#ushioiweek

Tendou wiggled his brows, tilting his head. From Tendou's above peripheral, the app successfully loads, and he immediately turns his attention to it, raising it further from Ushijima's grasp.

He pressed on Ushijima's profile. Gods above, did it make him cringe, not to mention the photo Ushijima used for his profile taken about four years ago.

Ushijima, 20

Miyagi Region

"Ugh," Tendou released a sigh. "Have you ever dated anyone from here?"

Ushijima sighed, sitting straight as he set his head down, "No, I don't understand it. I only swiped, and then nothing."

So nobody swiped for him, Tendou thought, feeling both sorry and amused for his friend at the same time. He should change his picture on the app. He looks like an annoying know-it-all, 15 year old. Nobody would go for him.

"Well, that's why you have me," Tendou grinned and head-locked Ushijima. "I'm going to help you get a date!"

The volleyball captain slowly looked up at his friend, "How?"

Tendou only smiled, "Leave it to me."

All Ushijima could ever do was sigh and look over the window as the bus moved further away. He kept his eyes on the bright and warm lights of establishments outside that elongated from the bus’s movement.

He knew that fighting Tendou was futile. In all these years, he had known how the redhead always did whatever he wanted, and how he was good at getting all that. Besides, Ushijima felt too tired to argue anyway.

The continuous clicks of the camera brought his conscience back from almost spacing out. Immediately, he turned his head over to the source beside him to see a smiling Tendou holding his phone as if he’d just come up with something interesting of some sort.

“Did you know it's rude to take photos of somebody without their knowledge?”

The redhead only rolled his eyes with a grin, turning the phone over to Ushijima to show the new profile he’d arranged. "And did you know I only did that as a favor?"

His new bio now read:

Ushijima, 20

Miyagi Region

I must be in a museum because you are a work of art

The four year old photo he once had as his profile picture was now replaced with the one Tendou took.

It was Ushijima's side profile looking outside over the window. The lights of the establishments they passed through created a nostalgic aesthetic along with the slight blurriness of the photo, but never missing his straight, high nose and the sharpness of his jaw. Oh, and that aura of both seriousness and mysteriousness that Tendou knew would catch the attention of anyone who’d look at it.

Ushijima stared at the phone closely, reading the new bio Tendou wrote for him, "That doesn't feel like me at all."

Tendou ignored his friend's remark, giving the phone back to him. "Now try swiping again."

Ushijima took his phone back, observing what buttons to press as he had forgotten how to use the app between the long months since he used it. Finally, the profiles load and he's greeted with a certain boy with light brown hair looking rather cheerful in his picture.

Oikawa, 20

Miyagi Region

If nothing lasts forever, can you be my nothing? ;)

Ushijima scrunched his nose, making Tendou roll his eyes as he grabbed the phone back from him.

“You don’t just stare at it, okay?” He swipes right and a match appears, “See? You swipe and then that will appear if they like you too.”

“Why would they like me if they don’t even know me yet?” the captain asked, tilting his head to the side.

Tendou grimaced, looking a little funny at the innocent question asked of him. “They like your face, okay?” he replied. “Okay?”

*

Oikawa couldn’t remember how long he’d been talking to the brunette he met on Tinder. Yes, Ushijima was a dry texter, but for some reason, for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from talking to him. Not even when every topic shifted to thinking if they’d ever had milk from the same cow. Because Ushijima took him to a place where he only knew two things: that he couldn’t stop smiling and couldn’t stop looking forward to all his replies.

The smell of sweat and the sounds of bouncing balls and shoes scraping against the gym floor sang around Oikawa as he made himself comfortably seated all alone on the bench, taking advantage of the fifteen-minute break the coach lent the team.

He laced his phone around his nimble fingers while the other danced around the clean, white towel he used to wipe his forehead before setting it down beside him, placing it along various colored tumblers that belonged to his teammates.

Iwaizumi watched Oikawa from a distance, gulping down on his tumbler, rivulets of water running down from his lips to his Adam's apple, all the way down to his chest. He narrowed his eyes at the flamboyant big shot as he lowered his drink.

He didn’t know why exactly, but there was something different about Oikawa today.

One could say that there was something quite off about the confident captain of the team. Usually, he’d be socializing with the team, or annoying Iwaizumi during breaks, but today he chose to confine himself in the corner, craving what little quiet the noisy gym could offer. Of course, underneath the winks, smiles, exaggerated swagger, and childish antics lies a much more serious persona for when a situation demands it, channeling all that bravado in his pursuit.

But what was so important that could possibly bring Oikawa’s tenacity and attention completely locked on his phone, which he hasn’t put down since the first minute? What could possibly have Oikawa on edge that he couldn’t keep his right heel from lifting and dropping over and over, restlessly?

Oikawa couldn’t stress how long he’d been waiting for Ushijima to ask him out. He wished to have Ushijima beside him, wished he could inhale his scent—and how he probably smelled of dark wood with a hint of vanilla, wished Ushijima’s fingers threaded his hair, and how he wished they were something more.

Truthfully, he couldn’t explain why he’s so intoxicated with the man. He couldn’t determine or distinguish the weight of various reasons why, as if translating them into words would be translating symbols into letters.

Perhaps, the first time Oikawa let himself be swayed by the awkward and dry texter was after he had only slipped into his blanket. Ready to go into a deep slumber after reviewing tapes of his enemy team a day before the match to chalk out strategies, when his phone lit up, the light coming from the screen illuminating a halo around the corner.

From: Ushijima (sent at 9:43pm)

No. You’re the only one I talk to.

His breathing hitched, and he rose as quickly as he laid on the bed. In the small light, his bronze eyes glittered. A corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he wondered, Only me?

Oikawa had teased Ushijima about staying up late to reply to others. Vague, but just the right words to get the exact answer he wanted from the male: if he’d been talking to anyone else other than him. But he found himself kept up by the lingering messages from Ushijima.

A few weeks after that conversation, and at the mention that Ushijima also played volleyball, here he sat anxiously alone on the gym bench, trying the same scheme yet again.

Another word, another hint that he was interested in meeting Ushijima.

To: Ushijima (sent at 4:30pm)

Yeah, volleyball is good! But I miss hanging out sometimes >_<

Oikawa bit his bottom lip, anxiously staring at his phone that had just shifted to a black screen as he waited for a reply. He sighed, dropping his eyelids as he slumped his shoulders back from all the tension he didn’t know had been building up.

His phone pinged, almost sending his body into a full gallop, immediately raising his gaze to the screen. His heart jumped at the sight of the text preview, Do you want to…

This is the moment. He’s finally going to ask me out. Oikawa smiled to himself, regaining his composure as he sat upright. He inhaled slowly, swiping his fingers to unlock the message. Nevermind the smell of sweat. This is the moment.

From: Ushijima (sent at 4:32pm)

Do you want to play volleyball?

Oh. The corners of his mouth dropped just as soon as they pulled upward at the reply. His shoulders sagged, setting his head down in disappointment. Oikawa couldn’t quite make it up, but sometimes, Ushijima seemed to be out of place.

Sometimes, he’d read signals as fast as he misinterpreted others.

This is hopeless, Oikawa laughed to himself. The array of possibilities he set for himself and Ushijima smeared like oil in the air, drowning out his suave as he tried to shut them all down. Then he tipped his head back, breathing in deep. Breathing in the disappointment, taking it into his head that Ushijima was most likely not at all interested in that way. Anxiety and embarrassment mingled into his chest.

But his phone pinged another time, and it sent his body into another jolt.

From: Ushijima (sent at 4:33pm)

I mean, do you want to go on a date?

And for a moment, he couldn’t breathe under the crushing weight that pushed in on him.

*

“Are you going on a date or to a Sunday morning service?” Tendou cackled as he watched Ushijima put on his necktie over his deep violet long sleeves he paired with black slacks, sitting comfortably on the bed.

Ushijima reciprocated Tendou's gaze through the full body mirror, his eyes squinted, fingers securing the knot of his tie, “What's wrong? Isn't this presentable?”

“Formal. Too formal!” he said as he raised his hands up to stress his remark, barely unable to stop the wide, malicious smile.

“Then tell me,” Ushijima sighed in defeat, realizing that his friend might be right. “What should I wear?”

He was so hopeless that Tendou wondered, What would he do without me? What would have become of him if it weren’t for me guiding him in the big world out there?

Tendou could go on and on about teasing Ushijima with the kind of clothing he chose to wear. Who goes to a date wearing a church outfit? But he saw how Ushijima needed genuine help and pushed his remarks to the side, lending his friend a helping hand on his first Tinder date.

Actually, his first date in general.

“You sound like that time when you finally asked your match out on a date,” Tendou chuckled. “Oh, it was thanks to me.”

Ushijima turned to face Tendou, “I thought it was obvious.”

“Obvious?” Tendou’s hand reached for his stomach as he laughed at his best friend’s words. “How is asking someone to play volleyball flirting? How is that considered flirting?”

Thanks to Tendou, Ushijima was able to make a correction. He was fast to take the latter’s phone in his hand and send another reply. The shock that reverberated into Tendou’s body only dispersed once they received an enthusiastic reply. A feeling that Ushijima would never have felt because of his inexperience.

“But I don’t just ask anyone to play volleyball,” Ushijima replied, tone low and neutral, completely clueless. If he was embarrassed, it didn’t show. Rather, his face remained distant as usual.

The red-haired cleared his throat. It was one of those rare moments when he thought he should be honest with Ushijima before he ventured into a world he hadn't stepped into: dating.

“You’re hopeless. But there’s one thing I can tell you,” Tendou clicked his tongue, eyes shifting left and right trying to search for the perfect words.

He weighed in the list of possibilities that could happen to Ushijima and his date. Of course, there was already a high probability that both of them would be as awkward as ever. But Tendou took notice of the amount of emojis Ushijima’s date uses, so he couldn’t be that boring.

Sometimes, there are just people who could make everything boring. Unfortunately, Ushijima was part of that.

Tendou chuckled inwardly at his thoughts.

Ushijima was intimidating, and he doesn’t speak much. But when he does, he can come off as blunt. He was the kind of man who spoke no lies. He didn’t hesitate to speak what’s on his mind. He didn’t have any concerns. Only that he disliked things he didn’t understand.

He had the oozing air of confidence and reliability about him. He was a fantastic player on the court, but he was just a regular person outside of that. And sometimes, Tendou wondered if Ushijima had any fun at all.

His scrutinizing gaze brought Ushijima’s eyes to meet his through the mirror as the lad unbuttoned his shirt to change. “Have fun.”

*

Oikawa’s blood pumped through him in a strange rhythm. With every step he took, his feet felt heavy, lightweight, soft, and hard all at once, dragging them to move. He was tizzy as he approached the cinema—where he and Ushijima agreed to meet, biting down on his bottom lip.

The man walking in front of him paid him a short glower as if he’d been suspecting Oikawa for his stalking gait. Oikawa reciprocated the man’s hostility with an apologetic smile, halting his steps and embracing the frigid weather around him.

He took in a few deep breaths as he closed his eyes. Then he opened them, and the big ‘CINEMA’ sign glowed red in the light of the dark and the busy streets and youth passing by.

The first snow still hasn’t touched the ground, but it was felt in the frigid cold. He posted himself beside the entrance. He could feel the warm temperature coming from inside the hall whenever the doors opened. There was that burning need to invite himself in, but he stood outside, patiently waiting in the cold.

All around him, there were laughs and smiles from people around his age. Mostly couples, but he spotted friends who came in groups. Some were buying tickets from the booth manned by a straight-faced fellow, who impassively bid goodbye by saying, “Enjoy your movie.”

Some, he guessed, were waiting for someone. The restless tapping of their foot against the ground, the constant checking of time, and the biting of their lips. All of which Oikawa recognized. Because he was doing the same thing.

He raised his left hand, pushing aside his long, blue sweater sleeves to reveal his leather watch, “6:47…” he whispered.

There were still thirteen minutes left to see Ushijima for the first time. Thirteen minutes to hold on to his dear sanity.

He tapped his foot restlessly against the pavement once more, releasing another breath that condensed in the air, making him push his khaki scarf upwards to cover his mouth.

As soon as he raised his gaze towards what’s in front of him, he saw the man he’d been yearning to see. Behind the screen. Behind all those words. Behind all the smiles. And on that cold night, he saw him for the first time.

Oikawa’s eyes widened as he watched Ushijima from only eight feet away.

Ushijima’s body was turned to the side, giving Oikawa only the picture of his long coat, cropped light-colored trousers, and loafers. His side profile boasted that high nose and that brown hair—and Oikawa wondered if it was as smooth as it looked.

It’s literally unfair how attractive he is, Oikawa groaned in his thoughts. He knew how strange it was to look at Ushijima. But he found difficulty in not staring at him. He couldn’t find the courage to tear his gaze away from him. Not when Ushijima had that mesmerizing aura about him.

He was all too aware of how cliche he sounded, and he smiled like a fool when he realized that, maybe, he liked it. And he was still smiling like a fool when Ushijma whipped his head in his direction, locking their gazes.

Ushijima narrowed his eyes, making Oikawa’s smile drop as soon as he realized. But Ushijima was already walking toward him, and Oikawa couldn’t breathe.

“Good evening,” Ushijima greeted as soon as he was in front of Oikawa. If he was nervous, if he was shy, it didn’t show.

Oikawa noted the aura Ushijima emitted. He was, perhaps, more than what he had expected. A little too unreal, maybe. He swallowed, but his throat was too dry. “Hello…”

Ushijima’s lips twitched a little upwards. Even as he smiled, there was still something serious left in the air. “Have you been waiting long?” he checked his watch then returned to the speechless Oikawa.

He’s so pretty. I think I’m gonna faint, Oikawa thought before he realized he was asked a question. He shook his head to disperse himself of unwanted thoughts, creasing his brows as he leaned a little forward. Ushijima’s scented soap caressed his nose, a touch of wood… and is that baby powder? “I’m sorry. What was that?”

“Have you been waiting long?” Ushijima repeated.

“Oh. No,” Oikawa retreated. “No, I haven’t. I just got here,” he chuckled, trying to conceal the awkwardness in his tone. Feeling a little anxious, he asked, “And you?”

“I also just got here,” Ushijima answered dryly. Then his eyes went past Oikawa, and both felt the warm temperature from inside the hall, the noises sounding louder as the door swung open before it shut on its own and the noises died down with it.

Ushijima brought his gaze back to Oikawa, “Would you like to go inside? I’ve got the tickets.”

“Sure…” Oikawa smiled awkwardly.

Ushijima pushed the door open for Oikawa, to which he thanked him for. As soon as Ushijima couldn’t see his face, he closed his eyes in frustration. Say something!

Oikawa found himself speechless around Ushijima. It seemed like all of his confidence had died at the very sight of him. There was something intimidating about Ushijima that he couldn’t quite explain.

Yes, he’d been waiting for this moment for so long. And he hated himself for feeling as if he wasn’t even trying hard to connect with him.

The thundering drum in his heart pulsed through his ears, drowning out the sound of talks and the smell of popcorn invading his nose. He was shifting his weight from one foot to another as they waited in line for the cinema room, pocketing his trembling hands as he started at his feet.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, then lifted his head as he smiled at the staff that manned the entrance to the cinema room before following Ushijima ahead. His throat was tight in nervousness—a feeling he wasn’t very much familiar with—even as they sat in their seats.

Oikawa shifted his gaze over to Ushijima, and found he kept his eyes on the big screen, the flickering light from the changing scenes illuminated the planes of his face. He could watch Ushijima the entire time. Nevermind that Romeo and Juliet movie using the original dialogue. He couldn’t even understand it.

Then his eyes shifted towards his hand that rested on the recliner, making him frown. Since the movie started, he already placed his hand where Ushijima could hold it. But the movie was probably half over already, and nothing.

A child’s cry drowned the actors’ voices and shook the whole cinema, turning everyone’s attention to the source in the row behind them. Only Ushijima did not bother to pay a glance towards the disturbance.

Oikawa thought, Why make a child watch Romeo and Juliet?

He stifled a laugh and his hand flew to cover the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards as cheese popcorn fell from right above Ushijima’s head.

That was all it took to have Ushijima turn his attention to the annoying child. The audience expressed annoyance through angry muffles, but Ushijima remained calm and collected, politely accepting apologies from the man, whom Oikawa guessed as the father, as he tried to soothe the crying child.

Ushijima caught Oikawa’s attention, but it was too late for him to hide his smile. Oikawa laughed awkwardly, then hoisted his drink he hadn’t touched from the recliner to hand over to Ushijima.

“Drink water,” he said even as he himself was dehydrated.

*

Musicians took up spots inside the restaurant that Ushijima booked for the date. The room was filled with a blend of soft conversations, the clang of plates, and violins. Such a beautiful sound, if only that one musician knew how to carry a tune.

Oikawa and Ushijima kept straight faces, looking at each other as if they could tell what the other was thinking.

It was grand, but terrible. The dishes were too small. Certainly not enough to satiate their hunger. And that music? Gods above.

He registered the change in Ushijima’s face as he watched him intently across the table that separated them both. His ears were turning a little red, his forearms braced on the table. While Oikawa, on the other hand, leaned on the back of his chair, sitting like a king.

“How do you do it?” Ushijima asked quietly, his eyes almost pleading.

“Do what?” Oikawa grinned, raising his head high, teasing.

Ushijima gave him a slow smile and a flicker of light moved across his eyes, “How do you ignore that irritating sound?”

“My teammates are louder, and much more annoying than that,” Oikawa laughed, stealing another glance at the stressed-out musicians who wasted no time in poking at the one who couldn’t play the right strings. He would’ve felt sorry for him, really, had it not sparked an interesting conversation between him and Ushijima.

Ushijima traced the rim of his glass, “Louder and annoying?” his brows narrowed slightly.

“So,” Oikawa tilted his head, keeping a smile on his face as he recalled moments he spent with the team. “There was this one time when we went to a training camp. And I couldn’t sleep on the bus because they were all so obnoxiously loud and kept singing.”

Oikawa was the leader of that fiasco, but he would never admit to it.

“I had to snap their foreheads one by one to make them stop,” he shrugged. “It was fun though.”

“You have a very different definition of fun,” Ushijima chuckled, so soft and so mellow. The sound was better than the horrible quartet playing in the background, and Oikawa wanted to hear it again.

“Well,” Ushijima started, “do you want to get out of here?”

Somehow, it didn’t seem like goodbye.

*

“Wait!” Oikawa laughed when the tail of the scarf around his neck got caught in between the restaurant door they walked through.

Ushijima took a step closer, opening the door for Oikawa to pull out his scarf. A slash of a grin spread across his face, “What are you doing?”

Oikawa could only laugh as Ushijima stared at him with the same intensity. They stood in front of each other. No words, just stillness. But they were sure something changed. Even when they’ve only had a short time to get to know each other.

From the short distance that separated them, Oikawa watched as Ushijima’s brown eyes turned molten from the warm lights all around them. He couldn’t brush off the rush of having Ushijima look only at him, trying not to get lost in those strange, enticing eyes.

Oikawa winced as a gust of icy wind blew the tail of his scarf and froze his ears. He took that sign as an opportunity to pull it tightly around him.

“Walk with me?” he asked gently.

“I would love to,” Ushijima nodded. “But I’m afraid you would have to lead me instead. I’m not quite familiar with the road down there.”

Oikawa smiled even as he rolled his eyes, “Don’t tell me you’re the kind who gets picked up?”

Ushijima tucked his hand behind his back as they strode forward through the cobbled streets. He fumbled for words, but he did not drop his grin as the golden lights twinkled across the city, “Not really.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Do you have a reason not to?”

“Okay, you’re good,” Oikawa complimented when he couldn’t counter his quick remark.

“Thank you,” Ushijima chuckled, deep and slow.

Oikawa frowned, “You actually look more handsome with honesty on your face.”

“I do?” Ushijima grinned, boasting those white teeth, brows knotting.

“Yeah, yeah,” Oikawa waved him off. “You’re cute. Stop smiling at me like that,” he added, averting his gaze from Ushijima. “Your lack of self-awareness is deeply troubling.”

Ushijima pocketed his hands, “And you? Are you honest?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Oikawa shrugged and smiled roguishly, keeping his gaze on the lights ahead. From a distance, he could see the head of the illuminated fountain by the park they were nearing. “Maybe I’ll just be straightforward about taking advantage of you.”

Ushijima laughed but said nothing. No one spoke as they realized that the space between them felt strangely intimate.

“What about the violin in the restaurant earlier, huh?” Oikawa followed with a tease.

“What on earth,” Ushijima drawled, sounding exasperated, “is all I have to say to that.”

With a turn around the hedge, the gush of water from the fountain park enticed them both. A strong gust of wind made them feel that the air had turned colder with the time, ripping through them as they observed the golden lit decorations surrounding the park.

“Do you want to..?” Ushijima didn’t finish the words, extending his arm and pointing his index towards the brightly lit fountain.

Their date should have ended the moment they stepped out of the restaurant. But the beautiful fountain in the center illuminating their faces signaled that it had only just begun.

Before Oikawa could sit on an empty bench—only a few feet away from the fountain, Ushijima dusted it with his hand, making his date smile appreciatively at the effort. In the touch of freezing cold, it became their spot to just sit and watch the fountain as a silent acknowledgement that neither were ready to part ways just yet.

“So,” Oikawa said as he crossed his legs, turning to Ushijima as the latter sat down. “Tell me more about you.”

“About me?” Ushijima’s brows creased, setting his eyes on his hands that rested in his lap. Oikawa realized how there was no progress in terms of skinship between them, but he wasn’t complaining. “There’s nothing much about me, really.”

“Impossible,” Oikawa shook his head. “There’s never nothing about anything or anyone.”

Oikawa’s eyes glittered as he stared at Ushijima’s hand, and his heartbeat quickened when his gaze rose to his face.

“How about us?” Ushijima asked.

A flush of pink bloomed on his cheeks as his heart hammered against his ribcage. He hadn’t been expecting such an honest question, such a question that flushed all the bravado he tried so hard to muster.

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” Ushijima tilted his head.

Oikawa kept his gaze averted, biting his full bottom lip. Because of you!

“Oikawa?” Ushijima called.

He tried not to let it show what it did to him to have Ushijima remember his name. Or to hear him say it. To have him let out the words from his lips.

“Are you okay?” Ushijima asked, but made no move to touch him.

Good. Because Oikawa wasn’t entirely certain he could handle his heat hovering against him. He took a breath, and that same impish grin swiped back. “You should know by now,” he teased.

The silence that followed after didn’t lay as heavy as it used to be. Instead, Oikawa straightened himself, resting a hand on the bench in the short distance separating both, gazing at the fountain that kept them company.

“I like mushroom risotto,” he said out of the blue.

“Mushroom risotto?”

“Mushroom risotto,” he repeated, still keeping his eyes averted.

There was a short pause before Ushijima spoke, “Did you know that mushrooms are made up of 90% water?”

Do you want to go try mushroom risotto next time? Do you want me to bring that for you one day? Do you want me to cook that for you? Such questions were what he thought would’ve followed next. Questions that would make them meet each other again. Never a random fact he didn’t expect.

Oikawa turned his head towards his date. “What?” He choked on a laugh as he asked it.

“Yeah,” Ushijima gruffed, completely unaware of what left Oikawa in disbelief. “They’re also a fungus. Did you know?”

“No,” Oikawa shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“We should forage for mushrooms next time.”

Next time, the words rang in Oikawa’s head. Next time.

“And you?” Oikawa followed. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Curry,” his date answered plainly, his free hand discreetly traveling towards Oikawa’s hand on the bench.

A faint warmth bloomed in his chest. The brief touch of Ushijima’s fingers through Oikawa sent a pang of desire through him so strong he wanted to pull him in closer. It had taken all of him, all his self control to keep his breathing steady as he gazed back at the fountain.

That was all it took to have Oikawa’s gaze back at the fountain again, “These lights are familiar,” he started. “From my recitals from those years ago. It’s kinda nostalgic.”

When Ushijima didn’t say anything, he took it upon himself to turn his head back towards him. With the look written across Ushijima’s face and those eyes, he understood.

“I will pretend I haven’t heard the question in your eyes,” he groaned.

“No, tell me,” Ushijima leaned a little forward.

“It’s nothing, really. I just took up dancing a while back. Then I shifted to volleyball,” he eyed him, searching for any sign of mockery.

“Dancing?” Ushijima pondered, running a finger along his lips—the sight making Oikawa swallow—before returning his gaze to the other, “Could you, perhaps, show me?”

“What?” Oikawa asked in disbelief, turning left and right. “Here?”

Ushijima nodded.

“What?” he shook his head. “No!”

But Ushijima stood up and offered his hand. Oikawa stared at it for a moment, creasing his brows, but a ghost of a smile remained plastered across his lips. He looked around, searching for prying heads.

“There are people,” he argued in a whisper.

Ushijima shrugged, “People are too busy to care about anyone other than themselves.”

Oikawa let out a long sigh before he took Ushijima’s hand. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Fine.”

He cleared his throat and lumbered, positioning himself in the center from where they stood. Ushijima could never tell him, but he looked like a perfect decoration in front of the fountain behind him.

Oikawa gazed across the stone pavement. Sliding his foot back and the other forward, he extended his arms in front in a smooth motion that truly suggested he had some background in the art. He was dancing, then his arms were flailing in the sky with feline grace. His scarf spun around him as he whirled, and he was thankful for the cold that he wouldn’t sweat. He felt like flying, until the ground was beneath his feet again.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this. And why did he stop?

Ushijima stared at the slightly breathless wonder in front of him as he skidded to a halt. His eyes twinkled, just a bit—in a way they usually did when he was amused but tried hard not to be.

Oikawa looked spectacular. Utterly and completely spectacular. A little stiff on the edges, but spectacular.

Oikawa picked up his scarf that fell on the ground. Then his eyes rested on Ushijima, whose hands were pocketed in his coat. A tug on the corner of his lips issued the bravado he’d been keeping.

“What? Amused?” he teased with a conspirator’s grin when he closed the final distance between them.

Ushijima just stared at him, taking in the warm gleam in his eyes. He said nothing, but his hand flew to Oikawa’s scarf. Both said nothing as Ushijima wrapped the it around him, “It always becomes loose when you’re the one putting it on.”

A delicious heat kissed its way down Oikawa’s neck to his spine as if there was some warmth left despite the winter.

“Perhaps I will take up dancing again,” he said in a little more than a whisper, his throat constricting at the moment.

A hush had fallen between them, but Oikawa felt as if there was something inside him that found it to be a perfect piece in their merriment. It went beyond his expectations. He enjoyed his time with Ushijima.

“Let’s take you home,” Ushijima said and Oikawa only nodded.

The streets were too quiet this time of the night—so quiet that only their footsteps and chuckles and moments of conversation lingered in the sleeping city. They were still talking and laughing, and it had been that way since they left the park, stepping forward with the wings of conversation.

“What was your favorite part?” Ushijima asked, his eyes not on the streets before him but on Oikawa. Such wild ecstasy, he noted.

Oikawa paused, his brows creasing as Ushijima waited for his answer, thinking. Then his eyes widened and met Ushijima’s, “Oh, you mean the movie?”

Ushijima only chuckled, “Yes, the movie.”

“Not the baby?”

“Yeah, and maybe that too,” a faint smile stretched Ushijima’s lips.

“Hmm, let’s see,” Oikawa looked forward, brows knotting yet again as he acted. His finger tapped on his lip in a way that forced Ushijima to remind himself to keep his focus on Oikawa’s eyes, “I like the part where the dad,” he stared back at Ushijima, “picked up the baby and they went outside. That scene was amazing!”

Ushijima chuckled, looking away from him and Oikawa realized how manly Ushijima’s voice was. Then Oikawa’s eyes scanned the street before him, how the establishments and the crooked, dark streets were becoming more and more familiar to him.

“You laughed at me earlier,” there was a hint of a smile on Ushijima’s lips.

Oikawa felt a little embarrassed, but he laughed, “You’ve gotta admit. It was kind of funny.”

“It was fine,” Oikawa answered seriously.

“Same here.”

“No way. I thought you liked Shakespeare,” he said in disbelief.

“I thought you liked Shakespeare,” Ushijima countered.

He assumed that Oikawa was interested in Shakespeare because, sometimes, he would post quotes from Romeo and Juliet. What Ushijima didn’t know was that: it was Oikawa’s literature teacher who originally posted those, and he only wanted to get on their good side.

“It took me some time to understand the words,” Oikawa admitted.

Ushijima’s smile widened, revealing his white teeth, “For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

Oikawa’s hand flew to his mouth that went agape, “How did you memorize that?” he asked with amusement in his eyes.

“Say your lines,” Ushijima urged him.

“You are reciting Juliet’s lines,” Oikawa narrowed his eyes in thought, but the grin didn’t disappear from his lips.

“Say your lines,” Ushijima repeated, ignoring his remark.

Oikawa rolled his eyes, his brows knotting trying to remember the right words, “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

“You’re annoying. Mine is long,” he frowned at how fast Ushijima replied and how long he remembered the next line was. But it took only one grin from Ushijima and he started speaking.

“Something. Something,” his eyes almost bawled upwards trying to remember the words. “Let lips do what hands do. Uh. They pray grant thou, lest faith turn to despair..?” he finished with uncertainty. “Wait. How do you even memorize these?”

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayer's sake,” Ushijima continued.

“Then move not, while my prayers’ effect I take,” Oikawa grinned with how fast he recited the lines as he halted in front of his house and Ushijima did the same.

“Thus, from my lips,” Ushijima said hoarsely. Oikawa didn’t mean to, but his eyes went down to Ushijima’s lips, “by thine, my sin is purged.”

His heartbeat quickened when his gaze rose to Ushijima’s eyes, “Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” he said in a little more than a whisper.

The night was honest and his eyes whispered of how they met, how there was an unspoken understanding between them. And being with Ushijma was like staying in the rain, he still wanted to be in it one more time.

Through a clearing in the skies, clusters of stars could be seen and the sliver of the crescent moon shone above them as they stepped into the pool of moonlight.

“Good night,” Ushijima said. “You’re probably tired.”

But he was not tired, he was not done. There was still greed and want inside of him that made him want to pull Ushijima closer. The longing for a wave of touch and friction of joy that only grew bigger and bigger by the minute.

“Good night,” was all he replied, his voice so soft and mellow.

Oikawa turned his back on Ushijima, his steps feeling heavier by the minute as he trudged away from him. But he looked back, and the greed must have shown because Ushijima stood there, watching him, thinking.

He grinned and crossed his arms, “You do realize what time it is, right?”

Ushijima shrugged and pocketed his hands, “I just want to see you walk in.”

That was all it took for Oikawa to do the opposite. He went closer to Ushijima, closing the gap between them. There was only the absence of conversation and how much he wanted to touch Ushijima.

“It was enchanting to meet you,” Ushijima said quietly before his ears filled with the softness of Oikawa’s laughter.

“Do you know how cliche you sound, Romeo?” he teased.

Oikawa watched the way Ushijima’s lips widened in a smile and died down slowly.

“I think,” Ushijima started, the words were barely more than a strangled whisper, “I like you a lot.”

The longing blinded him, and he flung himself on Ushijima, breathing in his scent and the slight trace of cheese in him. He memorized the feel of him and the heat of Ushijima’s body hovering over him.

“We probably should just go to McDonald’s next time,” he teased.

“As long as I’m with you,” Ushijima chuckled against Oikawa’s lips. “I would like that very much.”

He pauses and Kageyama smoothly picks up his pass, adding, “We will work hard to be worthy of the faith the national selectors have placed in us, as well as that of your readers and the volleyball fans across Japan.”

Saichi-san beams at them and nods enthusiastically. Then she turns serious. “These will both be your third Games, after Rio in 2016 and Tokyo in 2020. As official veterans, are you still just as exited to participate now as you were at your first Games, or has it become somewhat routine?”

Ushijima hopes that Kageyama is able to control his facial expression at the asinine question. To forestall any less-than-polished response, he gently returns her weak serve before Kageyama can draw breath. “I am sure that Kageyama agrees with me that representing our country on the world stage will never become routine. It will always be the highest honour possible for me to achieve in my career, and I am grateful that we will once again be given the chance to fight.”

Kageyama only nods, keeping his mouth shut.

Saichi-san’s smile brightens even more, if that was even possible. “Of course! We’re all looking forward to watching this exceptional crop of talent on our television screens once again. Ushijima-san, if I may direct a question to you: You’re currently living in Poland, playing for Orzel Warszawa. Has it been a difficult adjustment for you to travel back in Tokyo for two weeks to participate in this Olympic training camp, only to then fly back to Poland until the Games begin? I imagine it would be quite—”

Ushijima’s phone screen lights up with the receipt of a text message. He glances down out of reflex.

It’s from Tooru.

Tooru, who never messages or calls outside their designated check-in times.

Ushijima can feel his shoulders go tense. “Please excuse me a moment, Saichi-san. This may be important.” He picks up the phone and unlocks it, careful to angle it away from the reporter’s view. He only half-hears her startled laugh and assurance that it’s quite alright and to take his time, because all his focus is immediately locked in on the contents of the message.

Saturday, 22 June 2024

Oikawa Tooru, 10:36AM toshi

Tooru only calls him that after he has called him a lot of other things first.

Only after Ushijima has carefully, lovingly stripped away the last of his many barriers and defences.