Chapter Text
As he awoke, he had about five seconds of blissful semi-conscious ignorance before opening his eyes and catching sight of his wrist.
His heart sank as his eyes skimmed over the low number, reminding him of what day it was.
00:00:00:13:39:21. Thirteen hours, twenty-nine minutes, and twenty-one seconds. Twenty seconds. Nineteen seconds.
His stomach churned at the digits and he flattened his wrist against his bedsheets so the timer side was facing down, unable to bear looking at the numbers winding themselves down anymore.
He didn't need to look at the countdown anyway. The numbers would reach zero, flicker red, and disappear forever April 22nd at exactly 8:13 PM and 12 seconds. The date had been drilled into his head since he'd learned how to count. And according to his wrist, he only had thirteen hours left from hitting the deadline. Which meant that it was about 6:30 in the morning and still had half an hour left to sleep in.
He rolled over and closed his eyes again, trying to force himself back into his prior slumber, not at all eager to face the day ahead. Not needing to, yet. Not until seven.
His cellphone alarm went off thirty minutes later, waking him up with a jolt from the short bit of sleep he'd been able to recover. He groaned as he lifted himself up on his elbows, squinting as he reached towards his bedside table and shut off the irritating sound.
His eyes caught a glimpse of his wrist again, now inevitably displaying a lower number than before. 00:00:00:13:13:12.
He averted his gaze, forcing his mind to run through literally anything else but the ticking numbers. He still had to do his laundry; he could do that tomorrow morning. He had a test next week, so he'd have to keep studying for that, too. They were running out of eggs. And he had a distinct feeling that Akiteru had forgotten to pay the bills again, so he'd have to remind him later, before the deadline passed.
But first, he needed to get up.
He made his way, bleary-eyed, over to his desk where he'd left his glasses the night before. His room erupted into full clarity again as soon as he put them on, revealing the mess of papers strewn over his laptop and workspace after last night's late study session. He sighed and gathered the sheets together into a single pile, tapping them against the surface of the desk to align them and flatten out the bottom before tucking them into a folder.
He patted his hips, instinctively looking for his phone before recalling that he'd never disengaged it from its charger cable on his bedside table.
The bed creaked underneath his weight as he sat on the edge, careful not to get too comfortable, but also too lazy to keep standing as he unhooked the phone charger and checked for messages.
He had a text from his mother. He bit his lip as he tapped the icon on the screen. He had a pretty good idea what sort of messages his mother had sent him and he wasn't wrong, he decided, as soon as the text popped up.
Kei, I'm so proud of you , his mother had written, followed by three more individual texts below.
CALL ME TOMORROW AND TELL ME ALL ABOUT HER
Don't forget
xxMomxx
He hesitated for a second before replying.
k
Kei grunted as he collapsed back onto the bed, throwing an arm over his forehead. He'd pay good money to skip the hellish long day ahead of him.
–
His brother was already in the kitchen by the time he made his way downstairs to their shared living space.
“Morning, little bro,” his brother greeted him from next to the mini grill.
The smell of grilled salmon drifted its way over to him as he entered the kitchenette and took a seat at the table.
“Rice and fish sound good to you?” Akiteru asked over the bubbling and hissing of the grill.
“Mm,” he nodded, taking a banana from the fruit bowl and peeling it as he waited.
They remained silent for a while, only the sounds of cooking fish and tea boiling breaking the hush between the two brothers. He could sense his brother's impatience from the other side of the room from the way he'd clack his chopsticks against the wooden counter and the glances he'd sneak at him. Akiteru was never as sly as he thought he was.
“So?” his brother finally coughed out as he poured the tea into a cup and placed it before him.
“What?” he answered, pulling the cup closer and taking a sip from it. It burned at his lips and he set it back down onto its saucer. He'd have to wait a little longer.
“Big day today. Aren't you excited?” his brother grinned as he leaned forward on the table, though the tenseness in his shoulders gave away that he knew he was approaching sensitive territory.
Kei's gaze flickered to his brother's blank wrist before looking back down at his tea again.
“Not really.”
He could feel Akiteru's own gaze boring into him before hearing the table groan as his brother pushed himself away and walked back to the fish. He ventured to look up again as Akiteru scooped the fish and a spoonful of rice into two bowls.
“You should be excited,” Akiteru stated, sliding the bowl over the table. “She'll make it worth it, trust me.”
He scoffed, digging his chopsticks into the rice. “Worth what?”
“I don't know,” Akiteru responded, wiping down the tabletop before sitting down across from him with his own bowl. “Whatever it is you're afraid of.”
“I'm not afraid,” Kei retorted, snapping his chopsticks upward and accidentally tossing a chunk of rice onto the ground.
“Sure,” his brother laughed, picking up the grain of rice and tossing it into the sink. “My job as big brother doesn't end with your timer, you know that, right?”
“Mm,” he grunted in acknowledgment, although his stomach roiled with the words. His brother was trying to lighten the mood the way he usually did and he could stuff it.
“And if you're worried about not having a timer anymore, you'll be fine. Really.”
He glanced down at his own ticking wrist and then again at his brother's blank one for a second. He'd considered it before, plenty of times, thought about what it would be like not to be guaranteed to life anymore, tomorrow no longer a promise. He'd told himself long ago that it wasn't worth worrying about. Most people lived decades after their timer expired. He would just have to take better care of himself from now on, although since he wasn't a risk taker, didn't smoke, and exercised regularly, it wouldn't be too difficult. It was more how others would perceive him that would affect his life.
“Or is it just that you're scared she won't like you?” Akiteru's teasing tone crept back into his voice again. Kei braced himself for what would doubtlessly be something extremely embarrassing. “Because I'm sure you'll be the man of her dreams.” He grabbed at a kitchen towel and wrapped it around his head before spouting in a falsetto voice, “Oh, Kei, where have you been all my life? My soulmate! Mwah! Mwah!” He closed his eyes and puckered his lips, kissing the air obscenely.
“I'm not hungry anymore,” he said, scooting himself away from the table.
“Oh, come on, at least finish your tea.”
He grabbed the cup and chugged the rest of the liquid down before slamming it back onto its saucer. “Thank you for the breakfast,” he bowed mockingly as he scooted away from the table.
“Are you still having your soulday party tonight?”
Oh. That thing. He'd nearly forgotten about the damned party, his brain probably automatically trying to repress the thought of it. He slipped his bag on his shoulder before responding. “I think the better question is, 'is the volleyball club going to host my soulday party tonight?' and, unfortunately, the answer is yes.”
Akiteru laughed. “You have friends who care about you enough to host your soulday party for you. You should be grateful.”
“Oh-- me?” he said, his voice leaking with sarcasm as he gestured to himself. “No, I-- I'm grateful that a peasant like me gets to live like a king for a night--”
He just narrowly dodged the scrunched up towel aimed at his head. “Get out of here, ya little shit.”
“As you wish,” he bowed exaggeratedly again before opening the front door.
“I'll be off work by the time your party ends. Bring your soulmate here so I can meet her!” his brother yelled at his retreating back.
“Right,” Kei droned before stepping outside.
–
The day passed by achingly slowly and yet frighteningly quickly at the same time. He'd reflexively check his timer every five minutes, flinching each time as the number kept getting lower and lower, then try and force himself to focus on taking notes until he'd inevitably look down at his wrist again, further perpetuating the cycle. By lunchtime, he finally succumbed to wrapping his wrist in a bandage so he couldn't see the numbers anymore.
His anxiety went largely unnoticed in the hustle and bustle of the quotidian school day. Everybody else moved their lives along like there was absolutely nothing special going on today – and there wasn't, not for everybody else at the university.
The numbers on his wrist burned a hole in his mind. He watched the other students in his class talk with each other and take out their notes as they prepared for the beginning of the session. He found himself peeking at the wrist of the person sitting next to him. He still had another 26 years tacked onto his skin, ticking down second by second, seemingly somehow slower than his own, although time passed the same for his classmate as it did for himself.
The other student shifted to look at him, apparently having noticed the attention Kei had been giving him.
Kei managed to spit out some question in relation to the reading they'd had to do the night before, smoothing over the moment of awkwardness he'd accidentally incited. The classmate's answer flowed in and out of his head again, drowned out by the tumultuous thoughts circling around in his mind. He nodded like he was listening but found himself wishing they could trade timers. If only he could push his date back, even just another few years. Nineteen was too early, much earlier than most.
“Afternoon everyone,” their professor announced his presence as he paced into the classroom. “I hope everyone's been having a good day so far. Today we'll be discussing...”
Kei mentally shook himself and thanked his classmate for his answer then turned to open a Word document on his computer. It would serve no real purpose to waste his time thinking stupid things like that; nothing he did could change fate, so it was better not to question it or distract himself with such inane thoughts. His wrist was covered. Nothing existed but his computer and the sound of his professor's voice.
–
His classes ended much, much too early and by the time 4:00 rolled around, it was time to go to volleyball club.
He arrived twenty minutes late on purpose, hoping to slip through the gym to the locker room unnoticed so he could change by himself, give himself a few extra minutes to prepare for what would surely be a series of exhausting interactions, but the moment he slipped through the door, a flash of red torpedoed its way towards him, screaming his name at full volume.
“TSUKISHIMAAAA!”
He sighed internally, praying that the ground would swallow him up, but before he could personally be dragged to hell, Hinata crash-landed into his side, grabbing at his arm and spouting nonsense.
“Today's the day, right? How low is your wrist now? Why is it wrapped up? Lemme see, lemme see!” Hinata bounded from side to side like a little monkey, his grabby hands trying to pry the bandage off his wrist.
“Back off!” he grunted, pulling his arm up and away from Hinata's grasp. “Look at your own wrist.”
“Hinata! I was in the middle of setting to you, dumbass!” Kageyama's voice boomed from the other end of the court.
“No, you weren't! You were yelling at me about how bad my spike was!” Hinata tossed over his shoulder.
“Tsukishima, you're late!” Coach Ukai's voice interrupted, saving Kei from having to hear their ridiculous argument. “Go get changed and get back out here!”
“Yes, sir,” he replied, giving a quick glance at his teammates who were all practicing on the court already before heading off to the locker room.
It was mercifully quiet in the changing room, the thrumming of an air conditioner somewhere the only thing interrupting the silence. He undressed slowly, taking his time and relishing the few minutes he had to himself.
The bandage around his wrist crinkled as he put his jersey on. He poked at it with his finger, dipping a thumb in a tear in one of the layers. Hinata had nearly torn it off with his grubby little hands and if he left it alone, it would most likely fall off in the middle of practice. He unwrapped it, wincing as he revealed the number hidden underneath.
00:00:00:03:27:50. 49. 48.
He grabbed a roll of fresh gauze and rewound it around his wrist again until he could almost feel his pulse throbbing into his hand. He clenched and unclenched his fist, satisfied with the wrapping he'd made. He refused to allow himself to get distracted anymore.
–
The first three-on-three match had ended by the time he'd emerged from the locker room and Ukai instructed him to make up for lost time and play in the next one. He fell into line next to Azumane and Sugawara across the net from Hinata, Kageyama, and Tanaka. Hinata didn't mention anything else about the ticking timer on his wrist, fortunately. The little freshman was already engrossed in the game, too busy running from one side of the court to the other to allow his one-track mind to think about anything else.
He was like a little red demon, a blur of black-and-orange jersey speeding in and up, slamming at the ball any chance he got. Which made it difficult to match his pace, although Kei wouldn't be caught dead admitting such a thing out loud.
But it wasn't impossible.
Kei relished the satisfying smack against the palm of his hand as he stopped the ball in its path, watched as it slammed into the ground directly behind Hinata.
“Argh, no!” Hinata growled, gripping and pulling at his hair in frustration. “I thought I had that one!”
“Nice one.” He felt a hand pat against his back and turned to see Suga smile at him before trotting off to the benches to get a drink of water.
“Ah – thanks,” he spluttered, following awkwardly a few paces behind. They'd completed the first set and had been given a five minute break before switching sides. He reached for his water bottle and downed a couple of gulps before stopping for air and wiping at his mouth. The bandage wrapped tightly around his wrist scraped at his lips as he did so. Ah, right. He'd actually managed to forget about that.
“You bandaged it.” Suga's voice filtered in through his thoughts again and he nodded, unsure if he'd meant it as a statement or a question.
“Didn't want to get distracted,” he mumbled, plopping the bottle back on the bench.
Suga looked thoughtful for a moment putting on his standard grin again and setting down his own bottle next to Kei's.
“Good idea,” was all he said before heading back to the court.
–
He was sure he hadn't meant it to, but Suga's comment brought his timer back to the forefront of his mind. Even though the timer was nothing more than pigmentation on the inside of his wrist, he could swear he could feel it ticking down, a sort of raw, itching sensation like hives or a rash festering just underneath the top layer of his skin. He resisted the urge to pick at his bandage and instead tried to focus on the game, watching the ball move from one player to the other, thumping against hands and arms and legs before finally falling to the floor to the delight of one side and the chagrin of the other.
“Nice serve,” he droned as Azumane picked up the ball and readied himself. A steady thump later and the ball was already veering its way towards Tanaka's outstretched arms.
Kei picked at the edge of his bandage self-consciously, his mind still occupied with thoughts of the numbers reaching zero. He liked to tell himself, after the fact, that if he hadn't been so anxious over the stupid digits, that the series of events following right after that point in time would never have happened. In any case, they did, and Kei's reaction to the offensive's spike was just a millisecond too late.
If he'd been two milliseconds late, then his block wouldn't have been high enough to keep the ball from landing on their side of the court, which would have been the preferred result. Unfortunately, he was only one millisecond late, and the ball rocketed from Tanaka's palm straight into his face.
And his first thought hadn't even been something halfway dignified. He could have considered his next course of action, or what he could have done not to get hit in the face, or worried about how stupid he must have looked in front of everyone.
Instead, his first thought had been my glasses!
His glasses.
He slapped a hand across his face, fearing the worst and feeling a viscous liquid flowing form his nose. He removed his hand to see blood, bright and red, staining his fingers.
“Stop! Stop!” Ukai's voice boomed from the sidelines. “Tsukishima! Are you okay?”
“I'm bleeding,” he said, stupidly, because apparently the hit must have scrambled his brains until he finally got a grip on himself and amended his earlier statement. “I'm fine.”
“Okay. Come out, take a break. Narita, you're in.”
The quiet junior looked shocked for a second before nodding and marching onto the court. Kei pinched the bridge of his nose as he made his way to the bench, feeling the stares of over a dozen pairs of eyes on his back. Nobody was jeering at him for having taken a hit to the face and he wasn't sure what to make of that. Had it really looked that bad?
At least his glasses weren't broken.
“Are you sure you're all right? How bad is it?” Mr. Takeda fretted over him as he approached the adults. “Tissues! I have some tissues!” he shoved a wad of Kleenex at Kei.
Kei frowned but took them graciously, thanking his teacher and covering his nose with them.
“Come sit next to me,” Ukai gestured and patted the seat on the bench next to him. Kei obeyed and sat with a huff, feeling a bit of blood trail down the back of his throat.
“I have an ice pack,” Shimizu said, offering him a bag of the aforementioned ice wrapped in a white handkerchief.
“Thank you,” he muttered again, growing irritation forcing him to clench his jaw tight and nod curtly. Did everyone have to fuss over him about this?
Thankfully, people seemed to leave him alone after that, and he sat back and observed as the match started up again, ice pack pressed firmly against the bridge of his nose. The cold seeped into his skin and gave him a bit of a headache, but the bleeding slowed itself down.
“What happened?” Ukai asked him as they watched Hinata serve a ball straight into the net.
“I jumped too late,” he responded, lifting the ice pack for a second and patting at his nose with the back of his index finger. The bleeding had definitely already started to lessen.
“That's true,” his coach conceded, “but I meant in general. That doesn't happen to you.”
He shrugged noncommittally. “Didn't think fast enough,” he mumbled. He couldn't bring himself to openly admit that he'd been worrying about his timer, much less to an adult. He dreaded any follow-up questions the coach had to ask, but he appeared to accept the response and grew quiet again, gaze focused on the game in front of them.
The ball careened through the air and thudded loudly against Narita's arms, shutting down Hinata's spike entirely. Narita pumped his fist in the air and high-fived his teammates, face marked with utter jubilation. A cold heaviness slid into the base of Kei's stomach. Narita still had a solid four years and some change left on his wrist. It wouldn't expire until well after he'd graduated and moved on from volleyball. On top of that, he melded well with the team and had a generally agreeable personality. Unlike himself.
“Coach.”
Coach must not have heard because he didn't respond. He was sitting on the edge of the bench, torso hunched over and leaning even farther in the direction of the court, head propped up on a fist and attention fully enraptured by the game.
“Coach,” he tried again.
“Hm?” Ukai grunted, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.
“Will you be choosing Narita?”
“Huh? Choosing him for what?” He turned his head to look at Kei a couple of times, clearly struggling with keeping his attention on both at once.
“Will you be choosing him as a regular, I mean. After today.”
“What? I-- no! No, don't hit a cross like that you'll break your arm!-- what's today?”
Did he really have to spell it out? He rubbed a thumb over the bandage on his wrist self-consciously, ready to let the matter drop.
“Hu--? Oh, that thing,” Ukai said as he rotated around a little to face him and catching Kei's subtle movement. “I'm not replacing you, if that's your question. Why would you think that?”
He shrugged, suddenly regretting bringing the topic up.
“It's unlikely that you'd get seriously injured in a volleyball game,” Ukai continued, “even once your timer runs out. It's not like you were born without it.” The words were like a kick to the stomach even though they'd been meant to assuage his fears. “Just don't get hit in the face like that again, yeah?” he chuckled.
“Right,” he replied tersely, nodding in polite agreement.
They wrapped up the game twenty minutes later, without Kei's help. Sugawara clapped a hand on Narita's and Azumane's backs, congratulating them on a well-won game. After a couple cool-down exercises, Ukai called it a day and they were allowed to head back to the locker room.
Kei frowned as he peeled off his sweaty jersey. A couple drops of blood had dripped onto the front without his noticing, so he'd have to toss that into the laundry the next day, too.
“Hey, Tsukishima!” Kei flinched as a towel whipped his back. He twisted his face into the most sour expression he could muster, not in the mood to put up with his teammates' banter.
“So, this was your last practice with a timer, huh, Tsukishima?”
“Tsukishima's gonna be a family man from now on!” he heard Nishinoya yell from behind before feeling the entire weight of the little libero's body crashing down onto his back and straddling his waist, arms wrapped around his throat.
“Get off me,” he grunted, squirming underneath the weight.
“Can't believe Tsukishima's timer runs out first. So unfair,” Tanaka huffed, arms crossed over his chest, though he was still grinning widely. “What kind of girl do you think you'll get? One that's more tsun-tsun or dere-dere?”
“Please never use those words again,” he choked out, grabbing Nishinoya's arm and pulling it away from his throat. Nishinoya's grip loosened for a moment before wrapping tighter around his chest.
“Dere-dere for sure, man, she's gotta be warm and funny,” Nishinoy cackled from his position, body wrapped around him like a koala to a tree trunk. “That would be hilarious!”
“Good point, good point,” Tanaka conceded, rubbing at his chin with a thoughtful look on his face. “But we need to think about what's good for Tsukishima. A relationship like that probably wouldn't work out.”
“Hm, you're right.” Kei coughed in a breath as Nishinoya finally let go and slid down to the ground. “Tsukishima's really smart,” Noya continued, “she should be smart, too.”
“Now we're getting somewhere. She probably gets A's all the time,” Tanaka nodded sagely.
“I think she'll be really tall!” Hinata piped up. “Almost as tall as Tsukishima.”
“Ohhh, now that would be something!” Tanaka belted out a laugh. “We can't have her be a pipsqueak! How awkward would that be?” He pumped a fist into his palm, the air around him growing serious. “I hope my soulmate's tall.”
“Hey, Kageyama, what do you think?” Hinata turned to the other boy who was staring into the depths of his locker with the usual constipated look on his face, brows furrowed and lips spread into a thin line.
“What?” he barked, caught off guard since he clearly hadn't been listening.
“Tsukishima! His soulmate. What do you think she'll be like?” Hinata yelled at the top of his lungs like an old man shouting at his deaf retirement buddy.
“She...?”
A heavy blanket of tense silence fell upon the locker room, thick and suffocating. Once again, Kei found himself wishing he could descend into the pits of hell.
“That's...” Tanaka rubbed at the back of his head, “I guess you've got a point. We never really asked. Hey, Tsukishima, which do you... ah... prefer...?”
“I'd prefer it if we stopped having this conversation,” he answered bluntly.
“Showers are open,” their captain's blessed voice cut in, lifting up the veil of discomfort that had been about to strangle Kei to death. The rest of the team followed suit behind him, towels wrapped around waists and shoulders. Ennoshita was still cleaning out his ears with one of them.
“All right!” Nishinoya shouted before running off, their uncomfortable conversation all but forgotten as he shot in the direction of the showers, bare feet making a rapid-fire pat pat pat noise against the cement floor. Tanaka burst off after him with Hinata and Kageyama in tow.
“Don't run!” Sawamura roared. “It's still wet back there!”
Kei turned back to his locker to grab his things, catching sight of the white bandage wrapped around his wrist as he reached forward. The cloth would get loose and mushy in the water. It was probably best if he removed it now, he decided, tucking a finger underneath and ripping it a tear down the side. The bandage fell away, unveiling the rapidly decreasing numbers on the inside of his wrist. 00:00:00:02:31:39. His heart stuttered in his chest at the sight of the low digits.
“Tsukishima.” He swiveled around to see Suga smiling brightly at him, Sawamura pulling on his T-shirt at the locker next to his. “We're going to buy some things for the party after we're done here. You want to come with?”
“Oh. Sure,” he replied, bowing a little in response.
“Cool. We'll wait while you shower, take your time.” Suga grinned before focusing on getting dressed again.
Kei did end up hurrying, just a little, both because he didn't want to keep his seniors waiting for him too long, but also because he knew if he spent too long in the shower he'd end up staring at his timer again. There had to be some studies on the psychological effects of a low timer because he could swear that a soft ticking had started up somewhere deep inside his brain, quiet yet incessant, reminding him of what was soon to come. He rubbed at the numbers with soap and rinsed them underneath the high pressure water spouting from the shower head but of course they stayed, ticking down second by second as they had his entire life. He sighed. He wasn't sure what he'd expected.
–
Sugawara and Sawamura had been waiting just outside for him after he'd finished, huddled together underneath a tree, heads bowed close to each other and speaking in hushed tones. Suga spotted him first and waved at him to come over. He obliged, stepping forward until the tree's shadow fell over him, feeling as though he had interrupted something private.
“We're heading over to Sakanoshita to buy something to eat before walking into the main part of town, sound good?” Sawamura stated, pushing himself off of the tree trunk.
“What are we looking for?” Kei asked.
“Food and drinks, mostly,” Suga chimed in. “Some decorations, if we can find good ones. We've cleaned up our apartment already so it could just use a couple of touch-ups.”
Kei pursed his lips, unsure how to tell them that none of their concern was necessary. He would have been just as happy waiting for his soulmate at home, ordering takeout and studying in his room until his timer ticked zero and the love of his life magically showed up at his door.
“Why are you doing this for me?”
“Because it's fun and we care about you. Now stop complaining,” Suga retorted, already pushing Kei ahead.
–
Sawamura bought the three of them pork buns. Kei offered to pay for his own but he refused, saying something along the lines of “I'm your captain” and “it's your day, don't worry about it.” Kei just thanked him and took the proffered pork bun gratefully while Sugawara snickered off to the side.
The door to the local supermarket jingled as they entered, announcing the presence of the three college boys. Kei shivered. The air by the entrance was chilly, cold seeping out from the row of freezers lined down the first aisle.
“Hmm, I think we'll get through this faster if we split up,” Suga pondered out loud as he looked over a small sheet of paper he'd magicked out of thin air. “I can hit the snacks and you take care of the drinks?”
“Sounds good,” Sawamura agreed, picking up a basket from the stack and hoisting it around his shoulder. “Tsukishima? You coming with me?”
“Sure,” he mumbled, feeling distinctly out of place spending time with his seniors outside of volleyball practice. He kept pace with Sawamura a couple of steps behind, hands tucked in his pockets and head bent down so as not to seem quite as tall standing next to his shorter captain. Sawamura hummed a little as he puttered around from aisle to aisle, occasionally picking up a distinctly non-party-related product that he assumed was really for his apartment as opposed to the upcoming festivity itself. At least, bleach wasn't really something that one would pour into the punch bowl.
Eventually they meandered their way into the drinks aisle, not having uttered a single word to each other for the past ten minutes or so since they'd split off from Suga.
Sawamura paused in front of a stack of soda bottles, appearing lost in thought before finally speaking up.
“Hey, Tsukishima, what kind of pop do you want?” he asked, basket in one hand while the other scratched at his head thoughtfully, his eyes skimming over the various different brands.
“I really don't care.”
“Come on, it's your soulday party,” he argued, although he'd already reached forward for one of the bottles.
“Well, seeing as this party's been started by you, hosted at your place, and you're currently buying things for it, it seems like it's your soulday party.”
“But it's your soulmate,” Sawamura countered, his arms now full of soda. He looked down at the bottles he was holding to his chest. “Is coke okay?”
“Sure.”
“All right,” Sawamura said, hefting the bottles up higher with a hup and teetering a little with the weight . “Probably should have grabbed two baskets.”
Kei thought of offering to carry some of the bottles for him, but something disconnected between his brain and his mouth and the proposal died on his tongue before it could make its way into the open. Sawamura carried on unperturbed, humming to a song he couldn't quite identify.
“You know, you could try looking a little more excited,” Sawamura interruped his humming to state as they reached the end of the aisle. He glanced over his shoulder at Kei. “I get that it's not in your personality to be happy about things,” I'm not happy about things? “but you could stand to smile a bit more... or... I don't know, at least be grateful.” He shuffled the bottles of soda around, tucking a couple underneath his arms before continuing. “Most people wait years for their soulmates. Today's finally your day. You should be excited. I would be.”
Kei's gaze wandered down to the still ticking numbers partially visible from behind one of the clear bottles Sawamura was holding and his thoughts turned to Sugawara.
“Would you?”
The inappropriateness of the words registered in his mind the moment they'd left his mouth, but it was too late, he couldn't take them back. Sawamura's shoulders stiffened and stopped walking. Kei ground to a halt behind him, nearly stepping on the back of his captain's shoes. Chilled silence fell over the two and Kei's heart sank before he'd even said anything.
“Know what?” Sawamura turned around, voice clipped and devoid of emotion. Shivers scaled their way up and down Kei's spine at the sight of his captain's stoic face. “You're right. We're doing too much for you. This is your soulday party after all.” He shoved the bottles of soda into Kei's chest, who struggled to catch them before they clattered on the ground. “Carry your own damn things.”
Kei didn't dare protest. He took the bottles without a word and shuffled them around in his arms before following after Sawamura who'd started walking again. There were about five bottles in all, heavy and filled to the brim with carbonated liquid which joggled around every step he took. One of the bottles tipped to the front and he slammed his chin down on it to keep it from falling.
“Daichi! Tsukishima!” Kei couldn't help but breathe out a sigh of relief at the sight of Sugawara peeking out from two aisles down. Sawamura's counterpart had an innate skill of being able to ease tension whenever it arose, sometimes forcefully.
“Look what I got for your soulday party!” Suga continued, peeling around the corner until he was in full view.
Horror and disgust flipped around in Kei's stomach at the sight of the bright red balloon gripped tightly by the string in Suga's fist. Illegally large and revoltingly cute, the double heart-shaped balloon bobbed just above Suga's head, the words “HAPPY SOULDAY” scrawled in a fancy cursive font oddly reminiscent of the Disney logo. Two tiny bears had been badly pasted in underneath DAY, their furry little arms wrapped around each other.
Suga burst into a fit of giggles, finally letting go of the damned thing and letting it float up to the low ceiling. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I'd never seriously buy that for you!” he wrapped his arms around his stomach as he laughed louder, the basket of snacks hanging off of his wrist bumping into his legs. “You should take a look at your face! Oh, jeez...”
Kei felt the blood rush up to his face and he pouted, looking off to the side to try and hide his embarrassment. Sawamura was snickering next to him, his deeper chuckles melding with Sugawara's higher-pitched tittering.
“Are we done here?” he interrupted. He gestured to the bottles in his arms with a tilt of his head. “I can just go pay for these...”
“Relax, relax, no need to get huffy,” Sawamura grabbed his shoulder, his grip strong and firm. “Suga? Are you good to go? I've got everything I need here, just want to buy some alcohol at the front before we leave.”
“Yeah, I'm done,” Suga said, his voice still a little out of breath. He lifted up the basket and tilted it so Kei could get a better look at the contents inside. “All this look appetizing to you?”
Kei raised an eyebrow at the vast amount of food Suga had collected. Guilt settled in his gut as he hazarded a guess at the total monetary value of the products currently lying inside the cheap red basket. How much were they planning on spending on him?
Chips, dip, and other various junk foods were scattered in the basket. His eyes fell on the strawberry shortcake tucked into the corner underneath a bag of edamame. He nodded, his mouth already watering.
“This is just snacks, anyway. The rest of the team promised they'd bring over more substantial food,” Suga added, dropping the basket to his side. “I think I'll also order some pizza once the snacks are gone. Can never be sure how many guests will show up to these kind of parties.”
“No, this is more than fine. Thank you, Suga-san...” he glanced over at Sawamura who seemed to have forgotten Kei's blunder a few minutes prior. “...Captain. Thank you for all you two have done so far. I can pay for the food...”
“Now, now, enough of the formalities,” Suga scolded lightly, flicking a finger against his forehead. “This party's for us, too. It's been a while since our last wild night. Don't even think about it.”
“Right...” Kei grunted, allowing himself to be pushed to the front of the store.
–
The first guests started arriving at six-thirty. Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita were first, entering in through the entrance hall one-by-one with their arms full of food and alcohol. Kei watched from his seat in the corner of the living room as they set down their things on a long table specifically set up for the party and headed into the kitchen to make small talk with the hosts, stopping for a moment to wave in his direction.
He lifted a hand in response, glad that the three hadn't attempted to approach him or ask about his timer. The ticking numbers on his wrist caught his eye as he put his arm down. Just a little under two hours left. It wouldn't take long before the rest of the guests would show up and, eventually, his soulmate. His stomach sank at the thought of what was to come. He wasn't sure which he dreaded the most – the party itself or his numbers reaching zero.
Azumane came next carrying a large hot pot, then Hinata and Kageyama bounded in five minutes later, arguing loudly over who'd stepped through the threshold into the apartment first until the captain clocked them both on the heads and ordered them to shut up. Kei snickered in his corner, leading into instant regret as he caught Hinata's attention.
“Tsukishima! How's your timer?” he shot towards him, skidding to a stop right before crashing into his chair.
“Ticking. What kind of question is that?” He looked at the volleyball-shaped object tucked in Hinata's arms. “What is that ?”
“It's a piñata!” Hinata shouted proudly, lifting up the blue-and-yellow papier-mâché by a string at the top. It rotated around lazily, long strands of brightly-colored paper sticking out from the sides twirling and fluttering in the miniscule air currents.
“Why did you bring a piñata?”
“It's Natsu's. Her class has been studying Mexican culture and when she heard one of my teammates was having a soulday party, she made it for you.”
Kei blinked, taken aback at the unexpected kind gesture from a person he'd never met.
“Er... well, thank you.”
“Yeah. I don't think we should break it, though.” He started bumping the piñata against his forearms like a real ball, the papier-mâché making a hollow thump with each impact. He grabbed the ball with both hands at a particularly high crest and brought it safely back to his chest. “I'm gonna go ask Captain for some tape or something so we can hang it up,” he said, running off in the direction of the kitchen and leaving Kei alone again.
From that point on, people starting coming in larger numbers and at a more frequent pace, friends he recognized at first, then friends of friends, then friends of friends of friends, until he began to wonder whether these people knew anybody at the party at all. With every guest came the prying questions, the “who's the lucky guy?”, the requests to look at his wrist. He gritted his teeth every time he had to twist his wrist around to display the ever decreasing numbers marked on his skin. They'd squeal or murmur congratulations before moving on to pick at the food, interest abated now that they'd had a chance to gawk at the main attraction.
He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling, heaving a deep sigh from the dredges of his soul. He had just about an hour left before his soulmate showed up. Could he leave right after his timer ended? he wondered to himself. What if his soulmate wanted to stay? What if they were a social butterfly, too, just like the rest of his teammates? He lifted his glasses onto his forehead and rubbed at his face, exhaustion and apprehension already dragging him down. No matter what happened next, or who fate decided to pair him up with, his life was going to irrevocably change. Why was everyone so happy about that?
“Hey, hey! The lives of the party are here!” Two familiar voices shouted over the already loud hum of the party. Tanaka and Nishinoya. He sat up and adjusted his glasses, blurred images condensing into solid forms.
Oh, fuck no.
His attention shot straight to the horrendous bobbing heart-shaped balloon floating above Nishinoya's head.
This was over. He stood from his chair and crouched as he ducked through in the crowd in the direction of the bathroom. Maybe he could squeeze out the window and leave that way. Meet his soulmate in the streets of Sendai. They'd be more likely to be a homeless drug addict that way, but, well, that was just the kind of risk he'd have to take.
“Tsukishima!” The force of a cannonball slammed into his back, shoving him against the nearest innocent bystander. He spat out a quick apology before turning to find himself face-to-face with the plastic abomination he thought he'd left safely behind at the local supermarket.
“How's the party going?” Nishinoya asked, face-splitting grin spread from ear to ear. Tanaka followed closely behind, a bottle of sake gripped in each of his fists.
“Terrible.”
Tanaka burst out with his hearty laugh. “Well, it'll get better now that we're here! Right, Noya?”
“Right!” Nishinoya chirped, the balloon bouncing up and down with his erratic movements. He leaned in close, the alcohol on his breath giving away that they must have gotten an early start on the sake Tanaka was holding. “How many girls have you had dote on you tonight?”
“Oh. Um...” he looked to the side as his brain rewound the night's events, speeding through the dozens of new faces he'd had to entertain over the course of the evening. “I didn't keep track.”
“What?”
“Ugh...” The two boys groaned and made sounds of disgust, hiding their faces behind their hands and pretending like they'd been stabbed in the chest.
“The ungratefulness...”
“Girls LOVE dudes with low timers...”
Kei waited until they'd mostly finished with their theatrics before speaking up again. “Kay, well, if we're done here, I have to go... take a shit, so...” he pointed a thumb in the direction of the bathroom, even though he didn't, really, but the sooner he could sit in his corner again, the better.
“Wait, wait, let's take a picture!” Nishinoya grabbed him by the wrist and shoved the balloon string into his hand, twisting his body around to stand by Kei's side.
“Ooh, good idea, Noya! We gotta preserve this memory forever,” Tanaka agreed, whipping out his phone and skidding around to Kei's other side. “Okay, say cheese!”
Kei twisted his mouth into an expression that was more disgruntled grimace than honest smile.
“Tsukishima, show your wrist! Your wrist!”
“No, higher.”
“Like that.”
“Lower the balloon! It needs to be in the shot.”
“If I lower the balloon, my wrist won't be in the shot anymore.”
“Then switch hands!”
“Like that, like that! Okay, stay still... three, two, one, cheese!”
Heavy weight pressed down on his left shoulder as Nishinoya jumped, using Kei's shoulder as leverage to look taller for the split second the camera's shutter snapped shut.
“Hey, we look great!” Two hands simultaneously slammed into this back, beating the breath out of his lungs and making him double over in pain.
“Congratulations!”
“Call us over when your timer's almost up.”
“Kiyoko's outside in the back, right?”
“Yeah, I think so. I don't see her in here.”
Interest satisfied, the two wild cards left him standing where he was, disgusting balloon still in hand, feeling like he'd been hit by a tornado. He stared up at the monstrosity floating at the end of the white string wrapped up in his unwilling hand, and the hugging bears stared back at him with their adorable, soulless eyes. He couldn't help but suppress a shudder. This thing needed to go.
He glanced around the room, taking stock of his surroundings. There were about fifty people gathered in the living room area alone, and at least half of that amount in the kitchen and in the small patio outside, with new guests showing up every five to ten minutes. Most were concentrated around the long table he'd helped Sugawara and Sawamura set up, picking at the food that had been set there buffet-style. A fair amount of guests were sitting on the couch, on stools, chairs, windowsills, and the floor, collected in smaller groups of four and five, talking to each other and drinking out of plastic cups. He considered opening one of the windows and shoving the balloon out into the night, but Tanaka and Nishinoya would notice its disappearance eventually and question him about it. Even if he tried to lie, they wouldn't believe it and blame him for its absence anyway. No, he needed an alibi.
He dragged his eyes over the crowd of people gathered around the table of food, stopping at the hot pot and the waves of heat emanating from the top, distorting the image behind it. A girl who'd come up to compare timers with him earlier stood next to the large bowl, the light from an uncovered incandescent bulb above shining down on her head and casting her shadow onto the table. Perfect.
He dodged through the crowd, making his way around the end of the table then down the length of it until he was standing underneath the light fixture and let go of the string. He watched as the balloon rose slowly to the ceiling, then nudged it a little to the side so that it was in direct physical contact, rubber flush against the electrical source of light.
That would do it.
–
To his chagrin, someone had taken his corner seat. Just as well. His stomach had rumbled at the smell of the food on the table. He'd never actually gotten around to eating dinner, so focused had he been on the party and his ticking timer. Most of the food was halfway gone by that point, picked apart by the countless intruders wandering around Sugawara and Sawamura's apartment. He collected what he could and moved to the couch to eat, squeezing in at the end next to Hinata who was engrossed in an intense game of Mario Kart with a few other guests. Not his preferred seat, but everything else had been taken at this point of the night.
He barely dodged an elbow to the face and was about to yell at Hinata to cool it when something tapped his shoulder.
Another college-aged man with black-and-white streaked spiky hair and owl-like eyes stood behind him, his mouth open and about to ask him something. Another guest.
“Yes, I'm the honored guest of the night,” Kei interrupted before the man had the chance to speak, “my name is Tsukishima Kei, I'm nineteen years old, yes, I'm excited, no, I'm not nervous, yes, I'm fully aware I'm able to die now and I'll be taking the usual precautions people without timers take, and I have,” his stomach flipped at the sight of his wrist, “45 minutes left. The food's over at the table across the room and the bathroom's down the hall, take a right when you get to the last room. Have a nice time at the party.”
“Whoa! You had that all ready,” the stranger barked, looking amused rather than offended at Kei's frankness. “None of those were my question, though. Well, except for the first one. But I also have another one,” he rambled, his sharp gaze flicking up to the ceiling as he spoke then down at him again.
“What is it?” Kei sighed.
“Are you gay?”
“Excuse me?” he spluttered.
“Bokuto, you could have phrased that much better.” A second stranger he hadn't noticed standing behind Bokuto piped up, moving forward to stand beside him.
“What? I wouldn't judge,” Bokuto whined.
“Yeah, but he doesn't know that,” Bokuto's friend stated, reaching forward and grabbing Bokuto's left hand and lifting up both their hands at once to reveal blank wrists. “He's not homophobic,” he said, letting Bokuto's hand drop back down and instead extending his own forward for a handshake.
“Akaashi Keiji. And this airhead is Bokuto Koutarou.”
“Okay...” Kei said, unsure of how to proceed.
“Anyway, I was asking for a friend,” Bokuto continued, digging his right hand into his pocket and pulling out a phone.
“A friend?”
“Yep. I think I know who your soulmate is!” he blurted in a sing-song tone, flipping the phone around and passing it off to Kei so he could see what was on the screen.
It was a selfie of Bokuto and another man, cheeks pressed together and arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. The other man in the photo looked to be about Bokuto's age with hair that was just as ridiculous. He was winking at the camera, tongue sticking out of his mouth, and really, he couldn't have looked more like a frat boy if he'd tried.
“His name's Kuroo Tetsurou. His timer runs out today, too, just like yours,” Bokuto shouted proudly, hand on his hip as he grinned widely at Kei, like he'd just solved all his problems in life.
“It does?” Kei said dumbly, staring at the photo of the two men. His heart twisted in his chest as the fact of the matter set in. That was it? He was staring at the face that was destined to show up in 45 minutes? The mental image of Kuroo's sleeping face lying next to him in bed bathed in early morning light flickered in his mind and cold fear drained through his veins.
His mouth gaped, unable to form any sort of coherent statement.
“Yeah. Your timer runs out at eight something, right?”
“8:13.”
“Sounds about right,” Bokuto nodded. “He's my best friend and a great guy. You're lucky! Though I guess he can be a bit of a troll sometimes!” he clapped his hands and cackled. “He's on his way right now. If you got any questions before he shows up, you can ask me! Akaashi can vouch for him, though. Right, Akaashi?”
“He's a decent human being.”
“Akaashi! He's this guy's soulmate . You're really gonna sell him like that?” Bokuto pouted, absolutely scandalized at Akaashi's lukewarm review.
Kei let their (mostly one-sided) bickering fade into the background as he brought his attention back to the phone in his hand. The selfie must have been taken at the beach, he noted, given the natural lighting and the dab of white lotion on the tip of Kuroo's nose that hadn't been smeared in properly. And the fact that Kuroo clearly wasn't wearing a shirt, bare shoulders and clavicles poking out of the edge of the frame of the photograph.
Kuroo's left hand was draped around Bokuto's shoulder, his wrist just poking out from behind Bokuto's thick neck. He squinted his eyes and tilted the phone to the side a little, trying to peer at the black ink printed below his hand. He could just make out the end of the string of numbers on his wrist--
Ker-BLAM
Screams filled the air as something exploded. Kei whipped his head around, scrambling not to drop Bokuto's phone, to see people ducking and eyes flying towards where the atrocious balloon had been idly floating moments before, now nothing but a couple of scraps of rubber on the floor.
“No! Not the balloon!” Nishinoya screamed from the kitchen area in the back, diving towards the floor where the remains of the balloon carcass were scattered like he was about to receive a serve.
“Tsukishima's love life is doomed!” came Tanakas's voice next, following right behind his friend. He threw himself onto the ground, picking up the pieces of rubber in his hands and sobbing loudly.
“What happened? What was that noise?” Sawamura barged in from outside, face creased in a mix of concern and irritation.
“Oh! Hey, there's Daichi! Hey! Daichi!” Bokuto shouted, speeding away in the captain's direction, his attention completely diverted now from their conversation, leaving Kei behind with his phone still in his hands. Akaashi watched his partner sprint across the room with an expressionless face before flopping down on a nearby recently vacated beanbag chair.
He glanced up at Kei who was struggling with whether he should intervene between the captain and Bokuto's conversation to give him his phone back or to wait for the latter to notice his missing mobile.
“Keep it. He won't notice it's gone. You can give it to him at the end of the night.”
Kei blinked. “Ah. Okay.” He nodded and turned back to the picture of Kuroo staring at him through the phone screen.
He felt the sudden urge to see more, but feared flipping through Bokuto's gallery without his permission. He chewed on his lip until it occurred to him that he could probably access Bokuto's facebook friends without needing to sign in.
Kuroo's profile photo sported the same mussed-up hair in the last picture and swiping through the rest of his tagged images proved this to be a... recurring pattern. Really, was it so hard to buy a brush? Kei huffed but kept skimming through the man's page despite himself, clicking on random images and posts and reading through them quickly, as if reading through them at a slower pace would alert the man to his stalking somehow. His fist clenched and unclenched itself nervously, a finger looping through the belt strap and tugging on it. His heart beat rapidly, chest tight and squeezing his organs into a constricted little ball. He tried to imagine having dinner with Kuroo in a small apartment with a pet cat, paying the bills and raising children with him, but the ball squeezed tighter at the thought and he dispelled the images from his mind. They felt wrong, somehow.
He tucked his discomfort away and kept scrolling, making his way deeper into Kuroo's page, because he couldn't stop, because he couldn't think of anything better to do.
His breath caught in his throat as he reached the one year mark. Kuroo had taken a photo of himself exactly one year prior, presumably in his bedroom, from the look of the mess behind him. But it hadn't been the mounds of dirty clothing piled on the floor that had shocked him into pausing (although if Kuroo really was his soulmate, that was something that would need to be fixed, stat).
Kuroo's wrist was held in front of his face, partially covering it but leaving enough for him to see his almost shy smile. The numbers were frozen at exactly 01:00:00:00:00:00.
One year left to go! The caption underneath the selfie read. Can't wait to meet you, babe . <3
Kei slammed the off button on the phone, just barely resisting the urge to toss it across the room. Waves of anxiety and nausea washed over him, making him feel sick and angry. He bit at his thumbnail, a habit he hadn't indulged in since he was fourteen, he realized with another wave of disgust. He removed his finger from his mouth and turned his hand around, pressing the back of his wrist against his lips and bringing his legs up to his chest. He remained in his half-fetal position for a while, letting the sounds of the party blend into the background as he stared into space, his mind occupied with the singular thought of the numbers on the other side of his wrist.
He wondered why fate had to be so concrete. If he could wind his timer up to a hundred years, he would.
“ Oof! ” he grunted as something hard and pointy crashed into his ribs, knocking the air out of his lungs and shocking him out of his anxious brooding.
“You bastard! I can't believe you blue-shelled me! ” Hinata slurred, pushing his hands and elbows against Kei's chest and legs as he tried to lift himself back into a sitting position.
“Watch it!” he barked, grabbing Hinata's arm and pushing him off of himself.
“Tsukishima!” Hinata laughed, hands extending for his face and smudging up his glasses. “You're here!”
“What--?” he gripped Hinata's wrist and held him away at arm's length, finally getting a good look at the boy's rosy cheeks and unkempt hair. “Are you drunk?”
“Nooooo,” he scoffed, stopping his attack on Tsukishima's face and letting his arms dangle from where Kei held them at the wrist. His friends snickered behind him. “If you think I'm drunk, you should take a look at Kageyama.” He lifted an index finger to point in the direction of the other boy who was sitting about a meter away on a chair, legs crossed and back straight. He had an intense expression on his face, jaw clenched tightly and eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the TV screen.
“He looks...” Kei struggled to find the right word to describe his colleague. “...normal.”
“Oh, yeah? Here, watch,” Hinata gestured to his friend to pass over a grape. He rolled the grape around in his palm, then held it between his thumb and index finger and closed one eye, tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he measured the distance between himself and Kageyama. Kei was about to growl at him to just let him do it, but before he could, Hinata chucked the grape. He watched as the green object whizzed through the air to land squarely against Kageyama's chest and roll down into his lap.
He tensed, expecting one of the King's patented explosions, but nothing came. Kageyama kept staring forwards, concentration focused entirely on the television screen. He waited. One beat. Two beats. Three beats.
“Hinata, what the hell?” Kageyama finally burst, attention snapping to the side, nostrils flared and eyes filled with murderous intent. “What was that for?”
Hinata collapsed into giggles next to him, feet pedaling in the air and face tucked against his closest friend's shoulder.
Kageyama stopped yelling and shot daggers at Hinata, though he made no move to get up and fight him. Kei grabbed another grape from the bowl and whipped it at him, this time the grape hitting Kageyama perfectly in the middle of his forehead.
Again, nothing happened for a full ten seconds, until Kageyama burst back to life, barking at Kei this time to quit it.
“Oh my God,” Kei snorted, “this is what he's like when he's drunk?”
“It's the best,” Hinata nodded fervently. “He goes into like slow motion or something. It's easy to play tricks on him this way. I made him punch a cake once!”
“Why didn't anyone tell me this sooner?” Kei sneered. This was almost too good.
Hinata shrugged. “You were never aroun--”
“That was you?!”
“Kageyama, go home! You're drunk!”
Someone vibrated in his lap and he looked down to see Bokuto's phone screen turn itself on, the word KUROO imprinted in the center with the commands to answer or reject the call below.
His heart leaped into his throat, all the queasiness from earlier rushing back. His thumb hovered over the reject call button, heavily debating with himself whether he should just let it go to voicemail or not. Soulmates weren't supposed to make contact before they met. Doing so would bring bad luck. Far be it for Kei to actually believe in such ridiculous superstitions, but... maybe Kuroo did. And anyway, this was Bokuto's phone. Kuroo didn't want to talk to him, he wanted to speak with Bokuto.
He looked up at Akaashi who was busy with his own phone, blissfully unaware of the emotional turmoil Kei was suffering through at that moment.
“Um,” he started, his voice barely audible above Kageyama and Hinata's drunken squabble.
He scoffed. Typical.
“Move,” he ordered, shoving Hinata off of his lap. He swayed a little as he stood, his legs feeling gelatinous and unstable. Fuck.
“Akaashi,” he choked out a little louder now as he walked up to him.
Akaashi arched a brow as they made eye contact. Kei twisted the phone screen around to let him see who was calling. Akaashi opened his mouth, expression open and understanding. He reached forward for the phone and Kei obliged, feeling more than the weight of the phone lift off of him as he handed it over.
“Yes?” Akaashi said.
Incomprehensible twittering emitted from the device, Kuroo's tinny voice drifting out from the receiver and into Akaashi's ear.
“Yes...” Akaashi looked down at his nails as the squeaking continued, playing with his fingers and cracking them with his thumb. Kei scratched at his timer, lowering his gaze to the floor as he waited. Fifteen minutes left.
“Hang on,” Akaashi piped up again. “I don't think you ever actually answered,” he spoke to Kei, hand covering the receiver. “Are you gay?”
Embarrassment washed over Kei at the frank question. It hadn't been uttered as loudly as Bokuto had half an hour ago, but it still felt as though the sentence must have echoed through the whole room. Well, what did it matter anyway? Everyone would find out in less than fifteen minutes at any rate.
He shrugged. “Sure.”
Akaashi turned back to his phone. “He says yes... Okay, Kuroo... good-bye.”
“He said he's running late but he'll be here soon,” Akaashi said as he passed the phone back to Kei.
“How can he be running late ?” Kei asked. No one was late for their timer; such a concept didn't exist.
Akaashi shrugged noncommittally. “I think he just meant the train was running slower than he expected it to. Or something.” He pointed at Kei's wrist. “How long've you got?”
Kei twisted his wrist around to show him the dwindling numbers currently hovering just above the fourteen minute mark. Akaashi's eyebrows raised at the sight but his expression didn't change otherwise. “He better hurry up, then,” was all he said before heading back to his seat.
Kei glanced down at the phone held tightly in his hand before tucking it into his back pocket. Anxiety had built up significantly in the pit of his stomach after the phone call and he couldn't even bear the thought of looking through Kuroo's profile again.
The next ten minutes passed by in a dazed blur as he wandered from room to room, squeezing through and between groups of drunk twenty-somethings, too antsy to sit still and too stubborn to find a private space.
He did eventually find himself shoved into a corner behind a couple whose timers had dropped an hour before and who'd party-hopped to Sawamura's apartment because apparently people liked to visit other soulday parties after meeting their soulmates. He averted his eyes from their makeout session and pressed the side of his face against the wall, one hand wrapped over his wrist that currently read six minutes. It felt like death was encroaching upon him from all angles, peering into the room and wrapping a scythe around his neck.
“Haven't seen you all night. How are you holding up?”
Kei flinched, startled at the sudden interruption to his morbid train of thought.
“Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you,” Suga said, sidling up next to him and leaning against the wall. “How much time've you got left?”
“Uh--” he stumbled for words so opted to show his senior the numbers instead. Suga's eyes widened and a flicker of concern flashed across his face before turning and gesturing to Sawamura to come join them.
“That's, um, that's really low,” Suga whispered.
“What's up?” Sawamura asked as he jogged up to them. He slowed down at the look of complete anguish on Kei's face and glanced from side to side between both men.
Suga looked to Kei to ask for permission to show his wrist and he nodded, allowing Suga to lift his wrist up closer to Sawamura's face.
Sawamura's mouth curved in a perfect O before morphing back into a confident smile as he moved forward and patted Kei on the shoulder.
“Congratulations.”
“What was that?” a girl he didn't recognize piped up from the nearest table where she was standing. “Is his timer almost up?”
“His timer's almost up?!” her friend next to her squeaked, tilting her head forward to get a better look at him.
“How much is left?” he heard someone else ask, which alerted the rest of the table to the news. Kei watched helplessly as the information spread from guest to guest, girls squealing and boys grunting in surprise, hundreds of eyes turning to stare at him like some kind of spectacle. Kei squirmed underneath all of the attention, hating his situation, his timer, his soulmate, this stupid party, and everyone in the room who cared more about his countdown than he did.
He felt an arm wrap around his shoulder and winced.
“We'll be right back, everyone. There's still quite a few minutes left, no worries,” Suga announced, dragging Kei along into the back and exchanging a quick glance with Sawamura.
He followed Sugawara into the bathroom, standing in the center of the tiny room underneath the stairs as Suga closed the door behind them. He stared down at his hands, his gaze wandering to the flickering numbers reading seconds over five minutes now.
“Sorry about that. That wasn't supposed to, uh... spread.”
He shrugged, afraid to open his mouth in case his voice broke.
“You know, it's normal to be nervous,” Suga started, his hands waving around awkwardly as he struggled to string his thoughts together. “But you shouldn't be-- uh, just nervous, this, this is, a happy thing, you know?”
“Is it?” he spat out sardonically, a little more poisonous than he'd meant it to, but his anxiety was practically drowning him at this point, slowly filling up his lungs and inundating his senses.
“Yeah. A little awkward at first, maybe, but...” he sighed and looked down at his own wrist, still at over a decade left. “Meeting your soulmate's hard, but... so's waiting.” He smiled up at Kei as he stuffed his fist into his pocket. “And the numbers on your wrist don't dictate your feelings. Sometimes you develop emotions for someone before your time is up. And... you don't feel like waiting anymore.” Suga paused for a second, staring at a point in space as he chewed on his lip. “Sorry.” He shook his head. “I guess what I meant to say was... things happen for a reason. And all in all, you're pretty lucky.”
Silence stretched between them as Kei's anxiety gnawed at the edges of his mind.
“But at least you know you'll live until you're thirty.”
He waited with bated breath as Suga interpreted his statement, eyes locked on the floor between them, too ashamed to make eye contact.
“...Is that what you're afraid of? Dying?”
“No,” he snapped, turning his head to the side to examine a stain on the wall. “But don't you think people talk too much about soulmates and love and not enough about... safety?”
“Hmm, I guess you're right.” Kei snapped his head around to finally look at Suga who was looking at him with a kind, open expression on his face. “But the chances are so low, it's just not likely. And I think people would rather think about happy things than about their own mortality.”
Kei nodded, wishing they could end the conversation already. He'd revealed too much about himself. Silence overshadowed their discussion again for what felt like an eternity but what had to be less than five minutes.
“I'll leave you alone if you'd like,” Suga finally said. “No one will bother you here.”
Kei nodded again, waiting for the door to close behind his senior before sitting down on the toilet and huddling his legs up against his chest. His wrist was down to three minutes and some change now. About the length of a song. Maybe if he put his headphones on and closed his eyes, by the time the song ended his soulmate would be standing in front of him.
He swallowed and curled into a tighter ball, feeling his anxiety build up again, the walls of the tiny bathroom moving in and squeezing him in its confined space. He thought of Kuroo Tetsurou making his way to him in a crowded train. He thought of his unwritten future, about to be concretized by the next person to walk though the front door. He thought of his brother for a moment, driving home from another late night at work, stuck in the Saturday evening traffic into Sendai.
He stood over the sink and splashed water on his face, the sensation of apprehension running up and down the back of his legs, setting him more and more on edge. He shivered; it felt cold all of a sudden and he wasn't sure whether it was the bathroom's distance to the apartment's heater or just the stress gathered in his chest, taut and ready to snap at any moment.
The spot above the bridge of his nose had developed a bruise, he realized, as he leaned over the sink counter. A purple-ish spot that could be mistaken for a shadow in the right lighting. The volleyball match earlier that day felt like eons ago, another lifetime entirely. He flinched as he poked at it. It would take a while for it to heal.
He thought too late that he probably should have put in more of an effort to make himself look nicer for his soulmate. He wasn't even wearing anything nice.
A light rapping at the door made him jump and clench the edge of the sink tightly.
“It's me,” Suga's soft voice echoed through the wooden door. “Can I come in?”
Kei nodded before realizing that Suga wouldn't see his visual cue and stuttering out an affirmative.
The door creaked open as Suga poked his head around the opening.
“There's someone at the front door,” he stated. Kei twisted his wrist around in time to see the minutes space turn into a zero, leaving him with 59 seconds.
“I think it's for you,” Suga continued.
Kei nodded again and straightened his back, shaking out his shoulders and fixing his posture so he was standing at his full height. He was a tall guy, incredibly so, and unfolding himself to his full two meters instilled a false confidence in himself. At least he could look down on people that way.
“I'll close the front hall door behind you, so you'll have some privacy when you meet them,” Suga offered as he stepped past the threshold and out the stuffy bathroom. The proposal brought him a moment of relief, despite everything, and he graciously thanked Sugawara for it.
The living room's atmosphere had changed, completely, enveloped in dead silence as the party-goers parted a path for him. The hundred-some guests had crammed themselves into the room, perched on edges of armchairs and shoved into corners, standing on their tiptoes so they could witness his death march. Suga followed closely behind and the thought dead man walking drifted through his mind.
The team had seated themselves near the front, half of them gathered around the potted plant near the doorway, the other half on the other side of the path they'd cleared for him. They grinned and howled at him as he passed by, crawling over each other to vie for his attention, Nishinoya and Tanaka yelling encouragement (and a couple of crude suggestions that earned them a stone-cold glare from Sawamura), Azumane smiling weakly, Hinata tossing him a thumbs up and jabbing an elbow in Kageyama's ribs to do the same. Bokuto had managed to weave himself into the group, hooting along with the rest of them like he was familiar with them already. He paused at the closed door to the lobby, making eye contact with Narita who had situated himself next to it with the rest of the calmer second years.
He smiled and offered a quiet “good luck.”
Kei adjusted his glasses as Suga opened the front hall door for him and passed through steadily, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature. The door shut behind him, leaving him alone in the long hallway that seemed to stretch for miles before him.
The floorboards creaked underneath his weight, echoing around the chamber and into his bones, sparking his thumping heart to beat faster still. Anxiety flared up and down his limbs, buzzing just underneath his skin as he stopped before the main door, breath coming in shorter bursts the closer he got to his fate.
He lifted a hand to the doorknob but pulled it back suddenly, fear trickling down the back of his neck at the thought of twisting the knob. He twisted his wrist around, wondering how long destiny would allow him to procrastinate before having to open the door.
Ten seconds. Nine. Eight.
His arm lunged for the doorknob, grappling with the cold metal surface but not quite turning it yet, just gripping it tightly in his sweaty palm. He huffed a breath out through his nose. He looked ridiculous, he was sure of it. He thought of peeking through the peephole but the idea terrified him, as if there would be a gaping black hole on the other end. His heartbeat thrummed loudly in his eardrums, drowning out everything around him. The image of Kuroo's one year selfie flashed through his mind and he forced himself to twist the doorknob.
He finally pulled the door open, feeling as though he were tossing himself into a white abyss.
He blinked at the sight that greeted him on the other side. Another man was standing on the front doorstep, tall and lanky, a swath of freckles spread across his face from cheek to cheek, and a mop of dark gray hair sticking out from underneath a cap that read SHIMADA PIZZA. The boxes of pizza he was holding with one arm visibly vibrated, betraying his nervousness.
Kei's eyes snapped over just in time to see the man's wrist resting on top of the pizza boxes reach zero and flicker red before disappearing.
The man shuffled from foot to foot, a nervous smile quivering on his face as he looked up at Kei.
“Hi.” A bubble of anxious laughter disrupted his voice as he spoke. “Uh-- s-somebody ordered pizza?”