sugawara-san hummed in thought, walking around the register to rifle through the rolls of fabric on the lower shelves. She picked up a few and dumped them on the desk, before saying, “Koushi be a dear and grab me Red Velvet from the top would you? And Emerald Wonder should be up there somewhere as well.”
“Yes ma’am” Suga-chan chirped with a silly little salute, making his mom shake her head with a chuckle. He then grabbed a ladder and wheeled it over to where the requested textiles were, hopping up and down with his load just as easily despite how awkward it must’ve been to walk down the steps with the huge tube-shaped roll wedged underneath his armpit.
“Thanks,” Makoto acknowledged once there was a nice collection of materials on the desk for him to choose from, “Nice hoodie by the way, is it a new one?”
Tooru glanced at his friend curiously, paying closer attention to his clothes now that it was mentioned. Suga-chan wore a colorful hoodie that looked a bit like patchwork, with every sleeve, pocket and the hood done in a different pastel hue. It complimented his rosy from exertion cheeks, ‘He looks kinda cute in it.’
“Yeah, kinda,” Suga-chan shrugged, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his washed out jeans, “I went through the stuff in my closet recently and found a lot of clothes that didn’t fit me anymore, from before I hit my growth spurt. So I grabbed a bunch and repurposed them. I think I used like, three different hoodies and two pairs of my old track pants for this one. It’s kinda funny - I saw something similar in a store the other day and tried to recreate that.”
“Wait, you made all of that from your old clothes?” Tooru asked in disbelief, to which Suga nodded, “That’s so cool! I never thought you could use the clothes you’ve outgrown like that. Our mom usually hands them off for charity or cuts them up for cleaning rags. Suga-chan is so talented!”
“Well yeah, we do that too for the most part,” the silver-haired libero shrugged, a faint blush dusting his cheeks at the praise, “But it’s fun to do something a little different from time to time.”
Tooru hummed in thought, engrossed in their little conversation. Next to them Maiko-san and Makoto were discussing the fabrics and their uses quite enthusiastically, blind to the rest of the world, “Do you often make your own clothes like that?”
“Sometimes,” Suga-chan admitted, “I mostly just alter stuff I bought in the store, cause sometimes it doesn’t fit properly. Like, the other day, I found such a cool jean jacket but the sleeves were a bit too short, so I cut them off and replaced them with one of my old shirts. Stitched in a hood too while I was at it, so now it’s multi-purpose.”
“Oh my god, I know right?” Tooru exclaimed enthusiastically, “I haven’t owned a jean jacket since I was in primary! All the ones in the store are either too baggy or too tight around the shoulders. What a bummer…”
Suga-chan frowned in thought, that little crease in-between his brows forming, like when he was formulating some special plan on the court, “Have you ever tried altering one then?”
Tooru waved him off, “Nah, I never thought of that, I don’t think I would even know where to start. And anyway-”
“I’ll take those three Maiko-san,” Makoto’s voice grabbed his attention, making him forget what he was about to say, “I think about five meters each ought to do it.”
“Sure thing,” Sugawara-san nodded and got to work. She put the unneeded fabrics back on the shelves, meanwhile Suga-chan grabbed a pair of really big, really professional looking scissors and got to work cutting the requested amount, the unrolled fabrics taking up almost the entirety of available desk space.
‘So this is why the front desk is so large. Now it all makes sense,’ Tooru thought to himself, but then he realized just how much fabric his brother was buying and he looked him in the eye dubiously, “What kind of shoot do you need so much fabric for?”
“I don’t know yet, but it sure is shaping up to be a vision,” Makoto replied as Maiko-san read out his frankly sizable total, the older Oikawa paying for it without so much as a blink, “Now, help me lug these over to the car. I sure as hell can’t do it all by myself. Chop chop!”
Later, when they bid farewell to the Sugawaras hastily, dragging their feet under the awkward weight of Makoto’s purchases, his brother asked him, “So… How about it? Feeling a little better now?”
As they loaded the packaged cloth into the trunk of Makoto’s car, Tooru remembered the flush of Suga-chan’s cheeks and the sparkles in his eyes as he told him about his mother’s work all excited, and couldn’t help but grin, “Yep! It was awesome.”
Makoto patted him on the back with a conspiratorial little grin as he looked at the telltale signs of a blush on his brother’s cheeks and thought to himself, ‘Tooru, you oblivious little sh*t.’
***
The Confession Day fell on just a regular Tuesday afternoon, their entire friend group on high alert, buzzing in anticipation at what was about to happen.
All except for Makki of course, who was currently glaring at his math homework with pure unfiltered distaste, “Who the f*ck thought of these formulas and why the f*ck do I need to know them? It’s not like I’m ever gonna use them after I graduate.”
Him, Suga and Hajime were currently sitting in class 2-6, having borrowed two tables from Hajime’s desk neighbors who had decided to go to the cafeteria for lunch, and pushed them into one. The spiky-haired teen was currently trying and failing to beat quadratic equations into Makki’s brain, but it was merely a diversion. Mystification, if you will. They needed some sort of pretext to keep Makki contained in a single room without the pink-haired boy noticing that something was amiss.
Why was Tooru not with them? Well, it was lunch time and he needed to grab his daily milk bread supply. Where did Mattsun go? Well, everyone wanted drinks from the vending machines, so dear old Mattsun agreed to get them out of the goodness of his heart.
They were schemers. Filthy deceivers, all of them.
Makki would’ve smelled bullsh*t in a second, especially since Tooru’s acting could use some work, but the looming dread of math homework proved to be enough to temper his all-powerful gaydar. Suga patted himself on the back for thinking about that one.
“Urgh,” the pink-haired menace groaned, throwing his arms up in surrender, “I give up. Can we do literally anything else instead? I could even agree to physics if only it meant I will not have to look at those formulas any second lo-”
Like a deity having answered his prayers, or maybe a lucky strike from fate itself, the doors to the classroom slid open with a loud bang. There was a moment of absolute stunned silence, every student currently in the room looking around in confusion before suddenly, the chorus of Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” boomed right outside on full-volume.
The exasperated chuckles started the moment Mattsun came in with a comically large radio speaker perched upon his shoulder. He had ditched his school blazer in favor of donning a black t-shirt with a suit design on the front, the red tie of his uniform tied into a sloppy bow instead. He had dark sunglasses on, a little goatee painted on his chin with a sharpie and a large bouquet of dusty pink roses, uncannily matching the shade of Makki’s hair, in his left hand. On a little card inside of the bouquet he had written “Will you be my crime and dine?”
Tooru trotted in behind him, one of Makoto-san’s spare cameras he had borrowed for the occasion at the ready, filming everything to immortalize this moment for the generations to come.
Makki looked like someone had just presented him with a whole platter of his grandma’s cream puffs.
As the laughter grew in volume, some people pulled out their phones to record the disaster happening in front of them as well. Mattsun calmly set down the speaker on a nearby desk, lowered the volume a little and took off his sunglasses. That goatee was gonna be Suga’s undoing, he just knew it. Already he had a hard time stopping himself from bursting into hysterical giggles, his chest hurting from the physical effort it took to hold in his breath.
“Hanamaki Takahiro,” Mattsun addressed the pink-haired spiker with confidence, the entirety of the room forgotten, “My One and Only, the Lord of the Memes, the Supreme Gay of the Universe, I have a question for you.”
Then, to Suga’s utter horror, he dropped to one knee and started rummaging in his back pocket for something, ‘You were only supposed to serenade him you idiot, what is this?!’
Well, blasting the chorus of “I Will Always Love You” probably counted as the next best thing, but still. When Mattsun pulled out a little velvety box, Hajime facepalmed so hard, Suga felt the vibration in his bones. He opened the box to reveal… a lollipop. Not just any lollipop, but the one shaped like a baby’s pacifier, the kind that you could wear as a ring on your finger as you ate it. It was still in the wrapper and everything.
Some people who sat close enough started howling with laughter, others were craning their necks to see, not quite understanding the commotion. Tooru was still recording with the most chaotically evil grin Suga had ever seen him wear. Hajime’s tanned complexion took on a deathly pale hue.
With the most deadpan expression a human had ever achieved, Mattsun asked, “Will you marry me?”
There was a beat of silence. Only one. And then Makki leapt out of his seat at the speed of light to throw himself bodily at Mattsun.
The middle blocker had enough foresight to close the little box and throw the flowers to the side lest they got trampled before he had an armful of an over-excited pink-haired menace. Makki’s hands wrapped around his neck, his full body weight toppling him over. Mattsun’s head banged loudly on a nearby desk, making Hajime hiss sympathetically, but the taller boy didn’t feel anything because he and Makki were now kissing and was that tongue? It was definitely tongue. What the f*ck.
“Get a room!” somebody shouted near the front of the classroom and a quick glance behind himself proved it to be Mikoshiba. He shared a long-suffering little smile with Suga as if to say, ‘Lovebirds, what can you do?’ before Suga’s attention was pulled back to his friends.
“f*ck yes, please!” Makki gasped out of breath, grinning like a loon, “Holy sh*t Mattsun I love you so much.”
He was laughing hysterically on top of his now boyfriend, straddling his lap as he teared up from the force of it. Mattsun kept staring at him with a dazed expression, a tiny hint of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at the pink-haired menace with the devotion of god’s most fanatic believers.
“Oh my gosh, this was amazing,” Tooru giggled to himself proudly, pausing the recording and snapping the cap on the camera lens shut, “Your reputation will never recover from this Mattsun.”
Heaving himself to a somewhat upright position (well, as much as it was possible, with Makki now clinging to him like an oversized koala), the middle blocker shrugged helplessly, “Worth it.”
They would’ve stayed there cuddling on the floor forever, or at least until the bell rang, were it not for a female classmate shouting in alarm, “Holy sh*t is that blood!”
She was pointing at the edge of one of the desks, the one that Mattsun had bumped his head into. The teen in question ran his hand through his hair and it came out a little stained, “...well sh*t.”
So they spend the next few minutes extracting the pink beanpole off of him, corralling them both out of the door and into the nurse’s office. They ended up going on their own, Mattsun holding his speaker and Makki’s hand, while Makki hugged the flowers protectively to his chest, his silly little ring proudly on display for everyone to see.
The moment they were out of the door, Tooru, Hajime and Suga shared a loaded look between each other before the dam broke and they started laughing so hard, Suga fell out of his chair, while Tooru was clutching at his sides in pain. Hajime kept thumping his desk over and over again, needing some kind of outlet.
When the bell rang, Tooru and Suga pulled themselves together with great difficulty and stumbled to the door. Right as Suga was about to slide it closed after himself, Mikoshiba shouted, “Bye, Suga-kun!” from all the way over his desk.
After a moment of hesitation, Suga waved shyly back.
***
“Blergh,” Makki gagged in disgust, gaze fleeting between his half-finished bento and what was happening a few tables over, “Trust the Trash King to completely ruin my appetite with his happy little love life. Gross.”
Watari chuckled nervously, “I think you’re the last person at this table who should be complaining about this, senpai,” he said, indicating the tangle of limbs between him and Mattsun, who continued munching on his yakisoba bread completely unbothered.
Makki tsk-ed in annoyance, grabbing his pair of chopsticks a bit more tightly, “Touche.”
Suga couldn’t really blame his friend. The current reason for his displeasure? The Oikawa fanclub seated a few paces away, comprised of the setter himself, his current girlfriend of the week (a first year from the track club named Yuna, who was a slim javelin thrower with shoulder-length hair she tied in a bouncy ponytail and twin moles underneath her amber eyes), the pack of hyenas consisting of Yuna-chan’s friends and some odd contenders for when the girlfriend-of-the-week spot inevitably opens up soon, as well as a very disgruntled looking Hajime running interference.
High-pitched squeals and giggles never ceased from that table, coupled with the sickeningly sweet sight of Yuna-chan feeding Tooru pieces of her homemade bento. If there’s anyone he pitied the most in this moment, it was Hajime - poor spiker looked like he was only seconds away from committing a genocide.
Suga also pitied his traitorous heart for daring to have a crush on the setter as well, but that was a sentiment he was currently very pointedly trying to ignore. Emphasis on trying.
“We’re lucky lunch break only lasts for an hour. She can’t follow him into class or practice, unless she wants to skip her own,” Yahaba pointed matter-of-factly, ticking off and circling answers on a mock math test sheet with a red pen. Once he got to the bottom of the page, he tallied everything up and whistled, “Would you look at that, 86 points. Nice job!”
He handed the test over to Kyoutani who took it while grumbling something unintelligible, faint dusting of pink on the very tips of his ears. He put the paper down and slid a slick black bento box over to the setter, with a simple command of, “Eat.”
“Yeah, yeah, thank you for the food,” Yahaba replied, cracking the box open and splitting his chopsticks. At the first bite of the food, he closed his eyes, face slackening into such bliss it looked like he was having a holistic experience, “God, I don’t know how you do it but please keep doing it, it’s so good.”
Kyoutani rolled his eyes.
‘It seems my matchmaking has worked out better than I expected,’ Suga mused to himself, observing his kouhais with undisguised fondness, ‘Who would’ve thought.’
According to Watari-kun, once the other two got tired of constantly jumping at each other’s throats, they quickly found a common language on court, their teamwork and setter-spiker synchronization growing better by day. That small bit of understanding even managed to translate to their relationship outside of the court as well.
Apparently, Yahaba was so offended by Kyoutani’s grades that he made it his personal mission to correct them, helping the other boy study and do his homework pretty much every day, even joined by Watari during the weekends when they did not have practice. Kyoutani-kun on the other hand, took to repaying the favor by bringing the setter a bento every day in school, hell-bent on stopping Yahaba’s teeth from falling out due to the unhealthy amount of sweets he was prone to inhaling on a daily basis.
‘What is it about pretty setters and sweets? Should I try cooking lunch for Tooru as well?’ as soon as he thought that, Suga’s eyes inevitably drifted towards the fanclub table, where the pretty setter in question was loudly praising his little admirer’s cooking skills for everyone to hear, ‘No, better not, he has homemade bentos in spades apparently.’
“Hey there, Suga-kun!” suddenly there was a voice at Suga’s left, exclaiming happily. Mikoshiba-kun was standing there, light brown hair slightly mused and a big grin lighting up his features, as if he was that excited to find Suga here in the cafeteria, “Do you have a minute?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” the silver-haired teen nodded, indicating the empty seat next to him, which the other boy gracefully slid into, “What’s up?”
“I was just wondering…” Mikoshiba trailed off for a moment, getting lost in his thoughts for a minute, before he mentally snapped himself back to attention and continued, “Have you decided on a team yet? F-for the festival, I mean.”
“Oh! No, not really,” Suga answered truthfully, feeling a bit bashful at the attention. Mikoshiba’s gaze never strayed from his own, making him a little nervous, “I haven’t given it much thought.”
“Great! Uh.. That is- I mean,” Mikoshiba took a big breath, calming himself down, “Well then, can I maybe possibly interest you in joining the soccer competition? It’s just uh, I’m kind of the uh, officially-not-official,” he put that in air quotes, chuckling at his own sh*tty joke, “captain for the 2-prep team and we’re still missing a player so I was kind of hoping you could join? Er, if you want to, that is.”
As a blush wormed its way onto Suga’s cheeks, the silver-haired teen libero became acutely aware of Makki intently observing the situation with unfiltered interest and glee, so he stammered, “A-are you sure? I-I mean, I’ve never even played soccer besides gym class, I don’t think I’d be any good.”
“Nonsense,” Mikoshiba waved his concerns off, suddenly much more sure of himself as he listed off, “I’ve been to your matches during Golden Week and I saw you do a run and pick up the ball from the sidelines with your foot and I thought ‘Whoa, how cool is that?!’ A-anyway,” and he was back to stuttering looking for all intents and purposes a bit shy, “You have amazing footwork, so I think you’ll do great!”
He smiled at Suga so earnestly then that he had no idea how to refuse. ‘Then again, if the alternative is running the marathon, perhaps it won’t be that bad? Even if I completely suck at it.’ “Okay, sure, why not.”
“Awesome!” Mikoshiba fist-pumped the air in excitement and pulled out his phone, “Here, can we exchange contact information? We have a group chat on LINE, I can add you there and send you the practice details later? Oh and don’t worry - we’re working around three different club schedules, but we have everything covered so you won’t miss out on any volleyball, I can assure you.”
“Okay then, sounds good!” Suga chirped and took out his phone.
After the tell-tale ding of LINE information being connected, Mikoshiba stood up, “Well then, I won’t take up any more of your time. Bye then, Suga-kun!” and speed-walked back over to his table where a few other members of Seijoh’s basketball team sat, phone clutched tightly in his fist like a hard-won war prize.
“Is it just me,” Makki started with a drawl, slinging an arm over Suga’s shoulder, “or does Mister Popular over there have a little crush on you hmm, Suga-dono?”
Sliding on the bench to duck underneath his friend’s arm, Suga chided, “No he does not, don’t even say that.”
“Eh, why not? He’s clearly into you Suga, don’t even try to deny it!” when Suga did not give any indication of having considered his words, the pink-haired teen continued, “Come on, what’s so wrong with that? He seems like a pretty alright guy, why not give him a chance?”
Suga didn’t really have anything to say to that. On one hand, he could kinda see what Makki was talking about - even now, as he chanced a glance at the basketball team’s table, he could see Mikoshiba averting his eyes, cheeks a little flushed and a shadow of a grin dancing on his lips. On the other hand, he felt pretty out of depth - he was always the one with the crush, not the other way around. Pretty and popular boys liking him was not something Suga had ever had to deal with, so he wasn’t sure what to do.
If he should even do anything about it.
Scrunching his nose as if he had smelled something foul, Kyoutani growled, “I don’t like this guy.”
Chewing on a croquet, mouth full, Yahaba slurred, “U don’ like nyone tho. ‘s nothin’ ew.” making Watari snort with laughter into his tea.
“Tch,” Kyoutani huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest, “Whatever.”
Just then another bout of giggles erupted from the fanclub table, making everyone sigh in unison. As they stewed in their misery, the previous topic of conversation went completely forgotten.
***
CLANG
THUMP
“Two outs!”
“sh*t!” Hajime swore, stomping furiously back to his team, glowering at the pitcher that just got him out on a nasty curveball, “I’ll get you next time, asshole!”
“Yeah yeah,” Makki grinned cheekily waving the spiky-haired teen goodbye. He was already readying up for another batter, right palm fiddling with the ball to align his fingers correctly with the stitches, “You can try big guy, but I ain’t going down no matter what you do!”
The other teen flipped him off.
“I don’t really know much about baseball, but isn’t Hanamaki kinda good?” Yahaba asked, watching dubiously as his pink-haired menace of a senpai struck out another batter, not letting the 2-prep baseball team score in yet another inning.
“I don’t think anyone expected this from a casual inter-class tournament,” Irine-senpai said with an impressed whistle, “He’s throwing breaking balls. Like, at least three different types from the looks of it. When did he even have the time to learn them? Didn’t he start playing volleyball in middle school? Last I checked they weren’t teaching f*cking middle schoolers how to throw curveballs like that!”
“There, there,” Jun patted his friend on the back with mock reassurance, “I’m sure your team is gonna crush him anyway, don’t sweat it Ryou.”
“Easy for you to say, you cheater,” Irine mumbled dejectedly, swatting his hand away, to point a finger at him in accusation, “Just so you know, the fact that they somehow let you sign up for basketball is the biggest f*cking injustice in the world.”
Jun cackled at his friend’s misfortune, “I quit basketball almost a year ago so it didn’t count as me being a member anymore. Can’t say I mind having a chance at crushing my sweet little kouhais. It would’ve been better if some assholes on the team were participating though, I’d gladly wipe the floor with them.”
“Uwah, so violent~” Tooru exclaimed, shuffling anxiously to stand on Suga’s other side, away from the tall middle blocker, “I’m glad we lost the first game, otherwise I think I’d die like Mattsun might in the next game.”
Mattsukawa rested his forehead on the chain link fence with a groan.
Suga snickered good-naturedly at this whole situation. Honestly, he was kind of having fun with the sports festival. Maybe it was because he and Kaito-kun won the soccer game for the 2-prep team and were now waiting for the third-years to duke it out between each other before advancing to the round-robin phase with the representative team of each year. Mattsun’s team, 2-gen, won against Tooru’s, 2-prep, and 3-prep won against 3-gen thanks to Jun, so they were playing in the first round-robin game as soon as the first-year basketball game was done.
And speaking of the first-year basketball game, Kyoutani sauntered over to their little group, fists bunched up into the pockets of his gym shorts and asked, “How is Iwaiuzmui-san’s match going?”
He had the unfortunately fortunate timing to ask that question just as Makki blasted a home run out of a sloppy pitch from the jittery pitcher from Suga’s class, netting 2-gen a total of two points, “From Hajime’s perspective? Not so good. But Makki pretty much has this in the bag.”
“Huh,” was all the fierce teen said in reply, plopping his ass down to where Yahaba-kun was lying in the grass, the fluffy-haired setter yet another person free from the whole festival on account of losing the first game, just like Tooru.
“Did you win?” Yahaba asked without even looking at his unlikely friend, forearm slung over his eyes to protect them from the sun.
Kyoutani puffed his chest up in pride, “Obviously.”
“Congrats~” the younger setter drawled in a bored tone, but it was enough to draw a shadow of a blush onto the fierce teen’s ears.
“He’s gonna be insufferable about it,” Tooru pointed out, gesturing to the gloating Makki was doing on his slow as all hell trek around the diamond. He even went so far as to stick his tongue out at third base where Hajime was playing, that petty bastard.
Jun sucked on his teeth and shrugged, “Deserved.”
Irine slapped him over the back of his head, “You’re such an asshole sometimes, I don’t know how I’m friends with you.”
The middle blocker grinned at his classmate with all teeth, “My irresistible charms, probably.”
Looking at the third-years bickering, being cheered on by Tooru’s enthusiastic thumbs up and Mattsun’s sneaky little smirk, Suga thought that this is exactly the kind of team he wanted to achieve - a team so tightly-knit, even the first-years became an integral part of the mayhem. Although, there was still somebody missing from their group…
“Where’s Watari-kun?” Suga asked no one in particular.
The two first-years winced in unison, but it was Yahaba who offered an explanation, “The soccer team turned him down at the last minute so he was forced to run in the marathon.”
Everyone let out a little hiss, empathizing with the boy’s misfortune, “Ah… Poor guy.”
“Suga-kun!” Mikoshiba shouted from the top of the alley above the baseball pitch, waving him over, “Our next game starts in less than twenty minutes! We’re playing 1-gen first!”
“Okay!” Suga waved back, “Thanks for the info, Kaito-kun, I’ll meet you there in a bit!”
Satisfied with that, Mikoshiba continued down the path, intent on locating a few of the other players currently unaccounted for.
“So… ‘Kaito-kun’, huh?” Mattsun drawled with fake disinterest, leaning bodily on the silver-haired teen’s shoulder, “Graduated from last name basis I see.”
Suga jabbed his friend in the side, “Oh shush it.”
“Wasn’t that Mikoshiba from the basketball club?” Jun asked curiously, forming a pair of binoculars with his hands as if that would help him see better in the distance, “Man, he had gotten a growth spurt alright. Last I saw him he barely reached my shoulder!”
“I’ll cheer you on, Suga-chan!” Tooru exclaimed happily, giving the libero enthusiastic thumbs up, “Well… in spirit, at least. Cause I really, really wanna see Mattsun get pummeled by Jun-senpai in person.”
“Oi!” the middle blocker tried to protest but it fell on deaf ears as Jun slunk to his side to clap him loudly on the back, “Hell yeah I will! Come on, Kouhai-kun, let’s get over to the gym, our match is bound to start soon too.”
As the rest of the group expressed their desire to watch Mister Eyebrows get absolutely destroyed in basketball - not that Suga blamed them, as he would’ve loved to see it as well, but alas, duty calls - he send them one last wave and called out, “I’ll see you guys later!” before making his way over to the soccer pitch.
Later on the field, as Suga scuffed his shoes on the grass, still not used to the feeling of the studs on the soles, surrounded by members from all three of the second-year college prep classes, he listed to Mikoshiba give them a little pep talk, “Alright guys, we’ve practiced, we’ve prepared and we’re good. Two wins and this whole tournament is ours, so let’s go!”
“Yeah!” everyone shouted in unison and ran to their positions, waiting for the whistle to signal the beginning of the game.
“Counting on you, partner,” Kaito said with a full dimpled smile, lifting his hand up for a fist bump.
Suga returned the gesture with a grin, “We’ve got this!”
At first, he was more than a little apprehensive about playing, having no prior experience and only the basic understanding of the rules, but it quickly proved not to be too bad. Kaito (as he insisted Suga call him after the second practice) pulled all the strings to have the homeroom teachers of all three college prep classes move the class schedule around so that their gym classes aligned, so that they could use that time for practice. With the help of a soccer team alumni who, as alumni do, had nothing better to do (how Kaito even got a hold of this guy was beyond him), their team quickly became much more organized and coherent on the field, establishing a pretty good teamwork.
Suga was surprised at himself how much he did not suck at soccer, at all. Maybe it was as Kaito said and some of his footwork he used as a libero translated to football as well, but he stood out from the rest enough to be placed in the offense together with their impromptu captain. They worked great as a unit, netting them an easy win against 2-gen and a whopping 3-0 against 1-gen in their first game of the round-robin.
As long as they won their next game, against the third-years from general education, they would win the whole tournament. Which was something Suga never would’ve thought to be possible, but here they are.
“Hey, don’t stress it,” Kaito reassured him as they were waiting for their next game. They were at a slight disadvantage compared to 3-gen, playing two games back to back, but nobody seemed to be too worried about that, just excited to go out and play, “In the end it’s just a festival. Though I gotta say I don’t mind the extra credit on our midterm reports, it’s sure gonna look nice.”
Suga chuckled breathlessly, “I guess that’s one way to look at it. Kaito-kun, you’re one of those types that get more motivated in high stress situations, huh?”
“Nah, not at all,” the taller boy shrugged. After a while though, he thought of something and turned to look at Suga with a huge smile, “With such a great teammate like you? I’d be an idiot to get nervous. You’re my secret weapon.”
‘H-how does he manage to say stuff like that with a straight face,’ the libero’s head was a mess as he felt his cheeks growing hot, ‘And then he stutters and gets shy over the stupidest things. What the hell…’
It wasn’t anything Suga had ever experienced. A little new, a little strange and dare he say… a little endearing? He really didn’t know what to do anymore. It weirdly reassured him though, so when they got back out on the field, he was on top of his game, focused and determined to make this game count.
They were tied 1-1 in the last ten minutes of the game when Suga heard it. Multiple voices from the stands shouting his name in encouragement.
“Get them Suga-chan!” it was Tooru, waving his arms around like a silly helicopter. He got slapped on the back of the head by an irate Hajime, no doubt telling him to stay put lest he injures somebody.
“Suga-senpai!” Yahaba and Watari shouted together, and Suga couldn’t believe the libero had the energy to cheer for him despite looking like death warmed over after the excruciating marathon.
“Go, go, Suga, come on, Suga!” Makki and Mattsun chorused, roping half of the stands into joining their chant until it became almost deafening.
The clock was ticking but they were on the run, him and Kaito passing each other the ball back and forth as they raced past the opposing team’s players. The moment they got close enough to the goalpost, Suga instantly passed to Kaito, like he had been doing all this day. The backfield players caught onto that too though, two of them running to intercept him, as Kaito pulled his body into the winding motion for a score…
Only to change his approach at the last second and pass back to Suga. He fumbled in surprise briefly, but it didn’t matter, because the damage was already done. The keeper was on the opposite side of the goal, having been fooled by Kaito’s feint and leaving Suga a wide window of opportunity.
Moments before the final whistle, he sent the ball flying and watched as it fell into the net with a soft thump.
2-1
They won. They actually won!
“Let’s go!” Kaito collided with him bodily, sweeping Suga up into a hug. Soon they were surrounded by the rest of the team, all forming a tight circle around them and jumping up and down happily. Led by his volleyball teammates, the stands erupted into a frenzy.
Later, when they had already received their medals, Suga still felt dizzy as he agreed to help Kaito clean up the used equipment. They were carrying the bright neon cones and practice vests back to the storage room, when he exclaimed breathlessly, “I can’t believe we actually won! Thank you for inviting me, I never would’ve decided to join otherwise.”
“See, I told you, you would be amazing,” Kaito replied, setting down the equipment back in its proper place, “Knew you would. You’re even more dependable than I thought, it’s amazing. You’re amazing.”
“Haha… No I’m not I’m just-” but any protest he might’ve had died in his throat as he was slowly pushed against the wall, his back colliding with it softly as a pair of lips descended upon his own.
‘...huh?’ Suga has thought about his first kiss before - in that dreamy kind of way that your brain supplies you with images of your crush sharing this moment with you. He thought about it with Kayo, thought about it with Tooru, had some vague ideas of how he wanted his first kiss to go.
Those thoughts never featured a popular boy from the basketball team, did not feature light-brown hair, dimpled cheeks and deep blue eyes seeming even darker in the dim lighting of a stuffy storage room that smelled a bit like leather and sweat.
Ultimately, Suga felt kind of robbed. And a little confused, because, ‘He actually likes me like that? No way…’
He couldn’t decide whether he liked this new development or not, wasn’t able to gather his wits about him to at least attempt to kiss back, before Kaito pulled away, stammering, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what went over me. I mean, I do, I like you a lot but still… Of course you don’t like me back, why would you, I mean, you don’t have to!”
As he watched this effortlessly pretty boy ramble and dig himself into an even deeper hole from embarrassment because he just liked Suga that much, the silver-haired teen unconsciously recalled Makki’s words from a while back, “Come on, what’s so wrong with that? He seems like a pretty alright guy, why not give him a chance?”
For the first time, Suga wasn’t the one with the crush. He wasn’t chasing helplessly after a boy that would never return his feelings because he was straight, not interested and just, “Ew, gross, Suga.” Kaito had one thing above both Kayo and Tooru and it was that he was really into Suga. Like a lot. Enough to kiss him on impulse in a stuffy storage room and apologize for it because he felt bad for overstepping his boundaries.
Perhaps this was enough. It probably should be enough.
Quieting the part of his brain that was still unsure, Suga reached out to trace his fingers over Kaito’s jaw lightly and pulled him in, shutting the other boy up pretty successfully. Not that he minded, because he returned the kiss with enthusiasm, taking Suga’s clumsiness in stride and leading him confidently.
This was nice. It felt easy, somehow. After a moment of being locked in stillness, they both pulled away at the same time, out of breath, and Suga stared hopefully into Kaito’s deep blue eyes, “I don’t mind at all.”
Hopeful that this may work out. That this will be different, now that he was sure the other liked him back. That he wasn't just wishfully and helplessly falling in love with yet another of his straight friends.
That maybe it was fine this way.
