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Chapter Text

Shouyou walked into the gym, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead with a small towel. He had gone outside after practice ended to wash up, and he was the last to leave the gym. He spent a while outside, drinking the remnants of his water bottle. As soon as he started heading towards the sinks, however, he overheard footsteps leading back towards the gym.

“C’mon guys, Daichi and the coach have an announcement to make,” came the distant voice of Sugawara, directing the other members back from the sinks. So, he diligently walked back into the gym, and was the first one inside, as he was the closest. Once in, he caught the captain alone, leaning on one of the net’s poles.

Daichi was huddled away from the entrances and spoke in a polite voice. “Alright. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Shouyou heard the snap of something closing and saw Daichi slide an object into his pocket.

When the captain started looking around suspiciously, Shouyou jumped away and hid behind the door, fearful of being caught listening to what must have been a private conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kageyama heading towards him.

He eyed him in a suspicious navy blue gaze. “What are you hiding from?”

Shouyou gulped and laughed. “Nothing.” He stood up to his full height, which was honestly laughable next to a giant like Kageyama. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

The pair walked indoors, and Daichi was standing at his usual spot with Coach Ukai leaning on the wall besides him with the team filing in and sitting cross-legged in front of them. They took a spot near the back of the gathering, next to the conversing forms of Shimizu and Yachi, and waited for the rest of the team (namely Tsukishima and Yamaguchi) to arrive.

The gym felt just as hot as the summer day outside, and it was heavy with the humidity of their collective sweat. Shouyou could hear the distant cries of cicadas as the last two sauntered in and sat down with the rest of the group.

“Okay,” the captain began, “first I would like to congratulate you for all the hard work you have done throughout the year. I know it has been a hard couple of months for you guys, but you really pulled through at the training camp and during the spring tournament.”

Ukai nodded and smiled. “So a very heartfelt congratulations to all of you.”

It had been true. At the training camp, they had suffered blow after blow, losing until they had finally won. They had sharpened themselves, and they worked together like clockwork. At the spring tournament, they had battered themselves through the matches until they met their adversary, Aoba Jousai, at the end.

They had ended up beating Seijou, and continued forward to a match against the formidable Shiratorizawa. After a long and arduous match, they had defeated them as well, and would continue onwards to Nationals. Even though it was several months away, they threw themselves into practicing. Now that they were revitalized as a team, they wouldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

Ukai cleared his throat and continued. “And so, to reward you guys for all of your hard work, Daichi and I have decided to host a two-week long retreat for the entire team.”

Hoots of excitement filled the gym. Most of the noise came from Nishinoya, Tanaka, and indeed, Shouyou himself. He could hardly believe his ears. A vacation sounded like an excellent idea to him. Grinning, he could almost taste it: lounging about, playing volleyball, de-stressing. And it was two whole weeks long! It would be super fun, Shouyou thought, like an extended sleepover with all of his closest friends.

He turned to look at Kageyama, who was smiling to himself. Shouyou felt happiness bloom inside his chest. He knew the setter was as excited as he was, but he had his own way of expressing emotions.

“Where are we going?” asked Nishinoya, coffee-hued eyes luminous. His boisterous voice filled the gym, and suddenly, there were grunts of agreement.

Daichi put up his hands, chuckling coyly. “That’s a secret. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Nishinoya, unsatisfied, turned to look at Sugawara. Everyone on the Karasuno volleyball team knew that if Daichi had a secret, Sugawara was sure to know it. Soon, all of the team was staring at the pale-haired setter, and he smiled knowingly at the captain.

“Why would you think that I know?” he asked, voice innocent.

“Oh please,” Tanaka said, “we all know that if Daichi knows, you know, Suga-san.”

“Well,” he said, “they’re not wrong. But I’m not going to tell you guys. You’ll find out tomorrow.”

Excited gasps were heard. Shouyou couldn’t help but raise his voice: “We’re leaving as soon as tomorrow?”

Daichi smiled.

Ukai nodded, carding his fingers though slicked-back, bleached hair. “Yes, we leave tomorrow. An email has already been sent to your parents, and we have gained their approval. The entire trip has also been paid for in full. We leave exactly at 6:00 in the morning tomorrow, so be here with your luggage at least by 5:30. Bring movies to play while on the ride there.” He turned to look to Daichi.

The captain gave one of his signature proud beams. “We’re looking forward to having an exciting two weeks at the retreat.” And with that, Daichi picked up his bookbag up and started with Sugawara for the door, and Shouyou and the rest of the team and Ukai began to leave.

Shouyou wondered briefly how they could afford such a long vacation. However, he shrugged and didn’t let the idea bother him for too long.

“Oh wait, I forgot the most important part,” Daichi called from the door, and his voice beckoned the team together again.

“Don’t forget to pack your swim trunks.” And with that, he and Sugawara left the gym, smiling and chuckling amongst themselves. The coach, presumably the only one left with information, was conveniently nowhere to be seen.

Anticipation exploded in Shouyou’s chest, and he could barely contain the giddy smile that followed. “Swim trunks? Oh my gosh, that means we’re going some place with water! Kageyama, isn’t that awesome?”

As he turned to face Kageyama, he saw that the setter’s face was blank, but carried traces of mild dread on it. When he heard his name, he turned to look at Shouyou, and lifted the corners of his mouth in a feeble attempt at a smile. “Oh yeah, totally awesome. I can’t wait.” His pronunciation of the consonants were clipped, but nonetheless seemed good enough to Shouyou.

The two got their things and left the school, Shouyou with his bike and Kageyama walking beside him. To reach each other’s homes, they had to walk down the hill that Karasuno High School was situated on until they came to a fork in the road. That was where they split up. The sky was already darkening into twilight, and the pair walked down that familiar dirt road.

Shouyou turned to look at Kageyama, whose eyes stared straight ahead in contemplation. “So what are you gonna pack, Kageyama?”

He whipped his head around to look down at Shouyou, and his sleek black hair swept over his brow. “What do you mean? Normal stuff, I guess. Shirts, shorts—”

“And our swim trunks!” Shouyou couldn’t stop himself.

Kageyama went ramrod straight and nodded briskly. “Yeah, of course.”

Shouyou flashed him a toothy smile. “I’m so excited.”

The setter’s posture softened, and he nodded. This time, however, the nod seemed much more natural. “Yeah. It’ll be super fun, Hinata.”

When they parted ways, they said their goodbyes, and Shouyou continued forward, pedaling vigorously, smiling a bit brighter than he usually did.

*   *   *

Shouyou kneeled down in front of his empty suitcase. His mother had already told him to leave space for the things he would definitely need: some towels, his underwear. So, in order to appease her, he had already packed those things in the pockets in the front of the suitcase. But as for the rest? Besides the swim trunks, Shouyou was drawing a blank.

Tilting his head up, he looked at his closet. Since it was summer, he was not going to bring any long pants, otherwise he was sure to spontaneously combust. Most of his jackets were out too, and he wasn’t going to bring boots to the same place he was going to take a pair of swim trunks.

As for shirts and shorts, he had many of those. He grimaced. Too many. He would worry about his clothes later.

Looking at the floor of his closet, he saw an air pump, and a light bulb went off on his head. He took it in his hands, and smiled widely. He dumped it into his suitcase, and swiftly poked his head out of his bedroom door. “Mom!” he called, “do we have any beach balls?”

Shouyou’s mother, a small tender woman named Maeve, answered back with equal verve: “Yes, Shouyou! They’re in the hallway closet behind the tablecloths!”

He left his room, running barefoot on the hardwood floor, and opened the closet’s doors. Behind old tablecloths, just like Maeve said, was a box of inflatable beach toys. “Thanks!” he yelled, and brought the box into his room.

He giggled to himself. Inside the box were many brightly hued beach balls, as well as floaties (for his little sister Natsu of course) and multicolored pool tubes. As soon as he lifted the dust-caked plastic lid off of it, the fading yet pungent scent of chlorine filled his nostrils, reminiscent of the last time the Hinata family visited a pool.

It had been two years ago, before his middle school volleyball match where he met Kageyama for the first time, when his mother brought them all to a party at his father’s boss’s house. Shouyou’s father, a gangly man named Akihiko, worked in a huge company, and his boss was very wealthy, so his house had a pristine pool.

Shouyou had loved it, and he remembered using those very same beach balls to play with Natsu, splashing in that pool under a cloudless sky. She had not been a very good setter, Shouyou remembered fondly, but he still got in the practice he needed to perfect his spiking technique. It had been hot day, and it was the day he first managed to land a spike with enough force to submerge the beach ball for a few seconds.

He took one out, and shook the dust off it. It was colored pink and blue, and shined as if covered in oil in the light of Shouyou’s lamp. Folding it up, he placed it next to the air pump. Digging further into the box, he found retractable poles and a net. Smiling, he quickly took those things and put them into his suitcase. These things were meant for beach volleyball, and he briefly wondered if the team’s retreat was to a beach.

It was definetly likely, and the more he thought about the possibilities, the more excited he felt.

He reached into his dresser’s bottom drawer and took out four different pairs of swim trunks, and they too possessed that distant ozone-like scent. He threw them in a pile in front of his suitcase. He also took out a colorful beach towel and a pair of goggles and flung them with the others.

Looking once more inside his closet, he perused through the clothes and took out ones that caught his eye; several bright graphic tees, cargo shorts and volleyball clothing of multiple designs. Shouyou had bought those at his local sports supply shop, and used them mostly when practicing outside of school. He also wore them very often, and he’s not sure his mother would let him leave the house with clothes that smelled faintly of dried sweat that refused to dissipate even after at least a dozen washes.

However, he didn’t care much for it, and tried to fit all of his clothes inside his suitcase. He could get perhaps a couple of clothing items in, but the volleyball supplies already inside had greatly hindered this endeavor. Shouyou definetly wouldn’t get rid of his supplies, so he would have to cut down on his clothes. Grimacing, he shook his head. Shouyou was fairly indecisive when it came to this kind of thing.

It only took him a few seconds, however, to decide how to deal with it. He grabbed his cell phone out of its charger and speed-dialed Kageyama.  

“Hello?” came the reply on the other side of the line.

“Kageyama? Hi, I need help.” Shouyou balanced his phone on his shoulder and used his free hands to spread out the clothes so he could see each of them.

There was a sigh. “With what?”

“I need you to help me pick out clothing for the trip tomorrow.”

Another sigh, this one slightly more annoyed than the last. “Hinata, just toss a coin and pick out your clothes that way.”

Shouyou pouted. “But Kageyama,” he drawled. “C’mon. Help me.”

A third sigh. “Fine, but I gotta be able to see. Open up Skype and we’ll talk there.” Kageyama then hung up; he was never one to waste time with pleasantries.

Shouyou closed his phone and threw it on his bed and opened up the laptop sitting on his desk. Firing up the Skype application, he messaged Kageyama.

tinygiant2.0: yo im here are you?

The response was immediate.

bakageyama: yes

bakageyama: Hinata why is this still my nickname?? tell me how to change it

Laughing, he ignored Kageyama’s latest message and initiated a video call.

Kageyama’s face showed up instantly, and he was glowering at the screen. Beyond him, he could see his room, lit up with fluorescent light, and in the corner, a suitcase. Shouyou was sure that Kageyama had already packed all of his things. 

“Hey!” Shouyou exclaimed. “Okay, so…” He ducked down below his desk, and resurfaced with two shirts of similar design. “This one or this one?”

Kageyama’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked off screen. He seemed to be contemplating a very serious matter. For some reason, Shouyou thought that this matter had nothing to do with his shirts. Kageyama’s lips moved, and Shouyou thought he had formed the word ”why”. He then let out an exasperated groan. “They literally both look the same.”

“Okay!” Shouyou exclaimed. “So both of them. Great.” He threw the clothes in the general direction of his suitcase, and continued.

Another two shirts. One was decorated with neon colored triangles, the other said something in English, and Shouyou was sure it had something to do with islands.

Kageyama rubbed his temples with calloused hands. “Alright. Definetly not the triangles. I will kill you if I see you wearing that.”

Shouyou nodded and threw the triangle shirt towards his bed, and the other shirt towards the suitcase. He repeated the process through all of his shirts, which he was sure there were at least 25 of. Kageyama’s face tightened with every decision he made. Shouyou decided he looked like a teapot that was slowly boiling under a fire. He wondered if Kageyama was okay.

Shouyou then held up two cargo shorts, one olive green, and the other one khaki. Kageyama pursed his lips together and took a deep breath. “Both.” His voice was clipped.

Another two shorts. One was very short and white, and Shouyou remembered wearing it when it was extremely hot outside. The other was spotted black and lime green, and was a bit longer.

Kageyama’s cheeks went a deep shade of pink, and his hand went up to cover his face. Through his long fingers, Shouyou could see he was hiding a strange expression. Silently, he pointed at the white shorts with his free hand. Shouyou could hear a defeated growl coming from his computer’s speakers.

He threw the white shorts at his suitcase, and the spotted shorts the opposite way. There was something about the look on Kageyama’s face that made an unfamiliar heat snake its way up Shouyou’s neck.

“Okay,” he said, attempting to sound vivacious, as he usually did, “what about these swim trunks?”

Kageyama promptly removed the hand from his face, the color draining away. He turned to look at the swim trunks Shouyou was holding up. “What.”

“These,” and Shouyou held them up higher. One of them was fairly generic, black with two scarlet stripes down one leg, and the other was patterned with starfish.

Kageyama’s expression became pinched, turning into easily recognizable angry annoyance, and he turned his head away from the starfish trunks in disgust. “What the hell is that?”

Shouyou looked at them; he did think the color palette was a bit much. He laughed nervously. “I guess not.” He threw the black and scarlet one towards his suitcase, and flung the starfish one at his bed, but it instead hit the wall, falling pathetically to the edge of his bed.

Shouyou reached blindly behind him. “And also these…” He held up two other swim trunks.

Kageyama exhaled suddenly, covering his mouth and sniggered quietly. His eyes were twitching. “What is that?”

Shouyou furrowed his brow. “What?”

Kageyama could barely contain his laughter, which had dropped to scary chuckling, and he honestly looked like a bomb seconds away from detonation. “Left hand,” he managed, before pinching his face and muttering with a deranged smile, “I can’t believe this”.

Shouyou looked at what he was holding in his left hand, and suddenly felt his heart drop to his stomach. Clasped in his hand was a pastel hued speedo, and it had blue and yellow whale designs on it. It honestly looked like it belonged to an 8 year old.

It did. It was Shouyou’s from when he was in elementary school. He couldn’t believe he still had it. Face flushed in mortification, he quickly threw the swimsuit out of Kageyama’s line of sight. “I am not bringing that.”

The setter burst into angry laughter, gasping and wiping tears from his eyes. “Oh my fucking god,” he rubbed his face and he had an unnerving, half-cheerful and half-wrathful expression, one that only Kageyama seemed to be able to make. His eye was twitching. “No, I didn’t think so.” His voice was shaking.

Eager to leave this all behind him, he rummaged around him for a different pair of trunks. Holding the two new ones up (after making sure they weren’t humiliating), he looked expectantly to Kageyama.

All the laughter had left the setter right then and there, and Shouyou was sure that if he furrowed his brows further, he would rip them right off his face. His eyes were shadowed, and he became deathly silent.

Shouyou hid behind one pair. “Well?”

His voice was low, but clear. “Hinata.”

“Yes?”

A sigh left Kageyama’s chest, and his shoulders relaxed. “Surely, you can pick this out for yourself.”

Shouyou looked at the two swim trunks in his hands. One was red, and was bordered with black. The other one was white and had dark blue waves on the hems. They both looked good, and Shouyou bit his lip.

“Both,” he finally squeaked out, and threw them at the suitcase.

Kageyama’s shoulders started to tremble, and Shouyou backed away, even though Kageyama couldn’t hurt him through a computer screen. “Hinata…”

“Okay, next!” Shouyou said, voice rising at least three octaves. He held up two sets of the volleyball clothing, one blue and teal, and the other one neon yellow and gray. “What about these?”

As soon as Kageyama’s focused on the uniform, his face softened back into his normal expression. “Oh. Uh…” The black-haired boy rested his chin on his laced hands. “The blue one has breathable fabric right?”

Shouyou looked at the blue set, and rubbed the material through his fingers. As signified from the tiny holes in the shirt, it was indeed breathable. “Yeah,” Shouyou replied, sensing that the atmosphere has changed.

Kageyama nodded. “It’s more aerodynamic, which is good for spikers like you. Bring it.”

Shouyou smiled, and did as Kageyama asked.

The pair continued on like this for all of Shouyou’s volleyball clothing. Kageyama broke down the fundamentals of Shouyou’s playing style and selecting the best uniforms suited for that. Kageyama factored in everything: temperature, friction resistance, impermeability. He was downright analytical when it came to volleyball, and it reminded Shouyou of a certain blond middle blocker with bad manners.

In the end, Kageyama had helped Shouyou cut down his clothing load by half, and he was just able to fit everything inside his suitcase. Zipping it up, he stood up and looked at Kageyama, who seemed vaguely pleased.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” Shouyou said as he sat down on his chair, and gazed at Kageyama through his computer’s camera.

The setter nodded, and pursed his lips. “You’re welcome, Hinata. Well, good night. See you tomorrow.”

Shouyou smiled. “Yeah. Bye, Kageyama.”

The call hung up, and Shouyou closed his computer. Looking to his bed, he saw a pile of clothing, and knew that his mother would kill him if he didn’t pick it up. Outside, he saw the sky was inky black and a half moon hung in the sky. His clock read 10:02.

If they had to leave tomorrow at 6:00, Shouyou would have to wake up much earlier than he usually did. He couldn’t bike to school tomorrow (or risk leaving his bicycle at school for two weeks) and he had to carry his luggage with him. Calculating in his head, he estimated he had to wake up around 3:00, since it usually takes him an hour and half to get to school on his bike and not carrying around heavy suitcases.

Looking again at the mess on his bed, he decided he had better get to it. Shouyou thought he could probably function on 5 hours of sleep, so he set out to pick up his room as to arrive at the school tomorrow on time and not miss the bus.

He set his alarm clock for three in the morning and started to clean his room.

*   *   *

Shouyou was abruptly awaked by the cacophonous beeping of his clock. Sitting up, turned to deactivate the alarm and look outside his window. It was very early in the morning, and if Shouyou didn’t have a clock, he would have guessed it was perhaps midnight or sometime before that. The bright red numbers of his clock read 3:00, and even though it felt like his eyelids were made of lead, he forcibly dragged himself out of bed.

It was pitch black in his bedroom, and the thin moonlight seeping through his windowpanes did little to illuminate it. Shouyou could only see vague silvery outlines of everything, but he decided it was enough. He wondered if his team members were awake at this time, and then he thought if maybe Kageyama was awake.

Snagging his phone from its charger, Shouyou flipped it open and called Kageyama.

The other line rang for quite a while before a low, disgruntled voice spoke in grumbles: “Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour, you moron?”

Shouyou placed the phone on his shoulder and whipped his neck from side to side, cracking the kinks from the stiff muscles there. “Just calling to see if you’re awake. Are you?”

An exasperated sigh exploded from the other end. “Dumbass,” Kageyama said at last. “I swear if you don’t hang up this phone right now, I’m going to kill you once you show your face at the school.”

Shouyou stifled a chuckle. At this point in their friendship, the setter’s death threats were very much empty, but even then, they still managed to strike a bit of fear in his heart. “Alright. But you should start waking up. The school’s pretty far away.”

Kageyama groaned. “Don’t tell me what to do, Hinata.”

Shouyou let out a chuckle. “Good night, Kageyama.”

“Fuck off,” came the setter’s reply as he abruptly hung up.

Reconnecting his phone, Shouyou rubbed eyes and yawned. He clambered over to his desk’s chair, and grabbed the clothing that lay draped on top of it. He had picked it out last night, just before he went to bed. He can’t quite see them, but he knows he had in his hands a white tee with a random English phrase on it, olive cargo shorts, and a soft denim button-up. Stripping out of his pajamas, he folded them up and placed them on top of the suitcase. Those, along with his bathroom stuff and the charger for his phone, were the last thing he needed to pack.

His house felt cold compared to the warmth of his bed, but he soldiered through the draft and dressed in the clothes he had picked out the prior night.

He opened up the suitcase and placed his fuzzy pajamas inside: a simple light gray shirt that had seen better days and a linty pair of black shorts. From it he also fished a plastic pouch to put his toiletries in. He walked into his bathroom and flicked the switch on, filling his eyes with a painful blinding light that eventually ebbed away and left him with a view of himself on the bathroom’s mirror.

His red hair was even more wild than usual, as Shouyou had not attempted to tame it yet. His amber-brown eyes were ringed in dark circles and his face was slack with sleep. Splashing icy water on his face brightened his vision, lifting him from the fog of sleep, albeit temporarily. Immediately after, he went to the toilet, opened it, and unzipped his pants.

He flushed when he was done, and washed his hands afterwards. Shouyou then began to brush his teeth, slowly but surely. With his free hand, he applied deodorant, and when he was finished with it, he put it in the pouch. Soon enough, he spit out the remnants of his toothpaste and placed the toothbrush a small tube of the minty paste in the pouch. He also put in a nearby comb and a hand towel. Tapping his chin, he opened the drawers in bathroom counter for a tube of sunscreen and aloe vera gel. His mother had given Shouyou the aloe, saying that if the sunblock failed him, he should smother himself with the green goop. Despite his suspicious face, she promised him it would be worth it in the long run. He also put in bottles of his body wash and shampoo.

Zipping up the pouch, he exited the bathroom and switched off the light, and his room seemed it was the same color as a black hole until once again his vision adjusted. He threw the pouch on the suitcase, and did the same for his phone charger. His cell made a beeping noise when it disconnected, and he slid it into one of his short’s many pockets. He also grabbed a pair of aviator sunglasses from his desk, and hooked them on the collar of his shirt. He took his wallet from one the drawers, figuring he would need it if they stopped at a rest stop, and slipped it into one the cargo short’s pockets.

Shouyou closed the suitcase for the final time and lifted it to a standing position. The darkness of his bedroom got to him again, filling his head with tempting drowsiness. Shaking his head violently, he snapped the metal holster of his luggage up and was about to leave his room when he realized he was barefoot.

Retracing his steps, he shoved his feet into the first pair of comfortable shoes he came across and continued his trek down the stairway of his house, trying his best not to wake up his family.

His mother knew he would be long gone by the time she normally woke up; she had even said her goodbyes to her son the night before. Once he got to the kitchen, he grabbed a pair of energy bars from the pantry and served himself a cup of orange juice. Draining it in under a minute, he placed the glass in the sink and unwrapped an energy bar. He grabbed a memo pad from the counter, and wrote with a nearby pen that he had left the house without incident and that he loved his mother and sister very much. Shouyou signed his name in his crooked handwriting, and tacked the note on the fridge door, where it was sure to be seen.

Taking a bite of his energy bar, he bid his house farewell, and left his home.

Out on the sidewalk, he could feel the dew of midnight rain soak the plants that grew over the fences of neighboring houses. The night was silent except for a few lone crickets, his footsteps and the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of his suitcase against the cracks on the pavement. Breathing in fresh air, he smiled.

There were only a few street lamps in his neighborhood, sporadically placed, and they all but disappeared once he got to the forest area he had to cross to get to Karasuno High School. On other days, he would have used the light on his bike to speed through this path, but he couldn’t do that today. Mostly, he traversed the area by moonlight, the place passing by slower now that was traveling on foot.

The forest road wasn’t really surrounded by woods, but what Shouyou would say was a place with more foliage than the residential area he just came from. Large patches of grass could be seen between the trees, and there was farmland just up ahead. He could hear the cicadas and crickets more clearly here, along with the solemn hoot of a distant owl.

Walking by the fork in the road that led to Kageyama’s house, he soldiered on, being able to see the silhouette of the school and the surrounding town up ahead on its hill. The street lamps came back, and Shouyou was grateful for the yellow light they shone with.

He strided down familiar streets now, passing by places he knew, and Coach Ukai’s own shop. It was dark inside it; he knew the coach wouldn’t be at the store now, but at the school. Stray cats skittered out of his path, staring up at him with yellow eyes as he passed. The road became steeper as Shouyou hiked up the hill, heaving and building up a sheen of sweat as he finally got to the top, and entered the school just as the sky began to lighten from black to blue, blotting the stars away, and beginning to shed some light on the concrete sidewalk. He took off the denim button up and tied the sleeves around his waist, letting his arms and back cool off.

Sure enough, a large bus was there, and Shouyou could see inside it: the seats seemed velvety, the curtains were thick, and every couple of rows, a small television hung from the ceiling. Shouyou walked behind the bus and to the left, towards the gym, whose lights were turned on. He saw most of the team already there: Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Ennoshita were all standing around outside, and he saw Daichi and Ukai inside, tagging pieces of luggage. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were off to one corner, having a conversation. Yachi was asleep besides the railing to get into the gym, and leaned on Shimizu’s shoulders as a pillow. Sugawara appeared around the corner, and spotted Shouyou’s walking silhouette.

“Hinata!” he called, waving him over. “Good morning! Got your luggage?”

Shouyou rushed towards Sugawara and greeted him. “Yeah, right here.”

The silver-haired setter smiled broadly at him and led him inside the gym. He instructed to put his suitcase in the group in front Daichi. He was sliding the sleeves of red plaid shirt up his tanned arms and gave a fatherly smile at Shouyou once he saw him. “Good morning, Hinata. Ready for the retreat?”

He nodded vigorously. “Yeah!”

Ukai gave a grin at Shouyou’s enthusiasm and checked something off on his clipboard. “Hey, Hinata?”

Shouyou turned back. “Yes?”

“Do you know when Kageyama’s going to get here? He’s the only one left.”

Shouyou couldn’t help the knot that formed at his stomach. If Kageyama wasn’t here, that meant that he beat him here.

“He should be making his way here right now,” Shouyou answered, smiling smugly, and went to grab his phone to call him when he heard thunderous footfalls behind him.

“I’m here!” Kageyama’s voice called. “I’m here.” He walked up next to Shouyou. Kageyama was breathing heavily, and was staring straight at him in a silent hello, and then turned his vision to Daichi, who had gone to talk with Sugawara, then Ukai.

“Alright,” said the coach, sticking his tongue out and made one more mark on his clipboard. “It looks like we’re all here. I’ll inform the chauffeur.”

As Ukai left, Kageyama face was equal parts confused and awe-struck. “Chauffeur?”

Shouyou shrugged.

Kageyama put his suitcase with the others. He wiped his hands on his bottle green V-neck shirt. “I’m going to drink water,” he said, taking a deep breath and walking out of the gym.

Shouyou wandered outside as well, and was instantly met with a sudden clap on the shoulder. “What are those,” came a voice he recognized as Nishinoya’s. He did not remove his hand.

He looked at him, and that he was staring at Shouyou’s feet. “What?” he asked. There was nothing wrong with his feet.

Tanaka looked down as well. He put his hand over his forehead. “Oh no. As your senpai, I cannot allow this.”

“What?” Shouyou asked again, getting more confused by the second.

Nishinoya pointed at Shouyou’s feet. “Those abominations on your feet.”

Looking down, he realized he was wearing a pair of bright orange crocs. He knew they weren’t the most aesthetically pleasing type of shoe, but they offered the most comfort. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Everything,” they said simultaneously. That was when Tanaka moved behind Shouyou and hooked his hands around the smaller boy’s armpits and lifted him up. Nishinoya swiped the crocs from his feet. Tanaka swiftly put him down and the pair ran inside the gym.

“Hey!” Shouyou went in after them, just in time to see them throw the crocs in the storage closet and lock it in with a small key. Shouyou ran up to them, and Tanaka raised the key above his head when Shouyou tried to make a jump for it.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he said, his hand barely evading one of Shouyou’s legendary jumps, “this is for your own good, Hinata.” He promptly threw the key in a high arc over his head, and a few seconds later they heard it land with a faint clink, and the key was lost to the world.

Shouyou couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“But,” he said, confused and breathless, “but I need shoes.” he saw Kageyama enter the gym through the corner of his eye. Shouyou ran up to him. “Kageyama! Give me your shoes!”

Kageyama looked at him as if he just grew an extra head. “What? No.”

“C’mon, Kageyama.”

The setter looked at him incredulously. “My shoes probably don’t even fit you.”

Shouyou felt his voice rise: “Oh yeah? I bet they do.”

Kageyama immediately kneeled down and started to unstrap his leather sandals. Once it was done, Shouyou hopped right into them.

Oh. They were at least four sizes too big on him, and he looked as if were a little kid trying on an adult’s pair of shoes. Kageyama gave a vindictive nod and swiped them back as soon as Shouyou took them off.

Nishinoya walked up to him, brown and gold flip flops in hand. “Here, you can have these. They’re too big for me anyways. They should fit you. In fact, you can keep ‘em.”

Shouyou took the shoes and smiled. “Thank you, Noya-senpai.”

At the kind words, the libero gave a smile that spread from ear to ear.

He put on the shoes Nishinoya gave him. Wiggling his toes, he and Kageyama walked to the front of the gym. He realized all the suitcases were gone, and Sugawara was leaning forwards from the door.

“It’s time to load the bus, guys! We have a schedule to keep!” came his voice, directing the members of the volleyball team towards the hulking bus parked in the front of the school.

Shouyou and Kageyama were among the last to enter the bus, and they took a pair of seats near the back, adjacent to the seats taken by Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. The latter was asleep, a galaxy patterned blanket covering his legs and his face against the window, and the former seemed to be drifting off as well, headphones plugged into a small, battered MP3 player he cradled in his upturned palms.

Shouyou insisted upon taking the window seat, which Kageyama had no qualms in allowing him to take. Kageyama carried with him a little sack, and inside was, amongst other things, another blanket. It was nowhere near as vibrant as Yamaguchi’s blanket; Kageyama’s was plain and dark blue. He handed it to him. “If you’re tired.” The setter looked away when Shouyou tried to meet his eyes.

Shouyou was indeed tired, but Kageyama was probably much more tired than he was, yet there he was, offering Shouyou his blanket. It was a selfless, un-Kageyama-like thing to do. “Thanks,” he said, taking it. It was incredibly soft, and it smelled faintly of hazelnuts and coffee; a scent that was distinctly Kageyama.

He wrapped the blanket around his legs, and immediately felt silky warmth seep into them. He leaned back against the velvety seats when a whistle suddenly caught his attention.

It was Ukai at the front of the bus. “Alright guys. Everyone’s on the bus, and we are leaving in a few minutes. We’ll be stopping in two hours to eat some breakfast.”

Daichi then stood two seats in front of the coach. “I just want to say that where we’re going is pretty far, and you’ll be sitting for quite a while. You stretch out your legs now, sleep, but I hope you brought something to do if you’re not feeling tired.”

“How far?” It was Tanaka this time, who despite being close friends with Daichi, hadn’t the faintest idea where they were going.

Daichi nodded. “I’ll tell you one thing: the place we’re going is down in Osaka.”

There were collective excited gasps and mutters. “Osaka?” “That far south?” “We’re gonna be here a while.” Shouyou himself elbowed Kageyama, who looked just as astonished as he did.

Ukai cleared his throat. “So, that’s that. I recommend you guys sleep now so you’re awake when we reach the first rest stop. Let’s a have a good retreat!”

There was a soft applause, and then the two of them sat down, Ukai at the at the very front, and Daichi in the seat next to Sugawara. The bus suddenly came alive, and the engine vibrated under Shouyou’s seat. The lights illuminating the interior turned off, leaving only the opalescent moonlight. Then, movement. The bus left the school, and drove down the hill at a rate faster than Shouyou could have ever walked and headed towards the highway.

Shouyou smiled. He was sure he was in for a great vacation. 

Chapter Text

When the bus started to move, Kei leaned back into the black velvet seat. The headphones played a calming song; high toned with the sharp sound of flutes, tinkling melodies played on a piano, and the slow tenor of a cello. He half-closed his eyes, and through the music, he could hear the hum of the bus’s engine as it was driven through speed bumps. Kei felt himself lean forward as it went down the hill, and righted itself almost immediately.  

Looking to his left, he saw that Yamaguchi was completely passed out, wrapped in that galaxy blanket that must have been at least eight years old. His chest rose and fell like gentle waves upon a beach, and not a single inch of worry stained his expression. His dark hair was even messier than usual (Kei guessed that he hadn’t even bothered with it as he left his house in a hurry) and shone brightly under the moonlight. Yamaguchi was leaning away from Kei, his face against the window, and already, a thin line of drool had dropped from the opening in his lips formed by the squished part of his tanned freckled cheek. 

He chuckled lightly.

Kei was never much of a sleeper; he considered himself a night owl. On the nights that Yamaguchi slept over, the pinch server quickly fell asleep while Kei was up until well after midnight, lying in his bed, mind wandering in its insomnia. In fact, the preceding night he had quickly packed up his suitcase and fallen asleep at around twelve o’clock, truly a spectacle. However, considering he had to wake up a mere 4 hours later, that night wasn’t any different than any other night, sleep-wise. 

He and Yamaguchi lived quite close to each other, and Kei had been the one to walk to his house and wake him up, effectively dragging him and their luggage to Karasuno High. They had gotten there 45 minutes later, an hour early. Now, they were heading away on a fancy, evidently expensive bus to a beach locale down in Osaka. How the volleyball club afforded it was beyond Kei, but he suspected they had outside help. From who, however, could only be speculated about. Who would pay for such a lavish vacation for a ragtag high school sports team?

A team, a small voice in Kei said softly, who defeated the formidable Shiratorizawa and made it all the way to Nationals.

But it still didn’t answer his question. Shaking it away, he thought perhaps the team had somehow come into some money via a handsome anonymous donation. It was unlikely, but still possible. Anything was in the chaos that was the universe.

Turning back around and stretching his long, sweatpants-clad legs, he removed his glasses and placed them into the cup holder on his seat’s armrest. Closing his eyes and relaxing his shoulders, he let the music overtake him.

When he opened his eyes again, the moon was gone and sun was low in the blue sky, shining golden light on Kei’s face. He easily blinked the sleep away, and let out a small yawn. Cracking the joints in his neck and spine, he took off his headphones, slinging them around his throat and replaced them for his glasses. Beside him, Yamaguchi was awake, staring out at the woods surrounding the highway.

The pinch server turned to face him. “Finally awake, huh? Did you sleep well?”

Kei had quite liked his nap. “Yes.”

Yamaguchi smiled, crow’s feet appearing around his brown eyes. “Daichi said that we would be approaching a rest stop soon, and that after, we would watch one of the movies people brought.”

Kei had indeed brought movies, four of them to be exact. He hoped they would select one of his.

Outside the window, the trees had started to thin out, and a large building was visible on the horizon. The passing signs had confirmed to Kei that it was the rest stop. Inside the bus, perhaps half of team was awake, including the now bickering dream team that had wonderfully decided to sit in the row adjacent to him: Kageyama the King and his small ginger friend Hinata. Kei overhead their squabble as being about a phone call, but he couldn’t find it in him to care too much about it.

Suddenly, Kei felt the bus slow down almost to a stop, inertia pushing him just off the seat. Then it turned, traversing the parking lot outside the rest stop slowly, warily. Finally, it parked in a large spot and stopped with a heave and a hefty groan. 

In the front of the bus, Ukai stood, and Kei noticed that his eyes were rimmed with dark circles. "Alright, we're at the first rest stop. You can pick up some breakfast here, go pee, whatever. But we have to be back on the road in 15 minutes. I suggest you hurry up."

Kei had an egg sandwich before departing his house and therefore wasn't very hungry. However, he knew for a fact that Yamaguchi had only had a measly glass of apple juice before leaving. He must have been starving. At the mere mention of food, he saw Yamaguchi's face light up, and he stared straight at the bus’s door.

The door opened, and Nishinoya was the first one out, as he sat near the front. Tanaka followed right after, yelling at him to wait up. Hinata grabbed onto Kageyama's wrist and dragged the setter out. Hilariously, he seemed to be too heavy for Hinata, but both of those idiots ran out at the speed of light once he declared to Kageyama that he would race him to the bathrooms.

Kei calmly stood up and walked out at a sensible pace with the rest of the team. Yamaguchi quickly appeared at his side, and he pinched the front of his shirt, pumping it to produce air flow. The sun was beating down on them, and the natural wind wasn't doing much to cool them down. It wasn't long before he heard the shorter man's stomach rumble quite loudly.

Yamaguchi widened his eyes in embarrassment. "Ha, guess I'm famished."

Kei handed him a small black wallet, and it jingled with yen. "I brought some money. Buy yourself something; I'm going to the bathroom."

Yamaguchi nodded happily. "Thanks, Tsukki."

“You don’t need to go?” Kei asked.

Yamaguchi shook his head. “I did go before you dragged me out of my house,” and then added with a smile. “Are you worried about me, Tsukki?”

Kei looked away, his brows furrowing into an all-too-familiar scowl. “Shut up.”

Once inside, Kei felt the sharp bite of too-high air conditioning hit his bare arms and neck, and regretted not bringing some form of jacket instead of just a ratty, rust-colored tank top. Kei was sure however, in retrospect, his future self would appreciate the lack of long-sleeved clothing. Yamaguchi split off to quickly latch himself in the line for a fast food place.

They didn't have much time, Kei reminded himself, and he followed the chatting forms of his team members towards the men's bathrooms.

The restrooms were big and lavish, and there was barely anyone inside. Beside the occasional business man or father of a small child, they were the only ones in the bathroom. Kei looked at himself in the passing mirrors, all pale skin and short, blond curls. His gold eyes were leering, even at himself, through the thick black frames of his glasses.

Without wasting any time, he chose a stall and pulled down his dark gray sweatpants.

He emerged swiftly, leaving a flushing toilet in his wake. He washed his hands hastily, and from right beside him, a voice shouted, "We have 10 minutes left, guys!"

It was Daichi. Sugawara appeared beside him, slurping a yellow fruit smoothie and holding out a panini for the captain. Kei dried his hands and went to meet Yamaguchi for a bit of food.

All of the second years were sitting with each other in one large amalgam of a table that was hastily put together, and a bounty of sandwiches and drinks piled on it like a banquet. Looking beyond them to the left, Yamaguchi was at the top of the line he had entered, paying a lady for a paper bag filled with food. 

Kei approached him, and he jumped in shock, almost spilling the drinks in his hand. "Oh! Tsukki, it's just you. Here, I bought you a strawberry smoothie. I thought you might want something to drink, at least." Yamaguchi handed him a plastic cup, filled with a rosy pink, thick liquid. Kei drank some through a straw as they both walked to a small table next to the large floor-to-ceiling windows. It was pleasantly sweet, and he felt the corners of his mouth lift a bit.

Yamaguchi had bought himself a breakfast sandwich and a latte, plus Kei's drink, all which had ended up costing under 1000 yen. It was cheap, for that much food. The pinch server ate away at his sandwich, not really pausing to talk, while Kei sipped at his smoothie. Yamaguchi, when he was hungry, ate like a wild child, and he was getting crumbs all over his green star-patterned shirt and worn denim shorts. It was only when he finished the sandwich completely that he stopped to drink a mouthful of his coffee and catch his breath.

Yamaguchi noticed that Kei was staring. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

Kei felt his cheeks warm up, but he did have something on his face: a few crumbs. Seeing his escape, he nodded nonchalantly. “Yeah,” he gestured at his lips.

The pinch server hesitantly wiped his own lips, and then proceeded to do the same thing to his shirt and shorts. With another slurp of his latte, he looked outside the window. Leaning back on the chair, he peacefully drank away at the thick smoothie, and soon noticed that the other team members started to file out of the rest stop, and looking at his watch, he saw that the 15 minutes were almost over.

“Yamaguchi,” Kei spoke, and the other man looked up from his food. “We have to go. Almost time.”

Yamaguchi nodded, dumping the sandwich’s wrapper in the paper bag. “Alright,” he responded with his mouth half full. Taking a long swig of his coffee, he finished it and dumped both the cup and the bag into a nearby trash can. Kei opted to keep his smoothie, as he wasn’t finished with it.

The pair walked out of the rest stop, and followed the crowd of teenage boys towards the bus, and in the clear sunlight, Kei could see how big it was. Surely it was some sort of expensive tourist bus, rented for the pleasure of 14 high schoolers and 1 adult. He pursed his lips. Surely we don’t have enough money to pay for this ourselves.

He let go of the discontinuity again with a deep exhale. He tried not to think too hard about it.

The cup of smoothie chilled his long fingers when he felt the heat of the sun burn away any coldness he felt inside the rest stop. He sipped it slowly as he and Yamaguchi walked inside the bus and back to their seats. Coach Ukai stood up from the very front and started calling out names and checking them off on his clipboard. Once he was sure that he wasn’t missing any children, he whistled to the driver.

The bus came alive and started to make its way back to the highway. Ukai didn’t sit back down, however. “Do you guys feel like watching the movie now?”

There were words of agreement.

Out of a compartment on the side of the bus’s wall, the coach fished out several DVDs, and Kei recognized his movies among them. He figured Yamaguchi brought them up while he was asleep, and he was thankful for the anonymity it provided him.

“Okay,” Ukai said, “we’ve got the Harry Potter movies four though eight, all three of The Lord of the Rings movies, Frozen, and all four of the Jurassic Park movies. What’ll it be?”

“Not Frozen,” Kageyama spoke up, voice loud and obviously irritated. When Kei looked to him, he saw that he was pressing Hinata’s head down in an effort to perhaps silence him.

Ukai snorted. “Alright. So, who votes for Harry Potter, starting with The Goblet of Fire?”

There were a few hands up, and Kei wasn’t surprised. It was a popular movie series. However, it wasn’t enough and the wizard seemed to be voted out.

“The Lord of the Rings, Fellowship of the Ring?”

More hands, but still not enough. Kei recognized the same hands that hoped to see Harry Potter now voted in favor of the classic movie.

“And Jurassic Park?”

Trying to be as low-key as possible, Kei put his hand up, and hoped it wouldn’t garner too much attention from his peers. Beside him, Yamaguchi also raised his hand, and so did everyone in the bus who preferred science fiction over fantasy.  Kei was surprised to see Kageyama was one of those, and Hinata sat beside him, muttering incoherently.

Ukai nodded. “Jurassic Park it is. Nice choice.” The coach put the other movies down and snapped the DVD open, carefully placing the iridescent disc into a movie player in the same compartment as before. Kei let out a relieved breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The screens placed in even intervals across the bus lit up suddenly, and soon, Kei could hear the familiar song that accompanied the movie’s menu screen. After a bit of that, a few people closed the curtains inside the bus and the film began.

Kei found that he knew the entire movie by heart and he smiled (once he made sure no one was looking). However, Yamaguchi caught him, and he grinned back. Yamaguchi’s smiles were brighter and more emotive than Kei’s; he’s obviously had the practice.

He finished his smoothie only 10 minutes into the movie, and left it in the cup holder. Kei had grown accustomed to the script; knew the notes to all the songs. Strangely, he felt happy as he leaned back.

When the dinosaurs appeared on screen, he could hear some of the other team members marveled at them, and the movie’s theme music blasted through the speakers. Kei caught himself humming along.

Yamaguchi turned to look at him, and Kei suddenly felt self-conscious and lowered his voice so that he was almost inaudible. He prayed that no one else heard him. Yamaguchi giggled lowly, and went back to watching the movie.

Time seemed to pass by faster as the T-Rex ate somebody. Kei felt himself being transported back to when he was a child and he was watching these movies for the first time. It almost seemed unfair when the movie ended and it was almost 10:30. Making some quick calculations in his head, he estimated that they would have roughly enough time to watch all four movies before arriving at the surprise vacation spot in Osaka. He felt excitement bubble up inside of him.

“That was so cool!” he heard Hinata exclaim from beside him. “Can we watch the next one?”

There were shouts of agreement; they sounded much more fervent than before.

The coach chuckled. “We can watch all of them before we get to Osaka. We have just enough time.”

“Woah, really? I’m down,” said Nishinoya, who was nodding eagerly.

“Alright. The Lost World coming up next,” announced the coach, playing the next film.

Kei couldn’t believe they were watching his favorite movie series. He anticipated the team to be satisfied with only the first movie and then move on to something else, but this was unexpected and Kei felt uncharacteristically pleased.

Yamaguchi patted his shoulder beside him and said: “I told you. I knew you would like this trip.”

Kei knew that his best friend was right. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.

*   *   *

The sun was high in the sky by the time they finished the heart-pounding sequel to Jurassic Park. Kei felt his stomach rumble lowly, and saw that it was past noon and therefore time for lunch.

Cutting off the credits, Ukai stood up once more and addressed the team. “You guys must be hungry, right? We’re stopping in a few minutes to pick up some lunch. You’ll have 20 minutes. Do what you need to do and be back fast. We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

Shouts of affirmance filled the bus, and there was a moment of approximate silence while the bus stopped in the parking lot and the engine cut out with a croak.

At this time of day, the heat felt even more hellish than before, and Kei felt an immediate need to seek shade before his pale skin paid the price. Yamaguchi sensed it, and hurried them both towards the rest stop.

It was bigger than the one they were in before, and there were plenty of more people inside. It was loud, and the warmth from the outside had permeated to the inside, so the air conditioner seemed less potent than it did in the one they had visited in the morning.

“Tsukki, I gotta go to the bathroom. Get us some food?” Yamaguchi pleaded at Kei. He definitely had money left in his wallet.

Kei nodded. “Do you want anything in particular?”

“Fries,” said Yamaguchi almost immediately. “Could you get me fries?”

“Sure.” And with that, the pinch server was off. 

Kei looked around to find a restaurant with a short line that served fries. Kei prided himself on being a pragmatic man, and they didn’t have much time to waste, what with the lunch rush and barely enough time to beat it. In a few seconds, he found one, and hoped that the people in front would order fast. 

Kei was much taller than the average patron of places like these, and he was able to see over the head of mothers holding the small hands of their children who were itching for some greasy fast food. He shifted impatiently from foot to foot until he finally got to the head of the line, and the stout woman at the register smiled at him. "Hello. What'll it be?"

Kei looked up at the garishly fluorescent menu above him, and back down to the cashier. "Two cheeseburgers, one large and one small, one order of medium fries, one medium coke, and one strawberry milkshake."

The woman eyed his lanky frame suspiciously, if only for a second, before ringing up his order with a shake of her head and another smile. "Alright, that'll be 1975 yen."

Kei handed over the folded up money wordlessly, and she handed him a receipt and a few coins in return. "Your name?"

"Tsukishima."

She wrote his name down on a piece of paper that went back to the kitchens along with his order. "Thank you and have a nice day. Next!"

Kei then went to wait once again in the other line to receive his food. Thankfully, the kitchen staff at the fast food joint worked fast unlike the customers who spent an eternity deciding what to order. It wasn't long before an older man called out his surname, and Kei picked up the large paper bag and the two plastic cups. Turning around, he saw in the cafeteria area that Yamaguchi was sitting at a table by himself, busying himself by playing on his phone. Kei sat down in the chair across from him, startling the pinch server.

"Tsukki!" he said, "Food?"

"Right here," Kei responded, taking out the smaller burger and fries for Yamaguchi. "I also got you a coke."

"So thoughtful, Tsukki! How much money did you bring, anyways?"

Kei tactfully ignored Yamaguchi's first comment and fiddled for his wallet in his pocket and opened it up. Honestly, he had shoved quite a lot of bills inside in the darkness of the early morning. "5500 yen."

Yamaguchi's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and smiled as he started to dig into his food. Kei fished his burger out of the paper bag, took off the greasy wrapper, and bit into it.

It was fatty and salty, and if his mother saw him eating something like his, she would most probably smack it out of his hand. However, Kei was hungry, and he wasn't particularly finicky about what he put into his body. It would be a waste of time to wait in another line for a different type of food, and Kei was sure that his metabolism was so fast that no matter what he ate, he would always be thin.

He tried to down the burger and the strawberry milkshake as quickly as he could, because even as they started to eat, he could see the coach out of the corner of his eye, checking his watch and then throwing the leftovers of his food into the trash.

"Yamaguchi," he said after swallowing a particularly large bite, "we better hurry up."

The pinch server was a fast eater, and Kei would never understand how he managed to down that much food in that little amount of time and not be sick to his stomach later. Yamaguchi's cheeseburger was history, and he was nearly done with his coke and halfway through his fries. He had dumped the overly crispy ones in a napkin; Kei knew he only liked the softer ones. After finishing his own burger, Kei grabbed the fries on the napkin, swallowed them, and wiped his greasy fingers on the napkin. He took the condensation from the outside his milkshake cup to remove the fatty liquid from his palms, and it worked for now. There wasn't enough time to wash his hands, and he was sure the hellish sun outside would dry them in an instant.

"We gotta go," Kei said, standing up and dumping his now empty cup into the bag. He could see familiar heads race out of the rest stop, and Yamaguchi finished his coke with a satisfied exhale. They quickly went for the exit, and Kei threw away his trash on the way out.

He and Yamaguchi were walking into the bus just as Ukai was starting role call. Kei took on a calmer stance as he walked to their row, and let Yamaguchi through first and then sat down himself.

"We're all here," he heard the coach mutter, and he gave a signal to the driver. Kei felt that familiar buzz underneath his seat and they were out onto the highway in almost no time at all.

Ukai dutifully started the third Jurassic Park movie after the nagging of Karasuno's louder members. Kei felt his chest expand with satisfaction. It started out calmly enough, and Kei already knew the story, and he watched the movie loyally like listening to a classic song that one could never get tired of.

I've been sitting down for a long time, he thought to himself as his lower back and ass ached uncomfortably. He turned to Yamaguchi, who looked back at him with a friendly grin. Kei shifted in his seat, and eventually settled for folding his long legs underneath him in a traditional sort of pose. It took the edge off, but soon he started to feel the edges of his toes lose their feeling.

Kei tried to ignore the knots in his back acting up by absorbing himself in the movie.

It ended not long after that, and he looked out the window to see the signs rushing past him say that they were already within the Osaka prefecture. Kei felt the burn of the afternoon sun even though the windows. He adjusted his posture again, and he took a normal sitting position, throwing his shoulders back in an effort to straighten his spine. Kei didn't even notice as the newest of the collection, Jurassic World, started to play on the television screens.

The new movie was much more expertly made than the others, and when he heard they were continuing his favorite movie series a year ago, he was both astonished and jubilant. It was hard to hide his excitement when he went to the movies with Yamaguchi to see it last summer.

He was surprised to find out, through whispered conversations throughout the bus, that a substantial amount of the volleyball team had seen the movie when it came out as well, even if they didn't follow dinosaur movies religiously like Kei did. It ended up being a very good movie, whether or not one liked the theme.

Kei was desperately trying to repress the smile that bubbled up like a sweet carbonated drink on his lips, and he ignored the mocking but well-meaning giggles of Yamaguchi next to him. Kei was starting to rub off on him.

"You're lookin' at him kid," Kei repeated, knowing the lines to that scene perfectly, and to keep his enthusiasm under wraps, he timed himself to say it exactly when Owen would say it. It worked, everyone was too absorbed with the movie to even notice Kei.

The movie ended a bit after, and Kei smiled to himself as the screens shut off for what he knew would be the last time on this long bus ride. He stretched out his stiff back and arms, and hoped that wherever they were heading to was close by, because the tension in Kei's muscles was killing him.

It was a few minutes of peaceful silence later when he heard an all too familiar voice shout in shocked delight. It was Hinata, and when Kei turned to look, the small ginger's face was glued to the window, totally obscuring the view of whatever had amazed him. "Look, Kageyama! Do you think we're going there?"

Kageyama tried to look past him, and the two blocked the window completely. The setter gave an uncharacteristic gasp and murmured to Hinata, "No way. We'd never have enough money to afford that place.”

A few of the others on the right side of the bus started ogling out of the window too, and Kei decidedly looked away, and told himself he would find out once the bus stopped. They had been on the road for more than eleven hours, how much more time could they possibly need to get there?

Daichi was on the right side, and he only took one look at the place and went back to doing whatever it was in the front of the bus. His behavior confirmed that whatever place Hinata had seen was indeed the place Kei was going to spend the next two weeks.

The bus took an exit off the highway, and drove down to a small town area, shaded by spindly overhanging trees. Hydrangea blossoms dotted the landscape, and the sunshine shone through the leaves, sprinkling the picturesque settlement in dappled light. Once the bus was righted, he could see what everyone was going on about. 

It was an enormous and luxurious looking hotel, and Kei could see the outlines of tall, swaying palms dotting the bottom of it. Through the opening between the massive towers that flanked the main building, Kei could make out the faraway glittering horizon of the ocean, and knew that his suspicions about the vacation being at a beach were correct.

He made an estimate and guessed that somehow, the team got reservations at an expensive, lush, Western-style beach resort.

Kei decided to let it go once and for all, and stop questioning every fortune that came his way. He chose to enjoy the things he was given and not bite the hand that fed him, and besides, he needed a break from his regular life anyways. Why ruin it with doubts and suspicions?

Yamaguchi pat Kei’s arm excitedly, smiling like a child. “Do you see that, Tsukki? It looks so nice! I can’t believe we scored something like this!”

Kei nodded and released the tense position his shoulders were in. He relaxed into his seat and felt his scowl melt away.

The bus wasted no time in driving into the resort, the entrance decorated with fountains and faux tropical birds and a big sign that read “Sunset Beach Resorts”. The road was lined with cobblestone, and Kei could see out of his window water slides and tiki bars. He could hear the muffled screams of delighted children, and he felt his chest swell with anticipation. Kei made sure not to let it show on his face, but Yamaguchi could tell when he looked at him that he was genuinely happy. Happiness was such a rare emotion for Kei to feel.

It wasn’t long before the bus drove into a designated parking lot in front of the resort’s main entrance. Kei saw a Jeep parked there, along with another bus. Their own bus parked into a spot that gave Kei the perfect view of the sea. It stopped for the last time, and Kei was among the first to stand, stretching out his stiff bones, and helping Yamaguchi make sure he was leaving nothing behind. They followed the rest of the elatedly chatting team out of the bus.

Once outside, Kei could smell the salt of the ocean. Ukai and Daichi opened the compartments on the side of the bus, and all of their suitcases were inside. The coach gave Yamaguchi the four Jurassic Park movies, assuming they were his, with a smile. Daichi was busy taking out the luggage with the help of Asahi and Tanaka, who volunteered to help.

Kei looked around at the other bus, which was parked on the other side of their bus. He heard footsteps from that direction, and Daichi, as soon as he was done putting all the luggage outside, went towards the other bus. Kei followed slowly, his curiosity piquing once more.

The captain went towards the crowd of people, and Kei thought they looked very familiar. However, who the Karasuno captain went to talk to made Kei’s stomach drop out of his being.

Daichi approached a tall man with olive brown hair who could only be Ushijima Wakatoshi, the brute captain of Shiratorizawa, who they had defeated not long ago.

Daichi shook his hand, and put on an amicable face. “Ushijima! Have a good trip?”

Ushijima nodded his head, and Kei couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Yes, Sawamura. And you?”

“The same. I want to thank you again for offering us this vacation, I couldn’t have asked for more. Also, do you know when the others will arrive?”

Kei blanched. There’s going to be others?

Ushijima checked his lavish watch. Kei thought he looked ridiculous in that olive green polo shirt. “They should be arriving just after you.”

Daichi laughed. “The team doesn’t know that you sponsored their trip. They’re very excited, and I want them to thank the right person.”

Ushijima’s brow quirked. “Do you think they would be okay with seeing me? Perhaps you should tell them and have them thank me later.”

Daichi scoffed. “No, they’re good sports. I don’t really think it matters to them as long as they get to swim in the beach.”

The two captains chuckled, and Kei felt his happiness slipping away.

They walked back towards the rest of the Karasuno volleyball team, and Kei ran back to Yamaguchi, who already had both of their suitcases with him.

“Tsukki! Where were you?” Yamaguchi handed him his suitcase.

Kei shook his head with a warning, and pointed to the two captains as they appeared on the other side of the bus. Kei saw Sugawara laugh as the team noticed Ushijima and as their collective jaws dropped to the floor. Ukai lit a cigarette and chuckled at the teenagers.

“What’s he doing here?” He heard Nishinoya shout, his voice laced with astonishment.

Daichi eyed the libero and gave one of his mildly unnerving smiles. “His team are the ones that paid for this retreat. After the match, we became friends, and in an effort to inspire positive feelings of sportsmanship, we planned this vacation. I’d like you all to put aside your differences and thank him.”

Surprisingly, Hinata was the first to bow and give a vigorous “thank you,” and the rest of the team quickly followed suit, including Kei and Yamaguchi. Daichi was right; after all, Shiratorizawa lost to them and then offered this vacation as a show of good faith. They did deserve a thank you.

Ushijima gave a small grin. “You’re absolutely welcome.” The captain then explained to Daichi that he has to go organize his own team’s luggage, as they arrived just before they did. And with that, Shiratorizawa’s captain walked away.

Just then, a second bus drove into the parking lot and parked next to Karasuno’s bus, leaving a substantial amount of space for the team to fit comfortably between them. It did so in such a way that the entrance of the bus was visible to Kei.

A man wearing sunglasses and light blue and white tank top sauntered out of the bus when it stopped, and then promptly put the glasses up on his chestnut hair, revealing his smug, chocolate-colored eyes. He took a bite out of a popsicle he was eating. “What’s up, bitches?”

This day just kept springing more and more surprises on Kei. That man was none other than Oikawa Tooru, and he laughed as soon as he saw Kageyama. Kei saw his team's setter immediately set his jaw angrily and curl his hands into fists.

“Oh fuck no,” he said, grabbing an astounded Hinata by the shoulder, “I’m leaving. Let’s go, Hinata.”

Daichi caught him as soon as he tried to get back into the bus, and shook his head, smiling dangerously. “You will play nice, Kageyama. Oikawa will as well, rest assured.”

Kageyama put on a sour expression and sighed. He turned back around, and the rest of Aoba Jousai was outside the bus, getting their suitcases out from inside the bus.

Kei watched as Ushijima walked soundlessly behind Oikawa until he was only a few inches away. “You should have come to Shiratorizawa,” he said.

Oikawa screamed, and his popsicle flew out of his hand, and landed squarely on Iwaizumi’s head. The ace closed his eyes and attempted to calm himself, but even Kei could see the steam rising out of his ears. “Oikawa…” His voice was low and precarious.

“I’m sorry, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa put his hands up in a fruitless apology, still recovering from Ushijima’s jumpscare. Ushijima was off to the side now, his lips morphed into a pleased smirk.

The popsicle, having melted a bit under the sun, slid down and landed on Iwaizumi’s sea green tee, leaving a stain and then falling completely to the ground beside his sandaled feet. The wing spiker wasted no time in lunging at Oikawa and sucker punching him in the nose.

Ushijima was roaring with laughter now, and so was half the Seijou team. The Karasuno team was snickering along, and Kei felt himself take on a familiar mocking smile as he chuckled as well. Oikawa lay on the ground, clutching his face as Iwaizumi yelled at him. Seijou’s captain then stood up, and there was a big pink splotch right in the center of his face.

The entire spectacle was interrupted by the arrival of yet another bus, and this one parked in the space behind Seijou’s. The new bus’s exit faced away from the rest of them, but a small figure burst from the side and went straight to Hinata, who looked pleasantly surprised to see them.

It was Nekoma’s setter, Kozume Kenma. Kenma had his phone in his hand, and he looked at Hinata with an urgent expression in his golden, cat-like eyes. “Shouyou. Is there Wi-Fi?”

Hinata beamed. “Hi, Kenma! I have no idea, sorry.”

Then, Kuroo appeared next to Kenma and put a hand on the setter’s shoulder. “Sorry bud. Just checked with Ushiwaka; no Wi-Fi here. Signal’s spotty enough out here as it is.” Nekoma’s captain was looking as sly as always, even as he informed Kenma of the bad news.

Kenma looked to the ground. “What?”

“So sorry. You’ll have to find another means of entertainment.”

Hinata patted Kenma’s shoulder comfortingly. He took a deep breath and nodded his head. “Alright.” But it was clear to anyone who saw him that he was not alright.

The rest of the Nekoma team greeted Karasuno like the old friends that they were. Kuroo walked over to Daichi and they shook hands and embraced, clapping the other on the back jubilantly.

It wasn’t long before the four teams rounded their luggage together. The two manager girls were tucked in a corner in their own little world, talking delightedly among each other. Kei was just about ready to see where they would be staying when Daichi informed them that one more team would be joining them.

Kei knew there was only one other team that was close friends with the other teams and would logically have been invited to the vacation. He felt whatever happiness and peace he had completely leave him. In its stead was the familiar feeling of mild annoyance and dread at what these next two weeks would entail.

As if on cue, a fifth and final bus drove into the parking lot, and parked behind Karasuno’s bus. The doors opened with a crash, and Bokuto Koutarou jumped out, wearing an absurdly bright Hawaiian shirt and shutter glasses, holding a boom box on his shoulder.

“The party don’t start ‘till I walk in,” sang the woman in the song, and Bokuto caroled along. The song was raucous and peppy, just like Fukuroudani’s captain. Kuroo immediately left Daichi’s side to sing along with his best friend, loudly and obnoxiously, laughing as they got every note and lyric right.

Kei walked away with his suitcase, hoping that the two captains wouldn’t see him. Back in the training camp, they, along with Akaashi, Fukuroudani’s setter, took him under their wing to give him a reason to love volleyball and to better his blocking skills. They did help a lot, but that didn’t remedy the fact that while they were among the greatest volleyball players Kei had ever seen, they were deathly annoying when they were together.

No luck. Kei caught Bokuto’s golden gaze, and the captain rushed towards him, Kuroo not far behind.

“Hey, hey, hey, Tsukki!” Kei shuddered at the use of Yamaguchi’s nickname for him, “how’ve you been?” The song playing out of Bokuto’s boom box was over, replaced by a slower, but still loud song. He put in on the ground, and propped one foot on it.

He straightened his back, and nodded. “I’ve been fine, Bokuto. How’re things going with you?”

He gave a riotous laugh. “Ah, I’m fine. Blocking skills still going strong?” It was now when Kuroo had caught up to the two, and slung a friendly arm over Bokuto’s shoulders.

Kei nodded. “Yeah. We beat Shiratorizawa, even. I’d say I’m pretty good.”

Kuroo smiled. “I heard. Congratulations, Tsukki.”

Kei grinned, although he thought it came out more like a grimace. “Thanks.”

Walking towards them was Akaashi, toting his suitcase behind him and his dark green eyes looking more tired than usual. He tapped Bokuto’s arm. “Bokuto-san. The coaches are requesting all the teams meet them in the front of the parking lot.”

“Oh, okay. Come on, guys.” The four started walking towards the front, and Yamaguchi quickly latched himself to Kei’s side once he started walking.

The pinch server smiled up at him. “Lots of people, right, Tsukki? You think they got us nice rooms in the hotel?”

Kei nodded pensively. “Probably.”

Once they got to the head of the parking lot, the five coaches stood together, clipboards in hand. Shiratorizawa’s coach, a man by the name of Washijou, held a plastic bag filled with keys in his hands.

Ukai was the youngest one of the five, and he stepped forward. “You guys all have your luggage? Nothing is missing?”

The large collection of high school students shook their head no; all their belongings had been accounted for.

“Alright,” came the wizened voice of Nekomata, Nekoma’s coach, “Welcome to Sunset Beach Resort, kids. You’ve come a long way, and we thought you deserved a nice break. It was thanks to Coach Washijou and the Shiratorizawa team that this was possible, so I expect a big thank you to them from all of you.

Once again, there was a rush of sound, the teams yelling thanks to Shiratorizawa. They became flustered, and Ushijima wordlessly regarded the screaming teenagers before him.

Seijou’s coach, a middle aged man named Irihata, stepped forward. “You guys will be staying in the many cabins to the east of the compound. There will be four to one cottage, and the two most responsible people of the bunch will be the owner of the keys to it. Don’t lose the keys.”

Washijou was the last to step up and talk. Before he did, he gave the nearest captain, which happened to be Daichi, the bag of keys. “We’ll be staying in the presidential suites in the hotel. Your captains have the sleeping arrangements. Now go!” He made a wide gesture with his arms. “Disperse. Relax and have fun for once.”

The coaches gave their farewells and walked out towards the hotel’s lobby. The captains then took the reins, the five of them chuckling with each other. Ushijima took a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. Kei guessed those were the sleeping arrangements. Daichi passed out the keys, about six per captain, and wadded up the empty bag and threw it into a nearby recycling bin. He had perfect aim, despite the lightness of the plastic bag; it landed squarely inside.

Daichi and the others took a look at it Ushijima’s paper, and they called their respective teams to them. Kei walked with Yamaguchi to Daichi’s side along with the rest of his team. The crowd began to walk to the right, past the lobby’s entrance and onto a wide cobblestone path lined with palm trees.

The suitcases clacked loudly on the uneven stones, and the teams’ chattering produced a white noise. Even then, Daichi’s voice could be heard above theirs. “Alright. I’ve got the sleeping arrangements. Yachi, Shimizu, you’ll be with the Fukuroudani managers.”

They smiled to each other and nodded. “Okay.”

“We have 3 cabins for ourselves, and there’s going to be four to a cabin. In the first cabin are the first years: Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi.”

Kei let out an aggravated sigh. He was okay with sharing a cabin with Yamaguchi, but the other two? Resigning himself to his fate, Kei reminded himself that Daichi placing all the freshmen together was probably inevitable.

“All the second years except Noya in the second cabin,” Daichi stated, “you’ll be rooming with us, Noya.”

There were grunts of agreement. Kei looked over the heads of those in front of him, towards the sky.

The sky was just beginning to turn dark, its classic blue still very apparent, but one could see the horizon already shifting colors. The sun was behind them, and it shone warm light on Kei’s back, casting a long, dark shadow in front of him. Checking his watch, it read 6:04 pm.

It wasn’t long before the groups reached the cabins area, and the different captains led their teams different ways. Kei could see that Seijou and Shiratorizawa took the left fork in the road towards some northern cabins, signaled by a sign with the numbers “1-10” and “41-50” on it. The rest were left with more room to walk on the right fork, and the cabins that way would apparently be numbered “11-40”.

The cabins looked very nice, each one equipped with a porch and a cushioned chair. Flowers and bushes adorned the pathway connecting the cabins, as well as the cabins themselves. The colors they were painted in were pastel and muted, and Kei could hear the high sound of wind chimes dance past him. The beach’s salty smell was stronger here, so much so that Kei could almost taste it.

As they walked, they came to another fork in the road, and the Nekoma and Fukuroudani teams waved a joyful good-bye to them as they took the right fork. Daichi directed his team on the left fork, and a sign was there, reading “Cabins 11-20”.

Daichi led them to what appeared to be the center of the area, and there were three cabins all adjacent to each other with a “reserved” sign on the porch’s fence.

A pair of girls appeared from the road beside the middle one; Kei recognized them as the Fukuroudani managers.

“Yachi! Shimizu! Our cabin is over here!” They beckoned them, and pointed back down the path they were on.

“Okay!” Yachi said, and waved goodbye to the team as she walked to join them.

Shimizu followed, flipping her dark hair behind her, and turned to regard the Karasuno team. “Bye, guys. See you at dinner.”

It was at that point that Nishinoya and Tanaka burst into tears. “Kiyoko! We’ll miss you!”

Kei couldn’t help but roll his eyes at their melodrama.

Shimizu gave a small smile before following the other three girls down the path, disappearing from their sight.

“Okay,” Daichi said, “we have cabins 11, 12, and 13. There are two keys per cabin, so don’t lose them. To make sure this doesn’t happen, we will give the keys to the two most responsible people in the cabin. Cabin 11’s keys are for Tsukishima and Kageyama.”

Daichi threw the key at him, and Kei caught it calmly. It had a wooden keychain with the number “11” scorched into it. He threw another key at Kageyama, who snatched out of the air without breaking a sweat.

“Cabin 12’s keys go to Ennoshita and Narita,” Daichi declared, throwing them the keys.

“And this is for you, Asahi,” Daichi said, handing him a key. Daichi kept the last key for himself, putting it in his pocket. “You can enter your cabins now. Please clean up after yourselves in there and do not break anything.” Daichi looked to Hinata and Kageyama, and later to Tanaka and Nishinoya. Having made his point abundantly clear, he continued. “For dinner, we’re all going to go to the buffet inside the main building. I expect you all to clean up and be there at 7:30. Is that clear?”

“Yes, captain!” shouted the whole team. And with that they broke off into their respective cabins.

Kei walked ahead of his group, and onto the cabin’s porch. There were silver wind chimes hanging from the porch’s overhang, and they made a pleasing sound. Kei deftly unlocked the frosted glass door and the four of them walked inside, closing the door behind them.

“Uwaa! This is so nice, Kageyama!” came Hinata’s squeal as he marveled at the cabin.

The interior of the cabin truly spoke volumes as to how high-end the resort really was. Despite it being the late afternoon and none of the lights being on, the place was extremely well lit; the curtained windows were placed specifically to catch as much sunlight as possible. They were positioned strategically on both the east and west sides of the cabin.

In that main room, there was a living room and a kitchenette, the two areas being separated by a marble-topped breakfast bar. The walls were painted a light turquoise, and there was a coral hued rug in the center of the room. The floor was made of hardwood, and in the far center was a small hallway that led to the rest of the cabin. There was only one door on either side of the corridor, and Kei assumed they led to the bedroom and the bathroom, respectively.

As Kei walked towards the hall, the plastic soles of his black Toms made a satisfying tapping noise on the floor as he walked into the corridor and opened the right door.

It was the bathroom, and it was quite large. Kei, with all his height, could lie down on the floor and not be able to touch the tub and the sink, who were on opposite side of the room, at the same time. The sunlight shone through the window there, making the porcelain tub and tiled floor appear to be made of pale gold.

When he turned around, he saw the other three already at the left door, and Kageyama was the one who opened it.

That door led to the bedroom, and it was carpeted with teal. A window was on the far wall, illuminating the whole room. There were two full-sized beds placed across from each other on either side of the room.

Kageyama was the first to speak. “But I thought this cabin housed four people, not two.”

Kei brought his palm to his forehead in irritation. “These beds are big enough for two people.” He then added, “And I’m not sharing with you.”

Kei looked to Yamaguchi for confirmation, and he nodded. The pair took the right one, and Kei parked his suitcase near the foot of the bed. As he looked at the bed, with its sea green comforter and white pillows, he felt a slight heat make its way up his neck.

He and Yamaguchi had slept in the same bed plenty of times before. Granted, they had done so as children and more or less stopped around the age of 13. It wasn’t really a big deal. So, why was he so flustered?

He dispelled the worry by concentrating on putting his clothes away in the closet behind them. He put his suitcase on the bed, zipped it open, and took two shirts from the first layer. Yamaguchi had already opened the closet, and was busy hanging his shorts on one of the hangers.

As Kei diligently hung his clothes, he glanced over to Hinata and Kageyama, the former humming as he slung shirt after shirt on the hangers. Kageyama was unzipping his suitcase, and as soon as he opened it, Kei caught the sight of something small and brightly colorful right smack in the middle of the surrounding clothes.

Is that what I think it is?

Kei couldn’t help but sneer at the setter. “What’s that, Kageyama?” he jeered, pointing ostentatiously at the center of Kageyama’s suitcase.

He looked in terror at the suitcase, and immediately slammed it closed. His face was an interesting shade of beet red.

Kei continued. “Oh my god, it is what I think it is,” he laughed callously, “Kageyama Tobio, Karasuno’s star setter, c—”   

Kageyama ran towards him at the speed of light and clamped a palm on Kei’s mouth, his other hand grabbing the front of his shirt. The setter’s usually navy blue eyes were completely shadowed over, and he glared dangerously up at Kei. “You shut your mouth,” he said, quiet words dripping with poison, “you breathe one word of this, and I will kill you.”

Kei backed off, deciding it wasn’t worth to see him angry. He furrowed his brow, and ripped Kageyama’s hand off of his face. “Fine, then.” He chuckled and went back to hanging clothes.

Hinata looked as if he wanted to ask Kageyama what was inside his suitcase, but the setter’s chilling expression scared him into silence.

Yamaguchi looked up at Kei with a confused expression. “What was in his bag, Tsukki?”

Kei, noticing Kageyama angrily eyeing him, shook his head. “Nothing.” He waited until Kageyama went back to stealthily opening his suitcase again to whisper to Yamaguchi, “I’ll tell you later.”

And with that, the sun started to set behind them, filling the room with the tarnished light.

*   *   *

It was 7:24 pm, and the four Karasuno first years exited their cabin.

After putting away their clothes and storing away the empty suitcases inside their respective closets, Kei had announced he was going to take a shower. He felt stiff and dirty after sitting down in a bus for nearly twelve hours, and the bathroom looked more luxurious than any other bathroom Kei had ever seen before.

He took his toiletries inside, arranging them carefully on one corner of the tub’s wide border. Once inside, he spent 10 minutes scrubbing the dirt off of him. The Jacuzzi tub also had a shower-head, so he took the opportunity to wash his hair, the short pale strands clinging to his head as he closed the tap and exited the bath.

The three others followed suit, washing off the dried sweat and grime of the day. Yamaguchi was the second one in, followed by Kageyama and then Hinata. The four of them had changed into different clothing; Kei had selected a claret red shirt, a black hoodie made of a thin material, and a pair of dark-wash denim chinos. He opted to wear the same shoes he had one before, as they were comfortable and versatile.

Kei was the last to leave the cabin, walking calmly and locking the door behind them. They only had 6 minutes to make it to the buffet, and they had no idea where to go.

“Daichi said it was in the main building,” Hinata said, “so we have to go there.”

“Okay, but that main building is huge,” Kageyama countered.

Yamaguchi shook his head. “We’ll just ask for directions when we get there.”

The four strode down the cobblestone path, traveling faster than when all the teams were bunched together. Hinata was walking fast, struggling to keep up with Kageyama. He had passed him, and Kageyama took long steps in order to overtake Hinata again. Eventually, the two were running and yelling, and Kei didn’t even try to catch up to them. Yamaguchi chuckled.

The dusk was spreading its dark fingers across the sky, the sun a blazing ball resting on the horizon. To the east, the twilight was fading away and the tiny pinpricks of stars could already be seen. Yamaguchi stood glued to the spot, marveling at them. He looked up at the heavens with such fondness that it seemed the sky was his home. Kei’s chest swelled with something not unlike pride.

Kei had to forcibly drag him towards the lobby’s entrance in order to get him moving again, a thin grin on his face.

Inside, the hotel’s lobby was ritzy and filled with white light. There were miniature palms growing in terracotta pots, and a soothing, plucky guitar was playing in the distance. Bellhops ferried luggage across the large room, and a chandelier hung from the high domed ceiling.

Looking around, Kei saw the unmistakable heads of Hinata and Kageyama interrogating some poor employee about where dinner was being served. Kei walked with Yamaguchi towards them, pushed them aside, and looked exasperatedly at the lady.

“I’m sorry for these idiots,” he said coolly, “we would like to know where your buffet is.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice high, “it’s just down this hall. You can’t miss it.” She pointed to a wide corridor to her left. “Enjoy your stay at Sunset Beach Resorts!”

“Thank you!” replied Hinata as Kageyama dragged him down the hallways. Kei and Yamaguchi steadily followed.

The buffet had a huge neon sign pointing to it, and Kei wasn’t surprised at all that Hinata and Kageyama couldn’t find it. Beside that was a marker with the words “reserved for Shiratorizawa and Co. until 8:10” written in red.

They walked inside, and the smell of fresh food overwhelmed him. Mountains of international fare lay on tables lining the room, and the tables were already filled with familiar faces, all laughing and eating merrily. Hinata and Kageyama looked at each other excitedly and ran towards the buffet, grabbing plates and shoveling unholy amounts of food on them.

“Hey, hey, hey, look who finally showed his face!” A voice shouted right next to Kei’s ear. Looking to the side, he saw that none other than Bokuto had slung his hand around his shoulder. If there was one good thing about this, it was that he had changed out of that garish Hawaiian shirt into something a slightly less loud. “How’s it going, Tsukki?”

Beside him, Yamaguchi furrowed his brow and looked quizzically at Bokuto. He put on a smile, but something was off about it.

“Hey, what’s up?” Kuroo appeared, holding a bowl of linguine. “Cooks just brought out a new batch of seafood pasta. You should try it.”

“Alright. I’m pretty hungry,” Kei said at last, sliding out of Bokuto’s grasp and tapping Yamaguchi lightly on his wrist. The pinch server quickly followed Kei to the buffet tables, leaving Bokuto and Kuroo chatting amicably in their wake.

There was truly a bounty of food, and Kei was famished. He was taking a scoopful of a house salad when he heard Yamaguchi clear his throat beside him.

"Were those the guys you spent all training camp with? Bokuto and Kuroo?" Yamaguchi asked, a smile on his face. He seemed genuinely curious, and Kei decided to answer truthfully.

"Yeah, them," he then added, looking back down, "and they're really annoying together. They're also stupidly good at volleyball, and that probably one of the only reasons I hang out with them." He then realized, in an epiphany, that Yamaguchi might be a little unsettled as to why they call him by Yamaguchi's nickname for him. "They might come off as a little obnoxious. I know they call me that, and I've told them to stop," Kei declared. He gave a Yamaguchi a defeated grimace. 

The pinch server nodded and patted Kei's shoulder. "It's fine, Tsukki. Really."

At the end of the line, they had piled their plates high with foods they had never seen before and had only heard about. He took a bowl of the seafood pasta Kuroo was eating, taking his word on its good taste. There was a tray of slices of strawberry shortcake, and Kei took great pleasure in taking the last piece.

They sat in an empty table with only two seats, and he hoped that no one would bother them. Kei finished the house salad pretty quickly, and Yamaguchi was busy with a bowl of Minestrone soup. When Kei tasted the pasta, he momentarily blessed Kuroo for recommending the dish to him, as he probably wouldn't have gotten it with him. It was light and creamy, with just the right amount of sauce and seafood. In retrospect, he would expect nothing less of such a fancy resort. They must have high-end chefs cooking in their kitchens, and also have access to all sorts of fresh ingredients.

Kei looked up at Yamaguchi, who was inhaling his slow-cooked beef. "This is really good, Tsukki." It did look good, with the meaty sauce sliding off the individual squares and the whole plate being decorated by colorful peppers and translucent onions. "Holy crap." He finished his meal in under five minutes, and downed the glass of water situated to his right. He looked at Kei, who must have been staring at Yamaguchi, because he started laughing. "What are you looking at?"

Kei once again felt his face heat up, and went back to eating his pasta. "Nothing." This made Yamaguchi start tittering, and Kei started to eat more aggressively. Soon enough he was done with his linguine, and moved on to the shortcake.

He cut off a piece with his fork, making sure to take a sizable portion of the glazed strawberries, and consumed it.

It was as if he ascended into heaven. The cake was light and fluffy, and it offset the honeyed berries flawlessly. The whipped cream on top was like candy, and Kei felt the corners of his lips lift themselves up in an uncharacteristic smile. There was a reason strawberry shortcake was his favorite. He took another bite, and another, and he felt as if he could cry. He hadn't had a strawberry shortcake this good since he went to visit his grandmother a couple years back. Of course, nothing would ever amount to the godliness that was his grandmother's recipe, but that shortcake came really close. 

"Tsukki? Are you okay?" Yamaguchi tried to catch his gaze.

Kei looked up suddenly, and opened his eyes wide. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

Yamaguchi shook his head, and stared fondly into space. "It's nothing." There was a slightly rosy color on his freckled cheeks, and Kei looked back down, and finished the rest of his strawberry shortcake.

Kei looked at his watch, and it was already 7:58. They only had about 10 minutes to go until the buffet hall was open to the resort's public again. Kei didn't know if they would do something else that night, and he was not about to go to sleep at 8:30. However, he decided he would very much like to spend his time listening to music and reading a book inside the comfort of his cabin. 

Kei placed his silverware on the plate and discarded it in the designated receptacle at the last table in the buffet. He wiped his mouth with the fabric napkin that folded delicately for him at the table, and left it there. He and Yamaguchi weaved across the tables, receiving hellos, most of which he reciprocated hollowly. Kei had decided to avoid the table where Kuroo and Bokuto were sitting and slipped out of the buffet entirely unnoticed.

Well, almost entirely unnoticed.

Just as they exited into the corridor, they were joined by Hinata and Kageyama. “Are you going back?” Hinata asked.

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi replied, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, “Tsukki and I finished our food pretty fast, and he wanted to go back to the cabin.”

Kageyama yawned. “I’m pretty tired. Today was a long day,” and then added, his voice dropping an octave, “I had to practically rip Hinata away from the Nekoma table.”

“But Kageyama,” Hinata drawled, “I wanted to hang out with Kenma and Lev.”

“It’s not like I can leave you alone. You’d probably get lost and you don’t have a key to the cabin.”

Hinata groaned. Sometimes, Kei couldn’t believe the middle blocker was older than all three of them.

The four freshmen narrowly escaped the main building with Kei and Yamaguchi leading the way. The path felt more familiar now, and Kei could hear the faraway slap of waves against the sand. The cobblestone felt uneven under his feet, and Kei found himself stepping on individual stones.

They made in back to their cabin eventually, and as soon they were all in, Kei locked the door behind them. He considered closing the door right on Hinata’s heels, but he decided against it.

“I am so full!” the ginger suddenly exclaimed, throwing himself on the couch. He dramatically put a hand over his forehead. “Kageyama, take me to my room!”

“It’s our room,” the setter replied, “and no.”

“Fine,” came Hinata’s petulant reply, “I guess I’ll just have to do this here, then.” And then, the middle blocker took one of the cotton pillows from the couch and threw it full force at Kageyama.

The setter was caught completely off-guard and the pillow hit him square in the face. It then fell to the ground at his feet. “What the fuck.”

“Fight me, Kageyama,” Hinata grabbed another pillow and got into a fighting stance on the couch, balancing himself on the balls of his feet.

Kei took a step back and sat on one of the seats at the breakfast bar. Yamaguchi took a seat behind the counter and watched on with his chin balanced on his hands. This was going to be interesting.

Kageyama didn’t back down from the challenge, as was predictable, and lunged at Hinata, slapping him with the pillow across the face. Hinata parried the shot, and thrust the pillow forward into his chest. Kageyama, for all of his athletic prowess, recoiled from the hit, his now bare feet hitting the edge of the couch.

The setter gritted his teeth, and jumped off the couch and swung his right arm at Hinata, knocking him over the back of the couch in such a manner that would definitely leave bruises. However, Hinata had quick reflexes and didn’t have a concept of pain, because after taking a tumble to the hard floor, he stood back up as if nothing had happened. 

He yelled ferociously as he clutched the pillow with both his hands and swung it at Kageyama, hitting him in the arm and causing him to stumble.

“C’mon, Kageyama,” Kei taunted, “you’re letting yourself be beat just like that?”

The setter put on a face Kei had only seen before when the team was up against a powerful adversary. He was now laser-focused in, and he changed the way he was holding the pillow; seizing it like a weapon instead of grasping it as if it was a rag doll. He moved lightning fast and hit Hinata over the head with it, bringing the shorter man down.

Hinata laughed and brushed off the fall. He made a swing for Kageyama’s shins, but the setter was stronger than him and he kept his stance. To retaliate, he switched the pillow over to his left hand and swung for Hinata’s face.

Except he totally lost control of his swing and the pillow ended up crashing into Kei’s cheek, knocking his glasses clean off his face. Pain bloomed where the pillow hit him, and the pair immediately froze.

“Oh my god,” Hinata said, voice more terrified than apologetic. The silence in the room was so thick, one could cut it with a knife.

Very calmly, Kei stood up and took his glasses off of the floor where they collapsed. They were unbroken, and so he put them back on. He walked to the couch, which had one more pillow on it. He took it, and slowly prowled up to Kageyama, letting his intimidating, towering height be used to its full effect.

His face morphed into a scowl as he hit Kageyama with the pillow across the face, effectively knocking him down.  The setter barely balanced himself on his elbows as he stared up at Kei, his cheek pink from the blow.

Kei chuckled darkly. “I’m going to destroy you.”

And so Hinata took his opportunity and whacked Kei across the arm. Kei, having had plenty pillow fights with Akiteru in his younger years, was expecting the hit and braced himself. Hinata’s attempt to knock Kei over had failed, and he swallowed thickly.

Yamaguchi suddenly darted forward to grab the last pillow from the recliner, and swung his arm outwards. It hit Hinata’s waist, making him double over. Then Kageyama made his return by twisting the pillow around his slamming Kei with it, the enhanced attack making him recoil.

Soon, their cabin’s living room was transformed into a battleground, Kei and Yamaguchi banded together against Hinata and Kageyama. The latter pair had stellar synchronization, as was expected from Karasuno’s Oddball Duo. Hinata jumped high to be able to smack one of them (usually Kei) on the head, and Kageyama attacked the other from behind him, using a flurry of quick hits.

However, Kei was smart, and he knew he and Yamaguchi weren’t going to win this if they used brute force. They needed a strategy.

Kei decided that they should lay low until Hinata and Kageyama were convinced they won, and then strike with all of their strength, catching them by surprise. They discussed this while hiding behind the breakfast bar while attempting to escape the other pair momentarily.

“Nice, Tsukki!” came Yamaguchi’s complementing reply, “We’ll definitely win.”

Kei nodded. They came out of their hiding spot, and let the screaming Hinata and Kageyama hit them again and again, until they were kneeling on the ground. Kei’s glasses once again found themselves on the ground, but Kei quickly grabbed them and put them back on. Miraculously, they were not broken.

“Hey, Kageyama! Looks like we won!” Hinata said, pushing out his chest proudly.

Kageyama nodded. “Yeah.”

Kei gave a cunning sneer and tapped once on the ground with his index finger. Yamaguchi’s breathing changed beside him, and they launched themselves up, pelting the surprised pair with hit after hit. Kei chuckled madly, enjoying the look on Hinata’s face as he put his pillow up to protect himself. Kageyama smirked as he made wild swings at Yamaguchi, whose eyes were scrunched closed and a familiar sly smile lit up his expression as he swung back; he seemed to be enjoying himself.

Hinata made a sudden strike with his pillow, and he used so much force that it flew out of his hands. It made a beeline for Kei, who narrowly dodged it. However, as it kept going, it hit a lamp on the small stand on the far wall of the living room, knocking it over. It shattered on the floor, creating a noise that was far louder than all of their delighted laughter and screaming.

They all looked in terror at the broken lamp.

Yamaguchi covered his mouth with his hands. “Oh no.”

Kageyama smacked Hinata lightly upside the head, who had gone still and silent. “What the hell, you idiot? I don’t know how you’re going to fix this.”

Yamaguchi stepped forward. “I’ll help you, Hinata. C’mon, Tsukki.”

Kei let out a great sigh as he rolled his eyes. “I guess.”

Kageyama looked at Kei and back at Hinata and groaned. “I’ll help too.”

Hinata looked at the setter, flabbergasted. “Okay, but how?” His voice was soft and meek.

Kei brought his palm to his face and grumbled curses incoherently. “It’s not like there’s superglue just lying around. We’re going to have to dispose of it.”

Kageyama stepped forward. “We can’t just throw it away in the trash, though. We have to bury it, or something.”

“I have beach shovels,” Yamaguchi piped up.

“Great,” Kei said unenthusiastically, “Hinata and Kageyama will do the digging. Yamaguchi and I will stand watch. We are close enough to Daichi’s cabin that he could see us if we’re not careful.”

Hinata went to work gathering the porcelain shards of the broken lamp with a nearby broom and dustpan, and Yamaguchi went to get the shovels from his things in the closet. Once everything was ready, they quietly left the cabin.

It was dark outside, and Kei felt a weight lift off his shoulder. At least they wouldn’t easily be seen. The four tip-toed to the side of the cabin that was the farthest away from Cabin 13, and Kei stood behind with Yamaguchi to stand guard. The three Karasuno cabins were all in a cul-de-sac, so Kei had a perfect view of all three of them. Past the center second year cabin, whose lights were turned off, he could see Daichi’s cabin, whose lights were still on. He could even see the shadows of familiar silhouettes through the illuminated but curtained window. Kei knew that if that window was ever opened or looked through, they would all be caught red-handed.

Hinata and Kageyama dug furiously, a funny sight as Kei was witnessing such intense behavior being accomplished by the ironically childish beach shovels. They barely displaced the amount of dirt needed to properly bury the lamp, and Kei knew they would be out here for a while.

“Oh my god,” he said, voice alarmed, “It’s Daichi. He’s looking out the window.” He ducked behind the side of their cabin’s porch, and Yamaguchi did so as well.

Hinata and Kageyama panicked and they immediately let go of the shovels and plastered themselves to the wall of the cabin, both of them deathly still and not daring to even breathe.

However, Daichi was in fact not looking out the window. Kei and Yamaguchi chuckled to each other, taking great pleasure in having tricked the other pair.

Kageyama was the first to catch on. “Wait a second,” he whispered, and slowly turned his head to look at the captain’s cabin. When seeing there was nobody there, he made an indignant noise and went back to digging. “Damn you, Tsukishima.”

Kei laughed and went back to standing guard, leaning against the porch.

Eventually, they made a hole deep enough that they were able to dump all the pieces inside, including the lampshade and the shattered lightbulb. Motivated by their near completion of the task, they put the dirt back into the hole quickly, and once they were done patting it flat, they stood up.

Hinata wiped a bead of sweat off of his brow. “Holy crap, we’re done. It’s gone.”

Kageyama picked up the now empty dustpan and nodded resolutely at Hinata. “Let’s get back inside.”

They went in faster than they did coming outside, and Kei quietly shut the door behind them. They were all breathing heavily, the rush of adrenaline ebbing away.

Kageyama looked at other three freshmen. “I think we should all just go to sleep.”

“Yeah.”

Adjusting his glasses, Kei followed the group into the bedroom, and humorlessly took his pajamas from where he had placed them earlier that day; atop the rack on the right side of his and Yamaguchi’s closet. They were simple, a white shirt with a T-Rex on it and a ragged pair of olive sweatpants. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and put it on the bed. Facing away from the other two, he stripped out of his clothes and put on the pajamas quicker than Yamaguchi, who was still sliding on his shirt.

The shirt obscured his face, but Kei had a perfect view of Yamaguchi’s chest. Volleyball had done nothing but good to him, pulling his muscles taut under his lanky frame. Smatterings of freckles littered the corners of his sternum and rib cage. The brown specks pooled at his protruding hipbones, and they ringed a thin line of dark hair receding below his waistband.

Without warning, he felt his face heat up violently and he had to look away so Yamaguchi couldn’t see when he finally pulled his shirt down. “Tsukki. You doing okay?”

Kei willed the flush coating his pale cheeks down, and turned to regard Yamaguchi. He was looking up at him, genuinely worried, coffee brown hair spilling over his forehead and haloing his face.

Kei fought back the urge to clear the strands away. “I’m fine.”

Yamaguchi nodded. “If you say so.”

Kei walked to the other side of the bed, and put his glasses down on the nightstand. He fished the phone off of the bed and connected it into the charger he had plugged into the wall earlier. He switched off the lamp there as he took a deep breath and slid inside the covers.

The others turned off their lamp and Kei felt a warmth on the other side of the bed. Yamaguchi was there, and he was in the fetal position, facing Kei. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell softly. He opened one eye, and smiled when he caught Kei looking. “Goodnight, Tsukki,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Yamaguchi.”

Kei laid awake, and he listened as Yamaguchi’s breathing slowed, signifying his descent into sleep. He overheard tumbling and tossing from the other bed, and a grumbled “Stop hogging the blankets, dumbass Hinata.”

Kei heard a quiet chuckle. “Stop hogging the bed, then.”

Kei groaned. “Shut. Up.”

There was immediate silence from the other bed, and then some more tossing and turning. “Stop moving, Kageyama,” came Hinata’s whispery voice.

“God, Hinata,” the setter griped in response, his voice sounding just a little strained, “just face the closet.”

More tumbling, and then finally silence.

Kei looked at the moon through the window. It was half full and the stars surrounded it, twinkling brightly. Beside him, he felt Yamaguchi move slightly, compressing in on himself and inching closer to Kei. He mumbled something, but Kei couldn’t make it out.

He knew it was not that late, but he tried to sleep anyways. The day had been pretty long, and his energy was indeed sapped. Strangely, Kei found himself falling into unconsciousness not long after closing his eyes. 

Chapter Text

“Get off me, you asshole. Your fat ass is crushing my ribs.”

Tooru blinked his eyes open. A blinding ray of light shone on his face, and he screwed his eyes shut then yawned. He was pretty sure pillows didn’t talk, and he was very sure they didn’t have ribs. He took a deep breath and attempted to lift himself up, but he just fell back down, his head falling upon something firm.

“Oikawa, so help me god, if you don’t get off right now, you’re going to sleep outside of the cabin for the rest of the trip.”

Okay, that voice he recognized. Tooru opened his eyes and lifted his head up, and below him was a sleepily grumbling Iwaizumi, his eyes fluttering but still closed. Even through the haze of sleep, he still appeared irate and imposing.

He gave a cheeky smile. “Good morning to you too, Iwa-chan.”

Somehow, they had ended up in a position that had Tooru’s head and shoulders resting heavily upon Iwaizumi’s chest. They had certainly not fallen asleep like that. Tooru distinctly remembered Iwaizumi pushing him off the night before, and then got into a fetal position, facing away from him. Tooru had settled for mirroring his pose, looking towards his back. Now, however, Iwaizumi was lying flat on the mattress, arms loosely cradling Tooru. His legs were laced with the wing spiker’s, and he couldn’t help but feel blissfully at home.   

Tooru watched as Iwaizumi fully opened his steely green eyes, and smirked as they focused on his own. Tooru felt the wing spiker’s hands shift along his back, and they snapped away as soon as he realized exactly where they were. “What the hell.”

Tooru, wishing to toy with Iwaizumi further, snuggled into him. “It’s just me, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi was having none of it. He quickly sat up and removed himself from Tooru’s grasp. His gray muscle tank was riding up his tanned back, and his form was silhouetted against the morning sun. Yawning, he pulled the shirt down over his black sweatpants and walked away from the bed, leaving Tooru to lie in the warm spot he left behind.

The bedroom was empty except for the two of them. The bed opposite from Tooru’s had it covers haphazardly strewn across the mattress; Hanamaki and Matsukawa must have already awoken. Tooru sat up on the bed and looked to the alarm clock on the nightstand. In shining red numbers, it read 9:53 am. Iwaizumi walked out the door, leaving Tooru alone in the bedroom.

It was not uncommon for Tooru to wake up late, and today was no exception. They had a long day yesterday, what with sitting in a bus nearly twelve hours and staying up all night watching reruns of The X Files on his phone. Nevertheless, Tooru was awake now, and two things occurred to him at the same time: 1) that he was hungry, and 2) that he officially had two weeks’ worth of free time.   

He stood up, and walked out of the bedroom into the main part of their cabin. Iwaizumi was digging through a stash of food he had stolen from the buffet last night, looking for something to eat. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were already there, and the former waved his fingers at Tooru. “Good morning, sleeping beauty. Sleep well?”

“Yes,” replied Tooru, “I am beautiful and I did sleep well.”

From the kitchenette, Iwaizumi scoffed.

“Well, I’m hungry,” Matsukawa said, standing from the recliner and stretching out his arms. “Should we go back to the buffet?”

Tooru shook his head. “I have a better idea. We should go to the one on the beach.” Or at least, that’s what was decided by him and the other captains last night.

Hanamaki turned around, his dark eyes wide with interest. “There’s another buffet?”

Tooru scoffed. “There’re a lot of things at this resort.” As captain, Tooru had complete knowledge of what this entire place had to offer—he, after all, was one of the people who picked it out. Iwaizumi, as his best friend and vice-captain, knew bits and pieces of the vacation’s plan, but the entire idea had been sprung onto his team a mere two days ago. It had come as quite a surprise.

“Great. I’m going to get dressed.” Iwaizumi walked away from the food stash, gulping down the last of the agedashi tofu he blatantly stole from the buffet, and reentered the bedroom.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were already dressed, the former in a sand-colored tank with white shorts, and the latter wearing a graphic tee and blue plaid shorts. The pair sauntered out the door, and Matsukawa shouted a lax “We’ll be outside” over his shoulder.

Tooru wandered back into the bedroom, and was greeted to the sight of Iwaizumi’s bare back. 

It was no secret that the wing spiker was absolutely shredded, each muscle perfectly toned and pulled taut under tan skin. Tooru was almost certain his washboard abs came in an 8-pack. He looked stunning, like a Greek god descended unto Earth, and honestly, everyone on the Aoba Jousai volleyball team aspired to be as ripped as Iwaizumi Hajime.

Tooru caught him just as he was putting on a two-toned, white and red V-neck, the muscles at his arms and shoulders rippling as he pulled it down and regrettably covered his torso. The pale part of the shirt offset the color of his skin, making him look more sun-kissed than he usually did. After running a hand through his short, spiky black hair, he turned around to meet Tooru’s unfaltering gaze.

“What the hell, Trashkawa? Were you just staring at me the entire time?” There was a flush rising on his face, and his brows were just a little more pinched together than usual, signifying embarrassment more than anything.

“Nope,” Tooru replied truthfully, “just got here a few seconds ago. And by the way, rockin’ back, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi let out a deep breath and shook his head, groaning as he pulled his phone from its charger and put it into his pocket. “C’mon and change already, you moron. You’re the only who knows where we’re going.” And with that, he grabbed his sunglasses from the nightstand and left the room.

Tooru gave a curt and resolute nod, and opened the closet door. After a bit of contemplation, he selected a light green tank top with an ice cream cone design and a pair of ripped denim shorts. This specific pair was very short, and was sure to irritate a few choice people. Tooru also picked out his favorite white flip flops, and quickly jumped into those. He took off his white alien print T-shirt and dark blue shorts, throwing them into the open closet. Changing into his new clothes rapidly, he wasted no time in taking his pair of cat-eye sunglasses and a comb, and headed directly to the bathroom.

Tooru used the comb to brush his chestnut hued hair. It swept flawlessly to one side, floating like a halo on his head. There were a few messy stands, but Tooru always kept them as it enhanced his perfect windblown hairstyle. He splashed water on his face, a few small droplets clinging to long, dark eyelashes. Tooru’s chocolate colored eyes looked back at him with satisfaction, and he patted his face dry with a soft towel. He hooked the sunglasses on his shirt and winked at his reflection. Now, he was ready to leave.

He met the three other hanging out by the reclining chair on the porch. Just as expected, when Iwaizumi saw his shorts, his cheeks became red and a scowl formed on his face. Tooru only smirked and continued off the porch, making sure to swing his hips as he did so. With a beckoning wave, Seijou's third years were off.

"This way, guys! Keep up!" Tooru called. He led them down the cobblestone road, and turned sharply left, onto the rest of the path that the other teams had walked down yesterday. From the fork they found there, Tooru turned right, onto a sandy path surrounded by tall grasses and wispy reeds. A few tropical flowers bloomed here and there, and they crossed a barrier of shady palm trees into the beach. The sun was beating down on them, and Tooru knew he was right to bring only short-sleeved shirts and shorts, unlike Iwaizumi, who had stubbornly packed plaid button ups, sweater hoodies, and even a light coat. Tooru assumed it was because he wanted to conceal his body, lest unsuspecting others fell under the spell his robust muscles cast.

Tooru had only been to a beach a few times before, when his older sister was still living at home. They had not been to beaches like this though: with fine pale sand, cushioned lounge chairs consistently spaced throughout the entire area, and pristine blue seawater striking the coast at even intervals. Seashells peppered the area, and the children playing there were busy making elaborate sand castles.

Tooru thought it would be a wonderful scene to paint. He had brought his canvas-paper sketchbooks and all of his paint tubes to this vacation, with the full intention to capture the beauty of the ocean and the tropical life with his brushes. Besides volleyball, it was one of few things Tooru really enjoyed doing, never mind it being therapeutical for him. He imagined he would use a combination of bright aquamarine, midnight blue, vivid cerulean, and a soft emerald for the flowing ocean, using tawny ochre, pale yellow, and titanium white for the sand and clouds, and a light azure for the endless sky.

The world, as he learned, wasn’t one static color; it was a myriad of hues. They all mingled and blended together to create a seamless reality, one that he was able to almost perfectly recreate on his canvas.

"Damn," remarked Hanamaki, snapping Tooru from his thoughts, "how much did this place cost?"

"A lot," Tooru answered. Turning right again, they made their way through the perfectly manicured beach to a large wooden structure. It was slightly elevated off the ground, and it had a thatched roof covered with dried palm leaves and fishing net. They were already familiar people there, and Tooru couldn't help but think they were the last ones to arrive.

Well, he always liked to be fashionably late.

Thankfully, they had not arrived so late that the food was already picked clean and gone. Tooru knew that breakfast here was only until 10:30, so they had arrived right on time. To his pleasant surprise, he found a nearly untouched loaf of milk bread at one of the buffet tables. He made a beeline for it, and placed three slices on a plate. He grabbed little containers of butter and graciously accepted a fluffy waffle from a cook. He piled on the fruit and syrup; he couldn't help having a insatiable sweet tooth.

"Oikawa, you're going to get cavities," came the voice of Iwaizumi, who trailed behind him holding a plate of over easy eggs sprinkled with dried rosemary and rolls of buttered bread. He looked disapprovingly at Tooru's platter.

"Who are you, my mom?" Tooru stuck out his tongue petulantly, "I'll eat whatever I want, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi gave him a death glare but let him proceed. The four of them gathered up their breakfast and sat down at the sole remaining table, and Tooru took the seat next to Iwaizumi.

Eating a bit of the waffle, he felt his lips rise into a smile. It was rich and sugary, and some would say almost saccharine. Tooru had chosen blueberries and mango to put on it, and he didn’t regret a single bite. He took slow mouthfuls of it at a time, savoring the flavors. When he started working on the milk bread, he thought he had died and been delivered into paradise. He unhurriedly drank the fruit smoothie he got, draining it completely, smacking his lips when he finished.

When he finally looked up, his teammates were long done with their food, and Iwaizumi gave him a jaded expression. He had always chastised Tooru for being a slow eater, and by now, he thinks the wing spiker was used to his habits, even the more eccentric ones, after more than a decade of being best friends with him. “You done?” he asked bitterly, “Because it looks like the other captains are talking about something important over there.”

Tooru looked over to the center of the buffet, and the four other captains were indeed conversing amongst themselves. “Yeah, I’m going to go,” Tooru said, getting up out of his chair and meandering over to them.

Daichi was the first to notice him, and he turned to greet him with an easy smile. “Hey, Oikawa. Have a good breakfast?”

“I did.” He glanced over to the other captains, and couldn’t help the frown that formed when he looked at Ushijima. Tooru had agreed to play nice for the sake of this vacation, but that didn’t mean he could make faces at a long-time rival of his. As always, Ushijima locked gazes with him and didn’t even flinch.

“Okay,” said Kuroo, Nekoma’s captain, breaking the obvious tension, “what are we gonna do today?”

Fukuroudani’s captain, a man named Bokuto, put his hands on his hips and gave a delighted expression. “There’re plenty of things to do here! Where to start?”

“I think we should ask the others, put it to a vote,” Daichi said, being his usual fair, egalitarian self. He had spoken loudly, and those who were sitting close to them and were effectively eavesdropping on their conversation looked up at them suddenly, and soon, all the teams followed suit. “What do you guys wanna do?” Daichi repeated.

“We could go to the water park!” shouted Hinata from two tables away, face alit with happiness. Next to him, Kageyama looked slightly terrified. As to why, Tooru hadn’t the faintest idea.

“Or the beach! We could build a huge sand castle!” called Lev. Somehow, Tooru doubted anything would seem huge to him.

“You guys, you guys,” Nishinoya spoke, putting his palms up, his eyes closed smugly, “I have a way better idea.” He opened his eyes to survey the crowd, and smiled: “We could all go to this cliff on the east side of the beach! It’s massive and it looks over the ocean, and we could all dive off it. Asahi and I were walking around when saw it last night, an—”

“Wait just a second,” Tooru said, smirking. He knew what they were talking about, as he had read about it while sifting through Yelp reviews on the resort’s page, and he also knew that the cliff wasn’t easily found. What were they doing near an area as secluded as that cliff? “What were you two doing out last night? And near a cliff?” Tooru had always suspected something was up with those two, and that little tidbit of information he let slip could be evidence of it. Smiling wickedly, Tooru decided to pry in deeper. “How’d you even find it?”

He felt Iwaizumi kick him in the shin (he had apparently wandered over some time after Tooru left his table) as he noticed a flicker of panic run through the libero’s eyes. However, it was replaced with confusion, and then he started laughing. “Um, we were exploring, of course!” He stopped laughing with a look of perplexity, “What did you think we were doing?”

Asahi, sitting next him, was silent and seemed to be very interested in a spot just above his table’s centerpiece. He had pursed his lips together and was folding and unfolding his hands nervously. He looked worriedly to Nishinoya, and then to Tooru. When he met Tooru’s gaze, Asahi quickly whipped his head to the side, breaking eye contact, his face flushed bright red.

Murmurs broke out around them. Some were chuckling, and some were shrugging.

“Anyways,” Daichi’s insistent voice broke the fog, “that sounds like a really cool place, Noya. Do you guys want to go to the cliff?”

The same voices now spoke in agreement, loud and clear.

“But wait! I’m not even wearing my swim trucks!” cried Bokuto. When Tooru went to look at him, he saw a look of genuine distress on his face.

“Then go change, bro,” came Kuroo’s swift reply, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Bro,” Bokuto said, clutching an area on his chest where his heart would be.

Tooru did want to go to the cliff, and he also didn’t have his swim trunks on him. A foolish decision on his part, seeing as most of the activities in the resort had something to do with water, and therefore getting wet was a unavoidable consequence.

“C’mon, I don’t have my trunks either,” Iwaizumi said, grabbing his wrist and leading him away, towards their cabin.

“What about Makki and Mattsun?” Tooru asked.

“The shorts they had on were their swim trunks.” Out of the corner of his eye, Tooru saw the pair heading forwards past the sandy road, following a group that already had their swim trunks on.

Tooru let Iwaizumi lead him all the way back to their cabin, his bigger hand warm on his wrist. He was essentially dragging Tooru, and only let go of him to unlock the door. Even though Tooru was the one who passed out the keys last night, Iwaizumi refused to let him be responsible for one. He had ripped right out of his hand without batting an eye.

The cabin was quiet except for their footsteps, and Tooru wasted no time in entering the bedroom and looking through the closet for a pair of swim trunks. Eventually, he decided on a muted purple one with white accents. Next to him, Iwaizumi took out a black and olive one. He turned around, and scowled.

“Do you mind?” he said quietly, eyeing Tooru. He glanced down at his shorts and back to Tooru, signifying that he was about to change.

Tooru laughed, and slipped out of his shorts, leaving only his black boxers on. Iwaizumi’s cheeks turned reddish as he scowled deeper and turned back around. Tooru turned his back on him, and completely shimmied out of the boxers to slide on the swim trunks. After tying a knot on the waistband to secure them, he turned around and caught a glimpse of tan-lined skin as Iwaizumi pulled up his trunks. The wing spiker would have seen him, but he turned around a split-second too late; Tooru had already looked away.

“Are you done, Iwa-chan?” Tooru called, still looking forwards.

“Yeah. Let’s go, the others are waiting.” Tooru wasn’t sure, but he could’ve sworn he heard an inkling of a smile in his voice.

Tooru turned around, and Iwaizumi had a pair of goggles in his hand. “What? I don’t want to get seawater in my eyes.”

Tooru scoffed. “Neither do I, but the straps would ruin my hair and give me marks on my face.”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “You’re so vain.”

Tooru smiled falsely. He gathered up two beach towels and a bottle of sunscreen. He dumped it all in a plain blue canvas bag, took his sunglasses off of his shirt and put them on. “Let’s go.”

The pair walked out, and the sun was getting a little hotter and higher in the sky. Tooru could see from a distance that there were more people at the beach now, lounging about sipping tropical drinks and splashing around in the cool water. As they walked closer and closer, the scent of salt became stronger, and Tooru could taste it on his tongue.

They walked the way the others had when they arrived on the beach, following the many footsteps imprinted on the sand. The two of them only had to traverse a flimsy barrier of palm trees hidden from the general beach area to see what Karasuno’s libero had been talking about.

In front of them was a massive rocky cliff, at least 3 stories tall, flanked by a much smaller one closer to Tooru and one that was perhaps half its size the farthest away, but could be seen from the cavity the largest one created. The beaches between the cliffs were completely isolated except for the familiar faces Tooru saw that were busy running out of the water and back up the biggest, center cliff. As he looked up to its edge, a figure which he made out to be Nishinoya was triple-back-flipping without fear to the water below, hooting and screaming, and creating a huge splash as he cannonballed in.

Tooru felt excitement bloom in his chest, and he made a mad dash towards the sandy road that led up the center cliff. He could hear Iwaizumi behind him, and soon the wing spiker surpassed him in a show of his excellent athleticism, running all the way up to the top, where a couple people had stayed behind to create a sort of base.

Once he was there, Tooru dumped his bag on the smooth ground, toed off his flip-flops, and tore off his shirt. “Alright, this looks fun as shit!”

Iwaizumi emulated his actions, ripping off the shirt to expose his tanned chest and broad shoulders; Tooru took the moment to admire his six-pack.

“Hey, Oikawa,” a soaking wet Hanamaki called from behind him as he turned to look, “What’s up?” Not far behind, Tooru could see the rest of the Seijou team trail up the cliff. Some completely ignored him (like Kyoutani) and other happily waved to him (like Yahaba). Matsukawa stayed behind and latched himself next to Hanamaki, as he usually did. It would be strange to see those two apart.

“Nothing right now,” Tooru said, looking for Iwaizumi and finding him being greeted by all of the rest of the Seijou team, “how’s the water?”

“Cold,” Matsukawa said instantly, thick brows furrowing, “but it’s hot out, so I guess it’s refreshing.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Hanamaki chided, “it’s not that cold. I think the sun has actually begun heating it up.” He grabbed onto Matsukawa’s wrist and dragged him towards the edge, “We’re gonna jump now. Peace.” And they did, taking ridiculously dramatic swan dives right off, and they disappeared from sight.

Scanning the cliff, he found that only a few people had not jumped yet, but of those few, there was only one he found to be interesting.

It looked like Kageyama had not jumped yet, and was being pestered by his small ginger friend to go jump off with him. He looked, for the lack of a better word, mildly horrified. Tooru thought that the two were highly competitive, and once prompted by Hinata, he would be the first one to dive off the cliff. This information didn’t sit well with Tooru, but he decided he didn’t care now. Iwaizumi was standing at the edge of cliff, looking down.

Standing next to Iwaizumi, Tooru could see what he was staring at. The water below them was clear and shifting, and he wondered how the water would feel like after he dove in. Whenever Tooru had been to a beach, the ocean was always a bit murky and littered with algae and other sea plants. He had not minded, but this part of the Pacific certainly seemed like a luxury and was well worth the money they had spent.

“Ready?” he called to Iwaizumi, not taking his eyes off of the water, and backing up as if he was about to run a race.

“Ready.”

And Tooru took a running leap, lifting his feet of the ground and jumping up. He felt as if he was about to perform one of his famed jump serves, but he had no ball to hit and his feet didn’t strike solid ground. He could feel the rushing wind race up his falling body, and he let out a whoop of excitement. He had a split second to look to the side, and saw Iwaizumi in a standard diving position with a huge smile on his face and goggled eyes. Tooru quickly assumed the cannonball stance and felt the impact all the way up his back and thighs as he crashed into the sea.

He felt weightless under the water, and used his arms to propel himself up. Tooru swung his hands over his head, swimming leftwards and out of the way for other potential divers.

Iwaizumi soon resurfaced, exhaling and putting his goggles over his hairline. “That was awesome.”

Tooru was smiling, and he could feel the crow’s feet form around his eyes; this was one of his candid smiles. “Hell yeah.”

At the sight of Tooru’s smile, Iwaizumi did so as well, and soon they were laughing, burning off the adrenaline of the hugely dangerous jump they had just done. They swam to the beach, and as soon as Tooru’s feet hit the sand, he whipped his head to the side and combed his fingers through his scalp, reforming his hair so that it maintained its style. Iwaizumi didn’t have to do anything to his dripping hair; it was so short that nothing could weigh it down significantly enough to change the style it was in.

They made it to the top, and Tooru plopped down onto the ground near his bag. Looking inside of it, he saw the tube of sunscreen realized he had not applied any before jumping off. Shrugging happily, he chalked it up to it being one of his impulsivities.

He grabbed a beach towel to dry himself off, which he quickly did, and squeezed a bit of the sunblock onto his fingers. It smelled like summer; like coconuts and that ever-present familiar tinge of zinc. Tooru’s skin was rather fair, and he didn’t tan so much as easily burn an embarrassing pink if he was left out in the sun for too long. He slathered the sunscreen all throughout his arms, shoulders, and chest, and he had to get more sunblock to have enough to adequately cover the entirety of his calves and halfway up his thighs. He was finishing up with a bit on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose when he saw Iwaizumi approaching, spraying on an aerosol sunscreen onto himself. The wing spiker didn’t really need it, as he almost never got sunburns. He just seemed to get tanner over the summer, and the extra color faded away during the winter.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru said in a persuasive tone, “do my back for me. I can’t reach.”

Iwaizumi groaned. “What are you, a child? Do it yourself.”

Tooru let out a petulant groan of his own. “But I want you to do it. It’s easier for me if you do.” After receiving a vindictive glare from Iwaizumi, Tooru looked up at him from under long eyelashes. He put his lips into a pout, “Please?”

Iwaizumi gritted his teeth together and sighed. He sat down behind Tooru and he felt the aerosol can spray onto his back. “There. All done.”

Tooru looked back at the wing spiker, who was already standing up to walk away. “C’mon, Iwa-chan, I know you can do better than that.”

After another death glare, Iwaizumi sat back down and swiped the tube of sunblock from Tooru’s hands. He straightened his posture, letting his shoulders fall back and his chest puff out.

He felt a hand slide down his spine, leaving a trail of sunscreen in its wake. The touch felt slightly electric, and he quickly assumed it was because there were a bunch of nerve endings on the spine and it wasn’t Iwaizumi’s fault. His other hand joined in and they both trailed up, rubbing the sunblock into the curve of Tooru’s shoulder blades, even going as far up as the crook of his neck. Tooru would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a spark under his skin at the trail the wing spiker left behind. Iwaizumi’s palms brushed back down over to Tooru’s sides, and the wing spiker pressed down there, knowing full well that Tooru was ticklish in those areas.

Tooru felt his cheeks heat up, and he suppressed the mad chuckling that threatened to spill over. “Careful.”

Iwaizumi gave a low groan in response. Soon after, however, he had finished rubbing the sunblock into Tooru’s skin and stood up quickly. Tooru turned to look behind him; the wing spiker’s face was a bit red and he was doing his best not to make eye contact with Tooru.

Tooru stood up as well, and put his hand over his mouth in a false chuckle. “Was it really that bad, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You really are a child,” he retorted before going off to talk with the rest of the Seijou team, who were beckoning him to them.

Tooru giggled at that retort. Now the sun warmed his skin harmlessly, and he rather enjoyed the sensation. Maybe he would finally be able to tan, and he was sure that all the girls in his fan club back home would eat it up. He looked around, surveying his surroundings once more, and once again laid eyes on Kageyama, who still hadn’t jumped.

He expected such behavior from someone like Kenma, who surely was dragged outside his cabin in the first place by Kuroo. However, when he glanced around, he saw Nekoma’s setter sitting down wrapped in a towel, his long, two-toned hair drenched and sticking to his face. He was currently holding a coconut and scratching a design into. Tooru thought he looked like a wet cat.

Looking back at the completely dry Kageyama, he furrowed his brows together. Okay, now this is unacceptable. He stood up and marched right up to him.

Kageyama saw him coming, and put up a defensive scowl. “What do you want?”

If anything, Tooru thought he himself should be the bitter one, seeing as Karasuno was the team that beat Seijou in the Spring Tournament’s semi-finals.

“It’s such a beautiful day out, Tobio-chan.” At the sound of his mocking nickname, Kageyama recoiled a bit. “It’s also really hot.” To emphasize that point, Tooru made a dramatic waving motion, fanning himself in the unbearable heat. Tooru looked Kageyama straight in the eyes, “why haven’t you been in the cool, refreshing water yet?”

Hinata, the unbelievably good sport that he was, managed to break through the rivalry of their teams to position himself next to Tooru, staring down Kageyama in a similar way. “Yeah, Kageyama.”

Kageyama backed up a bit, and looked down to the beach beneath him. It was a two-story drop from his location, and he wouldn’t have the water to break his fall. “What, so now I can’t do what I want? Jeez, it’s a vacation, let me live.”

Tooru didn’t skip a beat. “But we’re at a beach. It would be a shame to come to such a place and for you to not at least wet your toes a bit. But you haven’t even done that.”

Kageyama slipped away from the corner they were backing him into, rushing past Hinata, an easy feat, and backing towards the edge of the cliff. “Nope. Because I don’t want to.”

Tooru grinned. “You must be sweating. Don’t you want to cool off?”

As if the Fates were listening in on that conversation, a convenient bead of sweat rolled down Kageyama’s face, landing on his bare collarbone. At least he had taken off his shirt and had on a pair of swim trunks; he wasn’t totally against a proper beach vacation. The setter’s face was a tiny bit sunburned, and it made him look as if he was blushing in mortification. It was a satisfying expression to Tooru, to say the least.

Kageyama took a step back as Tooru took a step forward. “Listen, Oikawa, I don’t wanna get in the water. Not today.”

“I bet Chibi-chan over here has already challenged you to tons of jumps,” Tooru said, and Hinata, who had been observing the spectacle from the side, nodded fervently. “He’s your best friend; why don’t you humor him? He’s done so much for you. He’s made you into the setter you are today, Tobio-chan. Without him, I don’t think you would have gotten as far as you have. I’d say you owe him at least this much.”

Hinata furrowed his brows at Tooru’s little monologue. “Yeah, Kageyama! All I want is one jump.”

Tooru smirked. His words, always so masterfully chosen and arranged, have always been able to sway the thoughts of many a person, and Hinata was, to be eloquent, highly suggestible. Kageyama was proving to be a bit of a challenge, as he was as obstinate as always. But Tooru always loved a challenge.

Kageyama swallowed audibly, and he directed his navy glare at Tooru. “No.”

“C’mon Tobio-chan. One jump,” he commanded, his words expertly laced with careful, if apparent, persuasion. Tooru kept backing him to the edge, and only stopped when there was almost no cliff left behind Kageyama. He looked down again, and the skin on his face instantly lost all its color.

“No,” Kageyama repeated, his voice taking on a stubborn tone, but Tooru noticed a bit of urgency in his speech as well.

Tooru chuckled, and an impish whim occurred to him. Having low control over his impulses, he followed through with it. “You don’t want to? That sucks. You’re going to anyway.”

Before he could register what he said, Tooru put his hands on Kageyama’s chest and pushed him off the cliff in one fluid motion. However, what he shrieked on the way down made Tooru immediately regret his actions.

“I CAN’T SWIIIM!” His terror-stuck, blood-curdling scream echoed across the cliffs, catching everyone’s attention. It almost unnervingly cut off with a massive splash, and was replaced with a disturbing stillness.

Almost instantly, Daichi threw off his shirt and wordlessly dived after Kageyama, completely ignoring Tooru and those around him, his face unreadable.

“Oh my god!” Hinata’s panicked voice came, “Kageyama’s dead! He’s dying, that’s it, he’s gone! Oh my god, I have to help him!” He screwed his eyes shut and jumped gracelessly off the cliff in an attempt to save his best friend.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi’s rage-filled voice tore through the silence. “He could die!” The wing spiker made a beeline for Tooru, and clamped his hands around his throat with clear intent to harm. However, once he realized what he was doing, he promptly let go with a huff, “I can’t believe you. What the fuck, Oikawa?! That wasn’t fucking funny, he’s drowni—”

“Well,” Tooru cut him off, “you can keep yelling at me all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s already down there drowning. Now, you’re more than welcome to continue shouting at me, or you can dive and help save him so that you’re only yelling at me about accidental attempted murder instead of accidental homicide.”

The silence returned, and everyone listening in on the argument paled at Tooru’s choice of words. 

Iwaizumi spitefully clicked his tongue. “I really hate you.” He then noiselessly dove off the cliff. Tooru felt his heart beat fearfully in his chest, and he tried not show it on his face. He only looked out into the horizon, anywhere but the ocean where Kageyama had fallen into.

*   *   *

Silence.

That’s all Tobio heard as he crashed inside the water, and its murky tendrils grabbed onto him, dragging him down and down. He tried to fight it, to go up towards the surface, but his actions were fruitless and it somehow sunk him further. He didn’t know which direction he was moving in, and the more he resisted, the more disoriented he got.

Tobio was blinded, the salt of the sea burning his eyes and forcing them shut. He tried to take a breath, but he was suffocated by the sudden intake of cold water. His heart pounded, and he could feel the blood rushing behind his eyes and in his ears. His lungs burned for more air, and he instinctively, foolishly, took a breath. Acrid water filled his chest, choking him.

Tobio struggled against the current, but it swept him away easily as if he was a piece of litter. He thrashed his arms desperately and kicked furiously, but he could find no leverage; for all he knew he was pushing himself further down into the dark abyss of the ocean. He felt darkness start to engulf him, and he stopped fighting as to become subservient to the shadowy depths of the sea.

Then, a splash. It seemed muffled and distant, but it was loud enough that it caught Tobio’s fading attention. There was a rush of water, and soon he felt something warm circle his waist and force him up. Tobio broke the surface of the water, and tried to breath, to move, or show any sort of sign of life. He felt paralyzed, and soon felt his head plunge underneath the water again.

Ripples in the water signified that a second one approached, and he felt the two hook their hands under his arms, and dragged him forwards. It wasn’t long before Tobio felt his feet brush firm sand and soon he was out of the water, being laid out on soft ground. His felt as if his entire body was made of ice, yet his lungs felt as if they were on fire.

There were disembodied murmurs around him, as well as the sound of a crowd forming. “Daichi, his lips are turning blue,” came the fearful tone of a familiar voice, the sound of it barely there and muffled, “he needs CPR right now.”

“Suga, I don’t know CPR.”

“Do you know anyone who does?”

“Out of the way.” This voice was new, and it came accompanied by rapid footsteps, and then a thump, as if the person had kneeled down beside Tobio. “I know what to do.”

“Do you even know what you’re going to do?” muttered another, incredulous voice.

“Shut up. I know what to do,” he repeated. There was a bit of silence, “He’s not breathing.” The voice became quiet and fretful, and Tobio felt someone touch a spot just under his jawbone. “It’s thready, but he’s got a pulse,” he declared. Murmurs filled the background.

There was more silence, and Tobio felt someone (perhaps the source of that voice) press down on his heart hard, forcing it to beat again. After several pulses and a break in between (probably to check for breathing), someone tilted his chin up and pinched his nose closed. Something warm and wet enveloped his clammy lips, and he felt oxygen rush into him. Tobio suddenly felt the water lurch from his lungs, and he sat up suddenly, coughing out that horrible seawater. His chest burned, and he bumped his head into something solid, and then he heard someone cry out, and it sounded very close.

He opened his eyes, blinking out the water, and saw that none other than Oikawa was kneeling next to him, still reeling from the blow that Tobio gave him. It took Tobio about three seconds to realize what had been done to him.

In horror, he started gagging again and he fell back, and Oikawa immediately went down to check on him, tilting his chin up and pinching his nose again, and Oikawa had put his mouth to Tobio’s for an approximate millisecond before he ripped himself away from Seijou’s setter.

“What the fuck,” Tobio managed to choke out, the words hoarse and raspy. “What the—” he started to cough again. After his fit subsided, he was sure all the water was gone from his lungs, being replaced with cool, fresh oxygen.

“What do you mean, ‘what the fuck’?” Oikawa said, face indignant. “I saved your life.”

“IT’S YOUR FAULT I ALMOST DIED IN THE FIRST PLACE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” Tobio swore he was going to murder him. He stood up, brushing the excess water from his mouth and swiping his long bangs away from his brow. He marched towards Oikawa with deadly intent, before being held back by arms which belonged to Daichi and probably Sugawara.

“It’s not worth it, Kageyama,” Sugawara said from behind him, but Tobio was stubborn and relentless. He fought against the arms holding him back, much like he did the waves, and swore to god he was going to break Oikawa’s perfect little face. There he was, looking falsely shocked at Tobio’s violent reaction. Wrath boiled inside him.

“Kageyama, no,” Daichi commanded.

Tobio whipped their arms away from him, glaring daggers at Oikawa. He was winded, and was breathing heavily as more people emerged from the beach. Turning around, it was Kuroo and Bokuto carrying a gasping Hinata. When they let Hinata tumble to the ground, he coughed up a bit of water, but immediately stood up and zeroed in on Tobio.

“Kageyama! Oh my god, you’re alive!” Hinata rushed over, and embraced Tobio. The middle blocker’s thin arms encircled his chest and his wet, drooping hair brushed the bottom of Tobio’s jaw. Since Hinata just emerged from the cold ocean, he chilled the areas of Tobio’s steadily warming torso he covered as if he were made of melting ice. “I thought you were dead,” he sobbed into Tobio’s chest.

Tobio froze in place. He felt heat rising up his neck and to his face. Hinata had never actually hugged him before, and this was new and strangely intimate and not unpleasant. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he put them on Hinata’s back, and let them rest there. Tobio’s heart was pounding, and he knew it wasn’t because of the adrenaline from the accident.

Despite his better judgement, he kept his hands on Hinata when the smaller boy pulled away, his eyes red and tearful. Hinata’s skin felt warm now under his palms, and the shape of his shoulders fit in his hands like a glove. A ridiculous urge rose up in Tobio; the desire to pull Hinata back against his chest and trail his hands to the small of Hinata’s back, and maybe put one gently under his chin, tilt it up, and—

Woah. Tobio let go of Hinata as quickly as possible and tore his gaze away from him. Tobio mentally cursed himself; how could he think such things? How could he let such a stupid little crush get this far? How could he let it take root so deep in his heart, ingrain itself so intensely in his psyche that he can’t escape the thoughts it made him think, the emotions it made him feel?

Tobio knew he couldn’t be in love with Hinata. It was inappropriate and wrong, and Hinata was sure to never speak to him again he ever found out.

“Kageyama?” Hinata asked, breaking his chain of thought. “Are you okay?”

Tobio looked down and met Hinata’s warm eyes, and they shone like precious amber underneath the sun. Looking away again, he replied: “’M fine.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and Tobio looked to the side. Daichi was there, and he looked concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay, Kageyama?”

“Yes, I’m okay. I’m fine now.”

Daichi nodded. “You know, Kageyama, you should really learn how to swim. It’s a vital skill to have in situations like these, and it’s pretty simple.”

Tobio hid his face in his hands. As if his near-death experience wasn’t enough, his embarrassing secret was just revealed to everyone he knew. “I just never learned,” he groaned.

Daichi chuckled in that strangely comforting way that he does. “If you want, I could teach you.”

Tobio furrowed his brows and stared at the captain incredulously. “What?”

“Yeah. I’ll teach you. You might as well learn, and enjoy this beach vacation to the fullest.”

Tobio looked out into the ocean, where he had almost drowned. His heart started to race, and he sharply turned away. However, he would not let fear dictate his actions.

“Okay, fine. Teach me how to swim.”

Daichi looks at the ocean, and then back at Kageyama. He started chuckling suddenly, and gave an apologetic look. “It’d be easier to teach you if you had floaties or something, like when little kids learn for the first time.”

Tobio nodded in agreement and hopefully convincingly enough that Daichi wouldn’t be able to discern the nervousness plaguing his expression.

Tobio was sure his day could not get worse.

And as if the universe had decided to take a dump on him at that very moment, that little shit Tsukishima walked forward from the shadows of the crowd that had formed while Tobio had been resuscitated.  The blond was sneering, and Tobio had a really bad feeling about what he was going to say.

“Daichi, did you say floaties? If you did, I know exactly where you can find some.” At Tsukishima’s side was a mischievously smiling Yamaguchi who looked at Tobio with amusement. Of course the middle blocker went and told him; Tobio could only pray he hadn’t told anyone else.

“Kageyama brought a pair. They’re in his suitcase back at the cabin. I’m sure he’d be glad to take you there.”

Tobio felt a piece of his soul wither and die. Dread and mortification flooded his system, an unenjoyable combination to say the least, and he willed his head to turn to face the captain.

Daichi gave a pleased expression at Tsukishima, and Tobio was sure he was so with the purest intentions. He was not a deceptive or ill-wishing person. After all, look where they were; at a beach resort vacation paid for by their ex-nemesis, who Daichi had made friends with. “Thank you, Tsukishima.” He turned back to face Tobio, offering him the towel in his hand. “Take this. Let’s go.”

Wrapping the warm towel around his shoulders, the two were off, with Hinata on their heels.

Throughout the entire walk to his cabin, Tobio looked anywhere but the captain. His steps were clipped, his posture unnaturally straight. Stealing a glance out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Daichi was looking ahead, his posture relaxed as if nothing at all was wrong. It caused Tobio become just a bit more dead on the inside.

“Hey, you doing okay, Kageyama? You don’t look so good. Is there any more water left in your lungs?” Hinata inquired, a worried hand tentatively brushing Tobio’s shoulder.

Tobio jerked his shoulder, effectively getting Hinata to remove his hand. “I’m fine.”

It had not taken long for them to reach Cabin 11, and Kageyama grudgingly unlocked the door, leading the two others inside.

Once indoors, Tobio slowly led Daichi into the bedroom, and saw Hinata hadn’t made the bed like he had asked him to in the morning. He felt a small spike of annoyance, but he quickly shrugged it off. More memories of the morning came; Tobio remembered the brightness of dawn, the lazy haze of morning, a warmth against his chest, the feeling of a pair of legs loosely laced with his own…

He shook his head curtly, dispelling all his current thoughts. Not now.

He went to open the closet doors, and he felt his every nerve fight against it as he did so, and he reluctantly opened his suitcase. He felt Hinata peer over his shoulder, and he grimaced as Daichi picked up the pink and orange floaties.

Tobio didn’t remember packing the floaties. He distinctly recalled never even opening the closet where they were stored; he adamantly refused to even consider bringing them. Tobio thought he could get away not entering any body of water for the entirety of this trip. Pondering how they got to be in the suitcase, he suspected his mother had a hand in it. Perhaps she had snuck them in while Tobio was asleep. He certainly wouldn’t put it past her.

Hinata put his hand to his mouth, trying to cover up his laughter. Tobio felt spited, and gave him a sharp glare. Hinata instantly shut up, but continued to smile.

Daichi walked out of the bedroom with the two freshmen in tow, and he put a hand on Tobio’s shoulder. He put on a supportive face, “Now, Kageyama, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. There is nothing wrong with wearing floaties, and I happen to really like the color scheme. It’s very cheerful.”

Tobio exhaled, and he was pretty sure a piece of his spirit left his body with it.

Daichi spent the entire trip back blowing up the floaties, and he did so with ease; Tobio was half-sure he’d done it before. The entire time, Hinata walked beside Tobio and was snickering, not taking his eyes of the floaties for second. Tobio looked up to the heavens, and questioned why.

Daichi turned his head to look behind him, and regarded the middle blocker. “Hey, Hinata? Did you bring sunscreen?”

Hinata nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“It’d be pretty hard to put these on dry or even wet skin. They need to be slippery, otherwise it’ll be a pain.”

He grinned. “You got it, captain.” He ran ahead, speeding all the way across the beach and into the trees which barricaded the entrance to the cliffs.

Tobio was quiet as he and the captain arrived back at the cliffs, and a few heads turned to look at them. One of them was Tsukishima’s, and the blond immediately began to blatantly laugh. Yamaguchi giggled besides him, and Tobio even saw Nishinoya and Tanaka joining in. As Tobio glared at the others, he saw Oikawa and a couple others from Seijou laughing as well. Daichi glared at them, and Tobio couldn’t quite see the captain’s expression, but it made those from the Karasuno team fall silent.

Once they arrived at the edge of the beach, Hinata and Sugawara were there, the former holding a bottle of sunblock and the latter smiling gently under the shade of a large sunhat. The setter went to stand beside Daichi, and chuckled at the sight of the floaties.

Hinata dutifully handed the bottle to Tobio. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” he said mirthlessly. Realizing that there was no escape, he resigned himself to his fate, and grumbled incoherent curses as he slathered his upper arms in a fresh layer of sunscreen.

Tobio swatted Daichi’s hands away when he went to put the floaties on him. “I’ll do it myself,” he declared, and then added, in a softer voice, “Promise you won’t laugh.”

Daichi and Sugawara nodded. “We promise,” they said. Sugawara then lightly hit Hinata’s shoulder, and the ginger nodded as well.

Sighing, Tobio resignedly put on the floaties, scowling as he made sure they were secure. When he was done, he looked up to Daichi, but instead caught Sugawara snapping a picture of him with his phone.

Tobio’s heart dropped to his stomach, and a wave of irritation hit him. “What the hell?!”

Sugawara only laughed softly. “I’m sorry, Kageyama,” he gave a good-natured smile, “it’s just that you looked adorable.”

Tobio turned to look exasperatedly at Daichi, who was looking at Sugawara and chuckling. Behind him, however, Tobio could see others had sneaked closer and were also taking pictures: namely, Tsukishima and Oikawa.

He stood up, brows furrowing in anger. “Could you guys fucking stop?”

Tsukishima only gave his signature mocking smirk, and Oikawa started to laugh harder. “Language, Tobio-chan!”

Tobio growled and was about to go rip him a new asshole when Daichi put his hand on Tobio’s shoulder, effectively stopping him. “Don’t, Kageyama.”

He clicked his tongue spitefully. “Fine,” then added with a more even tone of voice. “Let’s start.”

Daichi nodded and walked Tobio to the very edge of the water; his feet were sinking into the wet sand below him, and the waves that came brushed away the sand. Hinata had already happily jumped into the water, looking expectantly at Tobio. Beside him, Daichi held out his hand. “If you want.”

Tobio declined, but Daichi still kept it out as they slowly walked into the water. The cold of the ocean brought a pang of unease into Tobio’s heart, but he muscled through it. He would, through sheer willpower, conquer his fear and learn to swim.

Eventually, the three of them trailed deeper into the sea, and it wasn’t long until Hinata’s chin was brushing with the surface of the water; he was almost completely submerged. Tobio started laughing, as he and Daichi were perfectly fine; they could stand normally and still have their heads and shoulders above water.

“Don’t laugh at me! You’re the one with floaties on!” Hinata retorted.

“Piss off,” Tobio said, shaking his head.

Daichi had stopped suddenly, deciding that this depth would be appropriate. Tobio, being the tallest, still had his entire bust above the water, and this made the uneasiness ebb away a little.

“Okay,” Daichi said, “first, you have to learn how to float.” The captain then made himself fall back into the ocean, and he lay on the water peacefully with his arms floating languidly at his sides. He stared up and the sky, then turned his gaze to Tobio. “See? All you have to do is relax and breathe deeply. Fill your lungs with air so you can float.” He stood back up, and gestured to Tobio’s arms, “The floaties should help.”

Next to him, he could see Hinata was doing the same thing, chuckling as he propelled himself in place so the waves couldn’t carry him away. “It’s easy, Kageyama.”

Tobio took a deep breath and let himself fall. He lost his footing and suddenly the whole arrangement seemed way too dangerous, so his hand instinctively went out to hold on to something. He grasped a hand as he opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and he felt like he was suspended in anti-gravity.

“Good job,” came Daichi’s eternally compassionate voice, and Tobio had noticed he had grabbed onto the captain’s hand for support. Tobio looked up at the sky, the calming blue soothing his fears, subsiding his anxieties. He breathed deeply, just like Daichi had instructed, and he felt his body rise and fall in the water with each breath.

Hinata appeared somewhere in his peripheral vision, smiling. Tobio couldn’t quite make it out but, he thought his expression was somewhat jeering. “You’re doing it!”

Somewhere along the line, he had let go of Daichi’s hand, and was quite enjoying his time just floating on the waves. He was certainly relaxed, and the feeling of weightlessness that accompanied it was an experience to which Tobio was absolutely unaccustomed to; it felt almost surreal.

“Kageyama, how long can you hold your breath?” Daichi asked.

“I don’t know. A couple seconds?”

“If you don’t mind I’d like you to try. You don’t need to go underwater, just hold your breath.”

Tobio stood up, as he was certain if he’d held his breath while attempting to float, he’d sink. He inhaled deeply and simply sustained the air in his chest. It was more than Tobio had predicted, maybe approaching a whole minute before his chest started burning and his vision started blurring and he had to let go.

He spent a good couple seconds catching his breath before turning to Daichi. “That’s pretty good,” the captain said. “Now, I want you to practice doing strokes. Just strike the water at alternating times with both your hands. You don’t have to do any actual swimming yet.”

Tobio did so, and he admittedly felt a bit childish doing it; he must have looked ridiculous. The motion was simple enough that he was able to pick up the pace after finding the correct rhythm. His strokes were rapid and strong, and this came naturally as he was used to such movement as a volleyball player. He had noticed that the water was shallower than it was before; the waves must be slowly inching them towards the beach. Eventually, he was going so fast that water was splashing around everywhere, and Hinata was laughing and covering his face with his arms, shouting at Tobio to stop.

“Alright,” Daichi said, attempting to pacify the situation. “Now for the hard part. Let’s get you swimming. Hinata, would you like to help?”

Hinata looked up a Daichi, and nodded excitedly. “Yeah!”

“Okay, I need you to grab onto Kageyama’s hand and keep him steady as he goes. This part is heavy on trust, and he obviously trusts you the most. Got it?”

Tobio could swear Hinata’s face went pink at the captain’s words, but that could’ve just been a slight sunburn already forming at his fair cheeks. Hinata nodded in understanding. “C’mon, Kageyama,” he said, his tone a bit sober as he held out his hand.

Tobio took it and he let himself fall forward. He was able to keep his head above water, and the floaties were definetly helpful in this aspect. Tobio wasn’t completely clueless, he knew he had to kick in order to propel himself forward, so he gingerly did so. Tobio used his free hand to begin to stroke.

“Close your fingers,” Daichi instructed, the captain standing off a bit to the side of the two, “it’ll help you move farther and smoother with less effort.”

Tobio joined his fingers together as Daichi had asked, and this did indeed aid him.

As he began to move forward, Hinata squeezed Tobio’s other hand, and he felt a jolt of electricity surge down his arm. Tobio’s hand was larger than the ginger’s, but Hinata’s palm felt warm and right, even though he knew it wasn’t. Tobio felt his face grow hot, and he knew he couldn’t just let go of the other boy. He sensed his kicking had begun to falter, and Hinata started to laugh.

The heat on Tobio’s face rose due to embarrassment. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh, dumbass!” he barked, a scowl beginning to warp his expression.

Hinata locked gazes with him, a smile on his face. “I’m sorry, it’s just I’ve never seen you look so helpless before.”

Tobio’s face could express a lot of emotions, but an expression of helplessness is something he was sure he would never be able to convey. Thinking back, it must have been a certain train of thought about Hinata’s hand in his that made him show such vulnerability. He swore at himself, and then wondered exactly how dense would Hinata have to be to not pick up on such an obvious emotional cue? Nevertheless, he thanked his lucky stars that the middle blocker didn’t notice.

Nevertheless, he kept paddling, and soon the movements became automatic. Sooner or later, Hinata had let go of Tobio’s hand (much to Tobio’s displeasure), and Tobio began to actually swim.

He couldn’t believe he was doing it. He didn’t stop moving his arms and legs, the limbs hitting the water at rhythmic intervals. He closed his eyes and held his breath, putting his face underwater. After a few strokes, he lifted his head, and repeated the motion. Once he had his ears above the water, he could hear cheers. He attempted to turn back, and he was surprised as to how fluid the actions became, and with gained confidence, he swam all the way back to where Hinata and Daichi were.

“Very good! You’re a really fast learner, Kageyama.” Daichi’s praise was delivered in pleasant tones and a hearty clap on the shoulder.

On Tobio’s other side, Hinata surfaced from the water and smiled toothily at him. “C’mon, Kageyama! Let’s race to the beach!”

Feeling the surge of competition well up inside him, Tobio grinned and dove back in with his arms outstretched in front of him, emulating what he had seen Hinata doing. He swam avidly, and even though he was half blinded by the spray of the ocean, he  kept going faster until he felt his feet hit solid sand, and he stood up. He ran all the way up to the surf, panting and dripping wet. He was perhaps half a millisecond earlier than Hinata, and the other boy gave a disappointed frown at this realization.

“Aw, no fair!” he exclaimed, “You just learned how to swim!”

“Gotta go fast, Hinata.”

Hinata groaned exasperatedly, yet Tobio could swear he heard a hint of amusement in his voice.

Tobio grinned just a bit. Maybe things would finally go his way.

He brushed his long bangs out of his eyes as Daichi walked out of the water to join them. He regarded Tobio with a proud look in his eyes. “You’re doing great.”

“Thanks, dad.” Wait. What?

A look of utter and slightly amused astonishment came upon Daichi’s face, and Tobio felt his neck and cheeks immediately flare up in mortification. He was sure that whatever was left of his soul was definetly dead now.

All those within earshot of the two started roaring with laughter, and a particular pair of Tokyo captains were falling over each other, wheezing and calling out the word “Dadchi!” repeatedly. Sugawara was laughing as well, and Hinata was clutching his stomach. Behind them, others were drying tears from their eyes and all of it made Tobio want to disappear off the face of the earth.

He decided he would do just that. Wordlessly, he took off his floaties, artlessly dropped them onto the sand, and walked straight into the ocean.

“No, Kageyama! Come back!” Hinata shouted between bouts of laughter. The ginger caught up to the slow-moving Tobio and grabbed onto his wrist. Giggling, he dragged him back to the sand, and Tobio flinched away under his captain’s gaze. Hinata gave Daichi a “thanks for the lesson” on behalf of Tobio as they walked away.

Even though he was sure Hinata could see the discomfort written all over his face, the middle blocker still hauled him through a thin crowd of people recovering from a vigorous laugh. Once the two were at the palm tree threshold, he stopped and faced at Tobio, a smile on his face.

“Oh, Kageyama,” he said in a pitying tone, “You’re having quite a day, aren’t you?”

Like you wouldn’t believe. He gave a brisk nod and dared to look Hinata in the eyes.

“Listen. While you were learning how to swim back there, Kenma invited me to the water park. You wanna come with?”

Tobio looked back to the people behind him, and back to Hinata. The answer was quite clear. “Yes.”  

“Great. I’m gonna get our stuff, you wait here.” Hinata jogged up the largest cliff, and Tobio saw his shrinking form quickly grab a bag from the top of it and slide back down, running all the way back to where Tobio was standing. He handed him a towel from the bag, and Tobio put it around his shoulders. “Let’s go,” Hinata said, slinging a towel around his shoulders as well.

So, the pair crossed the palm trees and entered the part of the beach that was open to the general public. Tobio saw a few people he recognized basking on the lounge chairs and a few in the water, but he followed Hinata to the farthest edge, right near the buffet, where a small shower station was.

Hinata removed his towel and placed in the bag. He let it fall the to the ground as he approached the shower and turned it on. A drizzle of water fell from the spigot above him, and he closed his eyes as he let it soak him. “You gotta shower too, Kageyama. Get the sand out of your toes and the saltwater from your skin.”

Tobio knew that was common courtesy: don’t bring the ocean with you to the pool, which was controlled and clean, unlike the beach. He dropped his towel on top of Hinata’s and turned on the other faucet, letting the ice cold water rain on him.

The briny scent of the ocean dissipated as it was smothered by fresh water, and Tobio could feel the grains of sand once lodged between his toes be set free by the rivulets running down his legs.

He looked at Hinata, who still had his eyes closed and seemed to be at peace. The little streams of water ran all the way down Hinata’s chest, pooling in the valley of his collarbones and rushing over his sternum and flowing past his hipbones. Tobio knew it would not be wise to stare any farther down, so he moved his gaze back up, to his rib cage. Tobio thought it would be a safe place to look when he noticed a stray couple drops catch on the ginger’s nipple.

Tobio felt his face flare up furiously and instantly directed his vision back towards Hinata’s face.

His long, rust-hued eyelashes were prettily clumped together, and they cast a shadow over his fair cheeks. Not even under a shower could his wildfire-like hair be flattened; it still obstinately stuck up in a few places, but was otherwise tamed.  

Tobio’s hair was always sleek and smooth, and the water made it extend just a tad beyond his browbone; into his eyes. He closed them and took a deep breath. He could stay here for a long time. At least, until he felt a tapping on his arm. “Kageyama? Wash your feet and put on your shoes so we can go.”

Tobio opened his eyes again, and he saw Hinata fitting his feet into his (well, Nishinoya’s) brown flip-flops. He had turned off his shower, so Tobio promptly did the same. Hinata ruffled his hair between his towel, and it became tousled again, just like normal. Tobio opted to simply use the towel to squeeze the excess water from his hair, and he put on his black flip-flops (which Hinata had considerately taken out of the bag for him). Soon, the pair went back to walking.

They ambled down the sandy path surrounded by delicate reeds and palm trees that led to the cobblestone roads. However, the middle blocker headed towards the main resort building, and they wasted no time on walking in, their shoes squeaking on the porcelain tiles as they did so.

The lobby was the same as yesterday, but perhaps there was a different song playing. Hinata stood in the center of it, his hand to his chin. “Oh, yeah! Kenma said to the right, behind the elevators, and then go right to get to the water park.”

The elevators were right in front of them, so they took the hallway they found to the right of them to a lounge area. It was mostly empty, and there was a glass door in the far center of that room. Beyond that was indeed what Tobio made out to be a sort of fenced in dance floor and building to the left of it, and a sign in front of the fence faintly read “To the Water Park”, and above those words was an arrow pointing to the right.

Hinata smiled broadly. “C’mon, Kageyama!”

The two zigzagged past pastel-colored couches and mahogany tables to burst past the door and land back outside. They walked down the sidewalk to the right, and Tobio saw the water park fenced in by a short wall and swaying palms up ahead. They quickly walked up to the entrance, and Hinata opened the fenced gate leading into it.

It was an enormous place, and there was a huge, labyrinthine structure in the shallow center pool with colorful slides coming out of it, and on the very top was a large bucket that at that very moment seemed to turn over, hurling what must have been at least five bathtubs’ worth of water on the unsuspecting people below. Thrilled laughter was heard. Behind and to the left of the center pool was another one, but this one seemed to be connected to a massive, spiraling water slide, and there was a  line to get into it. To the right was a regular pool, and its patrons were happily paddling away in the azure waters. Next to that was what Tobio made out to be a lazy river, the attraction disappearing behind a cluster of palm trees. Bordering the entire area was a barrier of lounge chairs similar to those placed on the beach, with umbrellas positioned between them.

“I think I’m crying,” Hinata said beside him, “this is the best vacation ever.” 

Despite all that had happened to him today, Tobio silently agreed.

Hinata seemed to catch something in his vision and he ran to the right, towards the lounge chairs. “Kenma! Over here!”

Tobio followed him at a jogging pace, and he saw Hinata excitedly talking to Kenma, and sitting on the lounge chair behind him was Kuroo Tetsurou, Nekoma’s captain. Strangely enough, there was a coconut with a face scratched on it swaddled in a towel on Kenma’s lounge chair. Tobio knew that those two were very close, but now they seemed a bit… distant. Tobio wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. He decided to ignore it.

“Kageyama, what do you wanna do first?” Hinata asked, and Tobio looked around. The water slide was the first to catch his attention, and as someone plunged into the pool below, Tobio was instantly struck with the image of himself crashing into the ocean, the fruitless struggle, and the chilling depths that pulled him deeper…

“Not that one,” he answered, pointing at the slide.

Hinata nodded understandingly. “How about the lazy river? It’s shallow and slow. You’ll like it!”

Tobio nodded; it was a good idea. He then let himself be dragged away by an enthusiastic Hinata, and he nodded his hellos at the other two as they walked all the way over to the far right of the water park, towards the lazy river.

The “river” was indeed a shallow, narrow pool that boasted an artificial current, and those who wished to ride it were issued a pool tube whose size depended on the party asking for it, and they were sent on their way down the river to laze about. It seemed to lead into a forest, Tobio thought that it was the same one that bordered the place where all the cabins were, and those who emerged from the other side seemed almost reluctant to leave it.

The four of them got in a line, and Kenma stuck to Hinata, talking animatedly to him about a sort of video game. To Tobio’s left was a silent Kuroo, who was staring up ahead when an employee asked him if there were indeed four people to his group.

“Yes,” Kuroo replied smoothly, “we’re four.”

The employee took a big, boat-like pool tube and handed it to Kuroo. “Have fun, guys.”

“We will,” Kuroo responded as he dunked the boat into the water effortlessly. “After you, Kageyama.”

Tobio carefully sat down in one of the sections of the pool tube, and was quickly joined by Hinata and Kenma, and finally Kuroo sat down. The employee gave them a little push, and they were on their way down the river.

Tobio decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to lean back on the boat and leave his feet to dangle over edge and dip into the water. Even though he was tall, the lazy river was definetly wide enough so that his feet wouldn’t touch the edge of it. As he moved, the boat shifted, resulting in the delighted little shriek on Hinata’s part. Leaning his head comfortably back on the tube, Tobio looked up.

Dappled light danced through the trees, and Hinata’s conversation with Kenma beside him dwindled into nothing as he zoned out, nearly rocked to sleep by the waves below him. He couldn’t completely close his eyes, however, as the angle he was in was completely perfect to gaze at Hinata without being deemed suspicious. Through his own dark lashes, he could see the ginger wave his hands about in the air while talking to Kenma, a happy look on his face. The other setter leaned towards him, nodding and occasionally adding his own commentary. He seemed to be, in fact, leaning away from Kuroo, who had taken a similar position as Tobio, his head tipping almost all the way back and his feet positioned on the edge behind Kenma.

Tobio thought that it was strange that Kenma was almost flat out ignoring Kuroo. The captain seemed to accept it, as he humming to himself while basking in the sun, not making a move to talk to his best friend. Maybe they had a falling out.

“Kageyama!” Hinata’s voice broke his thoughts, “You’re so quiet. Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah,” he replied.

“Are you bored?”

Tobio could feel the boat turn in line with the lazy river, and he laid back down. “Not really. This is relaxing. If I said this was boring, it’d be like getting a massage and saying that it was boring. That’s not the point.”

“Oh. So you’re saying to be able to enjoy this to the fullest, I should relax?”

Tobio clicked his tongue. “If someone like you can relax, I’ll eat my shirt.”

“You don’t even have your shirt,” Hinata laughed at he laid down next to Tobio. He wasn’t nearly as tall as him, and although their heads were both next to each other, Hinata’s feet only reached until Tobio’s calves.

Tobio sat up suddenly. “Move over.”

Hinata did so, and then both were lying vertically across the boat, and Hinata’s short height left space for Kuroo's lying form.

Tobio could hear the soft cry of cicadas and the gentle flowing of the water as he closed his eyes. Conversations that were being held faded into white noise. Sunlight danced on his chest, warming it up. He swayed to and fro with the waves of the river, and he was pretty sure he would have fallen asleep if it wasn’t for a disturbance in the force; a huge splash and a sudden misbalancing of the boat.

“I bet I can swim all the way to the end of this river before you guys even get there,” Hinata challenged.

Tobio gave a smirk. “You’re on.”

Kuroo smiled. “Aw, hell yeah. You’re on, Shrimpy.”

And with that, Hinata dived into the water and practically torpedoed away. Kuroo shook his head, and jumped out of the boat. “C’mon guys. We’re swimming,” and then he turned to Tobio, “you’re okay with that, right?”

Tobio looked at the shallow river. He nodded, “yeah.”

Kuroo dived after Hinata, and Kenma dragged himself up onto the edge of the pool. Tobio could swear he saw the corners of Kenma’s mouth lift a little as he began to jog away on the concrete border, his bare feet avoiding the dirt.

Hurry up, a voice in him said, urging him on.

Kageyama was the last to jump off the boat, and let himself fall into the water just like he had practiced in the beach, and started swimming. The river’s water was much clearer than the seawater, and opening his eyes underwater didn’t sting as much as opening them in the ocean.

He swam forwards his ease, the strength in his arms that he had built for years effortlessly cutting through the water. He soon passed Kuroo, and not long after, he saw Hinata swimming away. He swung his arm forwards forcefully, and he ended up passing the ginger in a flurry of splashing water.

Tobio heard a distant laughing cry of “Come back here!”, and it wasn’t long until he felt reverberations behind him and then in front of him; though the water, he saw Hinata burst away in front of him. Tobio furrowed his brows, and reached farther, kicked harder. He would not be beaten.

Hinata was a fast swimmer, but Tobio could be faster. He reached Hinata in almost no time at all after that, and they swam, evading other boats. The artificial current helped Tobio move faster, and he could feel the rushing of water through his arms as he cut through the surf, and soon enough, he saw the stairs leading out of the river. He swam feverishly, but Hinata was the first to get there.

Tobio stood up not a second after, and the ginger started to laugh triumphantly, hands on his hips. “Got you, Kageyama! I win!”

Tobio felt a blossoming of frustration in his chest, and he stared bitterly at Hinata. “Fine. We’re tied. I’ll get you next time.”

They walked out of the lazy river, and Kuroo arrived promptly after. Kenma was the last to arrive; he had left the pool and calmly jogged its length on the edge. He settled for standing next to Hinata and brushing his already drying hair out of his face.

Kuroo came out of the water, with a hand to his sternum and breathing quite heavily. “You guys…are something else.”

Tobio was winded as well, but not as much as the captain. Beside him, Hinata’s chest was rising and falling more conspicuously than usual, and he gave him a smile. “Let’s go back,” the middle blocker said, and the four of them walked away from the lazy river, ignoring all the strange looks they got from employees and patrons alike.

Looking unassumingly to Hinata, he felt a peculiar weightlessness settle in his veins. His traitorous heart seemed catalogued the way Hinata’s arms swung when he walked, the unfaltering bounce his step, the way he held his chin high and the way his lips always appeared to be spread in a smile that was brighter than the sun.

Tobio bowed his head. He couldn’t run away from it anymore. He had fallen in love, and something like that simply could not just be boxed away and ignored.

Just thinking it made him afraid, and he realized that he couldn’t tell anyone. He couldn’t let anybody know just how precious Hinata was to him, how he wanted to be with him until the end of time, how he filled his shadowy heart with radiance and light. Hinata was his everything, and he would never, ever know it.

Tobio looked back ahead, and felt his cheeks grow hot with a familiar heat. This vacation would certainly be the death of him.

*   *   *

The afternoon sun was beating down on Kenma as he and Kuroo left the water park for good, leaving Hinata and Kageyama to their own devices. Hinata had mentioned he was hungry; maybe those two would leave for the buffet or one of the restaurants in the main building for some snacks. If they even knew they were there, let alone making reservations for them.

“I am starving,” Kuroo said to no one in particular, placing his hands dramatically on his stomach. “We should go get some food.”

Kenma bowed his head. He was feeling pretty hungry. Looking to Kuroo, he then whipped his head to the side indignantly.

Kuroo knew Kenma didn’t particularly enjoy being without the internet for very long, as it was the only thing that helped relieve the stress that, no matter what he did, always seemed to haunt him. He knew Kenma hadn’t brought any video games under the supposition that such a glamorous resort must have at least rudimentary internet connection. Kuroo knew that even the cell signal was awful, so it couldn’t have been a far-flung assumption that the Wi-Fi was also non-existent? Kuroo was intelligent, and he could have easily made that association, at least for Kenma’s sake. To be frank, he felt a bit betrayed.

Kenma decided to give him the cold shoulder, but he soon realized he needed a new best friend. It was in the morning when he found a lone coconut on the sandy road leading to the beach. He had picked it up and dubbed it “Kuro 2.0”.

Kuroo had been shocked, and tried to reconcile his friendship with Kenma various times throughout the day. All of his attempts had failed, as Kenma was too busy talking with either Kuro 2.0 or Hinata. Eventually, Kuroo resigned to his fate and started hanging out with Bokuto, Akaashi, and Tsukishima. Kenma knew those four were good friends, as they spent almost the entirety of the training camp together.

Now, Kenma was cradling Kuro 2.0 in his arms while Kuroo silently walked ahead. He had carved a face into the coconut, specifically Kuroo’s face (or at least he tried to). It filled Kenma with a certain kind of vindictive joy every time he deflected Kuroo’s attempt at a conversation. He followed Kuroo into the main building, and the air conditioning froze his skin, even if he had dried off a bit and put on a shirt. His hair hung on the corner of his vision, clumped together in damp strands.

“We should go to one of the buffets,” Kuroo said in a proposing tone, “Would you like to go to the buffet, Kenma?” Out of the corner of his eye, Kenma could see Kuroo looking expectantly at him.

Kenma’s brows shot up; Kuroo had once again attempted to talk to him. He did want to go eat something, as he was indeed hungry. Kenma decided to only put his chin up and pretend he didn’t hear Kuroo. However, his body betrayed him and his stomach let out a great rumble. He widened his eyes and a hot flush burned his cheeks in mortification.

Kuroo laughed. “So that’s a yes! Let’s go, then.”

The duo walked through the lobby with a bit more confidence than the night before, as they knew their way to the buffet. Kuroo led the way, with Kenma not far behind, and he wasn’t surprised to see several familiar faces. He doubted anyone (except maybe the other captains and their vice captains) would have the foresight to make a reservation at one of the restaurants. Kenma silently followed him inside, and almost instantaneously, Kuroo rushed towards a seated Bokuto and Akaashi.

As Kenma approached them, Kenma saw that they were sitting at a table for two, and Kuroo grabbed another similar table and dragged it next to their table, expanding it. They also placed two other chairs, but they did not sit down.

“What’s up?” Kuroo greeted, a smile on his face.

Bokuto smiled wildly as he gave Kuroo a bear hug. “What’s up, Kuroo? It’s been forever since I’ve seen you!”

“It’s only been two hours,” Kuroo replied, a hand to his heart, “But it might as well have been two decades.”

“Bro,” Bokuto said, tears forming in his golden eyes.

“Bro.”

Looking away at this display of fervent friendship, he bowed his head at Akaashi. “Hello, Akaashi,”

“Hello,” the dark-haired setter replied. He stared a bit at Kuro 2.0.

Kuroo elbowed Bokuto. “I notice you guys have no food. Wanna get something to eat, Bo?”

Bokuto nodded fervently. “Yeah, we were gonna do that, but then you guys came. Akaashi, you want anything?”

“Can you get me a salad?”

“Sure,” Bokuto replied, and the pair went off in search of food. Kenma was going to go follow them, but Akaashi put a hand on his shoulder.

“Kozume-san,” Akaashi said, looking Kenma straight in the eye, “is something going on with you and Kuroo-san?”

“Call me Kenma,” he responded automatically, “and no. Nothing’s going on.”

Akaashi narrowed his eyes, their green hue darkening. “Are you sure? You won’t even look at him, and he’s your best friend. Also, that coconut seems to have Kuroo-san’s face on it, and that’s definitely indicative of something.”

Kenma glanced away, placing the coconut on the table. He sat back down, “Nothing’s going on between us. I guess he’s just more friends with Bokuto than he is with me.”

Akaashi scoffed, and although he didn’t say it, the look in his eyes said bullshit. “He’s been friends with you for longer. You two are inseparable.” There was a bit of desperation in his voice; Kenma knew that Akaashi was excellent at reading people, and he shouldn’t have made himself so obvious.

“You’re upset with him. Why?” Akaashi’s voice became softer, wiser. Kenma felt his shoulders relax; after all, the setter seemed to only want to help.

“It’s stupid,” Kenma folded his hands and placed them on the table, and he bowed his head as to let his hair fall and shield his face. “I expected to stay indoors and play my online game all vacation long, but there’s no Wi-Fi here and Kuroo didn’t put two and two together when he found out there was awful cell reception. Playing those games is kind of the only thing that helps keep me calm.” Kenma quirked his head to the side in an attempt to look at Akaashi, “So I got mad and kind of gave him the silent treatment.”

Akaashi only stared at him. “And the coconut?”

Kenma let out a huff of breath. “Its name is Kuro 2.0. It’s my new best friend.”

At that, Akaashi let out a small chuckle. “Oh dear, Kenma-san. What a predicament,” Kenma saw him turn his neck a little, “you’ll forgive him eventually, I hope?”

Kenma turned to Akaashi and nodded slowly. “I guess. It’s just that I can get really bitter about not being able to play my games, and—”

“We’re back,” came Bokuto’s singsongy voice. He and Kuroo sat down in the two empty chairs, carrying plates of hot food. Bokuto put down his food first, and then slid a bowl of salad to Akaashi, and the setter began to eat it quietly.

When Kuroo sat down, he slid one of the plates towards Kenma. It held a very exquisite looking sandwich, complete with fresh lettuce and julienned fries. “You need to eat, Kenma.”

Kenma didn’t look up at Kuroo, and he felt that Akaashi staring at him as well. Slowly, he grabbed the sandwich and put it to his lips, taking a bite. It was a good sandwich; Kenma felt the soft bread melt in his mouth as he tasted chicken meat layered with that lettuce and a sort of warm sauce that Kenma had no words to describe. He kept biting into it, swallowing the julienned fries in all their salty goodness. Sooner rather than later, the sandwich was gone.

“My poor starved child,” Bokuto murmured, staring at the remains of Kenma’s sandwich.

“Back off, Bo,” Kuroo remarked jokingly as he bit into another piece of a fish fillet he had gotten.

Bokuto put on a dramatically dejected face, as if he was a stage performer acting out a scene where he was experiencing great turmoil and anguish. “Why will no one let me adopt children? First, Daichi wouldn’t let me have Hinata, and now you won’t let me have Kenma. Why don’t you let me live?”

Akaashi glared at Bokuto. “Bokuto-san, you are a child. That is why.”

Bokuto put a hand to his chest in mock indignation. “Mean,” he gasped.

The lunch carried on, and the four finished their meals in a prudent time. Among them, Kuroo was the first to stand, empty plate in hand. “C’mon guys. Let’s explore this place.”

Bokuto smiled. “That sounds awesome.”

Akaashi smiled wordlessly, and Kenma followed them as they dumped the plates in the designated receptacle. As they walked out of the buffet, Kenma noticed that Kuroo was on the other edge of the little group they created; he was the farthest away from him.

Kuroo and Bokuto led them to the lobby, and they immediately walked a similar hallway on the other side, ignoring the stairs that flanked the elevators. Kenma looked up, the sunlight gleaming though a massive window on the second floor told Kenma it had become midafternoon. He followed the other through the other corridor, and as he looked at the signs, he felt his curiosity pique.

“A club?” Bokuto exclaimed. “No way!”

Just as Bokuto was about to enter, Kuroo grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. “Can’t you read, bro? It says 18 plus. Which means not us.”

“Aw, what?” Bokuto pouted his lips, “No fair…”

Akaashi put a hand his shoulder. “There’s probably a 17 and under club somewhere too.”

“You think, Akaashi?” Bokuto looked towards his setter, face alit with newfound happiness.

“Yes, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto stood up straight again, and continued forwards down the hallway, and at the end, and Kenma caught his reflection on a decorative mirror. His two-toned hair had almost completely dried off now, the strands returning to their previous smoothness. His golden eyes glanced back at him, standoffish and cat-like. He quickly turned away, and they came to a door at the very end.

“Spa,” Kuroo read the gold-plated sign beside the door, “by reservation only.”

Bokuto threw his shoulders back, and placed his hands on his neck, lightly squeezing the flesh there. “A massage sounds real nice.”

Kenma knew that he slouched a lot, and his neck and back suffered for it. The volleyball helped a bit, stretching out his muscles and keeping them in shape. Sometimes, the ache would strike him as he studied for his classes, and he kept telling himself he had to get it checked out. Bokuto was right: maybe a massage would do him some good.

“Do you think we can make reservations?” Akaashi asked.

“Maybe,” Kuroo replied. “Let’s keep exploring.”

The four of them walked back across the corridor out into the main lobby again, and decided to ascend the stairs. The handrail was smooth and cool, and Kenma felt the sunlight warm him up. They walked to the right, to the hallway directly above the club and the spa. This corridor was different, its floors inlaid with a pale gold tile instead of ivory in the floor below. There was only a single door, and Bokuto gave an exited gasp when he read the sign.

“Akaashi, you were right! There is a club for minors!” Bokuto tried to enter, but the door was locked. He tried peeking into the window, and came away with a disillusioned expression on face. “It’s completely empty.”

“Maybe it’s a nightclub, Bo,” Kuroo said, “we can come back some other time.”

“Alrighty,” he replied, his voice regaining his usual vigorous tone, “let’s keep going.”

The four of them walked back across to the left hallway, and the rightmost wall was made completely of glass, and Bokuto yelped at what was on the other side.

“An arcade?!” Bokuto’s smile reached from ear to ear, and to be fair, Kenma was quite excited as well. This was an old school arcade, with tables of pool and air hockey as well as retro-style game machines. He felt himself drawn to the place, and was the first to enter.

“Hey, look, a vending machine,” Kuroo said, pointing at it, “I want some Doritos.” He looked in his bag, and his brows furrowed. “Do you guys have money?”

Kenma looked over to Akaashi and Bokuto, and the wing spiker shrugged. “Ah shit, I think I left my bag back at the buffet.”

“You did leave it, Bokuto-san, so I took it,” Akaashi responded, and Kenma had noticed that he had been carrying it ever since they left the buffet. Akaashi handed the bag to Bokuto.

"Thanks, Akaashi." He fished a few coins out of a wallet and handed them to Kuroo. “Here you go, bro.”

“Thanks, bro.” Kuroo put the coins in the vending machine, and in return it spit out a vibrant red bag of Kuroo’s favorite chips.

Kenma gravitated towards one of the glowing game machines, and soon realized he didn’t have any coins to be able to play, as he had left his wallet back at the cabin. He debated asking Bokuto for some, but the idea intimidated him. Kenma settled for walking up to Akaashi and requesting some of him.

Akaashi smiled understandingly. “I’ll get you some. I realize that Bokuto-san can be a bit… overwhelming.” Bokuto had handed the bag back to Akaashi, and he gave Kenma a few coins.

“Thanks,” Kenma said, and went back to the game machine. Akaashi had followed him, and Kenma let him peer over his shoulder. As he put a single coin in, he saw that it was a Pac-Man game, and Kenma had played this game so many times that its solution was nearly second nature to him. He had progressed a few rounds before he got a game over.

“Damn it!” he heard the anguished voice yell behind him. Kenma and Akaashi turned around, and Kuroo was chuckling, a smug smile on his face as Bokuto looked up at the sky in despair. They were playing air hockey, and Kuroo had just scored a point.

Akaashi had sat down in the seat of a racing simulator and was watching as the two captains duked it out over an intense game of air hockey. Kenma leaned against the arcade machine and decided to watch them as well.

Bokuto, as a powerful spiker, made strong and decisive movements and played offensively, as Kuroo, being a formidable blocker, took predominantly defensive measures, infuriating Bokuto to no end as Kuroo consistently blocked his throws.

The sound of the hockey puck being hit by the two controllers was becoming more and more frequent as it traveled faster across the table. Kenma was able to follow it, and it disappeared into Kuroo’s side of the table with a slam and loud hoot from Bokuto. The wing spiker looked towards Akaashi in his success, receiving a smile in return from the setter.

Kuroo was frozen in place, completely shocked. His controller had been centimeters away from where the puck entered; he had been too slow.

“How many points until one of us wins?” Kuroo asked, voice soft yet determined.

“I think it’s 7,” Bokuto replied, “and we’re tied now 1-1.”

Kuroo nodded. “Game on.”

The game begun again, with Kuroo making the initial strike as the puck came out on his side. He had angled it in such a way that the puck traveled in zig-zags across the table, and Bokuto was too slow in blocking it as it went in with a satisfying bang.

“2-1,” Kuroo reminded in a sardonic tone, and Bokuto furrowed his brows together.

“Fine,” Bokuto said, placing the puck atop the table, “how about this?”

Bokuto expertly struck the puck in a strange almost-straight angle, making it hit the edge of the table before quickly turning towards Kuroo’s goal box. But Kuroo had swift reflexes and was able to block it, that smile of his widening further.

They continued on when Akaashi leaned over to Kenma. “I bet 100 yen that Bokuto wins,” he murmured.

“Okay,” Kenma whispered, rising to the challenge, “I bet 200 that Kuroo wins.”

Akaashi smiled. “You’re on.”

The match continued on, both Kenma and Akaashi watching avidly as their corresponding captains. They were both yelling at each other, taunting and promising that they would win and the other would lose. They were smiling, and then Kuroo was caught completely off guard when Bokuto slammed the puck straight at him, landing a well-deserved goal.

“Hell yeah!” he shouted. At his shout, Akaashi gave Kenma a small smirk.

Kuroo glared at him. “Okay. Fine.” He took the puck and placed it gently on the table, and Kenma saw how it moved by itself, floating on the hundreds of tiny air jets that dotted the tabletop. Kuroo hit it decisively, and Bokuto deftly deflected it.

The game was steadily reaching a boiling point, with the two of them adopting serious faces and focusing directly on the puck; where it went and where it could go. Kuroo was the next one to make a goal, and Bokuto became slack-jawed when he made another one soon after.

“No fucking way, man,” he said, absolutely stunned. Kuroo was brimming with confidence at this point, as Kenma could tell by the wicked glint in his tarnished-gold eyes and a smile not unlike that of the Cheshire Cat.

Kenma looked sideways over to Akaashi, and he had donned a poker face. He was staring intensely at the air hockey table, as if he could change the tide of the game through sheer will alone.

Bokuto’s expression was different now; he had shed his cheerfulness and replaced it solemnity. He no longer gave Akaashi any sideways glances and was laser-focused in on the game.

Kuroo played almost insouciantly, with one hand balancing his chin as he blocked Bokuto’s strikes. It wasn’t until Bokuto had made a surprise quick attack that made Kuroo put effort into his playing; but it was too late as the puck had already went into his goal box.

“HA!” Bokuto cried, a winning expression lighting up his features, “That’s what you get for being over confident!”

Kuroo squinted and pouted his lips out a bit. “Alright. The score’s  4-3, in my favor, right?”

“Yep. But I’m gonna beat you!”

“We’ll see,” Kuroo said, throwing a sidelong glance at Kenma. They made eye contact for the briefest of seconds before Kenma tore his gaze away, settling it in the middle of the table-top.

Kuroo launched the puck straight at Bokuto’s goal box, but the wing spiker easily parried it, a rascally look in his eyes. They sent the puck back and forth all throughout the table, and a look of urgency crossed Kuroo’s eyes when he saw that one of Bokuto’s shots was dangerously close to his goal. However, the puck has lost its momentum when it hit against the edge, and Kuroo was easily able to knock it right into Bokuto’s goal box.

Bokuto said nothing, only nodded his head as he flipped the puck straight onto the table and struck it again, restarting the game. Kuroo parried it, and Kenma could see a small bead of sweat slide down his face. The middle blocker took on a serious expression, and watched as Bokuto brought his arm back to strike the puck as it came forwards, and Kenma swore it traveled at the speed of light as it crashed into Kuroo’s goal box.

“5-4 now,” Bokuto said, earning a nod from Kuroo, and it was as if it said fair enough. Bokuto brought the puck back on the table, and began the game again. The sound of that puck being hit cracked like thunder, and the pressure mounted as Bokuto made yet another goal. This earned him a groan from Kuroo, who looked a bit vanquished. 

Kenma looked over to Akaashi, and the setter was visibly grinning now. A thin grin, but it was there. Kenma soon realized didn’t have any money to pay Akaashi with at the moment; all of it was back at his cabin. Maybe after this game, they would all go back there, he would pay Akaashi, maybe take a shower (Kenma was sure he smelled like saltwater and chlorine at the same time); the others would probably want to take showers as well, he knows Kuroo definetly needed one—

“Gotcha!” Kuroo yelled suddenly. He began to chuckle, and Bokuto stared at his goal box in disbelief.

The wing spiker brought a palm to his mouth. “I trusted you,” he whispered to the controller he grasped not unlike a vice in this other hand. He ruefully put the puck back on the table. If Bokuto made another two goals, he would win the game. However, if Kuroo made another, he would win. Kenma looked over to Akaashi, his grin gone and replaced with a furrow in his brows. Kenma thought that even if Bokuto won, Akaashi wouldn’t stay smiling for long, as his smiles were always ephemeral at best.

The game restarted, and an urgent look was in Kuroo’s eyes again. Kenma knew that if Kuroo was to win, all he would have to do is score one more goal. Looking over to Bokuto, and seeing how he was now playing a bit more defensively rather than his usual offensive style, it was going to be difficult for Kuroo to land a shot.

Kuroo, in comparison, had also switched over from defense to offense. His strikes were surer and more aggressive now, but he was having a hard time trying to get close to Bokuto’s goal box. The two kept their gazes glued on the puck: an impressive feat considering exactly how fast it was going. Each time it got hit, the pressure rose and rose and then Kenma heard a final slam and whoop of victory.

“I won!” Kuroo shouted, and soon after Bokuto fell to his knees and let out a scream of agony.

Kenma looked at Akaashi again, and couldn’t quite suppress the small yet slinky smile that graced his features. Akaashi wore a mildly grudging expression, and dug into his pocket for a single, silver coin worth 100 yen. He handed it to Kenma, and the two captains saw the exchange.

Bokuto gaped like a fish at Akaashi. “You bet on us?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san, and you lost.”

Kenma wasn’t looking directly at him, but he could see out of his peripheral vision that Kuroo was smiling dopily, surely just still high on the rush of feel-good chemicals that came with every victory.  “Aw, you bet on me? How sweet.”

“Only because Akaashi bet on Bokuto,” Kenma couldn’t stop himself from replying, breaking his vow of silence. Kuroo looked a bit stunned, but still happy nonetheless.

“We should go back,” Akaashi said, walking over to where he left his bag on the floor next to some chairs, “Dinner’s in a few hours, and we all need to take showers.”

“What?” Bokuto said in disbelief, “I smell fine.” He bent his head down to sniff at his armpit and then quickly recoiled. “Scratch that. You have a point, Akaashi; we should go.” He walked to where his bag was, picked it up and put it on his shoulders. “Oh yeah, the Fukuroudani cabins are super-far. Can we shower at your cabin?”

“Hell yeah,” Kuroo responded, “mi casa es su casa.” The middle blocker had said something in a different language, and Kenma had no idea at all what he said. However, judging from the look on Kuroo’s face, it seemed to be something agreeable and hospitable.

Bokuto seemed to understand him, though, and why that was was beyond Kenma. “Thanks a lot, bro. By the way, Kuroo, you take really long showers, so you’re going last.”

Kuroo let his jaw drop open incredulously at Bokuto’s comment, but then quickly snapped it closed. Kenma knew it was true, what with the often two-hour long showers he took whenever he slept over at Kenma’s place. Last night, however, Kenma felt he was a bit more practical with his time and instead took a 45 minute shower. He let out a little exhale when he remembered Yaku after Kuroo came out of the bathroom, scolding him for that supposedly “very long” shower. The libero had no idea.

Kenma and Kuroo followed the other two out of the arcade, their stuff in hand. Kenma still had Kuro 2.0 with him, and he saw Kuroo eyeball it out of the corner of his eye. Kenma carried it under his arm, and he made sure it didn’t fall when he descended the stairs and exited the lobby. Many of the employees and the other resort-goers gave Kenma and Kuro 2.0 strange looks, but none of them actually stopped him from carrying the coconut around.

Eventually, the four got to the cobblestone path that led to the cabins. They walked its length, past the first two forks in the road, and they turned with the road, into the Nekoma sector of the cabins. Kenma’s cabin was Cabin 21, and it didn’t take long for them to traverse through the other bungalows to get to it. When they arrived at the cabin, the sun was already beginning its descent to the horizon, but it still had a ways to go. Kenma was glad to leave the perpetual heat and leap into the cool shade that his porch provided, and Kuroo fished around in his bag for the key.

“Heh, your cabin is number 21,” Bokuto remarked, smiling mischievously. “21.”

Kenma unfortunately got the joke, and grumbled inwardly.

Kuroo groaned, and brought his palm up to his face. “I can’t believe you right now. What are you, five?”

“I’m actually number four, Kuroo,” Bokuto stated, a sly grin on his face, “Akaashi’s five. C’mon, you know this.”

Kuroo gave a strange sort of grimace and unlocked the door, leading everyone inside.

Kenma was the last to enter the cabin, and he put Kuro 2.0 on the kitchen counter before he promptly collapsed on the couch, breathing in the mildly floral-scented air conditioning. It was good to be indoors.

Akaashi took a polite seat next to Kenma, and watched as Bokuto explored the cabin. When he stuck his head in the bedroom, he stuck his head back out, and asked: “Do all the cabins have two full-sized beds? I imagine that might be awkward for a few people.”

“Nah,” Kuroo replied, “I heard that Inuoka’s cabin had four twin sized beds.”

Bokuto nodded his head. “Alrighty. I call showering first!” And with that, Bokuto jumped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. It wasn’t long after until Kenma heard the muffled rush of the shower being turned on.

Beside him, Akaashi clicked his tongue. “We don’t have a change of clothes.”

Kuroo looked over to him from his seat on the recliner. He had taken his acoustic guitar (which he had stubbornly brought over from home and placed in the cabin’s living room like it was a sort of treasure) and had absent-mindedly been plucking at it. “It’s not that far of a walk from here, right?”

“No,” Akaashi said, “I can be back in a few minutes.”

“We’ll be waiting.” And with that, Akaashi went out the door.

Kenma looked back at Kuroo, who was busy thrumming his guitar. Kuroo had picked up the instrument back in his first year of middle school, and he had been playing it ever since. By now, it was one of his favorite pastimes, and Kenma had to admit he was excellent at it. He had broken his first guitar ages ago; this glossy black one was fairly new. It had a few cat stickers on it, and almost every time Kenma went over to Kuroo’s house, he had played Kenma a song with it.

Kenma enjoyed those days, reveling in the breeze through Kuroo’s open window, a gentle strumming in the air. Kuroo seldom played his guitar for others, and it was only his closet friends and family knew the true extent of his playing. He had learned the melodies to many American classic rock songs, and it was one of the reasons his English was better than the average Japanese high schooler. He claimed to understand the subtleties and the metaphors in the original lyrics, and how he thought they were beautiful. Kenma didn’t doubt him.

Kuroo played now with dexterous fingers, plucking out the melody to a mellow song that rung familiar bells deep in Kenma’s memory.

“Dust in the wind…” Kuroo sang softly in English, the breathy tenor of his voice brushing past his lips as easy as a lullaby, “All they are is dust in the wind…” He kept humming, periodically checking his left hand to make sure he was playing the chords right.

The music was pacifying, hypnotizing. Kuroo had a way with his guitar; he could convey any emotion and any effect with his playing. Kenma found himself leaning back into the couch, closing his eyes and listening solely to Kuroo’s song. The harmonies were complex and rich, the notes flowing as if on a river; Kenma thought it sounded sorrowful and almost mournful. Kenma didn’t know if that’s the way the song was meant to be performed, but it was how Kuroo was playing it.

Kenma looked at Kuroo’s face. He was facing downwards, but Kenma could see traces of muted melancholy on his expression. He leaned over the guitar, suspended in his own little world, playing his guitar and humming a poignant melody.

The front door opened suddenly; Akaashi was back. His bag was fuller now, and he gave a surprised look when he saw Kuroo. The setter’s shoulders seemed to relax, and he walked down the hallway to knock at Bokuto’s door. He took a neatly folded bundle of clothes and said to the door: “Bokuto-san, I have your clothes here.”

The door opened, and Kenma could see a cloud of steam roll out and the wing spiker with a towel around his waist. Kenma noticed Akaashi’s eyes give Bokuto a lightning fast once-over, but he seemed otherwise unaffected by the sight. He held out the clothes, and Bokuto thanked him as he closed the door. Kuroo was still playing, drawing out the song and experimenting with his own complementing harmonies. Akaashi sat down next to Kenma, and turned his head to face him. “Is it okay if I go next?”

Kenma nodded, and went back to having his head resting on the top of the couch.

“He’s very good.”

“Hmm?” The murmur took Kenma out of his stupor, and it took him a bit to adjust.

“Kuroo-san. I didn’t know he played the guitar like that.”

Kenma looked again to Kuroo. “Yeah, he’s been playing since middle school.”

It was then that Bokuto left the bathroom for good, wearing a red graphic tee and dark, loose-fitting shorts. “Now don’t hang on…” he sang in tune with Kuroo’s song.

“Nothing last forever but the earth and sky,” Kuroo responded. His melancholy seemed to be gone now, replaced with a grin. “It slips away…”

“And all your money won’t another minute buy,” The two sang this part together, flawlessly hitting the high note at the end.

The continued to sing, and Akaashi stood up, his clothes in hand, and walked into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Kenma watched on as the two sung. Kuroo played a bit more vibrantly now, and Bokuto knocked on the back of the recliner to a slow, constant beat. The song ended with a fading chord, its tone ascending until Kuroo plucked the highest and final string, drawing out its note as it warbled and finally dwindled out of existence.

“Nice, Kuroo!” Bokuto gave the middle blocker a high five, “play another!” Bokuto sat on the couch next to Kenma, eagerly awaiting the next performance.

Kuroo cracked his knuckles and grasped the pick in his hand. He strummed a couple soft, experimental notes in a different key than the previous song.

He then put the pick on the armrest and began to pluck the strings in a calm yet expressive melody that Kenma definetly recognized. Beside him Bokuto’s face lit in recognition and began to hum drawn out accompaniments to Kuroo’s melody which Kenma also found familiar, until the two finished on a harmonized chord.

“There’s a lady who’s sure,” Kuroo began softly, “all that glitters is gold…”

“And she’s buying a stairway to heaven,” the captains harmonized, and that was when Kenma knew exactly which song this was.

The song continued, and Kenma once again allowed his eyes to slip closed and focused on the music. He found himself humming along; he knew how it went as he was certain Kuroo has played this for him before. His lips formed lyrics in a language he didn’t know, and he felt a bit at peace.

It was as if the music was all-encompassing; he couldn’t even hear the constant drone of the air conditioning and the cascading of the shower nearby. Bokuto’s foot was tapping against the floor, making a beat, and that was soon joined by the sound of his hands rapping at the couch and its armrest, forming a complex rhythm that perfectly complimented Kuroo’s guitar and their voices.

“Ooh… it makes me wonder…”

It turned out that Akaashi took very fast showers, and he came out his hair slightly wet but still curled and dressed in a dark olive V-neck and light tan cargo shorts. He smiled at the music and walked towards Kenma. He stood up and out of the couch as Akaashi took his seat, and he ambled to the bedroom in search of new clothes.

Kenma saw that the beds were neatly made; the cleaning ladies must have been there earlier today. Opening the closet door, he picked out a light sweatshirt with a pink and red cat design with a frayed pair of ivory hued shorts that Kenma remembered used to be jeans before he decided to cut the pant-legs off. He also selected a pair of flip-flops with a lemon pattern and toed off his secondhand black sandals for them. He also got a pair of boxers from his side of the rack. He wasted no time in entering the bathroom, locking the door behind him, and turning on the shower.

Kenma could hear Kuroo’s now muffled playing as he stripped out of his clothes and kicked them away. He placed his cellphone on the counter and he stepped in the shower. He then immediately felt his hair stick to the sides of his face and his skin begin to heat up under the hot water. Stream began to curl in the air, and Kenma let himself soak; he debated angling the showerhead a certain way so that he could lean against the tub and drift away. Kenma decided to do so.

The shower produced a sort of static that made Kenma’s mind wander. The music had turned into background noise, and Kenma really did think that it was beautiful. Kuroo always had an ear for music, and those who knew him superficially would think that such a talent would be wasted on him as an athlete.

Kuroo was always so busy with the responsibilities that came with being captain of the volleyball club and with being enrolled in several college-level classes. The music was an escape for him; it was his stress relief. Kenma knew he needed it to feel something after an intense game or study session, to wander in the abstract and the conceptual that his academics and volleyball strategies simply did not grant him. Music was his form of expression, and Kenma found a similar solace in his video games. Often times, after an especially trying match, the two would find each other at either house, Kenma playing his beloved game and Kuroo playing a wispy melody on his prized guitar.

It was like Kenma with his video games. He imagined how Kuroo would feel if his guitar was taken away from him, but the sense of stress and anguish that filled him suddenly made him stop. He couldn't bear to think that.

As Kenma washed away the scent of chlorine and the sand still lodged between his toes, he thought of Kuroo. It was a bit petty of him to ignore his best friend like he had been doing the entire day, and Kenma knew better than to act like a petulant child. True, his online game was important to him, but was it so important that it was worth risking his friendship over? Or did he think that what he and Kuroo had was so flimsy that one bad argument could topple it over like a breeze would a house of cards?

If Kenma understood anything about friendship, it was that a healthy one was like a dance: sometimes the dancers are together, chest to chest, holding on to each other and perfectly synchronized, and other times those same arms that held the other so tenderly would become outstretched, separating themselves from each other but never severing their ties.

In truth, Kenma hated being separated from Kuroo and every moment since his silent treatment began he had felt lost and deserted. Kenma had not realized it, having reveled in the sweet solitude it gave him, but even introverts get lonely. Being friendless was never a good thing, and Kenma decided he would change that now. He valued and respected Kuroo too much to neglect him like this.

He laughed humorlessly. How could he have ever ignored Kuroo? In retrospect, the silent treatment seemed now like a silly idea. Perhaps his immaturity still got the best of him. Kuroo, who befriended him when no one would, who gave purpose to his monotone life, who helped him discover his talents and sharpen them until they were flawless like a diamond, who he could be himself around, who he could always talk to, who was always there for him.

Kenma felt a strange heat envelop his heart and snake up his neck. Kenma was no fool, yet he couldn’t believe what this all meant. He shook his head. No way. I am most definitely not in love with my best friend.

It was a preposterous idea, of course. Kenma didn’t think it could be possible, and yet, the more he thought about it, the more probable it became. It scared the life out of him, but damn it, Kenma swore nothing else ever made more sense in his entire life. It was the logical conclusion to his emotions, and Kenma would be foolish to deny the considerable evidence laid out before his very eyes.

Burying his face in his hands, he let the waterfall around him blot everything out and gave a great, wavering sigh. This was all very difficult to process.

He closed the spigot, ceasing the cascade of water, and stepped out into the fog. He dried his hair in a quick rustle of a nearby towel, and then tied it around his thin waist. Wiping the condensation in the mirror, he looked at himself.

Kenma gave a cynical chuckle. If he really was truly and irrevocably in love with Kuroo, he found little evidence that the captain would love him back. Kuroo had always shown an interest in girls, pretty ones with long, flowing hair and soft curves that Kenma knew his own looks would never live up to.

Kenma observed himself; he was all edges with his thin build and his slightly protruding bones that gave the impression of being gaunt, and his two-toned hair was in need of being dyed again. His eyes were his most striking feature, Kenma guessed, what with them being golden and a bit catlike with their slightly elongated pupils. Kenma had always found them abnormal, and no one could guess why Kenma had eyes like that.

Kenma had a snowball’s chance in hell of Kuroo ever liking him back.

He finished drying himself and then dressed himself with the clean clothes he picked out. He felt an odd tightness in his throat, a devastating sorrow that coursed through his veins like lead. Suddenly, he understood the mournfulness in Kuroo’s first song. Perhaps it was this, a crippling sense of rejection and abandonment, that influenced his playing into conveying such grief. He must have been feeling rejected because Kenma had blatantly ignored him for as long as they’ve been at that resort. He thought back to the coconut he had found and dubbed his friend, and where he left it lying on the kitchen table. Kuroo didn’t deserve such treatment, such negligence, from Kenma.

And yet at the same time, Kuroo seemed to be taking it fine; after all, there he was outside, playing guitar and smiling, singing and laughing. If it hurt him as much as Kenma thought it did, he was stronger than he appeared to be. Or maybe he simply didn’t feel as deeply for Kenma than Kenma did for him. Or worse, he did. Just for someone else.

Kenma thought he might begin to cry, but no tears seemed to come.

Placing his cellphone in his pocket, he walked out of the bathroom and down the hallway, and locked eyes with Kuroo. God, he did love him, with that stupidly wild hairstyle of his, those sly burnished-gold eyes, that perpetual smirk, those broad shoulders, that firm chest—

Kenma needed to stop before he exploded into a million pieces.

“Kuro,” he finally managed, calling him by his nickname, “the bathroom’s free.”

Kuroo looked shocked that Kenma was speaking directly at him, but nonetheless nodded. “Alright,” he replied, then turned to the others, “I’ll be quick, I promise.” He passed by Kenma and went into the bedroom to get his clothes.

Kenma sat down on couch beside Akaashi, and watched as Bokuto gracelessly plucked at Kuroo’s guitar, absorbed in attempting to sound half as good as the middle blocker did. Out of the corner of his vision, Kenma saw Kuroo saunter into the bathroom and close the door behind him.

Akaashi looked at Kenma, and furrowed his brows. “Kenma-san, are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

Kenma looked at the other setter, and noticed a strange look his eyes, as if he was X-raying him. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

Akaashi shook his head. “Lying really isn’t your strong suit, Kenma-san.” He continued to study Kenma, when suddenly his eyes widened a bit. “You’ve realized something quite major, haven’t you? Did you have an existential crisis in there?”

An existential crisis wouldn’t exactly be so far from the truth, Kenma thought.

“Or maybe this is more personal.”

Now Kenma was afraid. He couldn’t be outed. He forcefully drained all the emotions from his face, released the tension he didn’t know he had in his shoulders, and tried his best to give Akaashi his most neutral expression (emphasis on tried).

Akaashi’s facial expression softened into something a bit more natural and warm. “You can tell me. I can help; you seem quite troubled.”

Kenma was at a crossroads now: does he tell Akaashi his deepest secret, or does he give him a half-truth to get out of the situation quickly? Looking towards the bathroom door, he made his decision.

“This is about Kuroo-san, isn’t it?”

How does he do that.

Akaashi bent his neck to the side a little, and Kenma felt a bit safer. “Have you realized that the silent treatment was a bad idea?”

Kenma nodded. He felt his emotions start bubbling up again, and he forced them back down.

Akaashi grinned, a rare sight. “Is it what I think it is, Kenma-san?” he whispered.

Kenma felt inundated with something akin to grief suddenly. He sniffled, and wiped at his eyes; no tears. He was coming apart at the seams and the pieces that still remained slipped from his fingers like fine sand.

Akaashi nodded understandingly. “We can talk at the buffet when they’re off getting their food if you like.”

Kenma nodded. He couldn’t believe he was on the verge of displaying such emotion; he was usually in control of them.

Bokuto had given up on the guitar, putting it to the side and begun drumming his fingers on the armrest. Beside him, Akaashi was humming a melody that Kenma suspected was his own improvisation. Kenma sat there, him mind completely blank except for one thought that repeated itself like a broken record.

I, Kozume Kenma, am really, truly, irrevocably in love with Kuroo Tetsurou.

Everything seemed to click now that he had accepted it. All those times he always found himself staring at Kuroo, that happiness he felt whenever Kuroo entered the room, that compulsion to be close to him at all times. Even the reason why he let themselves become alienated in the first place: the sense of betrayal he felt was augmented because he trusted and loved Kuroo so much.

All of this was unimaginable, really. To think that Kenma was in this deep and that he had absolutely no idea.

Kuroo had made good on his word, taking only half an hour to shower. He came out dressed in a crimson V-neck and charcoal hued sweatpants. His hair was even more messy now, thanks to the endless cloud of humidity hanging in the air of the bathroom. Kuroo left the door open so the steam could circulate and eventually diffuse out.

Kenma thought he looked pretty hot.

He mentally kicked himself for thinking that.

“Damn, that was fast,” Bokuto remarked, “are we ready to go?”

Kuroo nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go guys.”

And the four of them were off, walking in the dusk out towards the cobblestone path. They passed others along the way, and the captains gave out waves to those they knew. It didn’t take long to traverse the road and to go back inside the lobby. It was just as ritzy as Kenma remembered it to be, with the chandelier ever sparkling from the ceiling. He knew where to go this time, and he followed the other three into the buffet.

They had arrived just in time, in Kenma’s opinion: that moment when one isn’t the first to enter, but isn’t dead last either. Neither did they come in the middle of it all, when most people come and the lines are clogged up. No, they came at some time between the crowded middle and the solitary beginning.

They quickly claimed a table for four and Akaashi placed his bag next to where Kenma had claimed his seat. Bokuto and Kuroo had once again walked off in search of food, and Akaashi cleared his throat.

“Please excuse me if I am wrong, but,” Akaashi murmured, “it is my belief that you realized that you have strong feelings for Kuroo-san. Am I right?”

Kenma resigned himself to his fate and nodded slowly.

Akaashi nodded, and his eyebrows loosened. He took a deep breath. “I understand. First off, let me start by saying congratulations. This must have not been easy to figure out and accept.”

“Thanks.” Kenma’s voice was hoarse.

“I will say that Kuroo-san seems to be quite fond of you,” Akaashi began, “However, I have to say I have not seen him exhibit any of the obvious signs of attraction. It’s possibly he may be very adept at hiding such cues, in which case he’s a very good liar and he’s had the practice. If he’s had the practice, than it means he’s been in love with you for much longer than you have with him.”

“Or he’s just not in love with me,” Kenma countered. Saying the words aloud gave him a bitter taste in his mouth.

Akaashi nodded bluntly. “Yes. Or that. But he always speaks so highly of you, and he’s always protecting you, always looking after you. If you ask me, the amount of praise and care he gives you is way above the amount of the average good friends.”

“So you’re saying I could have a chance.”

“That stands to reason, yes,” Akaashi replied. “But please, don’t worry too much over it. Let’s go get something to eat, yes?”

Kenma nodded. “Let’s.”

The setter duo walked towards the buffet line. Kenma decided a warm bowl of soup would do, as he was feeling a bit dizzy and overwhelmed. Akaashi picked up a plate of spaghetti, and Kenma left the line with a hot slice of apple pie. The pie smelled heavenly, and he could use any and all distractions that came his way.

When they returned, Kuroo and Bokuto were already seating, eating away at their meals. Kenma sat down and carefully maneuvered the bowl onto the table without spilling anything. The four ate away at their food, finding themselves famished.

There was conversation about, and Kenma couldn’t stop looking at Kuroo. It was as if his eyes weren’t allowed to go anywhere else. He took his every detail: the slope of his nose, the curve of his cheekbones, the angle of his jaw. He catalogued the way he chuckled, the smirk he always made, the way he chewed his food, and the way his lips moved around the words he formed. It was mesmerizing, that mouth. He imagined one day he might get to kiss those lips, card his fingers through his wild dark hair, feel his whipcord muscles roll and tighten underneath his own.

Kenma sighed. He was in so, so deep.

The apple pie was the strongest distraction since his realization, providing a blissful yet temporary escape from his problems. The apples were exquisitely tart, and the sugared crust was the perfect way to balance it out. He finished his slice faster than he cared to admit, and soon all of them were done. Akaashi checked the clock on his phone, and Kenma saw that it was 8:30. Kenma loved to sleep, and he often did so at around 9 or 10 o’clock.

As if he knew of Kenma’s preference, Kuroo stood up. “We should be heading back. Walk you guys to the crossroads?”

Bokuto stood up as well, and gave Kuroo a thumbs-up. “Yeah. C’mon, Akaashi.”

The four walked out of the buffet, and Kenma waved to a happy Hinata as he was apparently racing Kageyama on who could finish their food the fastest. The sky outside the lobby was dark now, the moon out in full view. It was waxing, and Kenma knew it would be a full moon in a handful of days. The walk went by even faster now, as the way started to become routine. They eventually got to the fork in the road where the group of four would split up.

Kuroo gave Bokuto a bear hug. “Goodbye, bro. See you tomorrow.”

Bokuto clapped him on the back, smiling. “See ya.”

They high-fived and Bokuto and Akaashi walked off. Kenma could see Akaashi waving at him with a knowing expression on his face. Kenma reciprocated, and but left his face neutral, as his own way of saying please shut up.

Kuroo unlocked the door to the cabin, and Kenma was surprised to find Lev and Yaku inside. Yaku was reading a book, and Lev was slowly wandering from the bedroom to the bathroom as he brushed his teeth.

The libero closed his book, making sure that his page was bookmarked. “About time you two get here. Why’d you have dinner so late?”

Kuroo put on a sarcastic expression. “Well, because we wanted to. Sorry we took so long, mom.”

Yaku opened his mouth to retort, but then they heard a crash from the bathroom. Yaku was the first to stand and rush over, followed by Kuroo and then Kenma. Lev was on the floor, and he was groaning. There was a pink splotch on his forehead.

“Goddamn it, Lev,” Yaku grumbled, “please tell me you did not actually just run into the wall again.”

Lev smiled bashfully despite the toothbrush in his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Yaku gave an aggravated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just get up and finish brushing your teeth.” He walked away, muttering curses and phrases such as “scared the shit out of me”.

Kuroo walked into the bedroom and flipped on the light from his and Kenma’s nightstand. Warm light filled the room, and Kenma stepped to the side as Kuroo took his pajamas out of the closet and threw them on the bed. He gave Kenma his pajamas too; a ratty white tee and a pair of red cotton shorts. “Here you go, Kenma.”

Kenma nodded. “Thanks.”

“So, are you going to sleep on the couch or the bed tonight?” Kuroo asked, a smile on his face.

Kenma laughed, but a pang of hurt struck his heart. He had left Kuroo to sleep alone last night while he stubbornly slept away from him on that soft but lumpy couch. He did this with the knowledge that Kuroo avoided sleeping alone whenever he could; the captain slept with his two cats while in his own house, and he refused to pull out the guest futon whenever Kenma slept over at his house. It was cruel of Kenma, but he hadn’t been in his right mind then.

Kenma remembered finding Kuroo in the morning still asleep, his blanket strewn around and his arms around a pillow. His face was buried into it, and his legs had wrapped around it as well. There was a furrow in his brow and despondency in his expression, and now, the memory of it filled Kenma with a strange combination of bitter regret and heart-rending love.

“The bed,” and then Kenma added a bit more quietly, “I forgive you.”

“I accept your forgiveness,” Kuroo replied, and then opened his arms in a wide gesture. “C’mere, you internet-hungry little nerd.”

Kenma smiled and took the embrace without a second thought. He buried his face in Kuroo’s chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his ribs. Kuroo hugged him with the same amount of regard, but there was something about the way his arms wound around his neck and shoulders that made Kenma’s chest feel warm. Electricity sparked on any areas where Kuroo touched him; a fact of life that Kenma would have to consciously deal with now.

Kuroo was the first to pull away, and he gave Kenma a friendly smile. Kenma gave him a little grin of his own.

Eventually, the other two filed into the bedroom, ready to go to sleep. Kenma went into the bathroom to change and brush his teeth, and as he looked at himself in the mirror, he wondered if falling out of love was at all possible.

When he walked back into the bedroom, Kuroo was already in bed, wearing his pajamas of a thin black muscle tee with worn coffee-hued sweatpants and looking at the time in the clock on the nightstand. Kenma closed the door behind him, and slipped into the cool sheets, grateful for the soft mattress underneath him.

Kuroo turned off the light and said goodnight to the other two. He gave a little exhale as he sunk into the pillow, and Kenma watched his breathing. Kuroo shuffled to side and faced Kenma. His tarnished-gold eyes glimmered in the moonlight, and he mouthed the sentence “apology cuddles?”

Kenma’s desire got the best of him, and he snuggled closer to the taller teen, settling into a fetal position that made him the approximate size of Kuroo’s torso. The captain nestled closer, so much so that the little distance that Kenma decided to put between his knees and head and Kuroo’s chest was gone. Kuroo drew his legs up towards his chest just a bit, and they stopped just at Kenma’s feet. One of his arms was tucked underneath his pillow, pushing it into his head just the way he liked it, and the other arm was cradling to Kenma’s own, the two hands touching but not intertwining.

Kenma restrained himself from lacing his fingers with Kuroo’s, and instead just took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Kuroo was cozily warm in the pleasant chill of the sheets, and Kenma couldn’t help but relax into it.

Kenma knew there was no falling out of love. He was stuck with it forever, and his only hope was that Kuroo gave him a definite answer soon; whether it be a heartfelt confession or a clear rejection.

Kenma knew it was laughable to blindly hope for a happy ending, but as he drifted into the tranquil land of his dreams, he thought maybe, just maybe, his predicament would work itself out for the better.

Chapter Text

The first thing Keiji saw when he opened his eyes was a beam of light. It blinded him temporarily, and he turned over in his bed to avoid the brightness. However, he had spun directly into a warm mass, and it snuggled closer to him. Keiji very much disliked the chill that mornings often gave when he stepped out of the warmth of his covers, so he welcomed this heat, and nestled into it.

Keiji considered it to be an immediate mistake when he took the warmth for granted. Opening his eyes, he saw that the mass in front of him was Bokuto, and the captain gave Keiji a fond, lazy smile. It made Keiji’s heart skip a beat.

“You don’t want to get up, do you?” Bokuto asked, his glowing gold eyes becoming half-closed, “Me neither.”

Keiji’s face grew hot with a familiar heat as he did nothing to stop Bokuto from nuzzling closer to him, wrapping his muscular arms around him, gently lacing their legs together, placing his chin on Keiji’s obsidian curls.

Keiji’s heart was definitely racing now, and his hands felt a bit clammy in their position on Bokuto’s chest. He made no expressions that would clue in Bokuto into what he was really feeling, but that endeavor was becoming more difficult every second the captain held him.

Keiji wondered why he was doing this in the first place. There was no incentive, no clear goal. It seemed almost as if he was holding him simply because he wanted to, and yet Keiji had determined long ago that there was virtually zero chance that the wing spiker would actually have feelings for him.

According to this display, he was wrong. And Keiji was never wrong about Bokuto.

“Akaashi, you feeling okay? Your hands are trembling.”

Keiji was sure he was about to implode, so the answer was clear. “Yes, Bokuto-san, I am fine.”

Bokuto clicked his tongue. “Don’t lie to me, Akaashi.” Keiji felt one of his hands trail up his back, and it took everything he had to contain the shiver that followed. “Listen, I’m not completely brainless. I see the way you look at me; the way you act around me.”

Keiji gulped. He took strict precautions: he never looked at Bokuto more than was appropriate; there were no fleeting touches, no furtive glances, and no fawning looks whenever he was around.

“It isn’t how much time you spend looking at me, Akaashi,” Bokuto said suddenly, as if he knew what was going through Keiji’s mind, “Some things you just can’t control. How much you care about me goes beyond normal friendship, and don’t think I’m dumb enough to not pick up on your subtler cues. A spiker always knows his setter, after all.”

Bokuto’s hand kept sliding up until it reached Keiji’s bare neck, and then his palm settled for wrapping around his jaw. He leaned in close, until his lips were a hairsbreadth away from Keiji’s own, “I think it’s time I told you,” he whispered, the other man’s words mingling with his breath, “that I feel the same way.”

Bokuto slowly pressed his lips to Keiji’s, and he laid there in Bokuto’s arms, completely petrified. He felt as if his veins had been lit on fire and his heart was slamming furiously against his sternum. Something deep in the back of his mind told him that something was wrong, but Keiji’s overwhelming yearning quickly stamped out that notion and he let his eyes slip closed because Bokuto was actually kissing him.

Keiji kissed back, and Bokuto put his other hand at Keiji’s shoulder so he could pull them both up to sitting positions. The kiss was warm and soft; it felt almost like a dream and tasted sweeter than he ever imagined. Keiji let his hands wander up to Bokuto’s salt-and-pepper hair, and he smiled as he combed his fingers through the downy tufts. Bokuto gave a little sigh at the touch, and a strange bubbling feeling arose in Keiji’s chest.

Keiji was suddenly out of breath and he pulled away, a glittering thread of saliva the only thing connecting them now. Bokuto’s pupils were blown wide, a rosy blush dusted across his cheeks, and the only thing that remained of his perpetual smile was a thin grin that played at his kiss-ruddy lips. Keiji sat leaning against the headboard with his thighs spread apart with just enough space for Bokuto to sit with his legs folded underneath him. A hot flare ran through his blood. “Bokuto-san,” he began, the sound of it coming out hoarse, “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I’ve wanted this for a long time. And quit it with the honorifics.” Bokuto put his hands on the small of Keiji’s back, and slid his lips underneath Keiji’s once more. Keiji mirrored his actions, and grasped at Bokuto’s shoulder blades.

The sensation of it all was near enslaving; Keiji couldn’t stop. He felt Bokuto’s adventurous nature shine through when he felt his tongue slide against his lower lip, and he opened his mouth in surprise, giving Bokuto entry. This was definitely something new, and he couldn’t help giving a low groan at the feeling.

He felt his brows furrowing, and he grasped tighter onto Bokuto, his blunt nails surely digging holes in the captain’s skin. As he inhaled sharply, he was struck by Bokuto’s distinct scent: an intoxicating combination of warm maple and earthy musk. It seeped through his skin, and waves of pleasure pulsated through his body.

“Enjoying yourself?” Bokuto inquired, pulling away and leaving Keiji breathless. Bokuto then laid a kiss to the corner of Keiji’s lips, and another to his cheek, then another just under his jaw, and Keiji’s breathing hitched.

His hands unwound themselves from Bokuto’s back and now rested atop his shoulders, holding on to them. Keiji was sure that his face was beet red, because Bokuto was smirking as he pressed his mouth to the hollow of Keiji’s throat, kissing and licking down to his collarbone. It was when Bokuto gave more forceful suck to a spot just above Keiji’s clavicle that caused him to make an uncharacteristic whining sound. “Bokuto…”

He felt the wing spiker smile at his kiss-bruised flesh, and continued. Bokuto slipped his hands underneath Keiji’s shirt, and it came off in a smooth arc. The chill of the room’s air conditioning almost didn’t affect him, and Bokuto seemed entranced by the sight of Keiji’s bare chest. He knew he’d seen it before— in the changing room before practice, just yesterday at the beach. But Keiji felt almost exposed now, however, and that feeling elicited something deep in his abdomen.

In response, Bokuto tore off his own shirt, the muscles of his chest rippling as it disappeared from view. Compared to Keiji, Bokuto was much better built, a trait he had always had despite his lazy habits outside the court. Perhaps it was all that meat he ate. Keiji had always been a bit slender, and even though he had the muscles of an athlete, they still put him on the lithe side of the spectrum.

The morning light danced around Bokuto’s face and bare torso, making him look almost ethereal, as if the glow was coming from within. His eyes were completely overtaken by his pupils, only a ring of gold visible. His hair was mussed, and some of the strands fell into his eyes. Keiji’s heart painfully skipped a beat. He was so gorgeous.

“God, Akaashi, you’re stunning.”

He wasted no time in scrambling to suck at Keiji’s clavicle again, licking its length, making Keiji shudder. He looked up at him expectantly, as if he was trying to ask permission.

“Please,” Keiji said breathlessly, and Bokuto continued farther down, each crude kiss poker-hot. Keiji couldn’t contain the sighs that wantonly poured from his lips when Bokuto latched onto one of his nipples. He bit at it, and Keiji had to bring one of his hands up to muffle the moan it drew from him.

If Bokuto did feel this way, how come Keiji had never caught on?

Bokuto never gave any clue that he was attracted to him: he didn’t stare, he was never at loss for words when he talked to him, he didn’t touch him unnecessarily. He was always childishly clingy, but that was just Bokuto’s personality. However, Keiji thought, all the classic body language signs were there: Bokuto would angle himself towards Keiji whenever he was in the room, he would puff out his chest, and he would always look at him earnestly and with undivided attention. Even so, he did that to almost everyone; it was all just a part of his usual behavior.

It was when Bokuto pressed an open-mouth kiss to his solar plexus that Keiji was wrung from his thoughts. It was almost as if he was branded with each pucker of the captain’s lips. He kept going down, and the waistband of Keiji’s shorts were growing tighter with each kiss.

When Bokuto looked up at Keiji, he looked completely debauched: face flushed, red mouth parted, eyes completely blown. He was breathing in shallow pants, and his teeth came over to snag his bottom lip. Keiji whined at the sight, and his hands tensed the wing spiker’s hair.

“I want to use my mouth,” he murmured, never looking away, “is that okay?”

It’s more than okay, Keiji wanted to shout, but he controlled it to just a curt nod, and he felt his shorts and boxers slip off in one fell swoop. His spine arched off the headboard with a sharp cry just as Bokuto—

“GOOD MORNING, Akaashi! Sleep well?”

Keiji cracked open his eyes and looked around him. He was lying down on the bed, fully clothed. He turned to see Bokuto stretching out his arms, a wide smile on his face. He, too, was fully clothed, and he was definitely not about to…

Keiji cleared the thought from his mind. Obviously, he had been dreaming. If there was one thing he really couldn’t control about his whole predicament, it was the dreams. There was no way to stop them, yet Keiji couldn’t really lie about not enjoying them either.

There was another problem about having these dreams: sometimes the physical effects of it would carry into reality, which is why he recently started avoiding sleeping in the same bed as Bokuto whenever he would nag for a sleepover. Whenever something unfortunate did happen, he would always wake up earlier anyways, so he just tip-toed his way to the bathroom and speedily resolved it with an ice cold shower.

However, there were no spare futons around in the cabin they were given, and the couch had been too firm for Keiji’s liking. He was not about to have crippling back aches all because of the possibility that Bokuto might catch him. So, he bit the bullet and slept in the full-sized bed with Bokuto. The captain had been ecstatic, and nothing bad had happened the first morning. However, today was another day, and with every new day comes a new roll of the dice.

Shifting his legs a bit, he quickly found out that the universe had it out for him, because he was indeed sporting some morning wood. Bokuto seemed to have no idea, thankfully, as he idly hopped out of bed and ducked into the closet for a change of clothes. Bokuto took off his pajama shirt and was now perusing through his collection of ostentatious clothing for a replacement. The muscles at his shoulders stirred under bronzed skin and his hair had not been styled yet so it hung down in short, soft crests, and Keiji felt his problem become just a bit more uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, he was wearing shorts, so concealing it would be difficult. However, Keiji quickly devised a plan.

First, he completely studied his surroundings. The opposite bed was empty, Komi and Konoha must have already gotten up. Bokuto was the only other person in the room.

He slowly sat up as if nothing was wrong and yawned, making sure to stretch out his arms to appear as natural as possible. “I think I’ll take a quick shower.”

Bokuto didn’t turn to look at him as he replied, “Okay. But I’m hungry, so hurry up.”

Keiji knew it was now or never, so he leapt from the bed and quickly nabbed a new pair of boxers from the rack inside the closet. He slipped away as graceful as a fox, and was in the bathroom before Bokuto could notice a thing.

Locking the door behind him, he shed off all of his clothing, turned on the faucet as cold as it would go, and stepped in.

It was if a million tiny needles pricked him all at once, but it thankfully killed his morning wood. Sighing, he let the water envelop him.

He thought back to last night, when Kenma had confessed to him that he was in love with Kuroo. It hadn’t come as a surprise to Keiji, as the other setter always looked like a lost kitten whenever Kuroo wasn’t by him. That silent treatment that he was punishing Kuroo with honestly hurt both of them more than it helped; Kuroo had looked so miserable whenever Kenma brazenly ignored him. As for Kenma: it crushed him too. Keiji could see the bitter regret and longing in his eyes when he told him, but deep down, Keiji was glad he felt that way.

Misery loves company, after all.

Keiji didn’t tell Kenma, but he had similar strong feelings for his own captain ever since he was at least thirteen. He counted the years out on his fingers… three years he had been in love with Bokuto. Possibly more.

The two were childhood friends, and Bokuto had always teased him for being a year older than him. He remembered the first inklings of his feelings appearing as he entered middle school, but he wasn’t old enough back then to identify those emotions for what they actually were.

It really hit him when Bokuto graduated middle school and left for high school, and Keiji felt a dull ache hit him when he realized he wasn’t going to get to see Bokuto as often. That last year of middle school was one of his worst years; it felt as if he was just drifting his way through life. Nothing excited him or motivated him. It was only when he went to Bokuto’s house over the weekend or when the captain visited the Akaashi household when he really felt alive again.

Finally, that horrible year had ended, and he went to the same high school as Bokuto, Fukuroudani Academy. Keiji remembered that the moment he saw him on the first day of school, smiling and laughing as he welcomed him to high school, the golden sunshine dancing on his face, was the moment Keiji knew he was in love.

Keiji knew he couldn’t tell Bokuto or anyone, so he kept it all to himself. Bokuto was a well-liked upperclassman of his, and Keiji recalled some of the girls of his class cooing about him, wanting to give him chocolates for Valentine’s Day. They liked his energetic personality and his tall, muscular physique. It had all made Keiji feel nauseous with an emotion he soon came to know as jealousy.

But Bokuto was remarkably agreeable and open-minded, so Keiji had thought if he just told him, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Keiji was sure he wouldn’t cut off such a long and cherished friendship over something trivial like a crush. So why hadn’t he just gone up and told him? Keiji knew the truth: he was just afraid; he was a coward. He couldn’t bring himself to, and he felt safer with just repressing it, even if it was like holding shards of broken glass with his bare hands.

He guessed, if that was true, then his heart was covered in little cuts that would never heal, that would always bleed. So when he found out Kenma was holding shards just like him, he felt a wave of relief. Perhaps it was only human nature to want to share your pain with someone else so it didn’t seem like such a burden anymore.

Waving the thoughts from his head, he grabbed his bar of soap from the dish on the edge of the tub and unwrapped it. He began scrubbing down on his skin, creating lathers that slid down his body. He hadn’t used this soap bar yet, as the last shower he took in his own cabin, he had used the rest of his old bottle of body wash that he was keen on finishing. Keiji noticed something rough rubbing at his skin, and examined his soap bar.

There were little lavender petals embedded in the soap bar, and Keiji should’ve guessed when he saw that the bar was lavender-colored and scented itself. He was also sure that this soap bar was his father’s newer creations, as he and Keiji’s mother ran a small cosmetics shop. They were always giving Keiji new soaps and lotions; he was sure he acted as their personal guinea pig. It was all handmade too— they had a flower and herb garden as well as a workshop outside their house, and whenever Keiji passed by it, his nose was assaulted by a thousand different scents. Keiji quite liked it.

The guys on his team liked it too, they always commented on how Keiji never smelled bad (like teenage boys ought to, they remarked). Bokuto loved it, because his mother was always giving him free stuff from their shop. When the two first met, Keiji’s parents were overjoyed that he actually made a friend, and Bokuto became like a second son to them.

Scanning the other products lined up on the tub’s edge, sure enough he saw a small bottle of his parent’s two-in-one body wash and shampoo, and the label read “Autumnal Maple”. Opening the cap and taking a whiff, Keiji realized that it smelled earthy, sweet, and exactly like Bokuto.

He recalled that this scent was the same one that Keiji smelled in the dream, and suddenly remembered it all: the feverish heat, the way Bokuto looked disheveled as he peppered searing kisses all over Keiji’s body, and this, his warm scent…

Keiji quickly put the bottle back, and willed himself out of those memories.

The sharp smell of lavender brought him back to reality. Keiji preferred fresher, more floral scents, and opted that his parents give him those to keep for himself instead of any other creation they might cook up. As such, he put his lavender soap back on the dish and squeezed a bit of his shampoo (Keiji caught a glimpse of the label; white flowers decorated it) on his upturned palm, and massaged through his scalp. After he was done rinsing the soap lathers away, he turned off the spigot of the shower and stepped outside.

After he dried himself off, he slipped into his clean pair of boxers and opened the bathroom door. He kept a neutral expression, but as soon as he felt Bokuto’s eyes on him, the mask began to crack.

The wing spiker inhaled deeply. “Akaashi, did your dad give you a new soap? Why haven’t you used it before? You smell like heaven.”

A flush rose on Keiji’s cheeks. He turned to look at Bokuto. “Yes. It appears that my father is making a new line of soaps where he adds in the petals or rinds of its scent in the product itself.”

Bokuto grinned. “Cool. So this time, he gave you…” The captain leaned forward a bit into Keiji’s shoulder. Keiji was hyper aware of the fact that Bokuto still had not chosen a shirt (the captain was a trifle indecisive) and that his face was dangerously close to his neck, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there. Keiji cursed the surely laughing gods as he repressed the shiver Bokuto’s intake of breath caused him.

“You always smell like flowers,” he said, “it’s magical.” He took another deep breath, “Lavender, right?”

“Yeah.”

Bokuto smiled. “That shampoo is new, too.” Without warning, he stuck his nose in Keiji’s still damp hair, breathing deeply.

Keiji froze. Since Bokuto was taller than him, doing what he was doing was an easy feat. However, he pulled away quicker than Keiji could tell him to get off, a peaceful grin on his face. When Keiji saw his smile, all hostile thoughts were banished and he was left with a melting heart.

He hated being in love almost much as he enjoyed it.

“Chamomile, is it? Your parents are wizards, dude. They really know their stuff.”

Keiji was sure more color could not rise to his face. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Bokuto gave another one of his signature smiles. “You betcha. Now, help me pick out a shirt.”

Keiji looked inside the closet, eager to bring some normalcy back into his daily routine. Looking through all of Bokuto’s tops, he felt a sort of second-hand embarrassment, as almost every single one of them were bright Hawaiian shirts. However, he did bring a couple plain-looking tops, even a few with a muted color palette. Keiji ended up choosing from these, and handed Bokuto a white and brick red striped shirt. “Wear this.”

Bokuto gave a perplexed look, but nodded eventually. “Alrighty.”

As for shorts, Keiji went with an olive green pair of cargo pants that he saw was slung haphazardly on a coat hanger. He gave it Bokuto, and the captain selected a shirt from the closet in return, handing it to Keiji. “You should wear this.”

It was a black shirt, a bright blue graphic cutting thought its darkness. Very aesthetically pleasing, Keiji thought. “Alright,” he said, taking the shirt. He also picked out a pair of gray shorts to go with it.

Keiji slid into the clothing faster than he usually did, as he was anxiously self-conscious of his nearly naked body next to Bokuto. The feeling subsided, however, as he zipped up his pants and quickly slipped into his black pair of flip-flops. Bokuto mirrored his actions, toeing on his favorite pair of beach sandals, which used to be white but now were more of a light gray.

“Lemme just go do my hair,” Bokuto said as he ambled into the bathroom.

When Keiji heard the door close, he thought he should brush his hair as well, and went to grab the small hairbrush at his nightstand. It only took a few strokes to completely untangle his bedhead, and he put the brush back down. To finish, he ran a hand through his dark curls, clearing the excess hair from his forehead.

“I’m back!” Bokuto called in a singsongy fashion, his black and white hair already styled upwards like a broom, in likeness to Bokuto’s all-time favorite animal, the horned owl. With his strange golden eyes, Keiji thought he really did look like one. The resemblance was uncanny.

Bokuto picked up his canvas bag from its position on the floor next to the door, it already being packed with towels, sunscreen, and anything else they might need. He fished for his shutter glasses from inside, and put them on as he gave Keiji a toothy grin. “Let’s go, Akaashi.”

Keiji shook his head at Bokuto’s silliness, but nevertheless grabbed his phone from the nightstand and followed the captain out of the cabin.

It turned out that Komi and Konoha were nowhere to be seen and had left them a scrawled note on the door. It read: “You guys were asleep when we woke up, and you looked peaceful so we didn’t want to wake you. We went on to the beachside buffet without you. Sorry.”

Bokuto wiped an imaginary bead of sweat from his brow. “I was worried about those guys.”

Keiji nodded. “C’mon, let’s go, Bokuto-san.”

The walked off the porch on to the cobbled road. The Fukuroudani cabins were the farthest away from the rest of the resort, but they had soon noticed that if they went through the backs of the other cabins, they could cut their trip in half. Bokuto led Keiji behind their cabin and it only took a few minutes to get to the Nekoma cabins.

“Hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto whispered, “do you think Kuroo’s still asleep?”

Keiji checked the clock on his phone. It read 8:57, and Keiji knew Kuroo to be a late riser, if Bokuto’s stories about him were to be believed. “Probably.”

The wing spiker gave an impish grin. “Let’s scare him.”

“What.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto laughed, “It’ll be super funny.”

Bokuto took Keiji’s wrist (he ignored the jolt it gave him) and dragged him to the front of the cabin. “When he walks out of the bedroom, we’ll jump out and scare him!”

Keiji cocked his head to the side. “How are we even going to get inside?”

Bokuto shoved his hand inside the canvas bag, and fished out a pair of paper clips. He smirked. “We’re gonna pick the lock.”

A jolt of adrenaline shot through Keiji. What if they got caught? But then again, by who? Worst case scenario, Kuroo was already awake and would intercept Bokuto’s attempt to pick his cabin’s lock. It’ll be embarrassing, but nothing ever embarrassed Bokuto. Maybe if Keiji stayed mostly out of view, he could save himself from the mortification of a prank gone wrong.

Keiji shook his head. “Fine. But if this backfires, I am pinning the blame on you.”

Bokuto pouted. “So mean, Akaashi. But fine.”

And so the captain went to work, straightening the paper clips and sliding them into the keyhole, fiddling around with them. Finally, the lock turned; Keiji heard a click and a chuckle from Bokuto. “I’m in.” With that, he noiselessly swung the door open and tip-toed in.

Sighing, Keiji followed him, silently closing the door behind him.

Bokuto seemed like he knew what he was doing as he quickly slinked through the living room and plastered himself on the far wall. He took off his shutter glasses and put them in the canvas bag. He then took off the bag and leaned it against the wall.

Keiji went after him, trying his best to be silent, but he couldn’t completely suppress the sound of his footsteps like Bokuto could. He leaned on the wall next to the captain, and he heard a noise come from inside the bedroom. Then there were footsteps, and Bokuto smiled.

The wing spiker turned a bit, but soon stopped. The person who had just walked out of the bedroom was not Kuroo. It was Lev, and the middle blocker seemed to have his eyes closed as he slowly wandered into the bathroom. He knocked his head on the door frame, however, causing Keiji to wince at the subsequent sound. Lev shook the blow off and righted himself, safely walking inside the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

Keiji let out a breath of relief.

“Lev!” called a voice that was neither Kuroo’s nor Kenma’s from the bedroom. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” came Lev’s muffled reply from the bathroom.

“Okay,” responded the voice, and Keiji though it might be Nekoma’s libero, Yaku. “Don’t kill yourself in there.”

“I won’t.”

There was another rustle from inside the bedroom, and Bokuto stood at the ready. These footsteps sounded different: they were lighter, surer. Sure enough, Keiji saw out of the corner of his eye that it was a sleepy-looking Kuroo who had just walked out, and Bokuto wasted no time.

He jumped out and yelled at him at the top of his lungs.

Kuroo shouted in surprise, and flung his fist forwards into Bokuto’s jaw. The wing spiker gave a cry of pain, and Keiji could only watch as they both toppled over, Kuroo landing heavily on Bokuto.

“What the ever-loving fuck?” Kuroo said, breathing heavily. He seemed to be laughing somewhat, and Keiji thought it was the sudden spike of adrenaline that was making him delirious enough to do so.

“I wanted to scare you,” Bokuto replied as he rubbed the sore spot on his jaw, “and you punched me in the face.”

“You jumpscared me! Of course I punched you!”

“I’m sorry!” Bokuto wailed, actual tears forming at his eyes.

“Are you kidding me, bro?” Kuroo said, a teardrop rolling down his cheek. “I’m sorry for hitting you!”

And the two captains began to sob, embracing and blubbering apologies at each other. Keiji was dumbfounded at the display he was currently watching, and it didn’t take long for Kenma and Yaku to leave the bedroom and come see what was happening.

Yaku furrowed his brows. “What the fuck is this?”

Kenma put on an expression that seemed to be a cross between incomprehension and disgust. He toed around the two captains and walked up to Keiji. “How…? Why…?”

Keiji shrugged. “We picked the lock, and this was Bokuto-san’s idea.”

They turned to look back at them, and Lev had come out of the bathroom and was chuckling at the display.

“Okay, okay,” Yaku said, prying the two of them apart. “Break it up.” And then a mutter under his breath, “this is not how I want to spend my mornings.”

Kuroo eventually stood up, and helped Bokuto do the same. “Good morning, Bo.”

Bokuto smiled. “Good morning to you too, Kuroo.”

Yaku walked away, grabbing Lev’s wrist and dragging him into the bedroom. An odd choice of action, given that Yaku was not even paying attention to Lev prior to that. Perhaps they were closer than they let on.

Keiji shook his head. It was pure speculation, anyway.

Bokuto wiped the dust off himself, and clapped Kuroo on the back. “Why don’t you and Kenma get ready, bro. We’ll be waiting.”

Kuroo nodded, and walked into the bedroom. Keiji saw Kenma’s eyes follow the captain, a warm look in them. The setter ended up going after him, shooting a knowing glance at Keiji before he disappeared behind the bedroom door.

Keiji thought it was a bit rude that Kenma had confided in him, and Keiji didn’t at least repay him by giving the other setter one of his secrets in return. He thought maybe he would tell him over breakfast.

To wait them out, Keiji took a seat on the couch, on the same spot he had sat on last night. Bokuto sat next to him, taking a wide stance with his legs and letting his arms border the couch, and his right hand was accidentally brushing with Keiji’s shoulders.

A small jolt of electricity blossomed at that point of contact, and a sudden heat rose on Keiji’s cheeks. He’s had the practice; and he effortlessly maintained his poker face. It wasn’t unlike Bokuto to stretch out his arms while they and give Keiji accidental touches, he did that with all of his close friends. But even still, Keiji found the touches to be a bit too serendipitous for his liking.

Maybe these were the unnecessary touches that signified a potential crush. Maybe Keiji had been making up excuses for Bokuto’s behavior, when in fact all the signs had been there all along. Maybe he actually had an inkling of a chance.

Or maybe he was imagining things again, taking the smallest, most insignificant gestures of as signs of irreparable love.

Keiji sighed inwardly. He was most definitely projecting again. The amount of times he had caught himself using the defense mechanism was honestly a bit embarrassing, indicative of a naïve schoolboy that was head-over-heels in love. Keiji knew better than to blindly hope for a neat resolution to his predicament. He was not naive; he was practical, almost pessimistic.

He then took a deep breath, and went on living.

“I’m ready,” Kuroo said suddenly, appearing from the bedroom. He was wearing a tank top that read something unintelligible in intricate white lettering, ripped denim bermudas, and a red snapback that read “OBEY”. Kenma slinked out shortly after, wearing a shirt with a cat face on it, black shorts and white flip-flops.

“Dude,” Bokuto said, pointing at Kuroo’s hat, “why are you wearing that ‘OBEY’ snapback?” he frowned, “Are you going fuckboy on me?”

Kuroo took off the hat and put it on backwards, letting his bangs fall forward from the hole on the back of it. “Of course not. You see, the hat is ironic.”

Bokuto then gave an understanding nod. “Oh, yeah,” he said, as if Kuroo’s explanation gave the fashion choice underlying meaning and justification. “Very nice.”

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t long before Lev and Yaku left the bedroom, the former wearing a polo shirt that was completely buttoned up and gray chinos, and the latter wearing a light green pair of swim trunks and a simple yellow shirt. Upon further observance, Keiji realized that Lev’s shirt was actually on backwards. He debated telling him, but then refrained from doing so as he didn’t want to embarrass him.

“Are we all ready?” Yaku called. Despite being the smallest person in the room, he seemed to be the most responsible out of everyone combined, excluding perhaps Kenma.

“Yes,” came the chorused reply of everyone else in the room, including Bokuto.

“Then let’s go.”

The six of them left the cabin, and Kuroo locked the door behind them. Despite it being somewhat early in the day, the sun was already beating down on them, and Keiji kept to the shade wherever possible. Keiji saw that Kenma stuck to Kuroo whenever he could, even as they walked around obstacles in the road, those two seemed to be connected at the hip. There was a sparkle in Kenma’s eyes that had not been there the night prior, and Keiji wondered if he looked the same way whenever he spoke with Bokuto.

For all he knew, perhaps he did.

When they got to the beach, Keiji saw that it was mostly empty, save for the occasional couple strolling by, hand in hand. The pale sand leaked into his shoes, feeling rough but warm under his feet. There were familiar faces already inside the beachside buffet, chatting animatedly and eating their breakfast. Now that Keiji thought about it, he was fairly hungry.

It felt good to be in the shade, despite the bit of dappled sunlight that fell when the dried palm leaves or fishing net didn’t completely shield the buffet below it. Lev and Yaku parted from the group at this point, claiming one of the few remaining tables for two for themselves. The now four of them took a table that fit all of them, and Bokuto simply let down the bag and made a beeline for the food, and Kuroo followed.

They left Kenma alone with Keiji again, and Kenma seemed to be more relaxed around him now.

The setter looked towards him, and sighed. “I forgave him.”

“Good,” Keiji responded. Would tell Kenma about his crush now?

Kenma continued. “Do you really think he could be,” he lowered his voice, “in love with me? It just seems so nonsensical to think that because I am, he will too.”

Keiji saw the way Kuroo acted around Kenma. It was as if Kenma was a coveted treasure that must be protected and looked after at all times. Kuroo didn’t smother Kenma’s independence either, instead they seemed to coexist as beings that could never really function without the other. Kenma seemed to thrive on Kuroo’s concern for him and in turn provided Kuroo with a very good and reliable friend, for lack of a better term.

When they were alienated, even for a single day, the effects were disastrous. From Keiji’s position as an observer, he saw that Kenma was absolutely devastated and regretted everything he had done to Kuroo, who was silently suffering from what Keiji would consider to be severe, crippling rejection at the purposeful and almost cruel inattention that Kenma gave him.

In the end, Kenma forgave Kuroo for the wrongs that spurred the silent treatment, and their friendship was salvaged and repaired, much at the relief of both parties. Seeing the differences in their body language from yesterday and today, he could see that Kuroo was more than grateful that Kenma was talking to him again, and Kenma was overjoyed that Kuroo seemed to be happier now.

Did all of that constitute as proof of love?

“I’d say,” Keiji began slowly, “that you most definitely have a chance. There is something there, and my advice would be to not give up so easily. Kuroo-san definitely feels something towards you, and it would be wrong to disregard concrete evidence all because of a bit of pessimism.”

Kenma’s features lit up, a glimmer of hope in his golden eyes. “You really think so?”

“Yes,” he replied. “And may I confide in you something?”

Kenma locked gazes with him. “Sure. Anything.”

Keiji took a deep breath. He realized he had not told anyone about his crush on Bokuto, and not so much as even implied to anybody, either. Kenma would be the first person he told. A pang of anxiety struck his heart, but he decided it was only fair if Kenma knew something about him as well.

Keiji folded his hands on the table and looked at Kenma. His palms felt a bit shaky and clammy, but he stomped the feeling away. “I, too, am,” he gulped audibly, “in love with someone I perhaps shouldn’t be.”

Kenma’s eyes softened. “Bokuto, right?”

Keiji widened his eyes in surprise. “Yes. How did you know?”

Kenma gave a crooked grin. “You’re not the only one who’s good at reading people. Besides, you’re always with him, and you get this strange look whenever he talks to you. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

So he did look starstruck whenever he spoke with Bokuto. He was embarrassed, to say the least.

Kenma gave him a reassuring look. “Are you okay?”

Keiji let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yes. It’s just that you’re the first one I’ve told ever.”

Kenma bowed his head. “How long?”

“How long what?”

Keiji felt a pulse of fear lance through him. Looking up suddenly, he saw that Bokuto and Kuroo had returned plates of food in their hands. It was Bokuto who prompted the question, and he slid Keiji a plate of pancakes smothered in berries and whipped cream.

The pancakes look delicious, but Bokuto was looking at him expectantly, and with a guileless smile on his face.

Keiji knew he had to lie, and it didn’t take him long to come up with a credible story. “Kenma-san was just asking how long my parents had been in the soap-making business.”

Kenma nodded, playing along. “Yeah. So how long?”

“Well, my grandmother opened the shop, and she passed it down to my father when she retired, and he met my mother through the shop. So at the very least fifty years.”

Kuroo gave an astonished expression. “Oh, really? That’s so cool. What’s it called?”

“Wisteria Creek Cosmetics.”

Kuroo’s brows shot to his hairline. “So your parents are the ones that own the store! You know, my younger sisters love that place. I thought so since sometimes they see you at the cash register, with Bokuto hanging around nearby.”

It was all true, as Keiji sometimes manned his parents’ shop when they were out shopping for ingredients. And a few times, Bokuto had wanted to hang out with him, so he had to do so while Keiji was at the shop.

In fact, Keiji thought he had seen Kuroo’s sisters at the store as well: two teenage girls with the same messy, inky hair as their older brother. The older one, a calm girl with dark eyes, had a penchant for multi-colored bath bombs, and the younger one, who Keiji thought bore a closer resemblance to Kuroo in both looks and character, liked to buy sweet-smelling perfumes more than anything.

“Are your sisters the ones that like the perfumes and bath bombs? One of them looks a lot like you; the younger looking one.”

Kuroo chuckled. “Yeah, that’s Ayano. The other one’s named Haruka, and she’s always praising those bath bombs. Convey the compliments over to your parents, will you?”

Keiji nodded. “Of course.”

And with that, they started to eat their breakfast before it got cold. Keiji’s pancakes were still warm and fluffy, and the tart berries made each bite heavenly. Bokuto knew about Keiji’s sweet tooth, especially his love for fruit. He looked up to the wing spiker to thank him, but he was already looking at him. Keiji nodded in a way that would communicate what he wanted to say, and Bokuto seemed to understand him as he smiled and went back to eating his food.

The wind gusted around him, carrying the scent of the ocean. Sometime after they had finished their breakfast, Keiji heard shouting and commotion on the other side of the beach. Looking behind him, he could see a sizable group forming near the palm trees that bordered the entrance to the cliffs. They were circling something (or someone), and Keiji felt curiosity blossom in his chest.

Keiji stood up. “What’s going on over there?”

The rest of them got up as well, and Kuroo squinted his eyes, trying to see what was going on. “Is that… a volleyball net?”

It was almost as if the word “volleyball” triggered something in Bokuto, and his eyes widened in glee. He grabbed the canvas bag, “we gotta go see, guys.”

There were still people eating their breakfast, and when they looked on as the four of them got up out of their seats and left the buffet. Bokuto grabbed onto Keiji’s wrist (much to Keiji’s immediate surprise) and rushed the group towards the clamor, and saw what was going on.

It seemed that a beach volleyball court was being constructed, and Karasuno’s Oddball Duo was at the center of it. Kageyama was busy tying the net to the poles, and Hinata was meticulously tracing a box in the sand that was the same as the borders on an actual court. Their captain was helping out, pumping air into a volleyball, and many others stood watching, excited to play.

“Hell yeah!” Bokuto exclaimed. “I’m pumped.”

“Hey,” Kuroo remarked, pointing at the other side of the crowd, “check out Mr. Grumpy-Pants. You think he wants to play?”

Looking over, Keiji saw that they were most definitely talking about Tsukishima, who had his arms crossed over his chest and was currently engaging in a conversation with his best friend, Yamaguchi. 

“I dunno,” Bokuto replied, “Maybe.” Putting his hands on his hips, he added, “Let’s go ask him.”

And so Bokuto dragged the rest of them over to where Tsukishima was standing, traversing through the inside of the circle but not disturbing the court.

Kuroo was the first to reach the middle blocker, sliding a hand over his lanky shoulders. “Oya, oya,” he crooned, “is our favorite kouhai going to participate in the beach volleyball tournament, or is he going to bail?”

Tsukishima visibly jumped at Kuroo’s sudden touch, and then gave him an annoyed glare.

“Oya, oya, oya,” Bokuto mirrored Kuroo’s tone, swinging his hand over Tsukishima’s other shoulder. “I don’t know, bro.” He looked towards Tsukishima, “Do you want to play some volleyball today?”

He gave them both a dangerous little grin, indicative of a fury that lay silent, like a sleeping dragon. “Kuroo, Bokuto,” he said, voice clear, “it would do you well to get the hell off of me.”

They did so, not an inch of fear on their faces. Keiji noted that perhaps Tsukishima’s intentions were not to scare them so much as get them to back off. Keiji also saw that Bokuto had wedged himself between Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, and the latter was off to the side, giving Bokuto a strange look. Keiji thought that his expression held traces of vexation.

He straightened up his posture, giving him height over the two captains. “And for your information, no,” he retorted, and then added with a harsher voice, “I would like to enjoy my well-deserved vacation from volleyball.”

Yamaguchi gave a pout and looked up at Tsukishima, “But Tsukki!” he whined, “It’ll be fun.”

A rosy blush came to settle over Tsukishima’s pale cheeks and his expression appeared to harden with something akin to distress and almost guilt. Keiji laughed inwardly, the action seemed to indicate that he was sweet on Yamaguchi. But what were the chances that almost everyone around him was in love with someone else, particularly someone with whom a relationship with was not necessarily socially acceptable?

Although now that he thought about it: Tsukishima seemed to not only tolerate Yamaguchi’s existence, he seemed to enjoy it. Keiji remembered that back at the training camp, whenever he wasn’t practicing blocking with Kuroo and Bokuto, he was with Yamaguchi, not alone like Keiji would expect of someone like him. Tsukishima respected and valued him, and Keiji was pretty sure the middle blocker didn’t give out things like that so easily.

But Tsukishima seemed to go beyond even that with the pinch server, grinning around him, even praising him. Keiji didn’t know the dynamics of all of Tsukishima’s relationships, but he’s only seen him behave that way with Yamaguchi.

And the pinch server was always with Tsukishima, giving him undivided attention, and constantly complimenting him. Keiji didn’t know too much about Yamaguchi, but he didn’t need to be best friends with him to know that he held Tsukishima in very high regard. Yamaguchi was always smiling and looking at him with a glimmer in his eye that indicated loyalty, admiration, and perhaps something more—

Keiji sighed. Maybe everyone was grappling with unrequited love. As highly unlikely as that was, it was happening all around him, defying all logic and any semblance of statistical probability. Quite frankly, Keiji couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

It was clear to him now: the way Yamaguchi held himself around Tsukishima, the dips and swells of his voice, the subtle but undeniably coy attitude. For crying out loud, Keiji didn’t think there wasn’t a time when Yamaguchi didn’t look like he was having the time of his life around Tsukishima. But at the same time, there was a poignancy in his demeanor: as if Yamaguchi knew that his predicament was hopeless, but he was still striving for his feelings to become requited.

Sometimes, Keiji wished he wasn’t so good at reading people, or at least he wished that he had the self-control to stop once he started. It was like everyone had their most intimate secrets written on a bright neon sign displayed over their heads, and none but Keiji could read them. It was a bit uncomfortable, to say the least.

Keiji felt a tapping at his shoulder. Looking to the side, he saw the Kenma was there, and he was looking quizzically up at Keiji. “Is it just me,” he began, and then subtly pointed at Yamaguchi, “or is that guy completely smitten with Tsukishima?”

Perhaps he wasn’t the only one with this curse. “Yes,” Keiji whispered, “I’m getting that vibe from him too.”

Kenma directed a pitiful look at Yamaguchi. “It’s so painfully obvious. How hasn’t he caught on?” He huffed, “Maybe he isn’t as clever as he appears.”

“Or perhaps he’s just dense when it comes to his love life,” Keiji responded, “He can’t have that much experience with it to begin with.”

Kenma shifted his weight to his other leg. “Do you think it’s requited?” he said softly.

Keiji could feel the sorrow in his voice, and felt a similar sentiment blossom in his chest. “Maybe. It’s hard to tell; Tsukishima-san has always been a bit unemotive.”

Tsukishima gave a great sigh, and adjusted his glasses. “Yamaguchi, this is a vacation. Shouldn’t we all just relax—”

“You aren’t gonna play?” a voice called out, and Keiji saw that Hinata had finished tracing the border of the court, “but then how are me and Kageyama going to school you?”

As if on cue, the setter walked up behind Hinata, and gave a roguish grin. “Maybe he’s afraid we’ll beat him again.”

Tsukishima’s nostrils flared at this accusation, and something seemed to crack his usually calm and collected demeanor. “You think you idiots can beat me?”

“Totally,” Hinata challenged.

He gave the pair a death glare. “Fine. Game on.”

Beside him, Yamaguchi gave a relieved smile. “You can beat them, Tsukki.”

“No. We can beat them.”

At that comment, a ruddy blush dusted his cheeks, and his smile grew wider.

“Damn,” Bokuto said suddenly, he and Kuroo having gravitated back in the focus of the conversation, “Since when have you cared about winning?”

Tsukishima turned his head around, and gave Bokuto a puzzled look.

“What happened in that Shiratorizawa fight?” Kuroo asked, completely awe-struck.

Tsukishima opened his mouth to answer, but Bokuto cut him off, “Amazing character development is what! You’ve really come far, Tsukki.”

It was at the sound of that nickname, “Tsukki”, that really seemed to set something off in Yamaguchi. The pinch server was smiling, but it was deceptive. He seemed offended, almost.

Keiji soon caught on as to why, though: “Tsukki” was a nickname that he’d only heard Yamaguchi call him, and he now he sees these people that have known Tsukishima for less than a fraction of the time that Yamaguchi had known him addressing him with the same level of familiarity as the pinch server.

It was a simple case of jealousy. After all, not everyone is completely virtuous.

And for Keiji, that was the damning piece of evidence that confirmed his indulgent little theory: he was certain now that Yamaguchi had feelings (possibly requited) for Tsukishima.

“Alright, the court is done!” called a voice, and everyone turned to listen. Karasuno’s captain, Daichi, was smiling. “Does everyone here want to play?”

There was a collective “Yeah!” from the crowd. Keiji joined in too, his voice a bit quieter than the rest.

“Are there going to be teams of six or teams of three?” called Kageyama, and the setter seemed very eager to play, despite the lack of a smile on his face.

“I think there should be teams of three. And a reminder,” Daichi said, “we are going to be chill. This is a vacation, after all, and we’re having this little tournament for fun.”

He cleared his throat. “There will be no arm-severing serves,” he declared, glaring pointedly at someone who was off to the right of Keiji. Turning to look, he saw that it was Oikawa, Aoba Jousai’s captain, and he gave a pout at this rule.

“No freak quicks,” and this time he glowered at Hinata and Kageyama, who gave dejected little frowns like a pair of children that had just been told they couldn’t play with their favorite toy.

“No crazy spikes of any kind.” He glared daggers a few notable spikers, including Ushijima and Bokuto. Beside him, Bokuto pouted his lips, and gave a little “hmph” that only Keiji could hear.

“Just take it easy and enjoy the game. It’s twenty-five points to win one round, and the winning team move on to the next round with a different matchup. If you lose, it’s fine. If you win, great. Do we all agree?”

There was a unified groan of “Yes”, and Keiji swore he heard others say “Yes, dad”.

“Okay,” a smile returned to his face, “let’s cut lots for teams.”

Hinata jaw hit the ground. “You mean we can’t choose our teams?”

“If I let you all choose your teammates, it’ll be the just the same predictable groups and nothing will be interesting. If there are random matchups, it’ll be fun. You guys can all learn to cooperate and you’ll get to see how different people deal their matchups,” Daichi explained.

“Can I at least be paired with Kageyama?” Hinata asked as he folded his hands together as if in prayer as he stared imploringly at Daichi.

The captain shook his head and gave a long, weary sigh. “Fine. But only because you’re not going to let up if I say no.”

Hinata’s smile reached from ear to ear and he beamed excitedly at Kageyama. The setter gave the slightest of smiles, and his eyes looked tenderly down at the middle blocker. The look was soft, softer than anything he would have expected the steely Kageyama to be capable of.

Oh god, not them too.

Keiji swore he was surrounded, but he really shouldn’t be surprised that Kageyama seemed to have a thing for Hinata. Those two were an impressive combination on court, almost completely reliant on the unshakable trust they have in each other, and it wouldn’t be that far of a leap, given the evidence.

“But wait!” Bokuto exclaimed, “if we’re not choosing our teams, how will they be assigned?”

“I was thinking one person who wants to start a team picks a number one through twenty, and the two closest answers get to be on that person’s team,” Daichi said.

“Okay, Tsukishima said, and he stood forward. “I’m challenging those idiots over there.” He pointed at Hinata and Kageyama. “I’m thinking of a number. Guess.”

“One!” Oikawa was the first to respond. He seemed eager about something, and based on what Keiji knew about Oikawa, perhaps it was the opportunity to beat Hinata and Kageyama.

Keiji amusedly thought perhaps, if his hypothesis about Tsukishima returning Yamaguchi’s feelings were right, he might have picked the number twelve, the same number on the pinch server’s jersey. “Twelve,” Keiji shouted out, and Kenma beside him gave a sly and knowing look.

This process continued until everyone had offered up a number. Tsukishima stared right at Keiji, and adjusted his glasses. “Akaashi,” he started, “you’re correct.”

Keiji chuckled internally as he walked over and situated himself by Tsukishima. Yamaguchi was giving him a pleading look, and the middle blocker shrugged and gave an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Yamaguchi. You picked ten, and there’s someone who picked eleven.”

Oikawa gasped. “Iwa-chan, that’s you!”

Beside him, Iwaizumi nodded and walked up to Tsukishima, offering his hand. The middle blocker took it, shaking it.

“Okay, we need one more person for our team!” Hinata called out. “Guess the number I’m thinking of!”

And everyone called out a number, but in the end, he gave a sour expression at who guessed it. “You.” He pointed to somewhere just behind where he had left Kenma. “You picked number one.”

Looking beyond him, he saw that a couple of Shiratorizawa members were standing there, and one of them had a sardonic expression on his face. It was Tendou, one of their senior middle blockers, and he put a hand to his chest in insincere surprise. “Me?”

“Can we go again?” Kageyama asked, looking to Daichi.

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi agreed.

The captain shook his head. “No. This is exactly what I was talking about. Make peace with your rivals and learn to cooperate. After all, this is supposed to be fun.”

Tendou sauntered over to the pair, and put a hand on his hip, staring down at them. An ocean breeze ruffled his spiky, auburn hair. He swiveled his head to look over his shoulder at his team members, “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” came Ushijima’s reply, “Sawamura is right. We should all learn to cooperate.”

Tendou turned completely around, a look of slight betrayal on his face. “Really, Wakatoshi-kun?”

“Really.”

He pursed his lips. “Fine. I’ll play with these plebs. Better step up your game, guys.”

“Excuse me,” came Kageyama’s scalding retort, “but we beat you. Step up your game.”

There came a sudden sound of ooh’s that echoed lowly throughout the group. Tendou looked down at them and was about to clap back when Daichi cleared his throat loudly enough to stop them.

“So,” he said, “Tsukishima, Akaashi, and Iwaizumi versus Hinata, Kageyama, and Tendou.” He nodded, and threw the ball in their direction. Tendou caught it easily, and gave a little smirk at Iwaizumi who had almost caught it. “Get ready and let’s play some volleyball.”

Keiji followed Tsukishima and Iwaizumi to the border of one side of the court, and he felt a surge of heat strike his shoulders from above. The sun was rising up on the sky, and he decided it would be best to take his shirt off and put on some sunscreen. He did so, slipping it off effortlessly. He was about to go retrieve the bag from Bokuto when the captain was right there when he turned around.

Keiji jumped in surprise and Bokuto simply handed him the sunblock. “You’re gonna do good, Akaashi. I feel it in my bones.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.” He handed Bokuto his shirt and felt a warm simmering deep in his heart, and tried to refrain from letting it show it on his face.

Keiji wondered, suddenly, if others could tell about his feelings for Bokuto as easily as he could see the emotions of everyone around him. Of course Kenma knew, but they weren’t the only intelligent ones there.

He waved the thought away. No need for more things to fuel his anxiety. 

He squeezed a bit of the sunscreen on his palm, and sat down to slather it across his arms and shoulders. Bokuto had sat down as well, and was looking inquisitively at Keiji. To be honest, it was quite hard for Keiji to effectively spread the sunblock on his skin, because Bokuto was right there, watching Keiji’s hands and humming a tune to himself. He felt almost naked, and he was trying his damnedest to keep it all inside. After all, why would best friends be embarrassed about applying sunscreen in front of each other?

After spreading the sunblock through his torso and calves, he gave the bottle back to Bokuto. “Don’t you need some too?”

Bokuto shook his head. “Nah, I tan. I don’t need sunscreen.”

It was true, as Bokuto had much more color to his skin than Keiji did and didn’t ever seem to burn. But a lot of people did as well, as Keiji considered himself to be on the fairer side of the spectrum, save for a few tan lines that led down to lily-white skin. Keiji thought it would be nice to gain a bit of color, and the SPF on the bottle was just enough that he might be able to do so.

A shrill whistle filled the air all of a sudden, and Keiji whipped his head around. It was Daichi, and he seemed to have assigned himself the position of referee. Given his fair and responsible personality, it didn’t seem like much of a surprise.

“Well,” Keiji said, turning back around to face Bokuto, “I have to go.” He stood up and began to walk into the court.

“Wait!” Bokuto called out, and he reached out for Keiji, and caught him by the hand.

A thousand volts of electricity shot up Keiji’s arm, and he hated the reaction a simple hand hold elicited from him. Bokuto’s hand was a tad smaller than his, since Keiji had longer fingers, but it was stronger and very warm. Keiji felt a heat rise up his neck and cheeks as he turned around, not letting go. He inwardly gave a mirthless laugh, if his feelings weren’t clear to anyone seeing this, they certainly were now.

Bokuto locked gazes with him, and was absolutely speechless. It seemed like forever had passed when he finally opened his mouth to speak. “Good luck,” he murmured in a completely un-Bokuto-like fashion, and he didn’t look away until Keiji managed to turn himself away, gently slip his hand out of Bokuto’s, and walk into the court, getting into position.

His heart was beating a mile a minute, and all he could think about was the way Bokuto had wished him good luck. It had been whispered like a secret, soft and quiet. Such a way of speaking was the antithesis of Bokuto’s entire personality and way of living, so how come he did so now?

He hardly noticed as a volleyball was given to Kageyama on the other side of the net, and how Daichi glared daggers at him. Right, the game.

Karasuno’s main setter was one of two people on the team who could perform a jump serve, but Daichi, as referee and probably the most responsible person of everyone on that beach, had forbid such aggressive tactics. Keiji was a bit relieved, to be honest.

“Nice serve, Kageyama!” Hinata called, and gave a thumbs up to Kageyama.

And so, Kageyama executed a solid overhand serve, which made the ball speed up and over the net, and Tsukishima squarely received it. Keiji watched as it went back up and it seemed to be headed directly towards him. His hands went up on instinct, and he calmly tossed the ball over. It felt right and firm in his hands, and he could see out of the corner of his eye that Iwaizumi had moved from where he was originally and jumped up to spike it. Keiji could see a flash in his steely eyes, and the wing spiker slammed the ball down.

However, it was blocked by Tendou, who had been anticipating the spike to come from the other side and quickly moved to accommodate for the change. The ball wasn’t completely lost, however, as Iwaizumi was strong enough to concentrate the right amount of power behind it, and it broke through the block. Hinata scrambled to receive it, but it hit the sand with a satisfying if anticlimactic plop.

People began to clap, and Keiji saw Oikawa come forward. “Yeah, that’s right!” he shouted, “Iwa-chan, you’re the best!”

Keiji saw Iwaizumi give the captain a thumbs up. It seemed that Oikawa was experiencing the game vicariously through Iwaizumi, and it was as if he was the one that had just scored against his rivals: both Karasuno and Shiratorizawa.

Daichi whistled, and the players began to rotate. Keiji did so diligently, and the volleyball was thrown over to him. It was his turn to serve.

“Akaashi, nice serve!” Keiji heard Bokuto call out from somewhere to the right of him.

He took a deep breath, and threw the ball up in the air. He struck it forward as it came back down, and it sailed in an even arc over his head and across the net. The ball was kept in play by Tendou, who angled his arms in such a way that the ball went back up and towards Kageyama. Keiji wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn he heard the middle blocker say something like “it’s nice to have these guys on my side.”

Kageyama’s eyes were shadowed over as he tossed the ball. The toss was a lot slower than he had seen the setter usually perform, as Keiji could actually trace its path as it traveled in an arc towards Hinata. The middle blocker moved with hesitance, as if he was holding himself back. Nevertheless, his jump was spectacular as he spiked the ball down.

Iwaizumi dove for it, but he narrowly missed it, and the ball hit the ground near the edge of the beach.

Hinata and Kageyama high-fived each other, and more light, polite applause was heard. Keiji could see out of the corner of his eyes that people he didn’t recognize had come over to observe the match.

The ball was thrown back to the other side of court as the players rotated. The ball was given to Hinata, and the middle blocker gave a worried expression.

Kageyama put his hands over his neck and gave a glance over at Hinata. The middle blocker only became more distressed after that, and he scrunched his eyes closed as he served.

The ball was a bit short in its trajectory, but Iwaizumi was able to receive it, and it barreled towards Keiji. Beside him, Tsukishima was at the ready, and Keiji effortlessly tossed the ball towards him.

Tsukishima slammed it down, but Tendou caught it, and it sailed back over the net. Keiji felt a bead of sweat slide down his neck and chest, and watched as Tsukishima put his arms together and dug the ball back over to Keiji. A heavy breath escaped him as he tossed the ball to Iwaizumi, who once again spiked the ball down, and this time, it struck the sand below it.

More applause, and Keiji could see Oikawa beam at Iwaizumi and give two thumbs up.

Keiji looked back over to Iwaizumi to gauge his response, and the ace become flushed and gave a crooked smile back.

Keiji didn’t know Iwaizumi well, but the man gave off a sort of vibe that he wasn’t much of a smiler at all. So for this to happen, Oikawa had to be very special to him. Could he possibly…?

No. Keiji shook his head. He really had to stop projecting. He might have been right about Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, and possibly even Hinata and Kageyama, but there was absolutely no reason to think that everyone around him was convoluted in some inner turmoil over a crush that they were certain could never like them back.

The match continued, with Iwaizumi serving the ball. It went on in a similar vein, and Keiji could see Tsukishima flash almost feral smirks over at Hinata and Kageyama whenever he blocked their spikes or whenever Iwaizumi made particularly devastating blow. The other setter hadn’t liked it one bit, and was visibly fuming as he and Hinata sent spike after spike over to them. However, their movements were less urgent here than they were on court, and they had to be, under Daichi’s scrutinizing eye. 

After a while, the score was 7-3 in Keiji’s team’s favor, as he was able to tell by the tally marks Daichi drew into the sand. The sun was rising in the sky, and he tossed the ball over to Iwaizumi. He slammed it down, but it was met with the blocking hands of Tendou and Hinata. The ball bounced off their palms. Keiji dove into the sand, keen on stopping the ball, but he had been too late.

Applause was heard. Keiji could see that the people he didn’t recognize were now mixed in with crowd, and they seemed astonished at something; perhaps it was the level of skill and talent being displayed in a casual match of beach volleyball.

The sand became hot underneath him, and he quickly got up, brushing the pale grains off of him.

“Yeah!” Hinata shouted, clenching his fist in a victorious manner.

Tendou looked towards him, and gave a grudging nod. “That was pretty good, Shrimpy.”

Hinata smiled. “Thanks!”

Kageyama gave a taunting smirk over to Tsukishima, who scowled back at him. The middle blocker quickly composed himself, however, and pushed up his glasses. “Let’s keep going.”

Iwaizumi kicked the ball over to the other side, and it was picked up by Kageyama. Spinning the ball in his hand, he threw it up over his head and served the ball into play.

The other team was rejuvenated now, and their spikes became surer. Despite everything, Keiji found that he was enjoying himself, and allowed him the tiniest grin as he tossed the ball at Tsukishima. He took much delight in spiking the ball down, but it had been saved by Tendou.

After a bit of failed attempts at scoring, the points were now 11-9 in the other team's favor. They had nailed spike after spike, and Tsukishima was becoming more and more upset.

“You can do it, Tsukki!” called a voice, and Keiji was certain that it was Yamaguchi. He couldn’t confirm it, however, as the ball was heading towards him, and he tossed the ball over to Iwaizumi. Seijou’s ace jumped up, his powerful arm coming down to spike the ball. The sound of it echoed throughout the beach, and Tendou was unable to stop its trajectory.

However, by some miracle, Hinata was there, and he saved it. The ball sailed back up, and it went over the net. Tsukishima scrambled to receive it, but it hit his arms wrong, and he cursed as it ricocheted towards Keiji.

Keiji put his hands up anyways, and even though the ball came at him at an awkward angle, he was able to correct it with his toss, and he tossed to Iwaizumi, who had been watching the ball intently.

He slammed it down again, and it hit the sand unhindered.

Applause broke out. There was shouting, and Keiji didn’t have to turn around to tell that it was Bokuto.

“Yeah! That was awesome, Akaashi!” he cried, and Keiji turned around to face him. He was there in the front of the crowd, waving his fist victoriously. Bokuto gave a him a huge smile, and Keiji felt his face heat up in response. An odd sense of glee poured into him, and this feeling was not unlike the high he felt when won a match. Whatever it was, he felt determined to win now.

The score shifted in their favor once more, changing to 23-19. If they managed to land one more shot, they would be at their match point, and then one misstep from the other team would mean an instant victory for them.

Keiji was breathing heavily now, watching the ball as it sailed across the air to come tumbling down, and it hit Iwaizumi’s outstretched arms. It came back up in an arc, and Keiji tossed forward as easy as breathing. Tsukishima was there to slam the ball down, but its momentum was lost as it grazed past Tendou’s fingers. Kageyama, instead of reaching out to catch it, jumped up and launched the ball back over the net in a decisive back-row attack.

No one, not even Keiji, had been expecting it, and no one so much as reacted when the ball struck the sand.

The succeeding applause was blotted from Keiji’s hearing as he kept a vigilant eye on the ball as Kageyama served it. It was a floater, and Tsukishima uncharacteristically threw himself under its path, slamming his fist down in frustration when he missed the serve.

If the other team made four more points they would win the game. Keiji kept a watchful eye on the ball as Kageyama served the ball again, and it was another floater. Keiji shook his head, and tried to catch it, but it hit the ground way sooner than he had anticipated.

Keiji clicked his tongue; it wasn’t looking too good for his team. Looking to his teammates. He saw that Iwaizumi was glowering at the other team, and that the expression on Tsukishima’s face was nothing short of murderous, and he did little to keep others from knowing his true sentiments.

Kageyama, however, was smiling. It was strange and unsettling though, and it was something Keiji would call an un-smile. It looked like it belonged to a serial killer that was about to dole out unspeakable tortures on his latest victim. It certainly seemed so, as he served yet another floater serve, which once again seemed to avoid all arms that came its way.

Tendou and Hinata were downright giggling now; the two teams were tied. Predictably, Kageyama performed another floater serve, but this time, Tsukishima was there when it came down, and received it squarely.

Keiji felt a strange lightness in his chest, and he quickly identified it as a blossoming of hope. He tossed the ball up, eager to hear the familiar slap of skin against leather, and the succeeding thud.

But Keiji did not hear the last thing. He caught a glimpse of the ball barrel towards Tendou, who saved it and passed it to Kageyama. The setter did what he does best, and the set of movements that followed seemed so natural and seamless, one would think they were being performed by the same person. It was as if Hinata was perfectly and wholly connected to Kageyama, and the middle blocker flew up to spike the ball down.

The ball hit the sand, and the applause rang out beside Keiji. Their attack, even as subdued as it was here in a casual game, still held the same air of power and fluidity that their regular (if that was even the correct word for it) freak-quick attack had. It had always amazed Keiji, how two people could be so attuned to each other when they had only just met a couple months prior.

Keiji chuckled. Maybe their romance was meant to be.

Daichi added another tally to the score, and the other team was at their set point. Keiji didn’t really mind losing, as the entire affair was unofficial and casual, but he couldn’t help but notice a certain other blond did not feel the same way.

Even as Iwaizumi’s stunningly powerful spike was blocked by Tendou and Karasuno’s Oddball Duo landed another perfect attack, Keiji felt alright. He clapped along with the crowd to congratulate the other team. Iwaizumi was applauding as well, and Tsukishima eventually caved and began a grudging slow clap, and Keiji caught him glancing at a dangerously smiling Daichi.

On the other side of the net, Hinata and Kageyama began laughing and gave each other a fist bump. Keiji thought for a second he saw a sparkle in the setter’s eyes, something similar to what he saw in Yamaguchi’s earlier. He looked down at Hinata with a grin, and Keiji was certain now that Kageyama was harboring a crush towards the little middle blocker.

However, it was gone before anyone else seemed to notice, and it was replaced with a smile that was a bit less incriminating.

Keiji walked off the court with the rest of his team, and was immediately joined by Bokuto. He had a frustrated look on his face, and he let out a groan, “Aw, Akaashi! You lost!”

Keiji wiped a bit of sweat off of his brow. “It’s fine, Bokuto-san. Really.”

Bokuto looked at him, his gold eyes filled with the lament of a stray puppy. “You almost won, though. Aren’t you at least a little mad?”

Keiji was a little irritated that he lost, but at the end, this was something fun and casual. In fact, Bokuto seemed to be more upset about it that Keiji did. “No. Besides, this is supposed to be unofficial and fun. No point in getting angry over something like that.”

Bokuto chuckled a bit, and pointed over Keiji’s shoulder. “Well, someone sure is angry.”

Keiji discretely looked behind him, and saw a silently fuming Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi was at his side, attempting to pacify him. Hinata and Kageyama were still on the court, and they were laughing and making faces at the blond.

Keiji and Bokuto soon arrived at where Kuroo and Kenma set up a towel and an umbrella. Keiji was more than glad to plop down on it, next to Bokuto, and graciously took the water bottle he gave him. He sat under the shadow of the umbrella, whereas Kenma sat directly under it, right next to the pole. As he drank from the bottle, he saw that Tsukishima had sat down with Yamaguchi on his left, and Iwaizumi had gone to join the rest of his team on Keiji’s right.

“Okay,” Daichi announced suddenly, “who wants to challenge the winning team?”

“I do,” came a voice, and Keiji whipped his head to the source of it. Not surprisingly at all, it was Oikawa, and he had a resolute expression on his face. “I’ll challenge them.”

Of course Oikawa would want to get even for Iwaizumi’s loss. Keiji thought it was a cute gesture, seeing as these matches didn’t exactly count towards any official outcome. Perhaps Oikawa wanted to settle the grand universal score between himself and Kageyama once and for all. When viewed that way, Keiji guessed his motives were a bit more selfish than they originally came off as. Although, Keiji suspected, he might be driven by both of these reasons.

Oikawa stepped forward, and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m thinking of a number one through twenty.”

“Ten,” Bokuto said from beside Keiji, and Kuroo shook his head.

“I’m going with nine,” Nekoma’s captain said.

Seeing as Oikawa seemed to have some sort of personal vendetta against Kageyama, nine was certainly the smarter choice.

After everyone had called in their numbers, Oikawa smiled, and pointed to somewhere beyond Keiji. “Refreshing-kun! You’re with me!”

Keiji actually had no idea who that was, but upon turning around, he saw that Sugawara was ambling forward, a surprised but pleased expression on his face.

Oikawa also pointed towards where the Nekoma team was. “You! Tall one! You said four, right?”

Keiji turned, and Lev looked shocked. “Y-yes!”

“You were right on the money. With me.”

Lev stood up and jogged over to where Oikawa and Sugawara were standing, and he notably towered over them. Oikawa seemed a bit startled as he looked up at him, and Lev appeared to be excited.

Daichi whistled, beckoning the teams together, and gave a radiant smile at Sugawara. “You can do it, Suga!”

Sugawara’s cheeks became flushed, but it was not nervous or bashful, but instead contented. He smiled wider. “Thanks, Daichi!”

Their behavior reminded Keiji of his own parents, how comfortable they were with each other, as their love matured like a fine wine.

Sugawara went over to give Daichi a high five, and their hands lingered together for a bit longer than was necessary. Keiji swore, even from far away, that he saw Daichi’s gaze linger on the setter, and Sugawara looked back to acknowledge it with a cheeky grin and a wink.

Keiji gave a wry chuckle. Of course. Those two acted married enough, how far of a stretch was it that they were actually dating? If they were dating, Keiji thought, then perhaps there was hope for everyone else grappling with a crush of their own. Seeing them filled Keiji with the strangest sense of optimism. Turning to look at Bokuto, that feeling was amplified. Maybe, once he broke down all his bitter, cynical walls, he truly wanted to hope, even if the chance was beyond minuscule, for a future with him.

Keiji shook his head as Daichi whistled again, and flipped a coin that he had fished out of his pocket. Oikawa and Kageyama were there, and Oikawa smirked as the ball was handed to him.

Oikawa sauntered to the back of his side of the court, and Daichi glowered at him. The setter gave him a petulant look, and performed a completely normal serve. But even then, the ball traveled with such accuracy and velocity that he might as well have done one of his famed jump-serves. Keiji had not seen them for himself, but rumor had it that they were… monstrous.

The serve was aimed at Hinata, who even after long and strenuous training and countless matches, still was not very good at receives, a flaw that Oikawa immediately exploited. Hinata was able to touch the ball, but it ricocheted off to the side, towards the ocean, and landed in the incoming wave. Daichi drew a mark in the sand and recovered the ball, handing it to Oikawa who was looking even more smug than before.

Keiji was sitting next to the Seijou team, and they clapped the loudest.

The game continued on, and Oikawa’s second serve was received by Kageyama, who had a spiteful look on his face as the ball traveled back up was spiked down by Hinata.

Oikawa’s expression changed from pompous to serious in a heartbeat. Nobody liked losing, but he seemed to take it to a whole other level.

The players rotated, and Lev served the ball. Oikawa had his eyes glued to the ball as it traveled to the other side of the court, and Tendou dug it up. It sailed in an arc over the net, and Lev managed to throw it to Sugawara, who tossed the ball up for Oikawa to slam down.

Another point for him.

Oikawa smiled, and looked over to his team. Keiji saw a familiar telltale glimmer in his eye when he looked at Iwaizumi, who was leaning forward on the edge of the lounge chair. Keiji was about to look back to the game when he saw someone, a woman, approach him from the rest of the crowd.

She went in front of the team who didn’t even notice her as she stood next to Iwaizumi, between him and Keiji. Keiji was sitting at such an angle that he was able to observe both Iwaizumi and the woman with decent views of both of them.

This woman was, to be blunt, very pretty, and the tiny bikini she was in only accentuated this fact. She was watching the game, but it was obvious that she only came over to chat with Iwaizumi.

When Hinata and Kageyama managed to slam in a spike, she applauded, and then turned to tap Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

When the wing spiker went to look at her, she chuckled. “Is that your friend?” she asked, pointing at Oikawa. Her voice was high and perky.

Iwaizumi gave the woman a once over, and turned back to look at the game. “Yeah.”

She cleared her throat, diverting Iwaizumi’s attention to her once more. “He’s very good. You know, I saw your match earlier, and even though you lost,” she put on an apologetic expression, pouting her cherry lips outward, “you were super good.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Thanks.”

Even though it was painfully obvious Iwaizumi had zero interest in her, she kept going, and she stuck one perfectly manicured hand out. She giggled and gave a vapid little smile. “I’m Aika. Sasaki Aika.”

Iwaizumi took it. “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Keiji was in awe. How dense could one man be?

Keiji turned back to the game and noticed that Oikawa had failed to receive a ball. The captain was looking this way, and he had a mild scowl on his face. When Keiji turned to look at where Oikawa was glaring, he figured he must be looking at that woman, Aika.

As if on cue, Aika took a seat on the empty part of Iwaizumi’s lounge chair and started to giggle again, wrapping bleach-blonde hair around her tanned finger. Iwaizumi only looked at her, and he was slightly confused, but he still hadn’t taken a hint. The two conversed lightly, and Keiji became more uncomfortably amused with every word they spoke.

“You’re so funny, Iwaizumi-san!” she said, leaning forward just a tad, causing her bikini-clad breasts to bounce outwards. Keiji would’ve laughed, but he was too busy dying of second-hand embarrassment.

Keiji looked around Iwaizumi, and saw that not one of Seijou’s team members had noticed the two, as they were all too absorbed in the game. Or maybe they had, and they were tactfully ignoring her. Keiji certainly would, but watching this woman trying to flirt with Iwaizumi was like watching a train wreck: it was absolutely awful, but for the life of you, you couldn't look away.

Keiji turned his head, and kept watching the game. He leaned up a bit, and he could see now that the score was 9-7 in Kageyama’s team’s favor, and Oikawa was fuming. He kept stealing glances over Iwaizumi and Aika, and Keiji saw them chatting casually and it seemed that every word that came out of her mouth made Oikawa more and more angry.

Iwaizumi was absolutely clueless to Aika’s advances, yet Aika did not let up.

“So, how long have you been playing volleyball?” she asked.

“Since elementary school—” the wing spiker paused to point at Oikawa— “with the guy in the blue swim trunks. His name’s Oikawa Tooru.”

“You two are really impressive.” She then gave a charming smile, “how old are you?”

“I turned 18 a week ago.”

Aika tittered happily. “Same! I’m here with my grandparents, but they let me roam freely, do what I want.” She looked up at Iwaizumi from under long, lush lashes, and grinned. “And you?”

“I’m here on a vacation with my volleyball team and our captain’s friends’ teams.” He looked back at the game, and smiled when Oikawa received a particularly difficult ball. “Oikawa, actually, is the captain; he helped organize this whole thing.”

Aika smiled wider, and she scanned the crowd behind Iwaizumi. “So all of you are professional volleyball players?”

Iwaizumi gave a bashful grin. “No, no, we’re just high schoolers. But, yeah, I guess we’re more ‘professional’ than most others our age.”

Aika looked back at the game. “No wonder you guys are so good.” She turned back to Iwaizumi in under a second, and put a soft but bold hand on his. “But, Iwaizumi-san, you are very talented. I’d say your friend Oikawa-san is lucky to have you.”

Keiji was taken aback at Aika’s brazenness and pursed his lips in pity for the girl. Looking back at the game, Oikawa had just landed another spike, and was definitely glaring at Aika. Keiji thought the ball went down a lot faster than it should have, and it narrowly averted Tendou’s blocking hands. Even though he was the one who had scored the point, Oikawa’s face was a quiet lividity, an unsettling cross between raw jealousy and red-hot fury, with his jaw visibly clenched and a fire in his eyes that spoke of a silent wrath.

There was only one viable reason someone would be that angry at someone flirting with their best friend, Keiji knew, and that reason was that that someone was in love with the best friend themselves.

However, Keiji didn’t see any such sparkle in Oikawa’s eyes when he looked at Iwaizumi. In fact, they acted relatively normal around each other, as least what was considered normal with Oikawa’s eccentric personality. Keiji knew him to be a bit flirtatious, but not in any serious way that denoted any actual attraction to anybody. And yet, all the primal signs were presenting in him as if he was head-over-heels for Iwaizumi.

Keiji then mused perhaps that he didn’t yet know that he was in love.

“Lucky bastard,” he murmured, a helpless curse he let slip past his teeth.

“What’d ya say, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked suddenly, and Keiji whipped his head to the left, where Bokuto was sitting. His gold eyes were guileless, and it seemed as he really didn’t hear Keiji.

“Nothing,” he responded as nonchalantly as possible, making it seem that whatever he had said was boring and not worth knowing to Bokuto, who Keiji knew was kind of nosy and a busybody. If he made what he said interesting at all, it’d be like backing up into a corner that didn’t have an easy exit.

Thankfully, Bokuto nodded and backed off, looking at the game in time for Lev to slam down a spike that was caught by Hinata. Bokuto smiled broadly at that; of course he was rooting for Hinata’s team. Keiji, however, preferred to be a spectator and remained neutral.

“You know,” Aika’s saccharine speech rung out, and Keiji discreetly turned to listen, “I used to play volleyball back in my first and second year of high school.”

“Oh yeah?” It was the first time Iwaizumi had sounded interested when talking to Aika, besides all the times when he brought up Oikawa in conversation. “What position were you?”

“I was a…” Aika paused to put a finger on her chin, a childish action, “what was it called? Oh yeah, I was a wing spiker.”

“Really?” Even more interest snuck into his voice, “I’m also a wing spiker,” Iwaizumi said.

“Yeah, I could tell,” she replied, a smile creeping onto her already dulcet voice. “It was fun, but I quit. I liked my academics better.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “That’s too bad.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand, a motion that gave her a surprised look from Iwaizumi.

Keiji couldn’t help it; he looked over to the game to gauge Oikawa’s reaction, and the setter looked to be two steps away from murder.

“It’s alright,” she said, her voice losing its previous sugary quality and replacing it with a softness that was unmistakably sultry, “you could always get me back into it sometime. I’d love to see you play,” she lowered her eyes to look at his lips, “up close.”

Aika then wound a hand around Iwaizumi’s bicep, pressing her chest into his arm. Her free hand went up to rest at his sternum, and she placed a small kiss on his cheek.

Iwaizumi’s face flared up a violent red, and Keiji heard a deafening crack from the court.

Keiji looked over, and saw a scene playing out in front of him: Daichi ran onto the court to be at Kageyama’s side as he shouted at Oikawa. Kageyama was doubled over, hands clamped over his face as he groaned in pain. Hinata was also at the setter’s side, busy tending to Kageyama.

“Oikawa, what the hell!” Keiji heard Daichi yell, “I thought I told you to go easy on them!”

Oikawa looked like he was angry, and besides losing to Kageyama, Keiji knew he hadn’t the faintest idea as to why, and if he did, he wasn’t about to tell Daichi. “I did!” he yelled back, “My hand slipped!”

“Oh, that’s rich!” Kageyama straightened up, removing his hand from his face. There was blood dripping from his nostrils, and a tender red blotch bloomed over the bridge of his nose. “You aimed right at me, I saw it in your eyes! It wasn’t enough to almost kill me yesterday, now you have to go and aim a spike right at my face?!” Kageyama snarled. His eyes were flashing, and he shot forward, and only the flimsy net separated him from Oikawa. “What the fuck is your problem with me?” he growled, baring his teeth.

“I don’t have a problem with you!” Oikawa shouted, his eyes just as furious. Keiji knew that was a lie, however, as it was obvious that Oikawa felt he had to prove himself to Kageyama that he was better than him.

“You’re such a liar!” Kageyama spat, eyes flashing infuriately, “Why do you hate me so much? Are you still mad because I beat you in the Spring High Tournament and obliterated any chance of you ever going to Nationals?!” Kageyama shouted, his tone taking on a mocking element at that last comment, “Huh?!”

The crowd around Keiji seemed to hold their breath. Behind Keiji, Kenma murmured a stunned “Damn.” Keiji agreed with the sentiment; that retort had been a little harsh.

That seemed to snap something in Oikawa, and he ducked under the net to swing his fist at Kageyama. The other setter was anticipating the blow, and dodged, sending a fierce right hook at Oikawa’s cheekbone. It hit him, and Keiji could swear he heard a crack and saw the captain’s jaw swing sideways in a way it shouldn’t.

Beside him, Iwaizumi stood up, peeling Aika off of him. “Sorry, but I’m not interested,” he told her before going off to quell the fight. “Oikawa! Stop!”

Keiji could see that Daichi was also doing his part in trying to stop them, grabbing Kageyama and trying to hold him back, but the setter was strong and had had enough of Oikawa’s torment. Keiji thought Kageyama was rightfully angry, as Oikawa did push him off that cliff into the ocean when he couldn’t swim yesterday (witnessing that was something Keiji was sure to never forget) and now he aimed a killer spike right at his face without earlier provocation.

“Oh shit, they’re fighting,” Kuroo said from behind Keiji, “You know, I feel like this has been a long time coming.”

Bokuto chuckled. “Agreed.”

Iwaizumi reached for Oikawa as he was about to retaliate, pulling the captain back. “Oikawa, get a hold of yourself! What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Iwaizumi was visibly stronger than Oikawa, and succeeded in prying him away from Kageyama. Daichi was able to do the same, and both of them managed to put space between the two.

“Oikawa, for the love of god, can you please stop harassing Kageyama?” Daichi asked, his brows furrowing and a tone of tired pleading in his voice.

Oikawa’s breathing seemed to slow, and he uncurled his fists. Iwaizumi let go of him, and looked apologetically at Daichi.

“I’ve had enough of him,” Kageyama said wiping the blood off his lips, “he needs to fucking stop.”

At that, Oikawa gave Kageyama a death glare and fisted his hands once more. They started to pace towards each other.

“Guys! Guys,” Sugawara said suddenly, crossing under the net and placing himself between the two other setters, “please stop fighting. I’m sure this was nothing but an accident.”

Kageyama’s eyes flashed at Oikawa, “All due respect, Suga-san, but my ass. That guy has been targeting me ever since middle school. Like hell this was an accident.”

“Kageyama,” Daichi said beside him, appalled.

“You’re right, Sugawara-san,” Oikawa said, crossing his hands in front of him. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.” The captain sounded surprisingly candid, and Keiji almost believed him. Almost.

Sugawara nodded, and placed a calming hand on Kageyama’s shoulder. “Accidents happen, Kageyama.”

Kageyama gave a betrayed look. “Are you calling yesterday an accident?”

Oikawa’s cheeks turned red, and he came forward, “I swear, Kageyama, I didn’t know—”

“Oh please, don’t give me that shit—”

“Enough!” Sugawara shouted, and even Keiji was taken aback. “Both of you shut up.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you in middle school, but what I do know is that past hatchets should be left buried. This feud you two have will never be resolved if you keep behaving like children, fighting each other and calling each other names.”

Oikawa looked away, his face uncharacteristically stained with shame. Kageyama’s expression did the same, but he shifted his gaze from Oikawa to Sugawara. Keiji leaned in forward, enthralled with the scene unfolding before him.

Sugawara sighed. “You’re better than this. You two are grown and mature enough to realize that you shouldn’t hold what someone did at the tender age of twelve against them.”

“Oikawa was fourteen, actually,” Kageyama spoke up, and immediately looked away with terrified regret in his eyes when Sugawara directed a wrathful gaze at the younger setter.

“Okay, but you were. Oikawa surely was in his third year of middle school while you were in your first. That made you the tender, impressionable little twelve-year-old.”

Oikawa snickered, and Sugawara swiveled his head towards him.

“I’m sorry, did I say something funny?” Sugawara nearly snarled, words dripping with acid. “You were the older one, Oikawa, and whatever happened, I should expect that you were not the perpetrator. Right?”

Oikawa looked down, twisting his hands together. His wore a guilt-ridden expression, all usual cheer and recent fury gone. Keiji was taken aback by this sudden show of humility by such a flamboyant entity as Oikawa. Perhaps he was the one who initiated it.

Sugawara chuckled, but it wasn’t happy. “Oh my god. Okay, look, you don't have to tell me what happened, but you two have to realize that the root of this problem happened while you two were in middle school. You were sniveling kids; certainly not at the level of maturity you are at now. I’m sure that you can shed past differences and at least salvage whatever relationship you two have left in order to be civil. No one’s asking you to be friends.”

The two setters were silent, and refused to look at one another.

Sugawara nodded. “And with that said, I think it is only appropriate for you two to apologize to each other right now.”

Kageyama pursed his lips, and narrowed his eyes at ground, his stance unwavering.

Sugawara crossed his arms. “Now.”

Oikawa stubbornly crossed his arms, and huffed angrily. Kageyama made a face that gave off a similar sentiment when Hinata, who had been beside the dark-haired setter, put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Yeah. Accidents happen, Kageyama.”

The words seemed to resonate with Kageyama, and for some reason, he slowly uncrossed his arms, and bowed down a bit. He was scowling, and eyed Oikawa, but his gaze shifted away when he saw Oikawa look back. “I’m s-sorry for punching you,” he grumbled, “And, um, I fuh—fir—forgive… you for, um, yesterday.”

Hinata tapped him on the shoulder, in a gesture that said go on.

Kageyama gulped. “And, er, I ho—hah—hu…” he paused to take a deep breath, “hope we can fir—fuh—forgive each other… for, um, what happened between us in middle school.” Kageyama seemed absolutely exhausted, but somehow still had enough courage in him to direct his steely gaze right at Oikawa’s.

Oikawa’s brows shot up to his hairline as he stared at Kageyama, and beside him, Iwaizumi made a gesture with his hand. “Come on now, Oikawa. Be an adult.”

Sugawara looked at Oikawa, waiting for his response.

Keiji thought everyone had their eyes trained on Seijou’s captain, unfaltering, watching anxiously as if this was a scene out of their favorite soap. He doubted that Oikawa had enough moral fiber to reciprocate, and mused perhaps that he would make light of the situation in some way. But to his surprise, Oikawa slowly bowed down, and he saw Kageyama’s eyes widen as he did so.

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for pushing you off the cliff and for spiking you in the face, Tobio-chan. I forgive you for punching me back; I probably deserved that.” Oikawa took a deep breath, and locked gazes with Kageyama. “I am also very sorry for the incident that happened in middle school, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“Wow,” said Bokuto beside Keiji. “They actually apologized to each other.”

“Miracles do happen,” Kuroo replied.

The two straightened their backs again, and Sugawara patted both boys on the shoulder, a diplomatic gesture. “Wonderful. Kageyama, your nosebleed seems to have stopped, yes?”

Kageyama rubbed at his nose, wincing a little whenever his hand got to close to his bruise. Apart from the blood that had already settled, the bleeding had stopped. “Yes.”

“Great,” Sugawara said, clapping his hands together. “Do you guys wanna finish the game, or…?”

“Of course I do,” Oikawa said, a bit affronted, “why is that even a question?”

Kageyama nodded, and he started to turn back to his place.

And the balance was restored; the players returned to their rightful positions on the court. Keiji saw Iwaizumi converse a little with Oikawa before he put a hand to the setter’s shoulder and let it linger for a bit longer than it should. They were staring at each other, and Oikawa gave a cheeky smile, which prompted Iwaizumi to let go and walk back to his seat. Iwaizumi looked around and then sighed in relief, and Keiji figured it was because he was glad that Aika was thankfully gone. He sat down, and began to watch the game.

The game restarted when Daichi whistled, and the ball was served by Kageyama. It bounced up when Lev received it, and the ball found its place in the sand when Oikawa slammed it down.

Applause rung out, and Keiji leaned back into the towel he was on and enjoyed the rest of the game. Oikawa seemed to be more calculating now, calmer. His eyes shifted around the court, and made a lot smarter calls now than before. Kageyama’s face was equally focused, but Oikawa was remarkably shrewd and definitely was better at this than Kageyama. For all Kageyama’s genius, Oikawa was decidedly the more experienced one.

Keiji watched as Oikawa struck the ball down for the final time, scoring the winning point. Kageyama’s face was twisted with a sour scowl, and glared daggers at the captain as he gave a smug smirk in his direction. Years of discord, after all, couldn’t be solved overnight.

“Kageyama,” Hinata said, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder, “don’t mind. Do you want to go get ice for your nose?”

Keiji saw Kageyama jump at the middle blocker’s touch, and chuckled to himself. Kageyama nodded, “Yeah.”

Tendou, who had been wisely absent from the drama that had recently transpired, walked up behind them and gave them both a pat on the back. “Well,” he said, “it’s been fun playing with you kiddies. You guys really are something else.” He began to walk off, and turned around, wearing a mocking smile. “See ya.”

“See ya, Tendou-san,” Hinata murmured, and Kageyama merely watched him go. Hinata pulled at his arm, and they walked off the court, picked up their towels and left the crowd, disappearing from sight.

Oikawa ducked underneath the net and approached Kageyama. Keiji could see the younger boy’s shoulders tighten, but became loose as he saw Oikawa extend a hand.

“Good game,” he said, and this time, Keiji was sure that there was no guile in tone, or cunning in his expression. This was the genuine Oikawa, smiling lightly as he extended a good-natured hand towards his underclassman.

Kageyama’s eyes were wary as he took it, shaking it briefly. “You too, and, um, congratulations.”

Oikawa’s smile widen just a bit, and he let go. Keiji could swear he caught Kageyama grin a bit as well, but it was gone as soon as the two turned away from each other, and went about their business.

“Alright,” Daichi said, clapping his hands together, bringing the attention to him. “Oikawa’s team wins. Any challengers?

From the far side of the crowd, he heard a low baritone ring out: “Me.”

Keiji turned to look, and none other than Ushijima had raised his hand.

Great, Keiji thought, not this again. Word on the grapevine was that Ushijima and Oikawa did not have a good relationship at all. Oikawa absolutely abhorred him, and Ushijima simply thought that Oikawa was little more than wasted potential, even more so now that he never made it to Nationals. If Keiji thought the match between Kageyama and Oikawa was just a bad pissing contest, this one would be even worse. Oikawa would surely make things get out of hand again, and it would be a giant shitshow.

“Boy oh boy,” Bokuto said, putting a firm hand on Keiji’s shoulder and smiling widly, “More drama.”

All previous thoughts and musings left Keiji in that instant as he felt Bokuto’s hand like a hot imprint on his skin. He wondered why he was touching him in the first place. When Bokuto used his shoulder to lean forward to get a better view of Ushijima, the answer was clear, but it wasn’t good enough for Keiji.

This accidental touch was too opportune to be random, and Bokuto didn’t usually touch him like this. They would share fist bumps, high fives, “bro” stuff, as Bokuto called it. But recently, Bokuto had put his head in neck to smell him, held his wrist, linked hands with him, and now he put a warm hand to the curve of his bare shoulder. If Keiji didn’t know better, he’d diagnose Bokuto with the same condition he had been diagnosing everyone else with: love.

Keiji had carved into every crevice of his brain that it was impossible that Bokuto liked him back: he was decidedly heterosexual, cooing over cute girls at the school, or at the train station, or wherever else there happened to be a few that caught his eye. He’d even had a handful of girlfriends, three that lasted long enough for Keiji to remember them, and he was currently single. Bokuto had even described to him once his perfect girl: short and preferably dark hair, soft skin, and she must like volleyball and be willing to put up with him. There were plenty of girls that fit the bill at his school, and Keiji was surprised he hadn’t accepted more of the confessions he got. Because of this, Keiji had told himself long ago that Bokuto would never be interested in him.

But his heart told him it must be so. Just look at his mannerisms, it told Keiji, his way of being around you.

The rationality of his brain and the emotion of his heart were constantly at odds with each other, going back and forth on what Bokuto’s every move meant, one looking tirelessly for proof that he loved him, and the other uprooting the evidence as soon as it came up. In fact, Bokuto was the one person that Keiji couldn’t read as easily as he could read everybody else. His own personal biases clouded his judgement, and although he could make accurate, short-term deductions about Bokuto, if it related to Keiji’s crush on him, he might as well try reading a book in the dark.

Bokuto removed his had from Keiji’s shoulder, leaving a cold spot that faded away in the summer heat. He turned around, and looked at Bokuto: his shock of salt-and-pepper hair, his strong, square jaw, his wide gold eyes that shone like coins, his high cheekbones and his well-defined neck and chest, each muscle perfectly sculpted as if he was a Renaissance statue. He had tan skin that stretched taut over his musculature, and he had a light dusting of freckles around his shoulders, but more around his hips, and they haloed a road of dark hairs that led below his swim trunks. His face heated up just thinking about what lay underneath the nylon.

“Akaashi. You okay?”

Keiji perked up immediately and he gaped at Bokuto like a deer in headlights. He had been staring just now, and it would be miraculous if Bokuto didn't notice something was up. “Yes, I’m fine. I just zoned out a bit,” he managed.

Bokuto narrowed his eyes a bit, locking gazes with Keiji. Bokuto might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but Keiji knew he wasn’t exactly dumb either.

But Bokuto released the tension in his brows and nodded casually. “Alrighty,” he murmured, patting Keiji’s shoulder again, and this time, he let his hand linger. His thumb brushed against the wing of Keiji’s collarbone, causing electricity to run through his veins and color to rise high on his cheeks. His heart was beating furiously against his sternum as he suppressed the shiver that came. Keiji was still looking directly at Bokuto, and the captain was instead staring at point a bit next to his hand, around Keiji’s neck.

His brain was desperately trying to come up with excuses for such behavior, but everything was coming up blank. This wasn’t something best friends did if they didn’t usually touch. Something was going on, and Keiji felt like if Bokuto didn’t remove his hand or if his brain didn’t stop theorizing and thinking so much, he was going to explode.

After a while, however, Bokuto withdrew his hand. He gave a bright smile, like nothing had just happened.  “Let’s see who’s playing next.”

Keiji let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Once again, Bokuto was unnecessarily touching him and staring at him when he has almost never done these things before, and his heart screamed, why is he doing this? It throbbed against him, and the only logical conclusion Keiji could come to is that Bokuto was somewhat attracted to him as well.

Keiji gave a little sigh, and at last, his brain ceded.

Looking once more to Bokuto, he gave a thin smile. A strange feeling filled his chest, a sort of lightness that made him feel like he was floating. He was smiling, and now, he felt like he could smile forever. Keiji felt like maybe Bokuto liking him back was possible, even if the odds increased by only one percent.

Keiji chuckled, and looked away. Maybe he had a small chance after all.

*    *    *

Wakatoshi walked to the front of the crowd, raised his hand, and spoke, “Me.”

Oikawa turned to look at him. He was scowling (there was seldom a time where he wasn’t, when looking at him) and he crossed his arms, standing his ground. The sun bore down them both, and Wakatoshi felt the heat singe the bare skin of his shoulders as a stray cloud floated under its beam.

Oikawa’s gaze was razor sharp, and it commanded all his attention. “Oh yeah?” he asked, voice dripping with poison. “Alright. I accept, Ushiwaka.”

Wakatoshi felt a cold hand on his shoulder. “Wakatoshi-kun, I think you should have waited a round. If Tooru over there get even a little more worked up, I think he’ll explode.”

Wakatoshi turned around, and Tendou was there, staring up at him with a smirk. Garnet eyes stared up at him coolly, yet even Wakatoshi saw the glint of cunning behind them. Tendou’s eyes were always unnerving, to say the least.

“If I had waited another round, he might have already lost and been kicked out of the game,” Wakatoshi said matter-of-factly.

Tendou gave a comical shrug. “I’m just sayin’.”

Wakatoshi turned back to the crowd, scanning the various faces, both familiar and foreign. He had no way of gauging the skill of everyone gathered, so it was possible he would end up with a team that was unable to support his strength. However, a favorable matchup was also likely, and Wakatoshi wanted to try his luck.

In order to elect his team, he had to choose a number, and it took him only seconds to pick one. “I am thinking of a number one through twenty.”

The numbers rang out one by one, and among them, Wakatoshi heard one that was exceptionally close, and another that was the exact number.

Both of them came from approximately the same direction, so Wakatoshi stepped forward a bit, towards the source of the noise. However, Wakatoshi was able to single out the person who had been right, a small boy with dyed hair leaning over a cell phone. “You with the cell phone. You said five, right?”

He looked up, and Wakatoshi vaguely recognized him as Nekoma’s setter, Kozume Kenma. He raised his eyebrows. “Yes.”

“You’re with me.” Kenma dropped his cell phone in Kuroo’s lap (who was right next to him), and the wily captain also gave the setter a nod and a thumbs up.

There had also been someone who said “four” in this general vicinity. “Who said four?”

There was movement to the left of Wakatoshi, and he saw that the rest of the Seijou team had crowded there, and one of their middle blockers, one with thick brows who Wakatoshi remembered to be named Matsukawa, raised his hand coyly. “I did.”

Wakatoshi nodded; this team was satisfactory. The Seijou team members around Matsukawa eyed him precariously as he stood up and nonchalantly walked with Wakatoshi and Kenma to the court.

Oikawa was there, standing with his arms crossed, Sugawara and Lev flanking him. Oikawa spun the ball on his extended index finger, and caught it as it came down. A gentle breeze wafted through, ruffling his hair. His eyes stared straight at him, undaunted. “Are you ready?”

Wakatoshi only looked at him. “I am always ready.”

Oikawa nodded, and it seemed vindictive, as always. The teams went to their places on the court, and Wakatoshi heard a whistle come from his left.

Oikawa served the ball, and Matsukawa easily caught it. The captain spat something under his breath.

This was where Wakatoshi was completely in control; where he felt like nothing could stop him. In truth, very few things could, here on a court. His legs shifted, he ran and jumped up. His arms felt like they moved almost of their own accord, as he swung his left hand back and whipped it forward as Kenma set the ball to him. His palm struck it, the sweet stinging sensation exploded through his hand, and the ball shot down and it hit the sand unhindered.

Oikawa’s face was silent, calculating. Wakatoshi could see a look of hatred come over his eyes, but somehow, he knew that there was more that look that Oikawa was letting on.

A whistle resounded, and the players rotated.

The match continued as most do for Wakatoshi: every time he got the opportunity to spike the ball, he did so, and he was seldom stopped. He often got a couple of dirty looks from Daichi every time he surpassed a two-man block by slamming the ball right past their hands, making their wrist twist back in what might appear to be a painful position. 

The only person that could stand up to him on the other side of the net was Oikawa. He almost did a few times before; got closer to defeating him only to inevitably have all come crashing down around him. Wakatoshi almost felt sorry for him those last two years, but ultimately, Wakatoshi knew it was his own fault: if Oikawa had made different choices, perhaps he’d be in a better place.

He could see him now in the court, not uttering a single word. His face was tense, brows furrowed. Wakatoshi could see that the skin on the bridge of his nose and cheeks was starting to redden and peel, but became wrinkled as he eyed the ball. He jumped up suddenly, positioned to spike.

Ushijima jumped up with Matsukawa next to him (a strange event, to say the least), and Oikawa’s eyes became wide and furious as he smashed the ball through both their hands and made it hit the ground.

Once he saw it, a genuine smile grew on his lips. He murmured something, and Wakatoshi thought it sounded almost like “finally”. He looked up, the fury beginning to ebb. “Sorry, Mattsun!” he shouted, that chirrupy tone back.

“It’s alright, Oikawa,” Matsukawa replied, a gentle grin on his face. “Your self-esteem needs the win more than mine does.”

Even Wakatoshi leered over to see Oikawa’s face after what many would consider a scathing comment on Oikawa’s self-worth. He was smiling, but his eyes told a different, more irate, tale.

The game continued, the points stacking up in Oikawa’s favor. The Oikawa that played before Wakatoshi now was different than the one that he had faced in prefectural finals past. Now, Wakatoshi thought, he seemed a bit more hopeful. He guessed it was because they were outside of the official court, where mistakes were less likely to matter. When he gave a celebratory shout when he scored another successful spike, he thought it was because he was finally winning.

Now, Oikawa was smiling genuinely. The dark cloud that plagued him seemed to had disappeared. Wakatoshi felt sorry for him, and was halfway inclined to let him win. He was not unaware that Oikawa had never won a game against him, and the losses must have definitely hurt Oikawa more that Wakatoshi felt good about the wins.

Wakatoshi saw a set come at him from the corner of his eye, and he spiked down brutally, and almost mechanically. He saw the happiness in Oikawa’s eyes flicker for a moment, but he threw himself back from the block, catching the spike with his bicep, launching it up and over the net. A big red splotch marked his skin, but Wakatoshi saw no traces of pain in his expression.

The action came as such a surprise that Matsukawa was late in responding to it, and the ball hit the sand unhindered.

Oikawa pumped his fist in the air and whooped in elation; his team was now at set point. Wakatoshi was only a few points behind him, and some part of him wanted to throw the match and let Oikawa have the glory if even for this casual game.

However, Wakatoshi thought of the real value of a win coming from an opponent who had given up.

Oikawa was smiling viciously now, his spirited eyes alit with a newly kindled fire. Wakatoshi decided to make Oikawa’s win mean something, and easily landed one point before letting Oikawa slam in the decisive point.

All the Seijou members, even Matsukawa at his side, burst into shouts and applauses, and Wakatoshi saw Iwaizumi head towards Oikawa from the crowd, and gave his hand a hearty slap when it was offered to him. The two embraced, and Wakatoshi could swear he saw tears glisten in his eyes.

Wakatoshi smiled. He did good today.

He felt a cold hand on his shoulder. “Wakatoshi-kun, I know you threw the match.”

Turning around, Tendou was there, smiling in a knowing way. He always was smiling like he knew a secret, always wily and impish. Despite that, it was a bit calming to see him smile, and it gave him a comfortable sense of the familiar. His shoulders loosened, and he breathed a bit easier. Tendou balanced on the balls of his feet, rocking back and forth, his hands behind his back.

Wakatoshi spoke in a low voice, “How did you know?”

Tendou cocked his head to the side and gave him an incredulous look. “C’mon. You’re making it seem like I don’t even know you. In fact, I’m surprised more people didn’t notice.” He stretched out his slightly burned arms, and Wakatoshi heard his joints crackle. “I think they’re all just kinda happy for Tooru.”

Wakatoshi looked back at the other side of the court, and Oikawa was surrounded by his team members, all of them jubilant, and the captain was practically glowing.

Tendou smirked. “Well, at least his bad mood’s gone. That was really putting a damper on my vacation.” Tendou smacked Wakatoshi on the back. “C’mon, it’s almost time to go to that restaurant now. Aren’tcha hungry?”

He and Tendou had been walking around yesterday and found a little beachside bistro in the innards of the main building. It was one of the nicer ones that required a reservation, and they decided it would be a good idea to treat the team to a lunch there. The price was a bit steep, but it wasn’t anything Wakatoshi couldn’t afford. He felt the telltale twist of his stomach inside him, and nodded wordlessly.

“Cool. Let’s go.”

The pair walked off the court and approached the rest of the Shiratorizawa team. Looking around, he saw that the other groups were breaking off as well, most probably in search of food as well. As he arrived with the others, Goshiki broke off from his conversation with the other third years and sped towards Wakatoshi, eyes wide. “Ushijima-san, what happened out there?”

Wakatoshi almost felt inclined to answer, but Tendou stepped forward. “Maybe ol’ Wakatoshi-kun’s having a bad day. Not everyone can be superhuman all the time.”

Goshiki seemed to accept this, and tipped his head down in a bow. “I hope you get over your bad day, then.”

Wakatoshi nodded. “Thank you.”

Tendou walked ahead, picking up his bag off the sand and breaking past the group. He gestured with his hand, beckoning them all, tank top in hand. “Put on your shirts, guys, I know a place where we can get some food. It’s deep in the hotel.”

Wakatoshi picked up his canvas bag and extracted his dark tank top from it. He effortlessly slid it on, and followed Tendou and the rest of the team across the beach. A salty breeze hit them from the side, and it cooled the side of Wakatoshi’s face; it was then we he realized how hot the day was. Only in the deepest part of summer did it feel like this back home.

“What’d you find, Tendou?” Semi asked, slinging his hands casually behind his neck.

“Oh, it’s a little restaurant in the back; you’d have to do some real exploring to find it. It’s pretty fancy, or at least I think it is.” Tendou nodded to himself. “Oh, and guys: no shirt, no shoes, no service. I’m not kidding.”

Grumbles erupted, and Wakatoshi saw the others put on their shirts with a friendly roll of their eyes and sliding into plastic flip flops. He did the same, taking his worn black sandals from the bag and putting them on.

Tendou and Wakatoshi led them all out of the beach, and the Shiratorizawa team sauntered to the lobby, and Wakatoshi felt the air conditioning bite at large patches on his shoulder; skin that had recently tanned. Tendou walked ahead of Wakatoshi, leading them like a marching band, whistling a cheery tune and walking with a bounce to his step. Wakatoshi thought he saw a faint blotch of red on his shoulders, and the straps of his white tank shifted with his movement, revealing the well-burnt skin underneath.

Wakatoshi clicked his tongue. He told Tendou to put on sunscreen, but in the end he let it slip past his mind. No matter, he thought, as there was a huge bottle of aloe vera back in the cabin. However, he felt his brows furrow at the thought of Tendou feeling the sting of the burn after slathering it with the gel, and the way his face would screw up in pain because of how bad the sunburn was. Wakatoshi felt a strange little pang in his chest, and had absolutely no idea what it was.

He hadn’t realized that they had stopped walking, and he bumped into Tendou. His back was warm, unusually so.  “Sorry,” he said.

Tendou shook off the blow. “It’s no biggie.” He put his hands on his hips, “Anyway, here we are.”

The neon sign above read “The Sandbar” written in a loopy font. Wakatoshi remembered the place well; inside, there were off-white walls punctuated by intricate sea shells. Linen tablecloths fluttered in a breeze, and Wakatoshi saw that several windows were open, and the beach lay beyond them. Smooth jazz was playing from somewhere deeper in the restaurant, and a receptionist caught his eye, and smiled. “Coming in?”

Wakatoshi nodded, and Tendou led them all inside. He leaned his arms on the porcelain desk, grinning. “I’ve got a reservation under the name of Tendou Satori.”

The receptionist typed on her keyboard and nodded once she came to a certain page. “Yes. Tendou-san, your table is in back, near the windows.”

“Thank you,” Tendou replied cordially, and walked past the woman into the restaurant.

Wakatoshi followed, and saw the table that Tendou had reserved for them. It was long, and decorated with vases of fresh hydrangeas. Turquoise cotton napkins were delicately folded over porcelain dishes, and seashells were scattered around the center of the table in a decorative manner.

“Wow,” Shirabu remarked, leaning over to Kawanishi, “how much do you think this place costs?”

“More than my parents make.”

Tendou chuckled as he took his seat at the edge of the table. “Now guys, I wasn’t the only one who organized this. Wakatoshi over here offered to pay for us all if we came.” He gave Wakatoshi a little smile, “So be sure to thank him after the meal.”

Semi took a seat next to Tendou, and his brows shot to his hairline. “Really? I mean, I knew Ushijima was wealthy, but is he really this wealthy?”

Tendou tilted his head. “C’mon, Eita, of course he is. You’ve seen his house.”

Semi pursed his lips. “Point taken.”

Wakatoshi sat down in front of Tendou, and he saw a waitress walking over from the corner of his eye. “Hello there!” she said, her voice sweet, “Welcome to the Sandbar. Is there anything I can get you all to drink?” She smiled as she passed out menus, and Wakatoshi saw Goshiki next to him widen his eyes at the prices.

“I’d like a Coke,” Tendou said, an easy tone coating his voice like molasses.

As the others gave their orders, Wakatoshi decided on a drink himself. “Just water, please.”

Tendou caught his eyes and mouthed “boring” at him, smiling.

The waitress wrote it all down on a crisp notepad, and made a cheery little grin. “Okay, I’ll be back with your drinks.”

Wakatoshi heard the chatter from other patrons of the restaurant, and he saw a couple in the table across the room were laughing and drinking glasses of red wine. The music had shifted, becoming richer with the melody of a saxophone. Wakatoshi wondered if it came from a live band when he felt Tendou kick his shins. “Wakaaatoshi,” he drawled, “tell me why you threw the match.”

Wakatoshi turned to look at him, and Tendou was toying with a silver spoon, smiling at him contemptuously. His darkened eyes glinted at him, and the sunlight coming from the open window behind him cast a shadow over him.

Wakatoshi sighed. “I pitied Oikawa.”

“You pitied him? Really?”

“Yes,” Wakatoshi replied. He furrowed his brows, “Do not look at me like that. I am not cruel. I think he’s had a bad enough couple of months that he deserves a break. That game meant nothing to me, but it could have meant everything to him.”

Tendou widened his eyes, and gave a flabbergasted smile. “My god,” he laughed, looking away wistfully, “Maybe you do have a heart.”

The waitress came back, a tray of assorted drinks balanced on her hand. She passed them out, eliciting thanks from the team members.

“Your Coke, sir,” she said, pouring the soda in an empty glass next to Tendou’s plate. The liquid bubbled up, settling into an attractive froth on the top.

“And your water,” she said as she poured Wakatoshi his drink, the ice crackling against the glass. She smiled, and stood up straight. “Are you all ready to order?”

There was collective “no”, and the waitress bowed, announcing that she would back later.

Wakatoshi opened up the menu, and perused the restaurant’s choice. He was presented with a selection of creamy chowder to fresh sushi to steamy broth. He could really have anything he chose, as a quick glance at the prices told he could afford even the most expensive thing. Wakatoshi settled on a plate of grilled salmon, and promptly closed the menu, lacing his fingers together as he looked ahead, at Tendou.

He was still perusing through the selection, humming to himself as he lazily turned the pages. “Wakatoshi?” he drawled, not making eye contact with him.

“Yes?”

“Do you think I should get the shrimp scampi or,” he flipped around in the menu, “the sashimi platter?”

Wakatoshi let his head fall to the side, “doesn’t your mother make you sashimi every Friday?”

Tendou nodded. “You’re right; I should expand my horizons. Shrimp scampi it is.”

The waitress was back at that exact moment like magic, pink lips spread in a smile. She placed baskets of bread and butter on both ends of the table, and looked towards the team members. “Are you all ready to order?”

“Yes, I would like the grilled salmon,” Wakatoshi stated.

“And I would like the shrimp scampi,” Tendou said, echoing Wakatoshi’s tone.

The rest of the team gave their orders, and the waitress nodded happily. “Alright, I’ll be back.”

Tendou wasted no time in diving into to get a roll of warm bread. Steam broke free as he tore a piece and hastily shoved it in his mouth, gulping it down like it was nothing. “Hey, Wakatoshi-kun?”

“Yes?”

“Why now?”

Wakatoshi cocked his head to side, furrowing his brows. “Why now what?”

Tendou grinned. “Why are you pitying Tooru now?”

Wakatoshi felt a stir in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t from the hunger. “I don’t know. I just felt bad for him all of a sudden.”

Tendou laced his fingers together and balanced his chin on his hands. He narrowed his eyes, making them seem more calculating than usual. “I think you sympathized with him.” He smiled at the look on Wakatoshi’s face. “Yes, sympathy. Both of you are on the same boat: beat by Karasuno, but more specifically, beat by that boy Tobio and his short ginger friend.”

“Hinata Shouyou,” Wakatoshi said immediately, “that’s his name.”

Tendou pursed his lips in an amused manner. “I’m sure. The point is, you knew, consciously or not, that you could no longer look down on Tooru. You realized that you two were at the same level now.”

He took a long sip of his soda, and smacked his lips satisfyingly. “Wakatoshi, I’ve known you for years, and I can say with excess confidence that you are a fundamentally kind person. Once you saw Tooru in a shitty mood because of someone who proved to be better than both of you, your natural human empathy kicked in made you feel sorry for him.”

Wakatoshi bowed his head. He’d never been the introspective one, but whenever Tendou made a deduction about anything, he was rarely wrong.

“And you think that’s why I threw the match,” Wakatoshi replied.

“Yup,” Tendou took a sip from his drink, and chuckled. “It’s altruistic, to say the least. You’d rather Tooru have the joy of winning rather than you.”

Wakatoshi nodded, and Tendou broke eye contact with him, looking down onto the breadcrumbs on his plate. A soft look came over him, and the guile dissolved from his expression. “That’s a really sweet thing to do, Wakatoshi.”

Wakatoshi felt his cheeks heat up strangely and his heart pulsate in his chest, like he’d just done several pushups. He drank a bit of his water in an attempt to cool down, but it only made the heat seem more prevalent. “T-thank you, I guess.”

Tendou looked back up at Wakatoshi, smiling mockingly, the softness gone. “I just never knew you had a heart that wasn’t made of stone.”

Wakatoshi felt the corners of his mouth lift in a tiny grin. “Shut up.”

Tendou was relentless, “all the others think you’re this big callous monster who destroys the lives of all those who wrong him. If only they knew that behind that shell of stoicism and exercise and testosterone, you’re just a mushy little bleeding heart.”

Wakatoshi felt himself beginning to chuckle, as the middle blocker never failed to make him smile. In return, Wakatoshi saw Tendou light up in laughter, his cheeks dusted in a rosy hue.

It wasn’t long until the waitress came back with a massive tray decked with several dishes, all of which smelled delectable. She placed their food in front of them with the grace of an experienced server, and Wakatoshi’s salmon looked exactly as it was described in the menu: delicately charred and haloed by crushed herbs.

Tendou wasted no time in grabbing the nearest utensils and wolfing down his food, not bothering for a second to exhibit good manners as one ought to in a place like this. However, Wakatoshi knew Tendou to be an unstoppable eater, so this was to be expected.

Wakatoshi himself was cautious and efficient, and he ate away at the salmon quietly. He detected the jolt of pepper along with the heady taste of what he thought to be rosemary.  He felt the sweet burn on lemon on his tongue, and he smiled. It was definitely refreshing to have such a dish on hot day, and he speedily finished his meal.

It was as he ate his last bite when he felt Tendou kick lightly at his shins. Looking up at him, he saw that the middle blocker was wearing a nonchalant expression, staring off into space as he hummed a delicate tune. Wakatoshi slowly drank away at the remnants of his water when he felt Tendou’s feet slide down his calf to his own feet on the floor. His touch was feather-light, and it left peculiar sparks in its wake.

Wakatoshi’s heart stammered, and he felt his abdomen begin to twist in an odd way. Looking again at Tendou, he saw that he was now facing him but still directing his gaze downwards, toying with his fork.  

Wakatoshi knew that this was an affectionate action, and Tendou usually was that way with him. They had been friends for long enough that the middle blocker had just grown comfortable around him, and he knew that Wakatoshi would never push him away. After all, Tendou was an extremely tactile person; he always had to be touching or toying with something, but he preferred those whom he considered friends.

However, whenever Tendou had touched Wakatoshi before, it had never elicited such a strange reaction from him. He usually welcomed it, and was able to remain calm, but recently, that was changing.

Wakatoshi wasn’t sure, but he thought the change had started at the end of the Spring High Tournament, when Karasuno beat them. Tendou had told him he was quitting volleyball after high school as casually as he would tell him the current weather. Since Wakatoshi was already accepted into a prestigious sports university, it would seem that Tendou had no intentions of going to such a place.

Wakatoshi hadn’t minded it then, but when he went home that night, he really thought about it. After a while, he found that it boiled down to this: Tendou was his only real friend, and if he wasn’t with him, his life would feel awfully dull and empty.

He felt strange about them parting ways. He had grown accustomed to his energy, his vigor. He would miss his conversations, his touches.

Tendou placed his feet around Wakatoshi’s in a coy manner, and he felt his heart stutter. It really was a little unusual the way he was reacting to something which was completely normal for Tendou to be doing. He tried to make eye contact with Tendou once more, but he was already looking at Wakatoshi. Tendou gave an innocuous smile, and squeezed their feet together. He said nothing, but his eyes were looking at Wakatoshi in way that implied that he knew something Wakatoshi didn’t.

An idea graced his mind. He slid his feet to the side and forward so that their ankles were interlocked and touching. He found it more comfortable like this, and when he went to gauge Tendou’s reaction, he saw that the middle blocker just smiled wider.

He let his hands fall onto the table, and they laced together, mirroring Wakatoshi’s own. “Hey now…” he murmured, barely audible, “whatcha doin’, big guy?”

“Nothing you aren’t,” he said in an even tone. “What are you doing?”

Tendou’s lips quirked up, amused. His brows knit together ever so slightly, and something that seemed like annoyance ran through his eyes. “Oh, just… being friendly. Because we’re friends, right?”

Wakatoshi nodded. “Of course we’re friends.”

Tendou started chuckling to himself, nodding. His eyes were frustrated, like he had just miscalculated on a block. Wakatoshi felt his feet recede, but not before giving him a light pat on the bridge of his foot. He smiled at him, but it seemed forced. “Yep, that we are.”

It was then when Wakatoshi looked around and saw that most everyone was finished with their meal. They were happily chatting amongst themselves, and only Goshiki looked a little worried.

Wakatoshi went to say something, but Tendou beat him to it. “What’s wrong, little Tsutomu?”

Goshiki turned his head to face Wakatoshi. His dark eyes were wide, and his hands lay fisted on the table. “The prices… the prices…”

Tendou clucked his tongue, smirking. “Don’t worry about it, kid. Wakatoshi will pay for it all.” He furrowed his brows at Goshiki unchanged expression, and looked to Wakatoshi. “Show him your ten-thousand-yen banknote.”

Goshiki watched with gaping eyes as Wakatoshi wordlessly pulled out his wallet and flipped it open, taking out the shiny bill and flattening it down on the table. The first year’s jaw dropped, “I’ll never doubt you again, Ushijima-san.”

Tendou gestured with his hand, and Wakatoshi put the banknote away as quickly as he had taken it out. Others who had also caught a glimpse of his money turned their heads away in shock, and Tendou cracked a smile at them.

The waitress came by a little later, carrying a little leather folder. She graciously handed it to Wakatoshi, who put up his hand when he saw it. He noticed Tendou watching contently as Wakatoshi took out 25,000 yen in three banknotes in order to pay for the meal. Small gasps were heard around the table as he tucked in the money in the folder and handed it back to the waitress, who bowed and walked away.

Wakatoshi took a final sip of his water, and he heard Tendou’s laughter. He stood up, breathing deeply.

The rest of the team followed suit, chatting amongst themselves as they walked away from the table and out of the restaurant. The music faded away, and Tendou appeared next to him.

“So whatcha wanna do next, Wakatoshi?” he asked, swinging his arms beside him in time to his pace.

Wakatoshi looked ahead of him as he walked into the lobby. He saw a pair of kids in swimsuits run past him, giggling madly, their shoes squeaking on the tile, and a distressed father chased after them out of the lobby. The faint scent of chlorine wafted behind them, and Wakatoshi breathed it in. “The pool.”

Tendou gave a smirk. “The pool it is.”

And so the Shiratorizawa team walked past the elevators to a lounge area, decked with pastel furniture and mahogany coffee tables. They meandered through the room and reached the glass door on the other side. Once outside, Wakatoshi the blistering heat string his skin once more, and saw two signs in front of a fence: one reading “To the Water Park” and the other reading “To the Pool.”

“Looks like the pool is that way,” Tendou announced, pointing to the left. “I can already smell it.” He began to walk, gesturing for the rest to follow.

Wakatoshi sped up a bit, and went at the same pace as Tendou, and the middle blocker wasted no time in moving ahead to the pool area, which was surrounded by a short stone wall, and Tendou opened the fenced gate with an extravagant motion. Wakatoshi walked into the area, and Tendou made a gesture like he was tipping a hat. “M’lady.”

Wakatoshi furrowed his brows, bemused. “I am not girl.”

Tendou shook his head. “Yeah, I know, but…” He gave an annoyed sigh, smiling. “It’s a joke.”

Wakatoshi nodded. “I assure you it was very funny.”

Tendou narrowed his eyes, his smile thin. “Thanks, man.”

They all walked inside the area, and Wakatoshi saw Tendou out of the corner of his eye going inside a poolside cabana, its cream chiffon curtains flowing gently in the wind, and Tendou walked back out, catching Wakatoshi’s eye. He made a gesture, beckoning the captain over.

The team dispersed, and Wakatoshi approached Tendou, entering the cabana and took a seat in one of the two lounge chairs inside. He laid down his bag silently and sank into the cotton mattress, eager for some rest after his meal. Music was playing from somewhere in the distance, and it seeped into his brain, relaxing his muscles and making his breaths deeper.

He was starting to drift just as he heard Tendou say, “Gonna conk out, Wakatoshi?”

Wakatoshi’s eyes snapped open, and he looked at the blinding sunlight reflecting off the swimming pool. It burned away his drowsiness, and he looked towards Tendou. It seemed that at some point in his drifting, the middle blocker had taken off his shirt, showing sharp sunburn lines. “I am just resting.”

“That’s cool,” Tendou remarked grabbed a pair of sunglasses from his bag and put them as he laid down. Wakatoshi saw his pale chest and reddened shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, which left the middle blocker with a content smile. He crossed his arms behind his head, cradling it. “This is the life.”

The two boys laid there, watching their teammates lie in their own lounge chairs and the younger one play in the water. Wakatoshi was pretty sure he saw Shirabu having a splash fight with Goshiki, and Semi sat at distance, soaking his feet and watching the chaos. Kawanishi was busy slathering sunscreen on himself, and Leon was taking a little nap.

“Excuse me, but may I offer you two something to drink?”

Wakatoshi looked up, and a woman wearing an ivory bikini was at the edge of the cabana, holding a weaved tray and wearing red flowers in her hair. She was smiling at them, and a label on her top read “Hana”.

“Hana,” Tendou said, enunciating her name like he would a melody, “The sun sure is beating down on us today. I’d like a virgin piña colada.”

“It certainly feels like it’s more than 30 degrees,” Wakatoshi commented, “but I’ll have to decline your offer.”

“Aw, why, Wakatoshi-kun. You should have something to drink; you’re looking a little…” he paused, looking at Wakatoshi from under blood-red lashes. His eyes glittered like garnets, and he gave a little grin. “…hot.”

Wakatoshi could indeed feel heat course through his body, like embers rushing in veins. It was strange and sudden, and he needed to cool himself down. “Alright; I’ll have some juice.”

“What kind, sir?”

“Er, melon,” he said, still looking at Tendou. The middle blocker’s face had softened, looking at Hana contently, giving her a few coins. He heard the cabana girl’s light footsteps recede. “Why didn’t you let me pay?”

Tendou leaned his head to the side. “I think you’ve paid for enough.”

Wakatoshi nodded. “Thank you, and thanks for the suggestion. I did need to cool off.”

Tendou looked at him perplexedly, but then smiled. “No problem, I guess.”  

It wasn’t long until Hana came back, drinks in hand. Tendou’s was bright yellow and had a small slice of pineapple dangling on the edge, and Wakatoshi’s was soft pink and had a little umbrella on the glass’ rim. “Enjoy!” Hana lilted in an enthusiastic voice, walking off in search of another customer.

Wakatoshi sat up, maneuvered the straw into his mouth and sipped, liking its mild sweet flavor. He turned to see that Tendou was also enjoying his drink. His cheeks were hollowed out slightly as he drained away at the liquid. He got halfway before stopping with a wet pop of his lips and joyful sigh.

The sight caused the embers to relight themselves, and Wakatoshi instinctively took another sip of his own drink. This heat was starting to become a little frustrating; Wakatoshi didn’t know why it was happening. That wasn’t to say it was a bad sensation, in fact, he felt an inexplicable lightness whenever it came.

“How’s your juice?” Tendou asked, tone careful and low.

Wakatoshi smacked his lips thoughtfully. “Sweet.”

Tendou turned his body to face him directly, and locked gazes with him as he took another long sip of his drink. His cheeks hollowed again, Wakatoshi noticed, and the embers shook themselves alive as Tendou made quick work of the drink and moved on to the slice of fruit on the rim, hooding his eyes as he took a bite of it. Wakatoshi saw a drop of golden juice trail down his chin, and a strange urge to wipe it away surfaced in his mind. He ignored it.

The droplet was about to fall onto his lap until Tendou gave a little huff and wiped it away himself. “Good drink,” he said finally, laying back down on the lounge chair.

Wakatoshi finished his melon juice and placed the empty glass on the table in the middle of the two lounge chairs, and laid back down with a thump, and carried on in his nothingness.

He heard the clink of glass on mosaic tile and a subsequent thump. Wakatoshi turned to see that Tendou had lied back down, but facing away from him. He climbed further up the chair, lying his head more comfortably on his folded arms.

Wakatoshi knew he took off his shirt for the match earlier, and he ended up filling his shoulders and back with sunburns. He trailed his eyes down the line of his spine and saw the red fade into his usual pale skin by the small of his back. His muscles shifted with each breath he took, his shoulders rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm that Wakatoshi couldn’t look away from.

Tendou turned back around, eliciting a scratching noise from the mattress. He let out a pained groan, “What the hell?”

Wakatoshi felt the corners of his mouth lift. “You’re sunburned and you just scraped the burns when you turned around.”

Tendou looked to him and pouted his lips, and Wakatoshi could feel his heart stutter. “Okay, but I’m not that sunburned.”

Wakatoshi sat up, “Trust me, I know a bad sunburn when I see one.” Wakatoshi had spent many a summer’s day out in his garden, only to come back inside to find two layers of his skin singed off.

Tendou smiled. “I bet you do.” His hands went to his irritated shoulders, rubbing at the burn, and he bit his lip in pain. Wakatoshi felt his heart speed up, pumping the embers to every crevice of his body.

This really was getting ridiculous. Wakatoshi wondered if he was coming down with something.

Tendou looked to him, and his eyes were glittering again like those times when he had just come up with an ingenious plan to crush the hearts of the other team. “Don’t you have that huge bottle of aloe back in the cabins? We could go back,” he said softly, rubbing into his shoulder once more, his eyes widening briefly in muted aching but never leaving Wakatoshi, “get away from the sun.”

The embers were roaring now, and Wakatoshi was sure he had some sort of fever. It really was quite hot outside, and the temperatures only seemed to climb.

He was about to answer as he heard someone shout his name. “Ushijima-senpai! Come to the pool!”

Wakatoshi turned around, and Goshiki was walking towards him, and he stopped at the threshold of the cabana. He was completely soaking, and the pungent scent of chlorine wafted in. “You should come the pool; cool down!”

The look on Tendou’s face changed completely, from a strange combination of guile and anguish that made Wakatoshi’s cheeks heat up to icy annoyance. “We were just about to go back to the cabins.”

Goshiki tilted his head, “Why? The pool will cool you down much faster than air conditioning.”

Tendou sat up, crossing his head and smirking. “Well, if you haven’t noticed, Tsutomu, I’m sunburned. I doubt the pool water will do anything for me.”

Wakatoshi stood up, towering over the seated Tendou. “Well, it could actually help. Sunburns are essentially just burns, and you always have to chill the burns in cold water to bring down inflammation.”

Tendou huffed, “We have sinks in the cabin; we could do it there.”

“You’re on vacation with your teammates,” Goshiki said, leering at Tendou, “don’t you want to hang out with us?”

Tendou opened his mouth, but swiftly closed it.

Wakatoshi knew that Tendou got along with the others, so why was he being so defensive now? He looked to the middle blocker, “Do your sunburns hurt that much?”

Tendou furrowed his brows and swiveled his head slowly to meet Wakatoshi’s gaze. “What?”

“I was not aware that the sunburns were causing you so much pain,” Wakatoshi said, voice going soft, “but the pool will help. I promise.”

Tendou’s face eased up, and Wakatoshi noticed his mouth open slightly. He bit his lip again, and Wakatoshi watched as his incisor snagged at the flesh, making it as red as his hair. His brows furrowed, and he sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Goshiki smiled from besides Wakatoshi, and the captain took off his shirt, leaving him only in his swim trunks. He turned to help Tendou up from his chair, and he whipped his head up suddenly, face more flushed than with the sunburns and a startled expression in his eyes. Wakatoshi offered his hand, “You ready?”

Tendou nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

The three went back to the swimming pool, bright lights dancing at its bottom as the clear water above it shifted and turned. Goshiki jumped in, already accustomed to its coolness, but Wakatoshi and Tendou opted for taking the stairs instead.

As Wakatoshi plunged his feet in the water, the coldness of it rushed up his warm skin like ink in water, and the two of them continued down until their hips were submerged. They waded in silence to the part of the pool where their shoulders were the only things above water. The water lapped refreshingly at Wakatoshi’s newly tanned skin (he hasn't had a sunburn since his first year of high school), and Tendou looked satisfied, smiling and lowering his shoulders, freeing them from their tension.

He ducked below the water, making bubbles appear on the surface before he quickly rose again, running fingers through wine-hued hair, which was beginning to droop down and fall around his face. Spare droplets traced lines down his face and a few caught on the outwards curve of his lips or refused to fall from his jaw line.

Wakatoshi felt those embers become alive and howl through his veins with scorching fire, and he remembered the location of his ibuprofen pills (inside the inner pocket of the pouch with all his toiletries), which he brought in case of emergencies. He planned to take one, as this fever was starting to become absurd.

As the sun made its way across the sky, Wakatoshi noticed the younger members sleepily floating in the deepest parts of the pool, and others sitting on the rim, kicking the water and making waves. Wakatoshi himself had taken to leaning on the edge, cool liquid swaying at his shoulders. Tendou, leaning next to him, was whistling a tune which Wakatoshi vaguely knew, and he turned to look at him. “Wakatoshi.”

“Yes?”

“Looks like the young’uns are tired. We should go back.”

Wakatoshi looked at him. “To the cabins?”

Tendou smiled, “These little tykes are tuckered out.”

“They’re only two years younger than you, Satori.”

Tendou cleared his throat. “May I just remind you of my status as the second-oldest member on this team, older than even our beloved captain?”

Wakatoshi sighed, nodding his head. “I am aware of it. And yes, we can certainly go back.”

Tendou smiled genuinely, not in any cunning or cynical way which usually graced his features. He quickly dragged himself out of the pool, water cascading down from his body as he stood up on the rim and walked to their lounge chairs, leaving damp footprints in his wake. The others hadn’t noticed them yet, but Wakatoshi was sure they would follow in the next couple minutes.  

Wakatoshi got out too, following the careful trail until he got to the cabana, ducking inside, and reaching for a towel from inside his bag. Tendou had mussed his head in the towel, dissolving any remaining grip his hair gel had on his tresses. He smoothed it down, slicking it back with excess moisture. Locks of it fell over his temples, and it was long enough as to fade out at his nape.

The embers gave a fiery grumble again, and Wakatoshi deemed it imperative to take one of those pills as soon as possible.

Wakatoshi dried himself off, eager to go back to the cabins, and put his shirt back on. He rolled up the towel, putting in his bag and slipping on his flip flops. “Let’s go, Satori.”

“Coming, Wakatoshi.”

The two made their way across the hot tiles beneath them. Wakatoshi noticed other team walking behind them, conversing amongst themselves. Tendou opened the door for him, letting him pass first. The pair walked together along the path, and Wakatoshi noticed a sort of fenced in dancefloor as they walked past the entrance back into the lobby.

Tendou grabbed hold of his wrist, sending a volt of electricity up his arm. “I know a shortcut.”

Wakatoshi let himself be dragged by Tendou all the way to the water park at the end of the path, and he let him go where concrete met grass.

“Past those palms and we should be at our cabins in no time,” Tendou announced, pointing ahead of him.

Wakatoshi nodded and began to jog, leaving Tendou behind. He heard an exasperated, “Hey! Wait for me!” and soon enough, the middle blocker was beside him, but Wakatoshi could tell he was struggling to keep up.

The grass tickled his wet skin, and Wakatoshi could feel the harsh scent of chlorine dissipating and being replaced by fresh air as he ran, something which Wakatoshi gratefully breathed in, letting it fill his lungs. Tendou was smiling beside him, despite his strained expression. It made Wakatoshi feel lighter inside, and it helped him go even faster.

They ran all the way to the cabins, and Wakatoshi felt cobblestone under his shoes as they approached their cabin, number 41. Wakatoshi was the first to climb up its stairs and make it to the shady porch, and he was happy to be out of the sun. It took a couple seconds, but Tendou arrived shortly after and walked past him to stand at the door. He turned around, looking at Wakatoshi expectantly.

“Oh,” Wakatoshi mumbled, rummaging through his bag to fish out the key and opening the door.

As Tendou stepped inside the empty cabin, he stretched his arms up, groaning, and putting them back down in sort of flourish. He sighed, “Finally.” He turned to look to Wakatoshi, and smiled. “I’m gonna rinse myself off. I’ll be out in like five seconds.”

“Alright,” Wakatoshi replied, and watched as Tendou went inside the bedroom and then walked inside the bathroom holding a bundle of fresh clothes, locking the door behind him.

Wakatoshi flipped on the lamp light as he heard Tendou turn on the shower, filling the cabin with a calming white noise. He walked into the bedroom, which was completely lit with bright afternoon sunlight. He noticed that the beds were tidy, and that the digital clock read 1:43.

Wakatoshi walked to the right, towards his and Tendou’s bed, and opened the closet there. Inside, among running shoes and folded piles of undergarments, was a large bottle of aloe vera on the top of the rack. He took it out, and the sunlight reflected through the plastic, casting bright green light onto his hands.

Wakatoshi heard the shower stop, and put his bag down next to Tendou’s at the foot of the bed. It wasn’t a split second after that Wakatoshi heard the door open. The middle blocker sauntered into the bedroom, wearing only a towel around his thin hips.

His sunburns seemed less apparent now, but were visible against his natural pale complexion. Drops of water were still sliding down his skin, getting caught in the crevices of his lithe body. His hair was completely down now, wet and plastered to his temples and neck, its deep wine color in stark contrast with his creamy skin. Garnet eyes leered at him and glittered in the sunlight, and Wakatoshi was transfixed in a way that he had never experienced before. The embers were furious now, catching in his chest and his neck and his hands. He felt like he was on fire.

Wakatoshi noticed Tendou’s lips curve upwards a bit but then immediately flattened back into a neutral expression. “Are you going to shower?”

Wakatoshi wanted to speak, but the words became lodged in his throat. “Y-yes. I won’t be long.”

“Don’t be,” Tendou sang, as Wakatoshi fumbled for some clothes and a pair of boxer briefs.

Once he had these items in hand, he walked to bathroom, locking the door behind him. He put the clothing down on the sink’s counter and seized his toiletry pouch, undoing the zipper. He wasted no time in taking the small bottle and opening it. He shook out a small red pill and brought his hand to his mouth, gulping it down.

He felt slide down to his stomach, and looked himself in the mirror. His cheeks were much more ruddy than what he assumed to be normal. He looked around for more strange symptoms, and noticed that his pupils were abnormally dilated, threatening to swallow his hazel irises. He felt a little too clear, like his own presence was all-consuming and intense. He felt his heart racing, and decided that a cold shower should help.

Wakatoshi peeled off his shirt and swim trunks, leaving them in the woven hamper by the sink. Flipping on the shower in its coldest setting, he stepped in. It felt like slivers of sharp ice had rained down upon him, piercing his skin and freezing him from the inside out.  It chased away the embers and cooled him down.

He let it envelop his head and block out any outside sound, so that he could only hear the low rush of water. It left him alone with his thoughts, inside a loud silence.

Closing his eyes, he realized that he couldn’t stop thinking about what he had just seen. Tendou, leering at him in a way that definitely wasn’t normal, dripping wet and lit up in light that made him seem almost heavenly. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen Tendou freshly showered before— countless times in locker rooms or at sleepovers. But now, somehow, it was different. It made no sense to Wakatoshi; he was sure something was wrong with him. 

Fixating on Tendou, his oldest friend, was strange indeed. Maybe he had eaten some bad fish.

Still, though, it was troubling. Why him? Why now?

Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought. He was sure the pill he took should help relieve his symptoms. It would surely pass in a few days.

He scrubbed his skin full of soap and washed the lathers away almost as soon as they appeared. Once the water than rushed down his body ran clear, he turned off the spigot and stepped outside.

Wakatoshi certainly felt better as he dried himself off with his towel, and efficiently changed into his fresh clothes. He ambled out the bathroom to find that Shirabu was outside the door, neatly folded clothes in hand. “Oh, hey, Shirabu.”

“Hello, Ushijima-san,” Shirabu smiled, and walked into the bathroom as Wakatoshi walked out, locking the door behind him.

Wakatoshi peered down the hallway, and saw Semi leaning on the kitchen island as he watched a kettle come to a boil. The setter noticed him, and gave a friendly wave. “Wakatoshi, I’ve been meaning to thank you for paying for lunch.”

Wakatoshi smiled bashfully, “Oh, it’s nothing. You’re welcome.” He gave a little wave back and walked inside the bedroom.

Tendou was sitting on the bed, wearing a pair of shorts but still no shirt as he squeezed a glop of aloe vera out of its bottle and smeared it on his red shoulders, wincing as he did so. Wakatoshi felt a little pang in his heart.

He looked up, and smiled at Wakatoshi. “Hey, wanna help with my back?”

Wakatoshi nodded, “Sure.”

He sat cross-legged behind him, and pumped a bit of the gel on his hands, using gentle motions to rub it into his back. “I told you to put on sunscreen.”

He heard Tendou click his tongue. “Eh, whatever. It’s not like I’ll die. I’m not an idiot; I know how to properly treat sunburns.”

Tendou took more aloe gel and rubbed it on his neck, tilting to the side, exposing it. His hand traveled to his trapezius muscle, and glided his hand past the burn there, and back down the opposite shoulder letting his hand rest on his elbow, a shy gesture. He turned around to look at Wakatoshi, and he froze, his hand resting on Tendou’s spine. It was awfully warm, and Wakatoshi felt the embers revive themselves and start leaving flames all up his arm, blindingly hot at the palm that was touching Tendou.

Tendou was leering again, and parted his mouth slightly, as if to say something, but no words came out. He stared at his friend’s lips, redder than the skin surrounding them, and Wakatoshi trailed his eyes down his back, to the burned skin that was already started to heal, and the fine bones that lay underneath. Wakatoshi couldn’t look away.

Wakatoshi had no idea what to make of what was happening, and found that the safest thing to do would be absolutely nothing. Deep inside him, however, was the yearning to do something, but Wakatoshi had no idea what.

Something like frustration flashed across Tendou’s eyes, and he turned completely around, facing Wakatoshi. Their knees touched, and that didn’t help Wakatoshi in the slightest.

“Wakatoshi,” Tendou breathed out, “have you been intentionally ignoring me?”

Wakatoshi was truly puzzled. “Ignoring you? I’ve been with you all day.”

Tendou started to chuckle darkly, and he repeated some of what Wakatoshi said under his breath. His smile melted away, however, as he reached out his hand and grabbed Wakatoshi’s, sending millions of sparks flying up his arm, and his heart was beating so fast that he thought it would give out at any second.

He took Wakatoshi’s hand and placed it on his bare chest, and Wakatoshi felt Tendou’s heart racing underneath his sternum, and Tendou faced straight at him and locked gazes with him, not letting him go.

Wakatoshi was speechless. Tendou’s chest was feverishly hot, just like how Wakatoshi had been feeling all day.

The sunlight danced across Tendou’s drawn features, across his garnet eyes, his ruddy cheeks, his reddened lips. Wakatoshi’s embers were raging like a forest fire, and now, he imagined Tendou must be feeling similarly.

“Do you understand now, Wakatoshi?” Tendou whispered, voice scarce.

Wakatoshi felt compelled to respond, but no meaningful words came out. “S-Satori…”

Tendou flinched at the sound of his name, and relaxed his shoulders. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Wakatoshi tilted his head closer to Tendou’s, “Get what?”

Tendou’s hand let go of Wakatoshi’s, but his palm did not move from his chest. His friend gave a broken chuckle. “You don’t get anything.” He sighed, “Not a single thing.”

Wakatoshi desperately wanted to say something, but as usual, he was drawing a blank.

“Goddamnit,” Tendou’s voice cracked in laughter, “I’m really going to have to spell it out for you, aren’t I?”

Wakatoshi’s heart was going faster than the speed of light, and he was sure he’d pass out. His throat choked up; he couldn’t reply.

He sighed, shoulders quaking. “Ushijima Wakatoshi,” Tendou’s smile drained from his expression, his tone turning completely sober in a matter of seconds, “I really like you.”

Tendou’s sudden solemnity was unprecedented, as nothing ever fazed him enough to get a legitimately serious reaction from him. His tone didn’t seem feigned, and there wasn’t the slightest trace of insincerity to his expression. It was all very unsettling and certainly not what constituted Tendou’s usual behavior, but Wakatoshi powered on. His moved his hand from his chest to his shoulder, minding the burn, “Well, I like you to, of course.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Tendou laughed, but it wasn’t joyous in the least, “Romantically. Wakatoshi, I like you… romantically. In fact, I’m pretty sure now that I love you.”

…Love?

That wasn’t an outcome that Wakatoshi had seen coming at all. But somehow, it felt like the soothing melody of a harp, completely harmonious and somehow exactly the answer he had been searching for.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Tendou leaned over, and soon his face was dangerously close to his. He paused, and Wakatoshi could feel his hot breath ghost over his lips, and an urge was awakened deep in his core. He wanted to reach around, hold his best friend close, feel his heated skin underneath his gliding fingers…

But Tendou turned his head just so to the side, planting a chaste kiss on Wakatoshi’s cheek. He was there for a bit more than a moment, and pulled away slowly, almost gently. Tendou was never gentle.

The look on his face was utterly miserable. His brows furrowed, and the shadow they cast accentuated the dark circles under his overcast eyes. “You know what? Just… forget about it, Wakatoshi.”

Tendou stood up and away from Wakatoshi, his form clearly visible in the bright sunlight. He pursed his lips and he rubbed at his eyes. “It’s really fine. Just forget I said anything.”

His friend took a spare shirt that was laying on the opposite bed and put on as he walked out of the bedroom, and Wakatoshi heard his footsteps recede. He heard his muffled voice announce that he was going for a walk, and then the door open and shut, and Wakatoshi was left alone.

Suddenly, everything connected like puzzle pieces, one by one, until Wakatoshi had a clear picture in front of him.

This is what he knew now: that Tendou was in love with him, and that Wakatoshi, in some measure, reciprocated those feelings.

It made a violent amount of sense, and everything came rushing forward; he realized that Tendou had been flirting with him all day, and that the embers were only a natural reaction, indicating that he did enjoy being seduced. Tendou had been showing all the same symptoms as Wakatoshi, and it only made sense that he very much liked Tendou too.

He thought about it more, and in blinding clarification, he realized this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

The earliest incident Wakatoshi could think of was the start of their first year, when he and Tendou had joined the Shiratorizawa volleyball club. It was then when Tendou had matured almost overnight, whereas Wakatoshi had several months prior. His face lost the fat of childhood, becoming chiseled and fine, and thanks to the exercise, his body had gone from juvenile scrawniness to a nimble leanness, muscles not bulging but well defined.

Wakatoshi distinctly remembered the first time they used a communal gym shower in high school, and he really saw him, the fire that lit up his whole body, much like it did now. He quickly ascribed it to a fever, which he treated later with warm miso soup. It stopped the next day, but little did Wakatoshi know the root of his situation had not disappeared, and would only strengthen with time.

It happened again after their first high school victory, during several school festivals, and during some team-wide sleepovers. He remembered the heat and the heart palpitations, and how similar they were to what he felt earlier and what he saw in Tendou. In fact, it was the very reason he even thought to bring a bottle of ibuprofen pills; in case they ever got out of hand.

The horror of it dawned on him: he had slowly been falling in love with best friend, and he didn’t have the slightest clue.

He stood up, and he wanted to go after Tendou and apologize profusely for being so oblivious. He was about to leave as Shirabu walked out of the bathroom and he almost collided with him. The setter looked up at him quizzically, “Ushijima-san? Is something the matter?”

“Not at all,” Wakatoshi responded, and it was then when he realized that perhaps going after Tendou wouldn’t be the smartest idea. He need to blow off some steam, and it would be best to keep his distance, for now. If he wasn’t back in an hour, Wakatoshi decided, he would go after him. “Just, um, going to get some water.”

He did just that, walking into the kitchen and getting one of the glasses from the cupboards. He opened the tap, letting it fill until it was almost at the brim. He brought it to his lips and downed almost the entire thing, dumping what little remained back in the sink and placing the glass in the dishwasher afterwards.

“Hey, Wakatoshi?” he heard Semi call from the couches. He was sipping a mug of tea, a book in his hand. “Everything alright with Satori? He left here in a rush.”

Wakatoshi froze. He wasn’t a good liar, but he couldn’t tell others about his predicament just yet. “He, um, said he wanted… some chips from a vending machine. On a whim.” Wakatoshi nodded, willing himself to continue. “You know how Satori is.” It hurt to say his name, but he needed to make it as believable as possible.

Semi narrowed his eyes, but nodded. “Alright.” He turned back around, and went back to reading.

Wakatoshi went back to his room, and Shirabu already there, his headphones plugged into his laptop as he stared at it intently. His bare feet were crossed together, and he looked up, acknowledging him.

Wakatoshi felt like the walls were closing in on him suddenly, and he walked to his nightstand, grabbing his phone and his own headphones. He opened the closet door, and slid on some socks and sneakers, tying each with a perfect bow. He went back outside into the living room, and connected his headphones to his phone, putting the earbuds in. “I’m going out for a jog,” he announced.

“Cool,” Semi said, turning a page in his book.

And Wakatoshi was out the door, and he breathed in the fresh air. He pressed a button on the cable on his headphones, and music started to play, some deep bass playing before being accompanied by a hard beat. He ran, his feet striking the ground in time with the rhythm.

He wasn’t going to look for Tendou, as he felt that it wasn’t yet time. He decided to circle around the cabins in his area a few times and come back before breaking a sweat. The outside always did him good; it managed his thoughts and kept everything in order. There was seldom a problem that Wakatoshi couldn’t fix when going out on a run.

It was usually relieving to be by himself, but now he felt like a part of him was missing, and he knew now it was because of Tendou.

Wakatoshi looked down at the winding cobblestone road before him. He felt his chest gum up with cotton, his throat closing up. Regret coursed through his veins as he remembered the recent events that led to his Tendou’s disastrous confession. For every time that he mistook his advances, Wakatoshi felt the iron nails in his heart push in a little deeper.

In a sobering moment of clarity, he swore he would make up for all the times he put a crack in Tendou’s heart, healing each fissure one by one until he was his radiant self once more. He hated that he made Tendou feel that his love, innocent in its origin, was a burden.

Love, after all, was something to celebrate, not curse.

Wakatoshi wanted to give him the freshest tulips he could find, all in the same hue as his deep red hair. He knew tulips to symbolize declarations of love in the language of flowers, and he was sure Tendou would appreciate the gesture. He wanted to take him to all the little cafes in the resort and treat him to chocolate ice cream, which Wakatoshi knew was his favorite. He wanted to share little intimate moments with him, chuckling and laughing while walking together, hand in hand. He wanted to place sweet kisses on his cheeks, lips, neck…

The romance of it all brought warmth to his face, and he felt like he could fly. Wakatoshi smiled to himself, feeling it compress his cheeks and crinkle his eyes, and continued on running.

*    *    *

Koushi undid the knot that was holding the net to the pole, making it float down to rest on the ground. The waves beat on the sand, and he breathed in the salt of the sea, smiling contently. Beside him, Daichi took the rod and retracted it down to the size of a drumstick. He watched as Hinata and Kageyama did the same to the other one while Yamaguchi undid the other knot, and he gathered up the net, airing it out.

“We’re all done!” Hinata shouted as he waved the retracted pole in the air, and Kageyama took it from his hand and put it in the bag.

Most of the crowd had dissipated after the last match (Kuroo and Bokuto had almost certainly conspired to end up on the same team together, and they wore vicious smiles as the other team was met with the double threat of Kuroo’s blocks and Bokuto’s spikes), mostly with the justification that they were all tired and hungry. It was fair enough, as Koushi himself was tired and hungry, and there were a couple things Koushi wanted to do before the sun came down.

Koushi looked back at the first-years and noticed sunburns on their backs and shoulders, and Hinata’s even extended down his lean arms. He shook his head; he should have made them put on sunscreen before they went out to play.

Koushi smiled, “Good. Be sure to put all away when you get back to the cabins!” He adjusted his hat, its wide brim casting a cool shadow over his face. “Kageyama, make sure to get more ice to put on your nose. And put on some aloe!”

“Aloe? Why?” Kageyama asked, face bemused, “We’re not—” He passed a rough hand over his reddened shoulder, and his eyes tightened in pain. “…sunburned.”

Yamaguchi snickered, and carefully put the net in the bag. The pinch server wasn’t sunburned despite not putting on any sunblock either, if anything, he seemed to have spawned more freckles.

Kageyama turned to Hinata. “Hinata, you have aloe gel, right?”

“What?” Hinata said, looking up from where he had been drawing loops in the sand, “Oh, yeah. But it’s kind of a small bottle, and Tsukishima’s sunburned too and I’m half-sure he doesn’t have his own aloe.”

“I don’t,” Tsukishima called out from the shade of Koushi’s umbrella. His brows furrowed, and he looked away, his cheeks and shoulders completely burned. Heaven knew how his back looked.  “I knew I was forgetting something. Also, I’m probably going to need way more than you guys.”

“It’s not our fault you’re so white, Tsukishima,” Hinata said, “You should probably go outside more often, even if it’s not to play volleyball.”

“Oh my god, Hinata, you can’t just shame people for being white,” Kageyama chided. “Aren’t you also half-white?”

“Shup up, Bakageyama,” Hinata countered, smiling at his clever nickname for the setter.

“Listen, you moron—” Kageyama approached, ready to snap back, but Daichi’s hands came down hard and fast on both their sunburned shoulders. They winced in agony, but did not make a sound, except a soft squeak that came out of Hinata’s mouth.

“I think there’s been quite enough fighting in these past three days,” Daichi said forcefully. He was smiling, but Koushi knew better than to think it was an inviting one.

Yamaguchi stepped forward, “Hey Daichi-san, do you happen to know where we can buy some aloe?”

Daichi turned to smile at him, taking his hands off of Hinata and Kageyama. “Yeah, you’d have to go the shops.”

Koushi looked away momentarily, reviewing the mental map in his head. “The shops are past the receptionist’s desk into the first hallway on the right.”

“Thank you,” Yamaguchi bowed slightly, a courteous habit that showed his age.

Besides Kageyama, Hinata put on a shirt and slapped Kageyama’s back slightly. “But we should go get something to eat before, though. Maybe they have, like, pork buns in the buffets today.”

Kageyama’s face screwed up in pain and he turned around, surely to bark a retort at Hinata for hurting his sunburned back. But, as he saw the middle blocker’s face, his features softened and he was reduced to simply nodding. “Yeah, I’m a bit hungry too.”

Hinata grinned from ear to ear, and Koushi saw a redness come across Kageyama’s cheeks that he knew wasn’t from the sunburns.

Koushi smirked and leaned back a little so that his lips were at Daichi’s ear, “If what I think is going on with Kageyama is going on, you owe me 1000 yen.”

Daichi turned to face him, a little smile on his face. Koushi felt his own cheeks heat up, and he grinned. “You don’t think…”

“Oh yeah,” Koushi said, “I think Kageyama is totally sweet on Hinata.” He sighed as the small middle blocker grabbed Kageyama’s wrist and started dragging him to the buffet on the other end of the beach. That blush was still on his cheeks, and soon, the rest of the first years followed. “It’s so cute.”

He and Daichi walked towards Koushi’s umbrella, and Daichi effortlessly pulled it from the sand and closed it, tucking it under his muscular arm. “What if you’re misreading him?”

“Oh please, Daichi,” Koushi smiled, picking up his bag, “he’s been like this since the moment they came to Karasuno. Maybe he’s been repressing it, definitely denying it in the beginning, but it’s definitely coming out now.”

Daichi looked back at the first-years, who were now just silhouettes in the distance. “You know what? I think you could be right. They are pretty close.”

Koushi nodded, proud of himself. “I’m always right.”

“Yeah? Well in that case,” Daichi smirked, “If they’re together before the end of this trip, you owe me 1000 yen.”

Koushi smiled. “I bet 2000 yen that they’ll get together by Hinata’s birthday,” he countered, anticipating Daichi’s wager, “That’s three days from now.”

“His birthday is on the solstice this year, right?” Daichi commented, “that would be a really nice coincidence.”

“It is,” Koushi confirmed, nodding. “I’ve got a relative with the same birthday.”

“Sweet,” Daichi smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Smiles like that always stole Koushi’s breath away.

Koushi leaned forward so that he was inches away from Daichi, “We’ve got a bet, captain.” He pressed his lips to Daichi’s and pulled away shortly after, leaving him with a dopey grin on his face. The sight of it never failed to pull at Koushi’s heartstrings.

The two had been together for several months, the relationship beginning around the time of the first-years’ arrival. In fact, Koushi distinctly remembered that it was just after that first practice match with Seijou, and he also recalled how Daichi had let it slip that he loved him when they were locking up the gym on that fateful day. Koushi himself had a huge crush on him since at least their own first year, and reminisced over how his he felt as light as a feather when he told Daichi that he loved him too.

Daichi’s chocolate eyes became creased with his smile, and Koushi felt the captain’s hand reach for his own. “Let’s go.”

They walked off the beach, hand in hand. A breeze blew by, and Koushi’s hat almost blew off. Putting a hand on his head, he turned to Daichi. “What do you want to do when we get back?”

“Eat,” he said immediately, “and we planned to go to the coin laundry, didn’t we?”

Koushi had taken a sandwich from the buffet after he, Lev, and Oikawa lost after winning to Ushijima, so he wasn’t very hungry. He imagined that Daichi was starving, so maybe they would get a little pick-me-up as they went to the coin laundry.

“Yeah. Maybe there are some convenience stores near the coin laundry in town,” Koushi said, “I can buy something for you.”

Daichi nodded, “Thank you, Suga.”

Koushi smiled. “No problem.”

They walked off the sandy path and onto the cobblestones, towards the Karasuno cabins. Koushi heard faraway chattering of other familiar people, and he felt Daichi’s hand try to snake out of his.

“Daichi,” he whined, “how long are we going to keep this a secret?”

It had been the captain’s idea to not divulge the status of their relationship to the rest of the team, since Hinata and Kageyama first joined and Karasuno finally had a real chance at becoming a national contender again. Daichi decided it was best to have the team’s attention on bettering themselves in order to start winning games than to be involved in their personal lives. Koushi agreed, as the captain had a valid point, but all the furtive touches and secret meetings were starting to get out of hand.

“Not much longer, I promise,” Daichi whispered, pressing a discreet kiss to Koushi’s cheek, “I just need to be sure that we tell them at a prudent time. We couldn’t tell them before, not with all that had been going on.”

Koushi felt a little blush rise on his face, and looked down. “Maybe we can tell them at Hinata’s birthday? We’re definitely throwing a party for him, by the way. I’d feel like crap if I didn’t.”

It was a while, but Daichi nodded. “Yeah; we’ll tell them then. Also, how are we going to throw a party for Hinata? Where? With what materials?”

Koushi put a hand to his chin, his mind running through different options. He knew they’d need some sort of cake and a locale. “Well, I saw a bakery in town so we can buy Hinata a cake, and if we go to that dance floor place next to the pool early, we can claim it and have the party there.”

Daichi smiled. “Great idea.”

They didn’t let go of each other’s hands until they walked into their cabin’s porch, and Koushi looked through the window to the inside of the cabin. “Asahi and Nishinoya aren’t inside.”

Daichi fiddled for the key in his bag. “They’re probably still out getting lunch. Remember how loudly Noya’s stomach rumbled?”

Koushi grinned at the amusing memory at Nishinoya laughing and smiling after winning a match (it had been to his team Koushi had lost to) and then a massive rumble erupted, leaving the libero with wide eyes and a grin that was more embarrassment than laughter. “Yeah.”

There was a high jingle, and Koushi heard the cabin’s lock open and the door swing ajar. Koushi walked in and took off his hat, going forward into the sunlit cabin and into his bedroom. Placing his hat inside the open closet and his bag beside its door, he collapsed on the bed, sinking into its soft comforter and even softer bed.

He closed his eyes, and only opened one when he heard solid, familiar footsteps tread into the bedroom and a weight fall next to him. He grinned when Daichi took his hand and laced their fingers together. The touch made electricity rush up his veins in a way he was well acquainted with, and he took the opportunity to sit up and hoist himself up over Daichi, sitting cozily on his abdomen.

An endearing blush made its way across Daichi’s face, and Koushi couldn’t help but chuckle in return. He made a little flourish with his shoulders, making sure to expose the pale skin of his throat. Koushi knew the captain loved his neck, and he wasn’t above using all of his assets to his advantage.

“Comfortable, Suga?” Daichi asked, privy to all of Koushi’s tricks, resting his free hand on his hip, in a way he knew would drive Koushi wild. It worked, as expected, and Koushi’s heart started to race.

In response, he ground down his hips slightly, making Daichi go all shades of red. “You bet,” he murmured, leaning down so that their chests were touching and that his face was mere inches away from Daichi. He breathed hot air on his lips, and Koushi caught a strained shiver from him. Daichi’s eyes went wide, and they trained on him with quiet ardor.

Koushi leaned in closer, and as he did, he felt Daichi’s hand on his hip grip him tight. Ignoring the bolt of pleasure it gave him, he gave a cheeky smile as his lips were a hairsbreadth away from Daichi’s. “Help me do the laundry.”

He leaned back up, and Daichi began to chuckle. “Suga, you tease.” His eyes smoldered with dormant desire, almost like a promise.

Koushi laughed, and got off of the captain. “C’mon, help me gather the laundry.”

Daichi got up, and followed Koushi into the bathroom.

Koushi knew that when the captains got to together to pick a resort for the retreat, Ushijima offered to pay an extra fee that would allow each cabin to have a hamper, packs of detergent and softener, and a card that would allow the user to have unlimited free washes at the coin laundry in town. It was in part due to Koushi’s persuasion that got Daichi to vote in favor of the laundry fee. Ushijima was more than willing to do so, as one the votes ended up being his as well.

Koushi grabbed the woven basket and placed it atop the counter, taking the nylon bag inside and slinging it over his shoulder. He grinned as Daichi gathered up a packet of detergent and softener as well as the card, putting it all in a little pouch that used to be filled with Koushi’s toiletries but was empty at the moment.

Koushi walked backed into the bedroom, and rummaged in his bag his wallet. The inside of it was well-stocked; 4500 yen remained.  It certainly enough to buy Daichi a decent bento at any convenience store, so he took it out and stuck it in his pocket.

He saw Daichi leaning on the door frame, swinging the cabin key around on his finger. “Ready?”

“Let’s go.”

They locked up the cabin and began their walk down and out of the cabins sector. Even now, there were still the faraway chatter of familiar voices. The pervasive smell of salt wafted down the cobblestone roads, and the sun shone from its high position in the azure sky. The only clouds Koushi could find were in the far horizon, wispy nothings that gathered around the edges of the skyline.

“Suga, the town is a pretty far walk from here. Do you think we should rent some bikes?”

Koushi looked at him. “Where would I put the laundry?”

Daichi looked away pensively. “What about those two-people bikes? They usually have a large basket in the front. We could rent those.”

Koushi smiled, “Surrey bikes?”

“Yeah, those. I saw a rental place near the pool.”

Koushi imagined the two of them riding into town in one, both of them sitting under its awning and pedaling away lazily, listening to the cicadas chirp, enjoying the warmth and languor of summer. The mere thought of it loosened the tension in his shoulders, bringing them down as he let out a breath. “Alright.”

The two walked together, and Koushi felt the hot cobblestone underneath his sandals as he made his way past the cabins. He knew that all the teams had not taken up every single cabin, and he saw other people in the cottages farther from the center; a newlywed couple rested on a porch together, children’s laughter could be heard from the inside of another.

It was this calm that Koushi reveled in: after so many months intense training and matches that left him breathless, this vacation was something he thought everyone needed. Now, the only thing that Koushi was stressing over was what kind of cake he should get Hinata. He breathed in deeply, letting the sea breeze fill his lungs to the brim, and let it out, along with all his troubles.

After months of endless, restless movements, Koushi was finally still.

They arrived at the lobby not long after, and he and Daichi made their way behind the elevators and past the lounge, going out into the back of the building and towards the water facilities. Looking to the right, he saw in the distance a little station decked with colorful bikes.

“That way, Daichi,” he said, pointing towards it, “Let’s get a bike.”

It didn’t take very long for them to speed-walk over to the bike vendor, and he looked at them, smiling. “Hello. Would you like to rent a bike?”

“Yes,” Koushi stepped forward, “How much is it?”

“1000 yen per hour for a single-bench surrey,” he said, eyeing the laundry bag over Koushi’s shoulder, “I assume you’re going out to wash your clothes?”

“Yes,” Daichi answered.

He smiled wider. “Well, you can take these bikes all through our premises and even into town, but only on the main road.”

“I assume the coin laundry is on the main road?” Koushi asked.

“Yes it is,” the vendor replied, “so, a single-bench?”

“Yes,” Koushi said, taking a pair of bills out from his wallet. “We haven’t got a lot of clothes, so I assume we’ll be back in just an hour. I owe you 1000 yen?”

The vendor nodded, and Koushi gave him the bills. The vendor reached behind him, to a fleet of surrey bikes, and unlocked a red one form the bunch. He pushed it forward, facing it towards the asphalt road. “I expect you two back in an hour.”

Koushi smiled. “We will be.”

Daichi mounted the bike, and put the pouch in the in the front basket. He had taken up the driver’s seat, and Koushi stifled a chuckle.

Daichi had recently received his driver’s license, and he had shown off his new ability to Koushi on numerous occasions. Just five days ago, in fact, it was Koushi’s eighteenth birthday, and Daichi had picked him up for his celebratory birthday date in his father’s old Honda. He rolled down the window and looked up at Koushi with a little smirk, proud of his achievement. So of course Daichi would want to show off his driving skills now with the bike to impress Koushi.

Koushi sat in the passenger’s seat, putting the bag of laundry on the basket in front of him. Smiling, Daichi unlocked the mechanism and began to pedal, moving the bike forward and out onto the asphalt road. The cooling breeze picked up speed, and Koushi smiled. To his right, he could hear delighted screams from the children in the pool, and the sound faded as they pedaled forward. Koushi leaned back in his seat, sighing like a content cat.

It didn’t take them very long to cross the resort’s threshold, careening past plastic flamingos and soothing fountains. The road to the town was long and flanked by woods on both sides, and Koushi could hear the cry of cicadas rise the deeper into the forest road they went.

The sun shone down through the thin fabric above him, its heat starting to lose its intensity. Koushi felt the pedals at his feet begin to slow, and Daichi beside him had his hand lazily draped over the wheel, only moving them when the bike began to veer off in another direction. Under the colored light the fabric awning created, his skin seemed ruddier than it already was, giving the impression of an intense rosy flush.

“Daichi,” Koushi whined, “go faster.”

“Oh?” he smiled, “And why are so anxious to do laundry?”

To be completely honest, doing laundry wasn’t a top priority in Koushi’s mind. Instead, he hoped that no one in their right mind would be at the coin laundry on such a lovely day and that he and Daichi would have a generous forty minutes all to themselves, with no overeager first years or threats of interruptions to worry about.

Koushi smiled coyly, as if to say you got me, and Daichi immediately understood.

“I see,” Daichi said, and Koushi felt the bike go a little faster, “You’re quite the voracious one, aren’t you, Suga?

Koushi chuckled, baring his teeth.

They passed bushels of azure hydrangea and fragrant irises as they arrived at the town. It was a quaint little place with modest shops and wispy trees, and Koushi could see the coin laundry in the distance. They pedaled past a medical clinic and a liquor store before they parked in front of the laundry. As Koushi got off and stepped back into the sun, he spotted a lone old lady coming out the convenience store across the street.

“Daichi, go doing the laundry. I’ll be right back,” Koushi said, looking over his shoulder before crossing the street. The convenience store was marked by peeling posters on its glass windows, a welcoming neon sign proclaimed that they were open for business.

A high bell rung out when Koushi opened the door, and the woman at the register regarded him with a warm smile. “Hello!”

Koushi grinned back. “Hi,” he greeted, “May I ask where your bentos are?”

“In the center aisle, sir.”

He muttered a gentle “thanks” before going where he was directed. He was met with colorful boxes filled with food. He noticed rice and vegetables in one, tempura and sushi in another. After perusing through the selection, he picked one up that had egg roll and rice topped with a single pickled plum. A bit generic, but it would get the job done.

Koushi walked back over to the cashier and forked over the bento as well as a few coins that he thought should suffice.

The woman pressed a few buttons on the register and smiled as she fished some pennies from the box to give to Koushi along with the bento and his receipt. “Have a nice day, sir.”

“You too,” he smiled as he walked back out of the store and back across the street, into the open doors of the coin laundry.

“Suga,” he heard Daichi call from somewhere in the back. He acknowledged the man at the desk in the front and rushed through rows of washing machines to meet up with Daichi who was sitting at a bench. Across from him, Koushi could see their clothes already swirling in soapy water, and Daichi smiled at him.

“Here’s your bento,” Koushi said, taking his hand out from behind his back and presenting it to the captain. “Chopsticks are included.”

“Thanks,” Daichi said, eagerly taking it in his hands. He tore off the plastic wrapping and broke apart the chopsticks, and deftly maneuvered a bit of rice to his mouth, and swallowed it whole.

He sat down next to him and stared at the hypnotic churning of the washer. He could see his favorite shirt fade in and out of the vortex and he could swear he saw a pair of colorful superhero underpants swirl around with other articles of clothing, which Koushi was sure were Nishinoya’s. Looking to his right, he found Daichi happily eating away his bento. In only a few minutes, he had managed to clear away more than half of the box’s content. Koushi’s lips grew into a grin. “Hey Daichi.”

“What?” he asked, gulping down the last of the rice.

“You know, I’m kind of hungry too.” Koushi was giggling to himself.

“Oh? I can get you something when we get back. What do you want to eat?” he asked again, falling into Koushi’s trap.

Koushi smiled like a wolf. “Your dick.”

Daichi’s eyes went wide and he began to cough, his fist colliding with his sternum in an attempt to dislodge the food from his throat. “Oh my god—”, he managed before starting to cough again. His face was bright red, and Koushi burst out in laughter.

After a bit, Daichi quieted and put the nearly-finished bento aside, folding his hands on his lap. The only thing that could be heard was the steady tumbling of the washing machine. “Suga.” His voice was insidiously calm.

Koushi wiped a tear from his eye, sighing contently, barely able to keep himself from smiling. “Yes?”

There was a flash of movement, and Koushi suddenly found himself pinned to the bench, Daichi hovering over him with a dangerous glint in his dark eyes. Koushi’s legs fell to either side of the thin bench, and Daichi sat comfortably on his hips. The captain held Koushi’s hands above his head, and when he tried to pry them out of Daichi’s grasp, he only tightened his grip. “You know, Suga, that’s a really nice offer, but it’s one I’ll have to decline.” He lowered his head, and his lips brushed Koushi’s ear. “How about I suck you off instead?”

Koushi’s smile did not falter. He loved it when Daichi got like this.

A hungry mouth descended on his own like a vice, all tongue and teeth and torrid fervor. With his hands unable to reciprocate, he lifted his legs up and wrapped them around Daichi’s waist, bringing him down to grind against Koushi. A burst of pleasure surged through his veins, spreading a fervid heat to every inch of his body.

Daichi growled lowly, and brought his free hand down between them graze at Koushi’s sides and hips, dipping it below Koushi’s shirt, and suddenly, his ivory skin was completely exposed to the cool air of the laundromat. His hand traveled up around his naked torso, covering every expanse of skin he could, the temperature around Koushi reaching a fever pitch faster than the coil of heat in his abdomen could.

In response, Koushi locked his ankles together, pushing Daichi’s hips into his own, and made sure that the captain had no space to pull away. He felt Daichi groan into his mouth, and he smirked. Koushi broke their kiss and threw his head back, exposing the pale column of his neck.

Daichi wasted no time in leaving searing kisses down his throat, branding Koushi with berry-dark bruises. Koushi tried fruitlessly to pry his hands away, desperate to rake them down Daichi’s broad, tanned shoulders, the same ones he had lusted over since their first year. “Daichi,” he keened, making sure to drench the words with the most pleading tone he could muster, “Let me— ah,” he let out a sigh at an especially rough tug at some sensitive skin, “touch you.”

Through the burning flesh of his neck, Koushi felt Daichi smirk. He lifted his head up, a string of saliva the only thing connecting him to Koushi now. His shadowed eyes trained on Koushi with a wild hunger contained within the mask of a steady gaze, only a ring of warm brown visible behind his blown pupils. His defined cheeks were tinged in red, that color spreading to his ears and neck. The most captivating part about Daichi, Koushi thought, was his mouth, his kiss-red lips parted and heaving with hot breaths.

“Now, Suga,” he intoned, voice low and gruff, “I didn’t quite hear what you said. Do you mind,” he reached down to twist Koushi’s nipple, eliciting a stifled cry from him, “repeating it for me?”

Koushi would waste no time. “Please,” he implored, smiling as the captain rut against him, making sure to draw out every last word from his dear setter. “Please let me touch you,” Koushi mewled, writhing underneath his iron grip, “captain.”

The addition of that word granted Koushi’s hands their freedom, and they swiftly became an eager tangle of limbs; sensations were the only thing he could fathom anymore. He only felt nails digging into skin, hands roaming across flesh, tongues exploring inside mouths.

“Daichi,” he murmured, grasping at Daichi’s soft hair this time, “So good, Daichi.”

The captain smiled against him and sat up suddenly, taking his own shirt off and dropping it on the ground beside him. He paused, and Koushi never got tired of his body. Every time he would stare in quiet awe, something that made his eyes go wide and his lips go slack. Defined muscles, suntanned skin: no matter how many times Daichi saw him, he never got used to the sight of him. It lifted Koushi’s racing heart up into the sky, making his cheeks and shoulders heat up.

“You are so beautiful,” Koushi whispered as the captain’s head dipped back down and licked a stripe across his collarbone, trailing down to his sternum, and placed a kiss there. Koushi’s stomach tied itself up into knots, and the coil at his core grew tighter. As Daichi kissed down, across his ribs and further, it became much too hot in the room, and Koushi’s chinos, which fit comfortably in the morning, now became much too tight.

Koushi threw his head back, hitting the bench. He could no longer breath comfortably through his nose, and his mouth heaved with panting breaths. His hands scrambled to grasp at Daichi’s short hairs, trying to gain purchase. It seemed as though the lower Daichi went, the less control Koushi had over himself. His back arched with every breath he took, his hips rutting up to find the friction that would satisfy him.

He felt Daichi smile at his abdomen, and he lifted his head up. There was no sign of the warm brown eyes now; there were only glittering, opaque pupils to be seen. He chuckled a little, his skin ruddy and his chest heaving. “A little impatient, are we?”

“Daichi,” he whined, rocking his hips up once more, “please.”

The captain smiled again and slid back on the bench, his head level with Koushi’s hips. He mouthed carefully at Koushi’s thighs dangerously close to their midpoint, and Koushi put a fist in his mouth, trying to suppress the cry that followed.

“Please, captain,” he mewled hotly, his heart about to burst from his ribs, the coil impossibly tight, “please, please, just hurry up and—”

There was sudden clang, and the two scrambled away from each other, and Koushi, his veins alive with cold ice, searched frantically for the source of the noise. When he looked behind him, there was an old lady on the other side of the room pressing buttons on a washing machine. She was just far away to be out of earshot, but she could have very clearly seen his and Daichi’s racy encounter.

Fire shot up his arteries, his heart shriveling under the weight of mortification. He looked towards Daichi, whose eyes were wide and fearful, his face beet red. He stared unblinkingly at the seemingly unsuspecting old woman.

Anything he had been feeling was completely doused and instead was replaced with, strangely, thrill. They had been so close to preforming an indecent act in front of an innocent old woman; the fact that they didn’t get caught immediately made Koushi giddy. He felt like they had just escaped a trained assassin through sheer, dumb luck.

A hand came onto his bare shoulder, and he realized his shirt was gone and lying on the floor somewhere. “Suga, let’s put our clothes in the dryer so we can leave.”

Koushi nodded vigorously, smiling still. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted his shirt, and deftly put it back on. Daichi was completely silent and completely red, shoveling sopping wet clothes from the washing machine into the dryer, wasting no time in slamming the dryer closed and punching a few buttons until the machine came to life and started tumbling away.

Daichi sat next to Koushi and twisted his hands together in his lap, stone-still. Koushi stole a few looks away at the old woman, who had sat down on her own bench and was busy working at a crossword. The silence in the place becoming thick, and the constant turning sound of the machines only seemed to thrive in it, becoming louder with each passing second.

Koushi found himself reaching for his phone, only to remember that he had left in the cabin along with the rest of his things. He needed something to distract him from the looming atmosphere that had settled between he and Daichi. The captain had always been a reserved person, Koushi was surprised that they had escalated this far in such a public place. Now that they had nearly been well and fully caught, all the confidence he had surely left him and Koushi was probably only going to be able to start anything again when absolutely no one was in a 20 feet radius, and behind locked doors. 

Daichi was like that in the start of their relationship, and Koushi had been coaxing him into more and more risqué situations: first with the door slightly open at his house (his father had been sleeping in the floor below), then they moved on to empty classrooms during lunch periods, and then he agreed to do them before practice in storage closets. Once, Koushi remembered fondly, the first years had nearly caught them at the training camp, making out in on the empty gyms after they thought everyone had left. Daichi refused to even hold hands with him for a full three days after the incident.

Looking at him now, Daichi was sitting with his jaw set and his eyes staring straight ahead. There was a slight furrow in his brow, and he did not attempt to even look at Koushi.

Koushi decided he would be a little adventurous. He slid a careful, chaste hand on Daichi’s thigh, and the captain immediately froze up under his touch. “Don’t let this deter you, Daichi,” he whispered, “We can continue at the cabin.”

“And Asahi and Nishinoya?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Knowing Nishinoya, they’re probably off doing something else. Remember how he said he wanted to go kayaking?” he wheedled, rubbing Daichi’s muscled thigh, “He’s restless; you know that. The cabin is probably still empty.”

After a while, Daichi nodded. “You’re right. Okay.”

Koushi smiled, and leaned forward to plant a little kiss on Daichi’s cheek, much to the captain’s surprise. “Thank you, honey.”

After a while, the dryer finished, and Koushi wasted no time in opening the machine’s door, letting out the warm steam and reaching in to grab the warmer clothes. It smelled slightly of chamomile, and smiling, Koushi grabbed the nylon bag from the pile and put the clothes inside, tightening the drawstring when he was done.

Beside him, Daichi had gathered the pouch and the empty bento. “Ready to go.”

Koushi looked towards the exit, and soon realized they had to pass by the old lady to be able to leave. He looked back to gauge Daichi’s response, and his lips were pursed. “What do we do?” he whispered.

“Let’s just walk right past her,” Koushi assured, “and leave as quickly as possible.”

Daichi furrowed his brows, nodding. “Yeah. Let’s just go.”

They began to move stiffly through the benches, and Koushi braced himself when he had to excuse himself past the old lady. He didn’t see her face clearly, but he swore she glared at him with narrowed eyes.

Once they were past her, Daichi nearly ran to the man at the front, giving him the card to pay for the machine. The man looked at him and sighed, removing one headphone before processing the card. Beyond them and through the exit, Koushi saw their bike and nodded to Daichi, signaling that he would be there.

Walking out into the sun, he mounted the bike, making sure to take the driver’s seat before Daichi had the chance to. Koushi had been practicing himself, and a bike was leagues below any sort of car. He put the nylon bag in front basket and waited, letting the heat seep comfortably through his skin.

When Daichi walked out, he narrowed his eyes at Koushi. “Are you sure?”

Koushi smirked. “Ah, shut up. I’m faster than you are. You’re slow and you follow traffic laws.”

Daichi sat in the passenger’s seat, “Those are there for a reason, you know.”

“There’s literally no one around,” Koushi noted, and Daichi was made silent by the lack of people. “There’s no one to crash into, and there’s every incentive to arrive at the cabin,” he made a dramatic wink, “as fast as possible.”

Daichi crossed his arms, but smiled. “Fine. Hurry up and drive.”

Koushi could have not been more pleased to release the bike’s lock, and start immediately down the street, feeling wind cut through the frame and whip his hair back. It took almost no time at all to find the junction that led back to the resort, and he spun the wheel around, drifting a little as he turned the bike to go up that road.

Daichi yelled a little, his sturdy legs keeping up with Koushi’s fast pedaling, but his hands grasping the metal frames around him, trying to keep himself from flying out of the bike. “Holy crap, Suga, please slow down!”

Koushi laughed heartily, feeling it ripple through his chest, “No way!”

They blazed up the road, and Daichi was heaving now, looking wide-eyed at Koushi. “I expect this kind of behavior from the first years or Nishinoya and Tanaka, Suga.”

“Please,” Koushi beamed, “Why not have a little fun? We’re still young. You tell me when we’re going to be here, in this resort, riding this bike, ever again. Carpe diem, Daichi!”

Daichi sighed, “You are going to make me go gray.”

Koushi chuckled, “Hey, being gray isn’t so bad.”

The two laughed, and they continued up the road, rushing past the faux birds and fountains of the entrance, hearing plucky music and delighted screams, and soon enough they saw the bike vendor in the distance. It was only then when Koushi slowed, and the vendor saw them coming. “Wash all your clothes?” he called out, signaling for Koushi to park the bike along the others.

Koushi did so, and he got of the bike, his legs feeling a bit like jelly. He grabbed the nylon bag and smiled at the vendor, forking over a banknote from his wallet. “Yep. Thanks for the bike.”

“No problem.”

Daichi got off the bike as well, whirling the pouch around his fingers. “I can’t believe I’m still alive after that.”

Koushi smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek. “You’re fine. C’mon, to the cabin.”

Koushi swore he saw an inkling of a giddy smile flash over that captain’s lips, and they began down the sidewalk behind the vendor to make it back to their cabin.

They laughed and shared furtive touches as they made it past the pool and dancefloor back into the cold lobby, past the lounge and elevators and into the main room. They saw a few familiar faces but ignored them as they walked back outside and wasted no time to find the cobblestone path towards the cabins.

It was almost like a race, and Koushi grabbed Daichi’s hand and dragged him to the center, to their cabin. The sun shone low in the sky, and he was growing giddier by the second. He could see it, and he heard Daichi fiddle for his keys behind him. They got to the cul-de-sac and the went to their cabin all the way on the right, and they got to the porch, and Koushi sighed in relief from the sun’s heat.

“C’mon, hurry up, Daichi,” Koushi whined, winding his hands around the captain, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Daichi’s fingers fumbled for a second, but he managed to get the key in the hole, and after what seemed like an eternity, he swung the door open.

Koushi didn’t even take one step inside before coming to a complete stop at the scene playing out before his eyes.

Koushi had been wrong.

Nishinoya was not, in fact, kayaking, and instead was right there, laying on the couch, his pupils blown and lips parted. Asahi was hovering over him, arms on either side of the libero, eyes wide and trained on the two of them. He slowly, but very surely, turned a shade of white which in any other situation, might warrant a visit to the infirmary.

Upon closer inspection, Koushi noticed little bruises over Nishinoya’s exposed throat, and looking at the floor, there were a pair of crumpled shirts lying forgotten. Both boys were staring in horror at Koushi and Daichi, and Koushi had never seen the libero so genuinely mortified.

No one moved a muscle. No one said anything for a long time.

“I’m going to close the door,” Daichi said, breaking the silence, voice extremely calm, “and I’m going to open it again in ten seconds. You two better be in a very different position then.” He then slowly closed the door, making it creak, and closed it.

Koushi began to laugh, his eyes wide. He couldn’t believe it. And he thought he and Daichi were the ones being slick and hiding a romantic relationship.

“It’s not funny, Suga,” Daichi said, “I put them in the same cabin. I played right into their hands.”

Koushi crossed his arms. “You put us together.”

Daichi scoffed. “I can control myself, and so can you.”

Koushi laughed out loud at that. “We were literally just about to—”

“Suga, please,” Daichi said, “We take measures to make sure we don’t bother anyone, especially not team members. We are discreet and tactful.”

Koushi smiled. “Alright. And aren’t you going to open the door?”

“Damn right I am,” Daichi said, opening the door again. Inside, the couch was completely empty, and Koushi closed the door behind him. Asahi was nowhere to be seen, and Nishinoya was in the kitchenette, eyes wide and stirring a pot of water on the stove.

Daichi approached him and put a hand on his shoulder, and the libero visibly flinched. “Nishinoya.”

“Yes?” he squeaked, stirring a little faster.

“What are you doing there, Nishinoya?” Koushi wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Daichi’s hand grasp his shoulder tighter.

“Boiling water,” he said, voice three octaves higher than normal, “Just, um, boiling water to make udon.”

“Udon,” Daichi repeated, “And where’s Asahi?”

“Bathroom,” Nishinoya stated, “He said he wanted to shower.”

Koushi snickered. He did not hear the usual static that comes with the water being on. “Are you sure, Noya? I’m a little worried about him. I don’t hear the shower.”

Nishinoya then stopped stirring, the first time he had done so in the whole time that he was being interrogated by Daichi. There was no movement, but then Nishinoya sped towards the bathroom door, knocking vigorously. “Asahi! Let me in!”

“No,” came Asahi’s defeated wail, “Let me rot away in peace. Let me have this one thing.”

“I will not,” Nishinoya yelled, “What are you even doing in there?”

“I’m running the bath,” he mumbled, “I will let the water consume me.”

Nishinoya’s eyes went wider, “You are not leaving me alone to deal with them two,” he twisted the doorknob frantically, “Let me in!”

Koushi reached in his pocket, taking out a bent paperclip. “Excuse me, I got this,” he smirked, and walked over to the bathroom door. He inserted the paperclip into the keyhole, fiddling it around until he felt a click, and the door swung open without resistance.

Nishinoya zipped inside and immediately dragged out a weeping Asahi, his lean arms looped under Asahi’s armpits. It was a funny sight, seeing someone Nishinoya’s size haul Asahi’s hulking figure. Eventually, the two collapsed, and Asahi took one look at Daichi and tried to scamper back into the bathroom, but Nishinoya caught him by the shirt.

“Hell no,” Nishinoya cried, “You do not get to run away!”

“Please,” Asahi sobbed, “Mercy.”

“To the couch,” came Daichi’s voice, making the pair freeze, “Both of you. Now.”

Koushi watched as Asahi and Nishinoya both stood, their shoulders hunched as if under a heavy burden. They walked as if to their deaths back to the couch which they had been so eager to be on only moments ago. Koushi went to move the coffee table back to make space, and stood next to Daichi in front of them. Only Nishinoya dared to look up at them and make eye contact.

“So,” Daichi began, his arms crossed, “One of you want explain what you two were doing?”

Silence.

“C’mon, I’m waiting.”

Nishinoya cleared his throat, and had the gall to look at Daichi directly. His toffee eyes were wide and daring, but his lips held no trace of his signature smile. “I was enjoying a make-out session with my boyfriend.” At that choice of words, Asahi flinched beside him. “We assumed you two were out kayaking or something, and wouldn’t be back for a while.”

Koushi felt his chest tighten. It took all of his strength not to burst out in laughter.

“Your boyfriend,” Daichi’s voice softened a little, “Well, congratulations, Nishinoya.” He turned to look at Asahi, and even though the wing spiker wasn’t looking, he still shrunk under Daichi’s gaze. “Asahi? Do you mind sharing with us how that happened?”

Trembling, Asahi looked up. His face was paper white, and Koushi bit his lip. The laughter was getting harder and harder to suppress.

“N-N-Nishinoya asked m-me out,” Asahi choked out, “U-um, right before our first Nekoma match. S-said he was really happy I wanted to join the team again and, er, he confessed that he had a crush on me.” A healthy flush came to settle on his cheeks, “I said I liked him too. Had for a long time.”

Koushi let out a little chuckle, barely audible. That was only two weeks after he and Daichi had got together.

“That’s very sweet,” Daichi said, words clipped, “But that still does not excuse your blatant use of communal space for your intimate activities.”

Koushi pleaded to the universe for it to stop. He would not be able to hold himself for much longer.

“Nishinoya said it would be a good idea,” Asahi reposted, face aghast. “He promised me that no one would catch us. He promised he’d get rid of all the evidence.”

Daichi turned his sights to Nishinoya. “Nishinoya, you know Asahi has the willpower of a dead slug. You must have known that it was late and that we would be coming back soon.”

A ruddy blush colored the libero’s cheeks. He grinned. “I thought it would be fun. Risky. Asahi would never go for it, so I fudged the truth a little.” He furrowed his brows, “So what?”

“You were wrong,” Daichi strained through gritted teeth, “You played with fire. Now your secret is out, and you are correct if you think I will severely limit your time together once we get back home, and hell, even here.” He furrowed his brows, “I can’t believe you played me like this. You let me put you two in the same cabin, in the same bed, without my knowledge—”

“That is rich,” Koushi burst out, smiling and unable to take it anymore, “Considering that we also are dating, Daichi!”

Everything stopped. You could hear a pin drop.

Daichi turned to look at Koushi, his face beet red, his mouth agape. His face was near unreadable, traces of shock, mortification, and betrayal all visible. “Sugawara Koushi.”

Koushi looked back to Nishinoya and Asahi, who both wore similar expressions. It was a while before Nishinoya’s mouth spread into a wicked smile. “You guys… are dating?”

Koushi nodded unabashedly, “Yup. In fact, we thought you two were out, and we were coming here to have our own nice little make-out session.”

He heard Daichi gasp a little, “How dare you.”

“How dare you,” Koushi spat back, “belittling them for the exact same thing we have been doing for only a bit longer than they have!”

“They are much too young,” Daichi wheezed, “Nishinoya has been roping Asahi along to his antics when he knows better than anyone that he is world’s biggest pushover.”

“I am older than all of you,” Asahi whined, the first thing he had said something in a long time, “I think I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

“You are emotionally the age of Hinata’s little sister,” Daichi screeched, “You are such a limp noodle; you let this little hellion have his way with you.”

“Hey,” Nishinoya interjected, “I am not a hellion.”

“You totally are,” Koushi laughed, “At least Daichi and I were planning to keep our activities to our own bed. But the couch? C’mon, man, we all sit there.”

“Please stop,” Asahi blubbered, “Please, no more.”

Daichi scoffed. “I cannot believe that these brazen little trysts have been going on. I wonder where else Nishinoya has convinced you was a ‘safe place to make out’. In an open storage closet? Locker rooms during matches? In the gym before or after practice?”

“Well…” Nishinoya smiled.

“Don’t. Answer. That.” Daichi grated out. 

A slight blush colored the libero’s cheeks. “Okay, well,” he piped up, eager to change the subject, looking to Koushi, “How long have you two been together?”

“We got together right after our first and only Seijou practice match,” Koushi replied, “We’ve been together for only a little longer than you two.”

“Oh, really?” Nishinoya said, his smile growing.

“Yeah,” Koushi laughed wolfishly, “In fact, it was after everyone had gone from the gym, he told me he loved me like we were some sappy, old married couple—”

“Enough,” Daichi yelled, his hands covering his face, which now resembled that of a tomato, “Please, Suga.”

Koushi was relentless, “And I said that I loved him too, and he held my face and looked at me like I was the most sublime creature on the planet. He stroked my cheek, and I swear I’ll never forget the way his eyes slipped closed and—”

“Sugawara,” Daichi said, “I swear to god I won’t even look at you for a whole month if you don’t shut up right now.”

That made Koushi close his mouth, still smiling. “I think we’re even with Nishinoya and Asahi now.”

Daichi pried his hands from his face, eyeing Koushi dangerously. “You have absolutely no shame.”

“Nope,” Koushi replied, “but you’ve caused them enough grief. Only seemed like the right thing to do.”

Daichi was silent for a while, and turned back to look at Nishinoya and Asahi, clasping his hands together. “Well, I think we can all agree that what happens in this cabin, stays in this cabin. Have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Nishinoya responded, “I won’t tell a soul.”

Daichi turned his head, “Asahi?”

“I swear I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with us.”

“As is yours,” Koushi said, raising his right hand, “I swear on my good name I won’t divulge what happened here.”

“Alright,” Daichi sighed, “Now, Nishinoya, please go turn off the stove before you burn the cabin down.”

Nishinoya’s eyes widened as he muttered a curse and clambered over to the kitchenette, flipping off the heat and dumping the boiling water down the sink, and then place the pot on the drying rack.

Koushi directed his sight over to Daichi, whose shoulders were tense and whose sight was steely. Koushi wanted nothing more than have turn to putty under his fingers, but he would have to wait until the other two left.

Koushi smiled as he imagined how Daichi would probably protest if he tried anything now, still under the effects of his more paternal instincts. Koushi took great pleasure in how he would change Daichi’s mind after whispering a few choice words and placing his hands in strategic locations. It wasn’t like he wasn’t in the mood only fifteen minutes ago, and it was only due to Nishinoya and Asahi that their fun was interrupted.

“Asahi,” Nishinoya shouted, “Wanna go out and,” he gulped after receiving a pointed stare from Daichi, “go kayaking? It’ll be nice.”

Asahi turned around, and Koushi could swear his face was still red. “Yeah,” he said, voice slightly wheezy, “That sounds like fun.”

Nishinoya wasted no time in rushing over and grabbing Asahi by the wrist, dragging him up. He was actually quite strong for someone of such a small stature, and he succeeded in avoiding Daichi’s death glare and two promptly left the cabin, leaving Koushi and Daichi alone.

Daichi went towards the door, “You know, I should follow them to make sure they don’t do anything, or worse, tell someone about us—”

Koushi grabbed his hand before he could reach the door, and pulled him back so they were chest to chest, “Daichi, I think you spooked them enough. I don’t think they’ll even hold hands for at least a few days. Besides,” he said, voice sly as he drew Daichi close and placed his hand on his hip, “we were going to do something ourselves.”

Daichi’s cheeks became flushed, but he shook his head. “Suga, please, we can’t. We have to set an example for them.”

Koushi smiled, “They aren’t even here.” Koushi’s hand, still gripping Daichi’s, slid it up slowly, making sure Daichi felt every ridge and dip of flesh underneath his shirt. He let it rest on his sternum, and it rose and fell with his quickening breaths. He leaned in, and when Daichi didn’t move, he cocked his head to the side and whispered in his ear, “C’mon, captain. Let’s go have a bit of fun.”

He didn’t even have to look at Daichi to know that his face became beet red, and for good measure, Koushi bit his ear a little.

Daichi’s breath hitched, and his other hand when to grasp Koushi’s hip, “What if they come back?”

Koushi leaned back to face him and smiled, “I doubt it. Did you see how fast they left?”

There was silence, but then Daichi sighed and pried his hand from Koushi’s, and placed them both on Koushi’s hips. “You know what? You’re right,” he murmured, and wasted no time on descending upon Koushi’s mouth, biting at his lower lip, bringing them right back to where they were before.

Koushi’s heart raced, and delightedly ran his hands up and down Daichi’s back, digging his nails into the muscle there. He grabbed at the end of Daichi’s shirt, eager to take it off.

Between flashes of wet tongues and hot breaths, Daichi whispered, “Bedroom?”

Koushi smirked, “Bedroom. But you have to carry me.”

Koushi yelped as he felt Daichi’s hand snake under his thighs and lift him up, and he wound his legs around the captain’s waist instinctively. He wrapped his arms around Daichi’s neck and laughed as he moved them over to the bedroom. Once inside, he saw that the sun was already beginning to fall, casting a burnished gold light on the bedsheets, which were neatly made.

Daichi dumped Koushi on the bed, crumpling the neat sheets, and when he crawled over him, Koushi took his arm and flipped them over. Daichi lay surprised as Koushi sat on his hips, and he smiled as Koushi took the hem of his shirt and tore it up over his head to throw it on the floor, once more exposing his beautiful tanned skin and strapping muscle.

Koushi drank up the sight of him, chest heaving and cheeks red, mouth parted and panting. His eyes were the best part, Koushi thought, the warm brown becoming overtaking once more by black pupils. They were trained on Koushi, hooded and glassy, and Daichi smiled, crinkling them at the edges.

The captain’s hands reached up, and Koushi put his arms up to help Daichi pull off his shirt. The draft of the bedroom bit at his heated skin, but he bore it as Daichi kept his hands on Koushi’s slender body, branding his ivory skin.

Koushi smiled. “Remember my offer, Daichi?” he said, grinding his hips down.

“Yes, of course,” he groaned in response, mouth parted in heaving breaths.

Koushi ran his fingers over Daichi’s chest, “It was not yours to refuse.”

Koushi leaned down and pressed a kiss to Daichi’s neck before he could respond, and he felt his breath rush through his throat at he kept going down, licking a stripe down to his collarbone and even further to his robust chest. He didn’t miss the opportunity to bite at his nipple, eliciting a low groan that rumbled under his ribs. His scent was intoxicating, the sharpness of his herbal cologne mixed with salty sweat made Koushi’s head spin.

“Suga, please,” he breathed, “stop teasing.”

Koushi almost giggled, but managed to restrain himself to just a high chuckle. “You’re just too much fun,” he sighed, and put his hands on brawny biceps, squeezing. Koushi kept going, pressing kisses all over his torso; to his sides and then to his abdomen, to which Daichi retaliated with a sharp growl and pair of hands to Koushi’s head. Koushi was giddy and he went further down, the thatch of dark hairs under Daichi’s navel scratching at his chin.

Koushi was met with no resistance as he hooked his hands on Daichi’s belt loops and pulled them down, smiling as he saw the tent in Daichi’s navy boxers. He only pushed his pants until they fell past his knees and came completely off, and Koushi usually wouldn’t have bothered, but Daichi’s thighs were his absolute favorite part of him, the thick muscle capable, perhaps, of strangling Koushi. He wouldn’t even be mad if he did meet his end that way.

Daichi’s hands gripped slightly at Koushi’s hair, knowing full well that it drove Koushi crazy. “Hurry up,” he muttered, voice husky and low. Koushi’s own pants grew tight and uncomfortable at the sound of it, and he would make sure to deal with himself later. Now, he need to focus on Daichi.

“Impatient, captain?” he said, mouthing at his thighs as they spread to make space for Koushi. He smiled at he got closer to his core. “You know you can’t rush perfection.”

He heard a wry chuckle between hot gasps, “You’re so full of yourself.”

“I’d rather be full of you,” he murmured, looking up to Daichi, and when he caught the captain’s gaze, he winked and placed a kiss dangerously close to the tent in the captain’s boxers.

Daichi groaned, and Koushi felt the fingers in his hair tighten. “Holy shit, Suga. Please.”

“Are you begging me?” Koushi asked, voice completely level. It was a little funny to see the captain strain under his confines, and Koushi almost laughed. Instead, he haloed Daichi’s crotch with kisses, tactfully avoiding the place Daichi really wanted Koushi’s mouth to be on.

Another sweet groan rang out, and Koushi felt his hips jerk up a little. Koushi was just about to dive in for more teasing as he heard a piteous whine between heaving gasps: “I’m begging you, Koushi.”

He felt a fiery rush at the sound of his first name, which Daichi only used in once in a blue moon. The captain knew exactly what it did to him, and somewhere among the searing flames and hot pressure in his body, a rational part of him commended him for the smart move. It was enough to convince Koushi to stop tormenting him and to whip off his boxers, which was received with a relieved sigh.

Koushi, eager to express an apology for all the anguish he had caused Daichi, readily took him in his mouth, licking wet stripes up and down, even using his teeth to scrape at the more sensitive bits, which made Daichi release a loud cry as his back arched like bow. He tasted bitterness as he slid his mouth up and down the captain.

It did not take him long to find a rhythm; something slow and agonizing to keep Daichi on edge. It wouldn’t be true to Koushi’s nature to comply completely with Daichi’s wishes and finish him off quickly just to satisfy him, even if it would make him happy. Koushi felt that in the long run, Daichi would thank him.

His heaving breaths were laced with little groans that crested every time Koushi did something different with his tongue or employed the strategic use of his teeth against sensitive, engorged flesh. His hands were gripped Koushi’s hair like a vice, but he knew that Daichi was incapable of ramming his head against his hips like he really wanted; he was awfully respectable, even when he was horny.

It was when Koushi hollowed out his cheeks and moaned a little into him that Daichi let out a cry, “Fuck, Suga, I’m close.”

Koushi let go of him and busied himself with pressing kisses all up and down his length. “Are you now, captain?” Koushi responded, “You want to come?”

A sharp gasp ripped itself from his throat as Koushi tongued at the shaft, “Yes, please. Suga, please.”

Koushi smiled, pressing a kiss to his thigh. “As you wish.”

It was with one decisive suck that Koushi heard a what could only be described as a growl and felt his hot release. He caught it all in his mouth, looking directly at the captain as he swallowed with a smile.

Daichi looked at him with wide eyes, and immediately rushed forward and dragged Koushi to between his thighs, Koushi’s own problem more than prominent now and begging for satisfaction. He wrapped his leg around Daichi like it was second nature, his hands on Daichi’s chest, waiting.

“Let me take care of you, Suga,” Daichi murmured as he unzipped Koushi’s chinos and reached his hand in. A million volts of electricity shot out when Daichi wrapped his hand around him and began to pump, mirroring the agonizingly slow pace that Koushi had taken up before.

Koushi couldn’t help but whine as the captain’s pumps became harder, and his body sang as he threw his head back and wrapped his arms around Daichi’s neck. It didn’t take long for him to come with a mewl, ropes of white decorating his abdomen. Bliss exploded through his senses, making him grab onto Daichi’s shoulders. Daichi fell backwards, making Koushi fall with him, colliding into his chest. He was only able to lie feebly, mouth open with heaving breaths and legs trembling around the captain’s hips.

Koushi gathered the energy to lift his head and place a wet kiss on Daichi’s lips. “You’re so good to me,” he slurred, hot breath mingling with Daichi’s own, “So good.”

The captain’s eyes focused on him dreamily, the pupils still dilated. He lifted the corners of his mouth slowly, as if drunk on the sight of him. “Beautiful,” he murmured back.

Koushi felt his arms snake around his torso, cradling him. Resting on the captain’s chest, he felt his eyes want to slip closed, to drown in Daichi’s warm, heady scent that reminded him of the basil and rosemary in his mother’s herb garden. His chest rose and fell and it felt like he was resting on waves, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay awake.

Daichi made a sudden movement some time after, dragging himself up to a sitting position. Koushi fell off, but quickly caught himself and sat similarly, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “What?”

“Let’s go out for a walk,” he announced, voice chipper and the lust gone from his expression. “It’s a nice day.”

Koushi looked outside the window and saw the sun shine low on the horizon. Koushi decided it wouldn’t be for another three hours at least, but a walk with Daichi sounded more than nice. He certainly wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to show his wonderful boyfriend off to others.

He smiled, “Sounds good, but we have to clean up first.”

Daichi nodded, “Of course.”

It didn’t take them too long to clean up the mess on Koushi’s abdomen and any other residual fluid. They decided it best to change pants and straighten out the bed, lest Nishinoya come back and gloat in the fact that Koushi and Daichi are huge hypocrites. Koushi would shrug it off, but it would most probably make Daichi become befuddled by shame, and he wouldn’t be available to him for a least the rest of this vacation.

After Daichi double-checked the bedroom for any shred of evidence of their activities, Koushi manage to grab his hand, feeling the captain melt under his touch, and left the cabin.

It was a comfortable afternoon, the sun not so high as to burn them, but just low enough as to radiate a sufficient amount of sunshine. The sauntered through lazy summer incandescence, not worrying, not thinking for once in their high school career. Throughout their hazy walk, Koushi only checked his phone for the time once, before they left the cabin; it had been 3:58.

They decided to confine their walk to the cabins area, since it was picturesque enough for their purposes. Koushi took the time to really take in the luxury of the place he was in: the cobbled roads were perfectly clean, cute wildflowers growing at the edges of it, swaying in the breeze. Koushi knew that the hydrangeas bloomed in late June, and the resort staff took full advantage of it, as those blue and purple blooms adorned each cabin, in vases inside or lining the outside. The further they went from the beach, the more they could detect its sweet, delicate fragrance.

Each cabin’s porch was decorated with a cushioned rocking chair on the porch, maybe a couple having a wind chime made of seashells and metal bars. He knew that their own cabin had one, and he found their tinkling noise quite pleasant. He heard Daichi humming something, maybe something they’d heard on the radio a while ago, and Koushi squeezed his hand a little tighter.

They made a clockwise journey across the cabins, taking the main road which led to every house, not only the ones rented for themselves, which all occupied the center of the cabins’ area. It was mostly empty, save for a few resting couples on the front porch and the light laughter of children from within the cabins. Koushi wasn’t entirely sure, what with the languid heat dulling his senses, but he thought he saw a familiar face, someone with auburn hair and sunburns all over, run past them, not sparing them a second glance.

Time lost its meaning when he was with Daichi, and the two walked for what seemed like ages, the uniform cabins beginning to blur together and lose their distinction. The sun, although subdued by the coming of sundown, bore down on them, making sure they experienced every bit of its smothering heat. Even though they kept to the shade, Koushi still felt cooling beads of sweat run down his face.

They walked in complete silence, needing only to be together and lost in the road before them until Koushi heard his and Daichi’s name from somewhere in the distance.

“Sawamura! Sugawara!”

Koushi turned around, and he saw Ushijima’s hulking form jog to them, giving them a friendly wave. He had running shoes on, but he didn’t seem to be out of breath or sweaty at all. Koushi looked around, and realized they were at the main entrance of the beach, having made a full circle around the cabins and walked elsewhere. He noticed now the scratch of sand in his sandals, the salt in the air.

“Hello, Ushijima,” Daichi greeted, smiling. He did not break eye contact with the other captain as he slid his hand out of Koushi’s.

Koushi sighed in resigned exasperation, but understood Daichi’s hesitance.

“I had just come from a gathering with my teammates,” he said pointing behind him to the beach, “and I saw you two. I thought it best to greet you.”

“How polite,” Koushi responded, “Daichi and I were taking a walk, enjoying the summer sun.”

Ushijima seemed surprised, “Just you two?”

Koushi cracked a smile, “Well, yes,” he laughed, “who else were you expecting?”

“Nishinoya and Azumane,” he stated, “I also meant to congratulate all of you on your exciting afternoon. I am glad the four of you feel comfortable enough to be enjoying yourselves openly.” He gave a guileless smile. “It is good to see you take pride in your lifestyles.”

That snapped Koushi out of his stupor, and he focused directly at Ushijima’s candid face. He turned around to gauge Daichi’s reaction.

The captain was on red alert now, and he stared wide-eyed at Ushijima. “What do you mean?” he chuckled. Koushi could see the poorly hidden hysteria behind it.

“Oh,” Ushijima cocked his head, “did the four of you not engage in a BDSM-style orgy earlier this afternoon?”

It was as if he had been struck by lightning; Koushi was rendered absolutely speechless. He could feel burning heat rise to his cheeks and ears, singeing him more than the sun ever could. He could only stare at Ushijima, completely dumbfounded.

Ushijima continued. “You know, it’s important to use protection, but I’m sure you four are mature enough to know that. But with these sorts of things specifically,” he took his phone out of his pocket, “I did a bit of research,” he explained, as if the words coming out of his mouth were perfectly sensible, “it says that it’s important to have ‘good aftercare habits’ as well. Sawamura, you are responsible, I am certain you made sure that each participant left the activity satisfied and cared for?”

Koushi managed enough coherent sense of himself to turn and look at Daichi.

The captain looked the same as he had on the day he had walked in on some first-years jerking each other off in the supply closet before school last year. Koushi met up with him a couple minutes after he had shooed them away, and he would never forget the look on his face: his brows furrowed together and his eyes bulging out, completely shocked, his cheeks as bright and red as cherries, and his mouth hanging open slightly, looking as if he had been slapped.

In other words, absolutely priceless.

Daichi turned around immediately, grabbing Koushi by the wrist and dragging him away. He barely had time to excuse himself, before Daichi made sure they were out of Ushijima’s earshot.

“I am going,” he uttered, the words coming out grated through clenching teeth. Koushi felt the grip on his wrist squeeze tight, as if he was trying to strangle it, “to skin him alive.”

The gears whirred in Koushi’s head; Daichi needed not to say who he was talking about. “Nishinoya?”

“That bastard,” he spat, “I swear to god I will find him.” Daichi said, the look his eyes bloodcurdling, “He must pay for this.”

Koushi was still reeling from the words that came out of Ushijima’s mouth (he never expected him to so casually say something so vulgar), but he had gathered enough sense to string together a probable series of events: Nishinoya had gone and told someone about what had happened at the cabin, who told someone else, then someone else, twisting and escalating the incident until it was mangled, unrecognizable version of the truth. “You think Nishinoya spurred the spread of this rumor?”

“I know he did. Never knows when to keep his mouth shut,” he hissed, “now look what he’s done. Went and told someone and it spread like a cancer, all the way to Ushi-fucking-jima who thinks we had an orgy, but not just any orgy, oh no, one with all sort of kinky shit.” He rubbed his temples, “God only knows exactly what people think we did.”

“Like a game of telephone,” Koushi offered.

He seemed flabbergasted, and put his head in his hands. “Who knows how far this got.”

As if on cue, Daichi’s phone began to ring. Daichi froze, and very slowly reached into his back pocket and pressed a button. Daichi did not check the caller ID.

“Yes?” He said. Then, his face melted, the features that were strung high with stress begin to drop in fear and mortification. The color drained from his face, leaving him as white as a sheet. In fact, Koushi thought he looked a little green.  “Yes, Sugawara is.” He then tapped the speaker button on his phone and let it rest on his upturned palm.

Koushi saw the caller ID. It was coach Ukai.

“I’m going to choose to believe,” the coach started, very slowly, “that you and Sugawara, as well as Azumane and Nishinoya, who are not present, are respectable young adults who would never attempt an activity as ludicrous as I have heard, even less in such a public locale with other teammates, not to mention other teams right next door.”

Koushi felt his stomach fall right out of him. He wanted to laugh, get rid of the ridiculous tension plaguing him, but he couldn’t force the air out of his throat.

“But it’s the truth, coach,” Daichi said desperately, “we didn’t do that. I swear.”

Silence was all that came from the other end. “That’s exactly what I want to hear, Sawamura. Now, you better count your blessings, because I am the only one of the coaches to hear about this scandal. I won’t spread this information further, else I risk our reputation, or even worse, our spot in Nationals.”

“But we didn’t do anything,” Daichi looked like was about to cry, “We didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sure,” Ukai said in a disbelieving tone, “But keep on saying that. I think it goes without saying that you two should dispel this gossip immediately.” The line then cut off without so much as a goodbye.

Daichi seemed lost as he slid his phone back in his pocket. All the embarrassment was gone from his face, and instead was replaced with cold shock, and slowly, Koushi could detect the icy flame of anger burn deep in his eyes.

“We are going to find Nishinoya,” Daichi said, voice calm, “and we are going to kill him.”

Koushi managed to crack a smile, if only because of the sheer ridiculousness of the whole event: imagine being at the center of a scandalous rumor such as that. Koushi thought he ought to be ashamed, but this seemed like something that would only happen on a sitcom, and Koushi could not be happier. His life turned out to be way more interesting than he could have fathomed. “How are we going to find Nishinoya?”

“Easy,” Daichi said, “We find Asahi.”

Koushi raised his brows, “Do you think Asahi had something to do with this?”

Daichi started walking back towards the cabin, and Koushi followed, “I don’t, but getting information out of him should be easy.”

Koushi smiled. Giddy fear pulsated through him if only for a second; the captain seemed so intimidating. Koushi decided he liked that.

“Do you know for sure he’ll be back at the cabin?” Koushi asked.

Daichi let out a scoff, “Where else would he go? I’m only surprised he didn’t go back sooner.”

Koushi grinned, “Thank god he didn’t.”

The grimace that pulled at Daichi’s lips and the color that shaded his cheeks was almost funny, “I’m going to ignore that.”

It didn’t take them long to return to the cabin, and just as Daichi predicted, Asahi was sitting on the couch, his fingers twisted almost painfully in one another. As soon as Daichi swung the door open, Asahi’s face, pale with fear, turned to look at him.

“I swear to god,” he began, lip quivering, “I have nothing to do with this.”

“Oh I know,” Daichi fumed, “I know you wouldn’t dare cross me.” He walked over menacingly, “But I do want to know what where Nishinoya is.”

“I swear on my mom, Daichi, I have no idea where he is. He and I split up not long after we left the cabin; said he needed to go somewhere,” he whimpered, “I haven’t seen him since.” He put his hands up in surrender, and ducked his head away from Daichi’s laser-sharp glare. “All I know is that he must have told someone, because less than an hour later, I met up with the Nekoma guys and Kuroo congratulated me on my ‘exploits,’” He buried his head in his hands. “I swear to god, I had nothing to do with this.”

“And I believe you,” Daichi said, “We just need to know where Nishinoya is.” His face then shadowed over, “If I find out you’re hiding him from me…”

“I-I-I’m not!” He yelped, “I told you I haven’t seen him for two whole hours!”

Daichi was silent, but then nodded. “Alright. And you’ll call us if he tries to come back here, right?”

“O-Of course.”

Daichi smiled, “Good. Well, we’ll be off now.”

Once they left the cabin, Daichi turned to Koushi, “Where would he hide?”

“I’d be in the main building,” Koushi responded, “It’s the biggest; there’s so many places to hide.”

Daichi nodded, “Good idea. Let’s go there.”

And so they went, Daichi leading the way like a charging bull as Koushi trailed behind him. They went inside the lobby, and Daichi took them in all the places where they thought Nishinoya could hide: the ballrooms in the east and west wings, the little shopping centers in the main building, the restaurants that dotted the place. It wasn’t until they got to the second floor when Koushi felt his legs growing tired, walking quickly back and forth. The more places they couldn’t find Nishinoya, the more frustrated Daichi became.

They turned towards the hallways with the arcade, the last place they had left to check, and Koushi saw a familiar blur somewhere in his peripheral vision. He turned around, but found no one in the other corridor. The only things in it were a stray tourist and a nice dresser table with a flower vase on it.

They got to the arcade, and Daichi burst open the door, only to find it empty.

The captain slammed his fist against a vending machine and let out an aggravated growl, “Damn it. Where is that little punk?”

“I have an idea,” Koushi offered, putting a calming hand on Daichi’s shoulders, “Why don’t you send a text to the team members? Maybe they can help you find Nishinoya.”

Daichi turned to him, “You are a genius.” He took out his phone and tapped away on it, and shortly, Koushi felt his own phone vibrate.

Koushi took his own phone out, and saw the message that Daichi sent to a team-wide group chat. Scrolling through the group’s members, he saw that it was noticeably missing Nishinoya.

Daichi ♥: Hello.

Daichi ♥: You all may have heard of a scandalous, completely UNTRUE rumor that is spreading around. Once again, it is all LIES, and I am currently looking for Nishinoya. If any of you have seen him, text back immediately.

Daichi ♥: I would also like you to know that the consequence for harboring him without alerting me is to be benched for a whole month.

Koushi almost let out a chuckle, but he decided it would not be wise to anger Daichi.

After a few minutes, the others began to reply.

Yamaguchi: I havent seen him

Tsukishima: Neither have I.

Ennoshita: I haven’t

Kageyama: i have definitely not

Hinata: i havent seen him at all ESPECIALLY not out by the beach buffet

Koushi blinked at Hinata’s reply. He obviously saw Nishinoya, and he turned to Daichi.

Daichi, as expected was eyeing Hinata’s text from his own phone. “I think we should give Hinata a call.”

Koushi smiled, “As do I.”

A few more taps, and Daichi put the call on speaker. The rings echoed in the empty arcade, each more foreboding than the last.

Eventually, Hinata picked up. “H-Hello…?”

“Hello, Hinata. How’re you doing?”

There was an audible gulp from the other line. “Fine…”

“Have you, perchance, seen Nishinoya?”

“N-No sir! Not at all!”

“Hinata,” Daichi’s voice slid with danger, “Are you sure?”

“Daichi,” Hinata said firmly. “I would never lie to you. I swear…” there was some angry muttering in the background, “I swear on volleyball.”

Daichi cocked his head to the side, “Is Kageyama there with you? Put me on speaker.”

“Okay,” Hinata responded, and there was a bit of shuffling.

“We haven’t seen him,” came Kageyama’s steady voice, “We would tell you if we did.”

Daichi was silent for a long time, but then nodded with a sigh. “Alright. Well, keep your eyes peeled. This is a manhunt. I will not rest until I find him.”

“Yessir,” they said, and Daichi hung up.

Koushi couldn’t actually believe that Daichi bought their lie.

“You know,” Koushi suggested, “Why don’t I follow up with them? They might not have seen them, but maybe they could have some ideas on where he’d go.”

Daichi nodded, “That’s a great idea. You can go.”

Koushi perked up, “Really?”

“Yeah, it’ll be better if we split up. Cover more ground that way.”

A plan hatched in Koushi’s mind: since he really wasn’t hell-bent on murdering Nishinoya (why would he; he’d just given him the most interesting afternoon of his life), he decided he would follow the rumor’s trail, collect everyone’s version and see who twisted it the most. It would be fun.

“Alright. I’ll call you if I hear anything on his current whereabouts,” he said, placing a chaste kiss on Daichi’s cheek, “See you soon, dearest.”

Daichi’s cheeks were an adorable shade of pink, and his affection could be seen as muted confusion even through his blazing anger. “See you,” he murmured.

Koushi waved and walked off, speeding through tiled hallways and ivory staircases to the beach buffet, which was undoubtedly where Hinata and Kageyama were.

He waded through wispy reeds and hibiscus blooms to the beach, feeling the sand inch into his sandals with every step he took. It didn’t take him long to pick out the pair’s very noticeable heads from the muted hues of beach and sky. They turned when Koushi was a couple feet away, and the look on Hinata’s face plummeted with panic.

“Suga-san! How are you doing?” he exclaimed out of what must have been sheer terror, and Kageyama stared pointedly at him, as if to say don’t incriminate us.

“Relax,” he said, “I’m not here to chew you out. Daichi may be leading a manhunt for Noya’s hide, but I just want to know exactly how this situation came to be.”

At the sound of those words, Hinata’s posture eased, “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” Koushi confirmed, “I promise.”

The two looked at each other, and turned their attention back at Koushi. They really were cute together, and Koushi still hadn’t forgotten the 2000 yen bet on the two getting together on or maybe even before Hinata’s birthday. If the latter happened, Koushi would be sure to milk a couple more prizes out of Daichi. Although, considering the current standing of Daichi’s views on engaging in romantic interactions, Koushi would have a lot coaxing to do.

Hinata was about to open his mouth before Kageyama pushed him aside and narrowed his steely gaze. “How can we trust you?” he asked.

Koushi cocked his eyebrow, “Well, firstly, Hinata all but told me you guys have seen Nishinoya, so if I were really spying for Daichi, I would already be on the phone with him, telling him all about the information you are deliberately withholding from us.”

That shut Kageyama up. He straightened his posture and gestured at Hinata for him to begin speaking.

“Okay, so, it was Tanaka who told us,” Hinata began, “He burst into our cabin while we were putting aloe Tsukishima’s burns. He was like,” Hinata put on a shocked expression, “‘Guys, you’ll never guess what just I heard.’ He said he had to tell someone or he was going to explode. So we all sat down in the living room and he told us, and I quote, that you and Daichi caught Noya-senpai and Asahi making out, and then you said to them that you and Daichi were dating.”

The truth, Koushi realized. Tanaka must have heard it straight from Noya. He smiled. Predictable.

“And then,” Kageyama said, “Tanaka said to not tell anyone. After he left, we finished with Tsukishima, who promptly left with Yamaguchi. Me and Hinata saw him hanging out with Kuroo and Bokuto later, so knowing him, he might have told them.”

Hinata nodded, “And that’s it. Hey, Suga, why is Daichi so angry that people know you and him are dating? Is he really that embarrassed?”

That’s one way to put it, Koushi thought. He smiled, “No. He’s angry because when the rumor spread, it also changed. Long story short, we discovered from Ushijima that the rumor had changed to become this,” his grin grew so much that it hurt his cheeks, “that Noya, Asahi, Daichi, and I had a BDSM-style orgy just a couple hours ago.”

The look on the first-years faces went slack. Hinata’s jaw dropped, and Kageyama’s eyes went wide. Both of them turned a deep shade of beet red.

“You’re joking,” Kageyama managed to choke out.

Hinata let out a breathy wheeze that might have been an aborted hysterical laugh.

“Nope. Those words literally came out of Ushijima’s mouth.”

“No wonder Daichi is so angry,” Hinata breathed.

“He is livid,” Koushi chuckled, “We made Noya promise not to tell a soul, and this happens? Oh, Daichi’s gonna cut off his balls and put his head on a stake.”

“And what about you? You’re not angry or even embarrassed in the slightest?” Kageyama asked.

Koushi gave a genuine laugh, “Oh, no. If anything, I’m grateful for what Noya did. This might be the most entertaining afternoon of my life.”

“I hope Daichi doesn’t find Noya,” Hinata says, “because if he does, I’m afraid he might actually do that.” Hinata’s eyes flashed with fear for a moment, “You guys, um, haven’t been near the arcade, r-right?”

Koushi cocked his head, “Daichi’s there right now. Why?”

Hinata looked away, reluctant. “It’s just that… that’s where Noya said he was going to hide out.”

Interest sparked through Koushi’s body, and he smiled, “Tell me more.”

“Well, Noya actually approached me earlier, and he was breathing really heavy like he just run a thousand laps, and begged me,” Hinata clasped his hands together, “‘Shouyou! You have to help me hide from Daichi!’ and then he explained how he spread the rumor, and I figured that he would be after him. Then Kageyama called him a fugitive and told him to hide somewhere else!” Hinata looked over to the setter, who had scowled at him, “You’re so mean, Kageyama.”

“It was the right thing to do,” he rebutted, crossing his arms, “I knew that Daichi-san would be after him and it wouldn’t be the smartest thing to get in his way.”

“Well, whatever,” Hinata scoffed, “I would have harbored him. But then Daichi sent that text about how we would be benched if we hid him…” Hinata looked down, “I just hope Nishinoya is somewhere safe.”

Koushi chuckled, “I’m sure he’ll turn up. He can’t find from Daichi forever; so many people know now.” He perked up, “Hey, did you know that Ukai knows?”

Hinata blanched. “What the heck.”

Kageyama’s eyes widened, “How—”

“I have no clue,” Koushi shrugged, “But anyways, I’m going to go find Kuroo and Bokuto now. Where do you think they’d be?”

“Probably still in the spa,” Hinata responded, “When me and Kageyama saw them, they were heading inside.”

“How luxurious,” Koushi commented, smiling, “Well, I’m off. Be safe!”

“See ya,” Hinata called. Kageyama beside him gave Koushi a polite nod.

Koushi gave a little wave and made his way back towards the main building. He knew that the spa was on the second floor, on the main corridor all the way to the right. It had been a couple hours since Hinata and Kageyama saw them, so if he hurried, he might be able to catch them.

Entering the lobby once more, he was keen to be swift in making his way over to the spa, lest he run into Daichi. If he found out that Koushi was keeping information from him, Koushi wasn’t sure how he’d handle his reaction.

The spa was on the other side of the gold plated door at the very end of the right main hallway on the first floor, and he carefully opened the door and made his way down the carpeted, candle-lit stairway down into the spa’s waiting room. The soft scent of lavender hit him, and a clerk greeted him with a red-lipped smile form behind an ivory counter, “Are you here for an appointment, sir?”

“No,” Koushi smiled, approaching her, “I’m here looking for two of your patrons, Kuroo Tetsurou and Bokuto Koutarou?”

The clerk typed on her computer, “They came in an hour and a half ago, yes. May I ask why you are looking for them?”

“They are my friends,” Koushi explained, “They should be almost done, right? I’m here to pick them up.”

“Oh,” the clerk nodded cheerfully, “Then you may take a seat. May I offer you some green tea?”

“I would be much obliged,” Koushi responded, and put out his hand as the clerk reached behind her to fill up a small porcelain cup with the yellowish liquid. It was steaming and the mug felt pleasantly warm on Koushi’s skin.

He gave her a polite nod as he walked deeper into the waiting room and sat down on a plush coach, leaning back and taking a sip. Its sweet taste flooded Koushi’s tongue and combined with the lavender aroma wafting through the air, Koushi felt that sitting there would be a spa treatment in itself.

He finished the tea almost immediately, setting the mug aside on a white coffee table. The dimness of the waiting room almost made Koushi sleepy, but before he could close his eyes, he heard the sound of a door creaking open and two familiar figures sauntered out.

“Welcome back! How were your massages?” The clerk asked.

“Amazing,” said Bokuto, stretching his arms back, “I feel like a new man.”

“Agreed,” Kuroo added.

“That’s wonderful! Here are your receipts,” the clerk handed Kuroo a folded piece of paper, “and there is a lovely gentleman over there waiting for you.”

The two captains perked up, setting their eyes on Koushi. Koushi snapped out of his stupor, smirking.

“Oh my god,” Bokuto laughed, turning to Kuroo, “It’s him. In the flesh.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened, burnished gold and alive with mischief, “Sugawara,” he intoned.

They approached Koushi like one would approach the effigy of a god, “Dude,” Bokuto said, “you’re a legend.”

“Oh?” Koushi stood, “Why do you think so?”

“For starters, how the hell,” Kuroo started, voice lowered, “did you convince Daichi to enter in a polyamorous relationship Azumane and Nishinoya?”

Koushi laughed, “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

The three of them started up the staircase, and Koushi turned, “From who did you hear this rumor?”

“Tsukki,” Bokuto responded, “Said that he heard that you four were all in a relationship.”

Koushi smiled. So it was Tsukishima who changed things up a little, and given the middle blocker’s character, Koushi was not the least bit surprised.

“So how’d you do it?” Kuroo smirked, “How’d you convince Daichi?”

“That’s the thing,” Koushi smiled, “You guys were fed a lie. Tsukishima made that up.”

Kuroo clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Man, I knew it. Daichi’s way too uptight in the romance department. Once, I asked him who he liked, and he got this weird look on his face and wouldn’t look at me. He eventually mumbled out that he doesn’t have time for a girlfriend.”

That made Koushi laugh. “When was that?”

“Oh, it was a while ago. Maybe a few weeks after our first practice match.”

Daichi had always been a tough nut to crack and almost standoffish when Koushi asked for intimacy. The fact that he used the word “girlfriend” struck a chord in Koushi, though he didn't blame Daichi for not wanting to out himself. All Koushi wants for him is for him to feel comfortable; he would hate to push him to do or say things he isn’t ready for.

“Funny, that was maybe less than a month after we got together.” Koushi chuckled, “I guess he was really uptight back then.”

Bokuto widened his eyes, “So that part’s true. You two are together.”

“That’s correct, Bokuto,” Koushi said, “and also, Asahi and Nishinoya are also dating. We’re just not all dating each other.”

Bokuto pursed his lips, and looked at Kuroo with a grin on his face like he just caught shoplifting. “It’s funny, you know, because we told Oikawa and the other Seijou people just before getting in the spa.”

“So that’s where it went,” Koushi laughed, “You do know that rumor spread beyond them? Daichi and I only found out about it because Ushijima told us he thought we had a BDSM-style orgy.”

After a beat of stunned silence Bokuto immediately began to laugh, a wheezing, incredulous sound. Kuroo’s smile nearly split his face apart, and he too was containing bouts of raspy laughter.

“Holy fucking shit dude,” Kuroo managed to make a coherent sound, “That is definitely not what we told Oikawa.”

“That is so funny,” Bokuto wiped a tear from his eye, “Oh man, I’m so sorry, dude. I bet Daichi is fuming right now.”

“Worse than that,” Koushi responded, “He’s about to rip Nishinoya’s head off. Poor guy started this whole damn thing.” Koushi tilted his head, “And don't be sorry, Bokuto. Nishinoya just livened up this whole afternoon for me.”

Kuroo let out a wheezy chuckle, “That’s for goddamn sure. And you? Are you just… searching for him?”

“That’s what Daichi thinks,” Koushi smirked, “But really, I’m just here to piece together how this rumor spread, and I’ve already got my next target.”

“Well, you go then,” Bokuto said, “Oh, and if you’re gonna be looking for Oikawa, last time I saw him he was heading towards the nightclub.” Bokuto pointed in front of them, to the double doors up ahead, just before the hallway broke into the lobby.

Koushi’s brows shot to his hairline. “That one? The 18-plus one?”

“Yeah, actually,” Bokuto responded, “Wait. Isn’t he still seventeen?”

“Yup,” Koushi smirked, and they stopped in front the doors. Koushi could hear the muffled music from the other side. “See you guys. Thanks for the info.”

Kuroo waved him off, “No problem. See you.”

And so Koushi walked inside, and surprisingly no one stopped him. Koushi was of age, of course, but he had always looked a little younger than he actually was. It was dark inside, with only the kaleidoscope neon lights flashing above him to show him the way across the slowly growing crowd. Loud, deep music thrummed through his skin, and he felt the bass pulse in his chest. Koushi checked his phone, and saw it was 5:50; the night was barely beginning.

Koushi scoured the bar’s patrons, and the smell of liquor filled his senses. He did not see Oikawa among their numbers. He made his way across the dancefloor, and he was happy that it was early. Of the maybe dozen of people dancing, he could easily make them out, and none of them were Oikawa. Koushi kept going, and eventually he made it to a section of the nightclub that was lit by regularly-placed dingy ceiling lamps; it was filled with pool tables. Only the farthest one was occupied, and Koushi smiled.

Oikawa and his friend Iwaizumi were there, playing pool. There were two bottles on the side of the table, and Koushi didn’t have to guess what they were filled with. He made his way over to him, and Oikawa saw him. The expression on the captain’s face was a cross between shock and pride. “The man of the hour.”

“That’s me,” Koushi sing-songed, and Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes at him.

“Mr. Refreshing,” he intoned, “you would not believe what I’ve heard about you.” Oikawa smiled as he lined up a shot and sent the pool balls rolling across the felted table, landing a few in the baskets.  He turned around and tapped a finger on the tip of Koushi’s nose. “Quite a rascal, you.”

“Oikawa, please,” Iwaizumi groaned from behind Koushi, “Do you really buy into Kuroo and Bokuto’s drivel?”

“That’s dumb, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa scoffed, “They would never lie to me. Right, Suga-chan?”

“They wouldn’t,” Koushi confirmed, and he crossed his arms, a smirk on his face. “And what did you hear, exactly?”

Oikawa took the bottle behind him and gave a swig, making a popping sound as he took his lips off the bottle’s rim. “Don’t give me that face, Suga-chan,” Oikawa wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “It’s hard lemonade.”

“I could certainly tell, what with the unmarked bottle and all,” Koushi retorted a playful smile gracing his lips. He looked straight his eyes, which already held the tell-tale twinkle of a tipsy man. Koushi waited for an answer to his question.  

“Quiet,” Oikawa said, “This is my vacation. Oh, and Suga-chan? I wanted to thank you for this morning. For making me apologize to Tobio-chan.” He put a bashful hand to his neck, “I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

What a way to dodge a question. “No problem, Oikawa. But that still doesn’t answer my question.”

Oikawa smiled, and then his vision veered a little to side, and Koushi noticed through his peripheral vision that Iwaizumi was lining up a shot. Koushi also noticed that Iwaizumi was wearing a tank top, exposing his very impressive arms, arms whose muscles rippled as he maneuvered the cue stick to the exact location he wanted it.

When Koushi looked back to Oikawa, the captain’s eyes were a little half-lidded, his lips falling open just a bit. Koushi chuckled inwardly, “Oikawa.”

Oikawa looked back at Koushi seamlessly, naturally turning to face him, no shocked snaps or anything of the sort. Behind them, Iwaizumi took the shot, spreading pool balls across the table. “Yes. I was approached by Kuro-chan and Boku-chan an hour and a half ago, we were just about to enter the nightclub, and they to their spa appointment. We talked for a bit, and then he brought up you, Dai-chan, as well as your ace and your libero… Azumane and Nishinoya? Yes, and then,” Oikawa put on a sultry smile, “he clued us in on what you four had been up to this lovely afternoon.”

Koushi gestured with his hands, “Which was…?”

Oikawa brows fell and put a pensive hand to his jaw, “Well, Kuro-chan didn’t exactly say anything, he just…” And then Oikawa winked suggestively at him.

“He what?” Koushi asked, tilting his head.

“He winked at me, Suga-chan,” Oikawa smiled, “And then he laughed. So naturally, I assumed that your four had a little ‘fun’.”

“What kind of fun?” Koushi egged on. He was more than eager to know if it was Oikawa who twisted the rumor to the degree that it was now.

Oikawa dropped his voice to a coquettish whisper, “An orgy.” He giggled, “So I told Iwa-chan and texted it to Mattsun and Makki. And then we texted for a while, and at exactly,” Oikawa pulled out his phone and tapped on it for a bit, “4:43 pm, they said they were headed to the beach and I left them alone after that.”

The beach. That was where Ushijima and the rest of Shiratorizawa was, and that was less than 15 minutes before Koushi and Daichi saw Ushijima and learned of the rumor.

And suddenly, the whole story presented itself before Koushi like a stage play: first, Nishinoya told Tanaka, who told the first years, and Tsukishima was the first to twist the rumor when he told Kuroo and Bokuto. Later, the two captains would run into Oikawa and Iwaizumi on the way to their appointment and fail to say exactly what the rumor was, leading Oikawa to wildly misinterpret Kuroo’s wink. Oikawa then told the other Seijou third-years, who Koushi knew were troublemakers, and were more than likely the ones who added the BDSM twist at the end before the rumor got to Ushijima.

It all made sense now.

“Thank you,” Koushi said, beaming, “Now I finally know.”

“Know what? The fact you four had an orgy?”

“No,” Koushi shook his head, “I know how the rumor spread.”

“So you’re not here to clear your name?” Iwaizumi said, brows furrowing leaning on the cue stick. He dropped his voice, “So it’s true?”

Koushi laughed, “Oh, no, of course it isn’t true. The truth is that Daichi and I walked in on Nishinoya and Asahi making out, revealing that they are in a relationship. A conversation later, I tell them two that Daichi and I are dating. They walk out of the cabin, and we,” Koushi almost instantly thought of a lie, “watched a movie before going out on walk. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Iwaizumi nodded, “Now that makes much more sense. Wouldn’t you say, Oikawa?”

Oikawa crossed his arms. “Yes, it does. Whatever, Iwa-chan,” he took up his hard lemonade, “you know I live for the tea.”

Iwaizumi sighed and turned to Koushi, bowing his head. “Sorry for my captain’s gossipy behavior. And, um, congratulations, I guess.”

Koushi smiled, “Thank you, Iwaizumi.”

Just then, Koushi’s phone began to vibrate in his pocket, and a very familiar song played out from its speakers: “The love shack is a little old place where we can get together. Love shack! Baby, love shack!”

“Is that… Daichi’s ringtone?” Oikawa snickered.

Koushi fought through the embarrassment. “Yes, it is,” he responded in a clipped voice, “I have to take this now.”

Oikawa nodded, and Koushi turned around, walking away, being sure not to be too close to the music. He tapped once on his phone, “Yes, honey?”

“Suga,” Daichi’s voice came in pants, and if Koushi didn’t know any better he’d say this phone call was the beginning of something that ought to continue in private. “I give up. I swear, Nishinoya must have dematerialized or something because I have scoured every inch of this damn resort and there is no trace of him. Have you had any luck whatsoever?”

Koushi smirked to himself and put a hand on his hip, “Well, I haven’t found him either. What do we do?”

“I’m at the cliffs right now,” Daichi gulped for air. “Get everyone over. We are having an emergency meeting right now.”

Koushi cocked an eyebrow. “All of Karasuno?”

“Everyone, Suga,” Daichi gritted out, “All five teams. At the cliff. Right now. I just sent out a mass text, but you get anyone you see over here. I need to dispel this rumor and find Nishinoya before this gets worse.”

Koushi kept himself from laughing. “Yessir. I’ll be the first one there.”

“Thank you,” Daichi said, “See you.”

“Bye, sweetie,” he said a little loudly, turning over to Oikawa and Iwaizumi both of whom were looking at him. “I love you.”

Daichi gave up a sigh, “I love you too.”

Koushi hung up, and smiled like a fool. An all too familiar feeling gummed up in chest as and he wandered over to Oikawa, who was checking his phone. “Your boyfriend wants us to meet at the cliffs? Whatever for?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Koushi chuckled, “Come, I’ll tell you on the way.”

They quickly made their way out of the nightclub, and the lighting of the hallway hurt Koushi’s eyes. “So, when the four of us had our conversation, we swore that we wouldn’t tell anyone else about the events that transpired. I found out later that Nishinoya had told his best friend, and that was what started this whole thing. It just kept changing and spreading, and now it’s just a little out of control. I mean, our coach has heard.”

Oikawa laughed into his hand while Iwaizumi gave Koushi a look like he had just sprouted a new head. “You’re not serious.”

“Completely,” Koushi looked to the side, “We got a very curt phone call just after we found out. It was… objectively very funny.”

“My god,” Oikawa chortled, “That libero of yours is a spitfire.”

“He sure is,” Koushi replied, “and Daichi’s going to skin him alive for this.”

“I’ll bet,” Iwaizumi commented, crossing his arms, “I’d be pretty pissed too.”

Oikawa smirked at the wing spiker and reached up to pat his head. “That’s because you’re easily embarrassed, Iwa-chan. See, Suga-chan gets it!” He smiled at Koushi, “There is nothing to be ashamed about at all.”

A ruddy blush came to settle over Iwaizumi’s scowling face, and Koushi simply laughed.

The three of them walked out of the lobby, and the burnished light of sunset hit them. The sun was a low furnace in the sky, painting it hues orange, rose, and violet. They navigated the cobblestones all the way to the beach, and Koushi was taken aback at the sight of it.

The water glittered as if made of liquid gold, and the cloud haloed the sun like a heavenly crown. The waves hit the shore and sank away in a rhythmic motion, and the smell… the flowers and the sea and the coconuts made Koushi want to melt into the fine sand beneath his feet, to be forever in this paradise.

“Beautiful,” he heard Oikawa murmur beside him.

It took them a while to pry themselves away from the sight and walk into the line of palm trees that separated the beach from the cliffs. Koushi was the first to burst through the barrier, and he saw the distant form of Daichi sitting upon the tallest bluff. He sped ahead of the other two and made his way up the cliff, and Daichi saw him.

“Suga,” he called, smiling. “That was fast.”

“Of course,” Koushi said, draping his arms over Daichi’s shoulders, “Why would I keep you waiting?”

Just as he felt Daichi’s hands slink instinctively around his waist, a loud ahem made the captain tear himself away from Koushi, and Iwaizumi stared pointedly at them, muscled arms crossed and brow furrowed.

“Hello, Oikawa, Iwaizumi,” Daichi greeted, a hint of apprehension in his tone, “So glad you could make it.”

“So it is true,” Iwaizumi commented, “you two are dating.”

Koushi managed to sneak a chaste kiss on Daichi’s cheek before replying, “Did you ever doubt me?”

Daichi turned to him, “You told them?”

“Well, I had to clear up that awful rumor somehow,” Koushi put on his most sincere expression, “And the cat’s already out the bag, might as well tell them the truth.”

Daichi’s face softened, “You have a point.”

Oikawa clasped his hands together. “Well, Daichi, you wanted us all to meet here, but may I ask, for what reason?”

“I need to say something which everyone needs to hear. As captain of Karasuno, it is up to me to maintain our good reputation, and as such, this is my responsibility,” he began, “I owe it to everybody.”

“Well, Karasuno’s pristine dignity remains unmarred in my mind, if that soothes you,” Oikawa offered with a smile.

Daichi nodded, “Thanks, Oikawa.”

After a while, more people started to appear: Shiratorizawa came in not long after the four of them had settled on the cliff (although it seemed one of their members was missing), followed by the rest of Seijou, which Oikawa and Iwaizumi soon defected to. Nekoma and Fukuroudani came in a little later, and coming in last was Karasuno.

He stood up to see them, and the sight was kind of funny: Ennoshita was dragging Tanaka from his tank top, the wing spiker kicking and screaming, while Asahi moped behind them. The first years were at the rear end of the group, Hinata and Kageyama marching with their arms unnaturally rigid, and finally, Tsukishima sauntering across the sand with Yamaguchi faithfully at his side.

When the others saw them, they (mainly Seijou) started whooping and jeering, mainly at poor Asahi who was hiding his face in hands. Koushi had half a mind to tell them to leave him alone, but this was just too funny.

“Hey!” Daichi stood up and yelled, “Leave him alone!” The jeers subsided, and Karasuno sat down in the crowd before them. Dozens of faces stared up at them, waiting, watching.

A briny wind came in, ruffling Koushi’s hair. Daichi cleared his throat.

“Good evening,” the captain began, “You may be wondering why you’re all here.” Laughs erupted, “or maybe not. Regardless, you definitely know of a certain rumor that has been floating around for the past few hours.”

Chuckling and murmuring tore through the crowd. “I have convened this meeting in order to not only dispel this gossip, but to catch and punish those responsible.” Koushi saw a number of people, namely Tanaka, shift uncomfortably.

“The man responsible for the spreading of these blatant lies is our libero, Nishinoya Yuu. You might know him for the ridiculous streak of bleach-blond in his hair or perhaps by his excellent receiving skills. If it helps, he wears the number ‘4’.” The captain took a breath, “If you have seen him, I am requesting that you all report to me or Sugawara his location so that we may be able to find him. Is there anyone who wants to come forward?”

The silence was so oppressive; Sugawara could hear a pin drop. He could even hear the distant waves three stories below him.

“No one knows where he is? Not one of you?” Daichi stared at Tanaka, and Koushi stifled a laugh. “Nobody?”

The captain’s eyes bored into Tanaka’s and the wing spiker gave a defeated groan. “Okay, okay, oh my god. Just— stop lookin’ at me like that!”

“Oh, Tanaka?” Daichi said, voice entirely too innocent, “Do you have information?”

“Noya texted me about an hour ago, said he was in the main hotel building. Real spooked. I believe he said,” he pulled out his phone, “‘Holy crap I think I saw them Ryuu please help me I fucked up.’”

“He saw us?” Daichi’s calm demeanor was easily cracked in two, “We were close by him. I can’t believe this shit.”

Koushi put a hand on Daichi’s arm, “We can search for him later.”

The captain’s arm stiffened so Koushi drew his hand away. Koushi thought maybe he shouldn’t push Daichi’s boundaries at this time.

“That we will, Suga,” he assured him. “Thank you so much for your information, Tanaka.”

Daichi cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back. His eyes were dark. “There are, or course, consequences for not turning Nishinoya over to me or Sugawara. Anyone from Karasuno will face benching for a month and exclusion from practice for a week when we return home. Anyone from any other team can expect at least talking-to from their coach for bad sportsmanship and perpetuation of harmful gossip, and who knows what other punitive measures the other coaches might take in light of this information.” He grinned, “I’m sure none of you would want that.”

The people in the crowd shifted uncomfortably, and even captains from other teams paled with fear. Daichi sure had a talent for putting the wrath of god into others. To be honest, Koushi wasn’t sure to be scared or turned on.

Daichi smiled, deceptively peaceful. “Are we clear?”

Sounds of agreement rang out clear through the bluffs, leaving no doubts as to the understanding of Daichi’s blackmail threat.

He cleared his throat, his earnest tone coming back. “To reiterate, these rumors are nothing but lies. The truth…” he paused, hesitating.

Koushi could see the distress in his eyes; could sense his discomfort miles away. For the first time today, he felt sorry for him. To be honest, the only reason Koushi cared so little for that mortifying rumor was because he was tired of living in Daichi’s claustrophobic comfort zone. All he wanted to be out and free with his beloved boyfriend, instead he suffocating under the weight of Daichi’s ill-concealed shame. Koushi realized he should have been there to make him feel better, instead of mocking his pain. He felt regret begin to snake around his heart.

Daichi’s posture straightened, and he lifted his chin to the crowd. “The truth is much simpler than what you have heard.” The captain’s voice projected out at the people sitting in front of him, ringing loud and clear, “The truth is that Sugawara and I were coming back to our cabin from the coin laundry and found Azumane and Nishinoya engaging in romantic activity on our couch.”

Everyone turned to look at Asahi, who had gone as pale as a ghost. Tanaka patted his shoulder comfortingly, his lips pursed in a pitiful line.

“As captain, I sat them down and chided them accordingly: I asked them to please not use communal space for intimate activities. I also asked them why they hadn't alerted us to their relationship when we were assigning cabin mates for this trip.” A look of frustration flashed over Daichi’s face. “We had found out through this conversation that they had been dating for several months, and then,” Daichi drew a deep breath, a rosy hue coloring his cheeks, “Sugawara, in an effort to call out my admitted hypocrisy, revealed to Azumane and Nishinoya that he and I were also dating.”

Exciting murmuring erupted through the crowd. Koushi could see the faces of other team members, cheeks ruddy through palms that hid their faces as they whispered to the person beside them.

Daichi set his jaw, the blush expanding to the tips of his ears. “That’s right. I am dating Sugawara Koushi, my beloved vice-captain.”

Koushi felt his own cheeks grow hot when Daichi turned to look at him. There was something smoldering behind his warm eyes, a fire which Koushi recognized in himself.

“Suga,” he said, “I am sorry that I have kept our relationship a secret from our team. I am sorry for making you believe that I was ashamed of us, of you.” He took a deep breath, “I have never been prouder of anyone else in my life. You are intelligent, caring, sweet, and so beautiful. You are the dearest and most precious person in my life. I care for you more than anyone. And Suga, you deserve better than what I have given you. No one should ever be ashamed to call you their boyfriend.”

He took one of Koushi’s hands in both of his. The heat pulsing through them sent jolts of electricity up his arm. “Please allow me to be better for you. Koushi,” he smiled, “I love you more than you will ever know.”

Koushi felt tears sting at his eyes. The words made him feel light like a feather, dizzy with love, reminiscent of when they first got together. His heart was gumming up in his chest, swelling with pride. He gave a radiant beam and put his free hand on Daichi’s nape, “Oh, come here, you big sap.”

Koushi kissed him with every ounce of emotion he had in his body, strong and soft in equal measures. Daichi let go of his hand and cupped his face, bringing him up closer to him. It felt like an eternity, days and nights passing like seconds on a clock, and when they finally broke apart, Koushi chuckling into Daichi’s lips, time stood still for them. “I love you so much,” Koushi murmured, smiling, carding his fingers through Daichi’s hair, “So much, Daichi.”

Through the haze, Koushi heard a lone person clapping, and soon others joined in, and before long the entire crowd was applauding, whooping and cheering. There were people tearing up and smiling. Koushi even heard a conversation through the noise:

“If they can do it, maybe we can find love.”

“Yeah,” the second person replied, sniffling, “gives me hope.”

Through the crowd however, Koushi spotted Hinata and Kageyama, both of them with ruddy cheeks and shifty eyes. Kageyama was the most interesting, because his face was a few shades away from being the same color as a tomato and his usually steely eyes were soft as he looked over at Hinata. Koushi caught the moment when their eyes both met, and Kageyama’s head turned away so fast it seemed like he had been slapped, and Hinata’s eyes suddenly became very interested on the rocky ground below him. His face was almost as fiery as his hair.

Koushi leaned into Daichi’s ear, “check out our Oddball Duo.”

Daichi looked over, and chuckled wryly. “My bet still stands.”

Koushi smiled, unwinding his hands from the captain’s neck, giving him a chaste peck on the lips. “As does mine. We shall see who is victorious.”

Daichi’s hands slipped from Koushi’s face to grasp on of Koushi’s own hands. He faced the crowd. “Well, that is all I wanted to say. You are all dismissed.”

Languidly, they all began to vacate the cliffs, laughing to themselves, casting long shadows on the golden sand. Koushi and Daichi were about to leave before Hinata stood in front of them, Kageyama in tow.

“Daichi,” the redhead said, “We have something to tell you, er…”

Kageyama stepped forward, “Regarding Nishinoya-senpai’s location.”

Daichi smiled, “Yeah? Please tell us.”

“Well,” Hinata began, “Before Suga-san came to talk to us, we had spoken to Nishinoya. He came to us in person. He was like,” he put on a fearful face, “‘Shouyou, I’ve made a terrible mistake. You have to hide me.’ And that was when I received Daichi’s text. And then, I was like,” he shook his head, “‘Noya-senpai, you’re a fugitive. I can’t harbor you.’ He was really scared, and he looked towards the main building, and asked me to not tell anyone that he was gonna hide out the main building under any circumstances. And I said yeah, and captain, I keep my promises.” Hinata bowed down, putting his hands together as if in prayer, “I’m so sorry! Please don’t bench me!”

Daichi looked to Kageyama. “And what do you have to say about this?”

Kageyama’s eyes seemed hollow. “I disobeyed an order from my superior. I am prepared to take any consequence.”

Daichi put a firm hand on Kageyama’s shoulder. The setter’s soul seemed to exit his body, a look similar to how he looked yesterday when the fact that he didn’t know how to swim was exposed.

“You are both came forward and were honest. You also showed honor in keeping promises for Nishinoya, despite the consequences. For this courageous behavior, I won’t punish you two.” The look on the first years’ faces were overjoyed, and Daichi continued, “But I have one condition.”

Hinata clasped his hands together, “We’ll do anything.”

“I need you to go the beach buffet as soon as it opens for dinner. You must be there until it closed to be on lookout for Nishinoya if he decided to go there for food.”

“No problem! Of course we’ll do it! Right, Kageyama?” Hinata turned to look at the setter.

Kageyama nodded, his eyes solemn. “Of course.”

Daichi smiled, “Great. Then we have a deal.”

“Thanks so much!” Hinata said, grasping Kageyama’s hand, “C’mon, let’s go.”

Kageyama’s face grew ruddy once more as the middle blocker whisked him away, dragging him across the shoreline and past the palm trees. Koushi and Daichi were the only ones left on the cliff.

Koushi’s stomach broke the silence. “Hey, um, speaking of, when is dinner?”

Daichi looked at his phone. “In half an hour, the hotel buffet opens.”

The captain looked out to the setting sun, the blue turning to lavender and gold behind him. “Well, we have some time to kill. Let’s go to the main building and look for Nishinoya there.”

Koushi nodded, smiling, “Alright.”

And so they did, going through every hidden hallway of the place. They entered every gift shop, restaurant, and other location in search for the libero. Koushi swore he was starting to see Nishinoya at the corners of his eyes, but every time he turned to check, not a soul was around. He had spent the better part of his day bailing on Daichi to scope out the extent of the rumor, so he owed it to him to scour the hotel one more time before they gave up to get dinner.

To his luck, the half-hour passed by quickly, and they arrived at the buffet the moment it opened, taking the table closest to the entrance to check for any wanted individuals that might come slinking through.

Daichi comes back from the buffet line with two steaming plates of rice and chicken, the captain’s eyes not moving from the entrance of the buffet as more people came pouring in, careful not to miss a single face.

“Daichi,” Koushi whispered, “you’ve got to eat. Let me keep watch.”

Hesitantly, Daichi tore his eyes away, and nodded, “you’re right, Suga.” He took a bite of his food, and eagerly gulped it down. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Suga said, spooning a bit of rice to his lips. As the majority of the crowd came in, he combed through every person, identifying them in his mind. In came Seijou, a few members of Nekoma and Fukuroudani, and as Karasuno walked in, stared more intently, but Nishinoya was not among their numbers.

He turned back around, and caught Daichi looking too. Koushi snapped, catching his attention. “Eat.”

Daichi looked down to his plate, his expression unreadable. “Yes, sir.”

That comment made a thrill go through his chest. He smirked as he swallowed the food in his mouth.

The two of them ate as they searched, checking and rechecking the crowds at the table, making sure that no one was unaccounted for. They counted all members of Nekoma, Fukuroudani, Seijou, and Shiratorizawa. Karasuno has everyone as well, except of course, for Nishinoya. Koushi barely tasted the herbs on his chicken as it slides down his throat, only pausing his search to duck down for a sip of water.

It was 7:20 by the time their finished their meal and the slices of red velvet cake Koushi brought them for desert.

Koushi piled the used porcelain dishes on top of each other. “Should we go to the cabin?”

Daichi shook his head, fishing out the cabin key from his pocket and putting them in front of Koushi. “You can go ahead, but I want to stay here. God forbid I miss him because he thinks he’s slick and wants to get his food just as this buffet closes.” He sighed, “We already have Hinata and Kageyama manning the beach buffet. I’m not about to half-ass my efforts to find him.”

Koushi stared at him, taking the key. “But that’s more than an hour. You’ll go crazy.”

Daichi chuckled at that, “You underestimate me.”

Koushi crossed his arms, but eventually ceded. “Fine. Just come back as soon as this place closes. If you don't see him, come back, no excuses.”

Daichi nodded, smiling. “Yes, sir.”

Koushi laughed, “Damn right.” He leaned down for a little kiss that took Daichi by surprised. When he saw the captain’s pleased expression, Koushi winked and shook his hips as he turned to leave, “Goodbye, captain.”

Daichi offered him a little wave, that endearing blush still gracing his features.

Koushi left the buffet and enjoyed the dying twilight as he maneuvered his way back to the cabin, fiddling with the key and letting out a loud sigh at finally being back in the cabin. As he fell onto the couch, he relished in its softness and warmth, finally being able to sit comfortably in his own cabin after hours on his feet.

Koushi ended up going to his room, finding the cabin was empty. He changed out of his clothes and slipped on his pajamas; comfy sweatpants and a threadbare shirt he must have had since he was thirteen. Walking to the kitchenette, he felt like some hot chocolate, and fixing himself a cup with the instant powder he brought along took almost no time at all. He wandered back to the living room, plopping down onto the recliner.

Koushi put his chocolate on the floor to reach for his charging laptop nearby, and opened it up, navigating into his folders for the movies he had downloaded. Browsing through the list, he ended up picking one of his favorites, Léon: The Professional.

The familiar colors and characters of the movie lulled him into a serene state. He leaned back against the cushions as he watched the memorable scenes and recited the lines in his head from memory. He drank his chocolate as Mathilda cared for the plant, curling his toes in warmth.

It must have been near the end of the movie when he heard a knock on the door and Daichi peering at him from behind the window. The sun had completely fallen, leaving only darkness behind the captain.  

Koushi paused the movie immediately and went to open the door, seeing Daichi cradling a Styrofoam container in his hands.

“Did you find him?” Koushi asked.

Daichi shook his head. “I must have checked four times, but I didn’t see him.”

Koushi pointed at the container, “So what’s that for?”

He looked away. “It’s food from the buffet. For the traitorous imp.”

Nishinoya. Koushi smiled, “Well, I’m watching The Professional, but sadly, it’s almost over. Care to join me anyways?”

Daichi walked in, and put the food on the kitchenette table. “Alright.”

It was easy to fit between Daichi’s legs as they both nestled into the recliner, Daichi’s arms around his ribs, stroking the skin there absentmindedly as they watch the final ten minutes of the movie. Koushi’s hand rested on top of Daichi’s, and as the credits rolled, Daichi put his head on Koushi’s shoulder, letting out a deep breath. The stroking stopped as the captain’s hands slumped down to his hips.

“Getting tired, Daichi?” Koushi said, tilting his neck to the side as to give Daichi more space.

“Nope,” he said, turning his head to breath in Koushi’s scent, making him tremble at the sensation, “just like cuddling with you.”

“That just might be the sappiest thing you’ve ever said to me, and you confessed your undying love for me in front of nearly everybody we know.”

He felt Daichi smile on his skin, “Shush, Suga.”

Koushi turned to face him, “Make me.”

The hands at his hips came alive again, this time sliding up to cup his jaw, and they were a hairsbreadth away before they heard a hesitant hand knocking on the door.

Thoughts zoomed through Koushi’s mind. Asahi had the key; he wouldn't need to knock, and there was only one other person who would be coming to their cabin at this late hour. 

Daichi’s eyes widened, and his hands dropped away. “Is that…?”

Koushi nodded. “It must be.”

They scrambled off each other and it was Daichi who opened the door, revealing one Nishinoya Yuu, at long last.

The libero’s face, all furrowed brows and parted lips, suggested that he was at the end of his wits, about to tear out his hair from fear and anxiety. He was breathing heavily, and his clothes were stuck to his lean body with sweat, and his hair, usually disheveled, was now unkempt beyond description, tangled by rushing winds and nervous hands alike. His large eyes, Koushi thought, seemed to be like that of a wild animal that was cornered by a predator and knew what fate awaited him, both feral and yielding at once.

He was a mess, and if Daichi’s face said anything, it was that he thought it was well-deserved.

The captain smiled that familiar smile that spoke of promised calamity, a smile that could strike fear in even the bravest souls. Koushi both loved and dreaded that smile, and he wasn’t sure whether or not it was appropriate to be turned on by it either. He suspected the latter, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

“Nishinoya,” Daichi said, eyes glinting and dangerous, “There you are.”

*    *    *

As Takahiro and Matsukawa were walking to their cabin after their dinner, navigating the cobblestone road by moonlight, they heard a distant scream ring out from the cabins, the sound of it oddly familiar.

The middle blocker turned to him, expression unmoved. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Takahiro replied, “Who do you reckon that was?”

Matsukawa pondered that for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Well, whoever it was, they sounded really fuckin’ scared.”

Takahiro laughed, “yeah.”

The two boys continued down the path, listening to the comforting chirp of crickets as they made their way back to their cabin, eager hit the sack for the day.

Takahiro was the one to unlock the door, enjoying the blast of air conditioning that melted off the humid heat of the outdoors, chilling away the light sweat that had begun to gather on his flesh.

Matsukawa walking in front of him, peeking his head into the bedroom. “We’re the only ones in here.”

Takahiro felt a smile rise on his lips. “Terrific,” he said, the words sliding off his tongue, “We have the cabin to ourselves for maybe ten minutes before Oikawa and Iwaizumi get here.”

Matsukawa walked towards him, ebony curls lying on his temples near his dark eyes, glittering like beads of jet. Slinking forward, Matsukawa put his hands on Takahiro’s waist, sending a wonderful chill through his skin. He pulled him closer, winding his arms around the other’s neck and bringing their foreheads together.

“Who would have thought that we weren’t the only ones, Issei?” Takahiro murmured, grinning dreamily, “We’re not alone.”

He felt Matsukawa’s fingers caressing him through the shirt, “I mean, its statistically unlikely for it to have been that way, Takahiro.” He placed a chaste kiss on Takahiro’s temple, “Did you know that one in ten people are gay?”

Takahiro pursed his lips, “Isn’t that a myth?”

Matsukawa kissed his other cheek, “We know of a minimum of six other people who are gay, and there are more or less sixty of us here.”

Takahiro snorted. “Oikawa is at least bisexual.”

Matsukawa looked at him, raising a thick brow. “I thought we agreed on pansexual.”

He nodded, “You’re right, Issei. I’m pretty sure if a beautiful, genderless alien ever came down to Earth, he’d want to make sweet, sweet love to them and be whisked away to a faraway galaxy.”

The middle blocker chuckled, “Wrong. He’d only want to make sweet, sweet love to Iwaizumi.”

The two of them laughed at that, comfortable in each other’s arms, warm like a down blanket in the frost of winter. Eventually they moved to the couch, Matsukawa between Takahiro’s pale legs, the former completely happy with letting him comb his fingers absentmindedly through his hair.

The confession that Karasuno’s captain made to his vice-captain on the cliff made Takahiro think back to nearly a year ago, when he and Matsukawa did the same, albeit in a more private and intimate setting.

Even though Takahiro lived for dramatics, arguably the most important person in his life came to be so through modest means; a summer day not unlike this one brought Matsukawa to his house, like most days did, but after his parents and brothers had gone to sleep, Matsukawa turned around in his futon to face him, his face illuminated by moonlight. Takahiro had never seen him with such a candid expression, free of the usual mockery and wit.

“Hey, Hanamaki…? You awake?” he had murmured.

Takahiro had faced him as well, “Yeah.”

Matsukawa had looked away momentarily, and looked back with a renewed determined quality in his eyes. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

Takahiro leaned closer to the edge of his mattress, “So tell me.”

Matsukawa did not look away that time. “I really, really like you, Hanamaki.”

Takahiro himself had been harboring a crush on him since the beginning of his second year, and that was when he became aware of it. He had mulled it around in his mind, most times ignoring how pretty the other boy’s eyes were, or how witty he was, and he ignored the way it made his heart race and face heat up. It was a little painful to think about it back then, thinking that his feelings would never be reciprocated. But that night, his fears dissipated.

That night was the first of many; Takahiro had promptly left his bed to crawl into Matsukawa’s futon, and at least that first night, was content to hold the other’s hands and nuzzle in each other’s warmth, immersing themselves in their youthful love.

A nasty voice in the back of Takahiro’s mind kept saying that it would last a few months at a maximum; that Matsukawa would become infatuated with a girl as soon as he saw one that caught his fancy. The voice told him that he was just going through a little phase, and once Matsukawa was taken away by a girl, he’d realize the truth and find a girl for himself. But he loved Matsukawa more he hated himself for it.

He became wary of the other, taking any sign of probable abandonment as an absolute truth, but every day, Matsukawa would walk him home, holding his hand and kissing him goodbye, leaving no doubts as to his true feelings. Takahiro himself would find himself deep in thought about his laugh and his eyes and his hands at odd hours, and this lasted for months, well beyond the threshold of any honeymoon phase.

When they were intimate for the first time, all of Takahiro’s anxieties left him. Matsukawa, who was usually so wry and sardonic, exhibited such gentleness when with Takahiro that he was convinced that his love was genuine and far truer than he could have ever fathomed. Every soft touch and tender kiss was reciprocated in equal measure by Takahiro, in secret apology for every time that he ever doubted him.

It had been nearly a year, and Takahiro was happier than he had ever been in his life.

“How long do you think Karasuno’s captain and vice-captain had been together?” came Matsukawa’s voice, quieted by the tranquility of their embrace.

Takahiro looked up the ceiling, “Uh… I mean, did they seem date-y last time we saw them? Like, at the Spring High Tournament match?”

“Yeah. And in the match before that.” Matsukawa quieted and hummed lowly, as if he was pondering something. “Not in that first practice match, though. I feel like they were just friends then.” He shook his head, “I don’t know, just something about the way they looked at each other. It was vaguely gay,” he made a shrugging gesture, “but not full-on gay like later on, you know?”

Takahiro nodded, “Yeah, I see what you mean. So they got together after that, then. That practice match was like… what?” He counted the time on his fingers, thinking back to before the Spring High Tournament, before the Interhigh Preliminaries. “That’s gotta be six months at least.”

Matsukawa whistled. “And it took Sawamura that long to come to terms with the fact that he’s in love with Sugawara?” He snorted, “you know, I talk a lot of shit about Oikawa and Iwaizumi being so oblivious to their own emotions, but how are you actually in a relationship with someone and not realize how much you love them?”

Takahiro was reminded of his own reluctance of accepting his feelings for Matsukawa, and suddenly, Karasuno’s captain’s confession took on a whole other light. A lance of sympathy went through his heart. “What if he was just… dealing with internalized shame over having a boyfriend, you know?”

Matsukawa tilted his head up to look at him. “You think so?”

“I mean, it’s expected of every boy to find a nice wife to marry and have a family with, and I know I grew thinking that, and you probably did, and probably so did Sawamura. I wouldn’t blame him at all if it took him that long to come to terms with his own sexuality even after he entered in a relationship, if such a message had been ingrained in you since childhood.” Takahiro took a breath, rubbing circles into Matsukawa’s scalp, “You can't just snap your fingers and it’s gone like magic. That takes time to rectify.”

Matsukawa’s face softened, eyes looking down and away. “You’re probably right.” His mocking tone was gone, replaced with something more remorseful. 

The two sat in silence for a long moment, the air in the cabin feeling heavy with poignancy. “You know, Takahiro, I felt that way for a long time too,” Takahiro heard Matsukawa mumble.

Takahiro’s head snapped down look at him. “Really?”

Matsukawa nodded slowly. “All through my second year, I was dealing with my crush on you, and at first, I was disgusted in myself. After a while, I stopped fighting it, though, when I realized that I was just hurting myself rather than helping. I never talked about it with my parents, but my sister was a huge support.” Matsukawa smiled fondly, “Hitomi never judged me.” He turned to face him, “In fact, she’s the one that convinced me to confess my feelings to you.”

Takahiro felt an upheaval of emotions, so many pains and anxieties and doubts about himself left unsaid for so long because they would hurt them both. He couldn't stop them crawling up his throat and out of his mouth, “I doubted myself for so long, Issei. I let myself live in a cruel, cynical place where I thought that your love was fake and I thought that my love was fake and a repulsive phase.” He sniffled, “It was just horrible, and if that what Sawamura was going through, I am 100% behind him and applaud his defeat of it.”  

Matsukawa flipped over to lean over Takahiro, his hands coming down beside him to rest on the arm of the couch. Takahiro’s hands were still in the other boy’s hair, but now his wrists were lying limply on his shoulders.

Their eyes met. Matsukawa’s eyes were filled to the brim with forlorn joy, a pleasure-pain of sorrowful remembrance in an ebullient future; a supernova-like catharsis all engulfed in the confines of his beautiful coal-black eyes.

Takahiro’s vision warped at the edges, and he was sure his eyes looked the same.

Matsukawa kissed him softly, lips passing over his with a gossamer touch, discarding passion for love, in its sweetest and truest form.

Takahiro couldn’t quite remember when Matsukawa had slid his hands under his shirt, stroking the heated flesh there, nor could piece together the string of events that led to the other’s shirt coming clean off, Takahiro’s exploratory hands running over his bronzed skin and lean muscles. He was so enraptured just by the sensations going through his heart and his flesh that not a rational line of events managed to complete itself; he was lost in Matsukawa, wanting to never be found.

What he very clearly was able to register, however, was the sound of the cabin door being opened behind him.

He didn't stop on account of them, however. He went right on kissing Matsukawa, not letting the other boy stop to see who had interrupted them.

He heard a groan. “For the love of god, Hanamaki, Matsukawa. Please, put your PDA somewhere else.”

“Iwa-chan!” another voice chided, “Leave them be. They aren’t going to be able to stop anyway; they’re young and in love.”

Iwaizumi simply muttered darkly under his breath.

Just give it a couple days and you two will be the ones not being able to stop, Takahiro desperately wanted to quip at Oikawa, wanting to see the captain’s face go the color of strawberries, and the ace’s face somehow ruddier than that.

It was instead Matsukawa who tore out of Takahiro’s embrace to sit up and look at them.  He gave them one of his signature smirks. “That’s funny coming you two. You guys really push the boundaries between ‘heterosexual life-partner’ and ‘gay lover’.”

Just as expected, Oikawa’s and Iwaizumi’s face seemed to burst in rose-petal red, and Oikawa immediately retorted, “Says the guy with kiss-red lips, at least four fresh hickeys, and no shirt.”

Matsukawa’s expression was unchanged, except for maybe the small smile teasing at the edges of his mouth. “You haven’t even denied my claim.”

Oikawa’s mouth opened to swiftly become closed again. He stared at Matsukawa, the blush on the captain’s face spreading to his ears and neck.

“You know what,” Iwaizumi sighed, “You two can believe whatever you want. Fact remains that Oikawa is my platonic best friend and I’ve been that for a great many years, so I guess we might be closer than some. I promise, out of my great respect and consideration for Oikawa and his feelings, that if I ever did develop any sort of romantic feelings for him, I'd tell him immediately to hash out and deal with the situation.”

“Bullshit,” Takahiro whispered, and Matsukawa looked at him, chuckling.

“I’m sure,” Matsukawa said, turning to face them again. “but our theory stands. We shall see who is right in the end.”

Takahiro lifted his head, raising his brows suggestively at Oikawa and Iwaizumi. “Life lesson: never lie to yourselves.”

Oikawa laughed, the blush seemingly fading away, “Whatever. You’ll see, when Iwaizumi’s best man at my wedding, you’ll owe me 5000 yen.”

Takahiro snorted. Iwaizumi’s gigantic crush on Oikawa couldn’t be clearer to everyone but the object of his affections, and they would surely “hash it out”, as the wing spiker so eloquently put it, before they go off to university.

Their bet, which started as a joke in their first year and only got more interesting when he and Matsukawa got together, was the Seijou third-years’ inside joke; whenever he deemed that either Oikawa or Iwaizumi were acting supremely gay (which more often than not), they would shout out, “5000 yen!” and they would blush, then laugh at the whole thing.

Only Iwaizumi took it seriously, which meant that to him, having romantic feelings for Oikawa was serious. From there, it didn’t take Takahiro too long to put two and two together.

“Nothing’s changed then,” Matsukawa called after them as they walked into the bedroom, “I’ll be one who’s 5000 yen richer.”

As the door closed behind them, Matsukawa turned down to Takahiro, placing a final kiss on his mouth. “We should also be heading to bed.”

Takahiro chased the other’s lips, “yeah, we should.”

Matsukawa placed another kiss on his nose. “Not like that. I mean to sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Takahiro sighed but eventually nodded, feeling the lulls of sleep addle his mind after the rush of emotions had calmed down. The pair stood from the couch, Matsukawa sliding his shirt back on and Takahiro smoothing his out. They entered the bedroom and wandered to their bed on the right side of the room, Takahiro taking his threadbare pajamas from the nightstand and shedding his clothing and donning those faster than a heartbeat.

After going to the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his cropped strawberry blond hair down from the angles Matsukawa pulled it in, he slipped into bed, the blanket soft and warm over him, his boyfriend lying next to him as the lights were turned off with drowsy goodnights, only moonlight illuminating his features.

They cuddled, as they always did, Takahiro fitting comfortably in Matsukawa’s arms, their heads angled towards each other. In the twinkling starlight, he was happy for his love, for the love of others, and the destruction of shame in loving who one does.

Love is a beautiful thing, Takahiro thought as he succumbed to sleep, and it should be wholly embraced in all its forms.