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“Do you ever feel small?”
The late December air swirls around them and the soft sound of Sachirō’s question almost gets swept away with the light snowfall. They had come outside under the guise that Sachirō needed some fresh air, claiming it was too hot inside the busy apartment. Kōrai had wanted to believe that was all there was to it but he knew better. He knew there was more that Sachirō wasn’t saying. Sachirō had seemed off as the night had progressed. The more people he interacted with, the more he seemed to curl in on himself; a sight Kōrai hated and yet he couldn’t figure out what was causing it. Sachirō had never been shy before, at least not to this extent, so he had followed him out in case Sachirō needed an ear to listen. As it would turn out, apparently he did.
Kōrai can’t help but turn to look at his best friend, cheeks beginning to turn rosy from the chill. Sachirō’s not looking at him, instead his eyes pointed towards the sky and the few stars that peek out from behind the cloud cover dance in the soft brown. He looks to be almost lost in thought and Kōrai wants to dig, take a glance at the thoughts bouncing around in his head, but he’s the one who’s been asked the question so really he should focus on his own thoughts to find the answer, no matter how much he wants to solely focus on Sachirō instead. Do you ever feel small?
“You’re joking right? Say you’re joking or I swear I’m gonna throw you over this railing.” He lets his face and voice fall flat as he answers. It’s an empty threat, but it’s the best he can muster.
Kōrai used to feel small. He used to constantly be at odds with his stature when he was younger and it took him quite a while to be at peace with it. He was never going to be the biggest guy on the court. He was never going to be the strongest. It didn’t stop him though and he’s learned to overcome those factors, enough so that he’s made it all the way to the world stage. Being small stopped being a hindrance to him a long time ago and he knows that Sachirō knows that, so he doesn’t really understand the meaning behind being questioned.
Sachirō’s laugh is easy though as he turns his attention down to Kōrai. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement as he sweeps the light dusting of snow away and rests his arms on the balcony railing. The soft glow of the apartment light behind him creates an almost angelic effect against the snowy backdrop. Kōrai can’t stop the thought in his brain telling him that Sachirō looks good like this, almost ethereal.
“That’s not what I meant.” There’s a look that flashes through Sachirō’s eyes as he looks down at the busy streets below them. Couples are walking about, laughing together, making memories. There’s a business man hurrying to wherever home is. There’s a woman walking her dog and talking animatedly into her phone. There’s noise all around and yet Sachirō doesn’t say anything else to add to it. He just watches and Kōrai decides to watch too, to see what is so entertaining about all these strangers until Sachirō decides how to word the rest of his statement.
“Do you ever feel small ? Not in a sense of height, but in a sense of like, being, I suppose?” Sachirō pauses for another moment, and Kōrai can see he’s trying to figure out how to word his thoughts. “Kinda like you’re just a small drop in the ocean of life or maybe a singular star in an endless galaxy?”
Kōrai can’t help but have the feeling the word insignificant is being left unsaid. Sachirō’s gaze doesn’t move from the people below as he speaks, and when Kōrai once again gives him his full attention there’s still that look in his eyes that Kōrai can’t quite place no matter how hard he tries. He tries to brush the gnawing in his chest away as he watches. Kōrai can’t necessarily say he understands, not anymore anyway. Feelings of self doubt and insignificance never accomplish anything so he learned to get past them. Kōrai for almost as long as he can remember has been more of a forge-your-own-path kind of guy, therefore you can be as large as you want. If he plays his cards right he could be the entire ocean or an endless galaxy all on his own. He prepares to say as much, but Sachirō already knows. When it comes to Kōrai, he always knows.
“Never mind. Of course you don’t.”
He doesn’t sound bitter when he speaks, but rather fond as he turns his gaze back to the stars and Kōrai finds himself sticking his hands in his pockets to avoid reaching out and brushing away the delicate flakes of snow that have found home in Sachirō’s wavy hair. He’s always been good at controlling the impulse to reach out and he clenches his fists to make sure this time is no different. It’s a dangerous game finding yourself falling for your best friend, and while Kōrai has always liked the idea of being a risk taker, losing Sachirō has never been one that he’s ever been willing to take. Instead, he watches from the short distances between them, always craving, yet never satisfying.
In the dim light, Kōrai can’t help but to stare at the small thumb print on Sachirō’s jawline; his soul mark. He likes to think it’s exactly where he’d rest his own thumb if he ever got the chance to hold him, to taste his kiss. He’s been on the verge of reaching out and holding him there so many times just to see if there’s that little electric shock that his parents had always described as accompanying the link, but he’s never been brave enough. Avoidance and longing had long become his friends over the years, and it seems every year they continue to get closer. He tells himself he’s okay with it. As long as he has Sachirō in some way, he’ll be okay. It turns out Sachirō seems to be the only thing that has ever been able to turn him into a coward and so he sighs and turns away to stare back down at the people below as well.
“Why?”
Sachirō stays quiet for a moment and Kōrai doesn’t even need to look at him to picture the crease between his eyebrows as he processes the question, but he does anyway because when it comes to Sachirō, he’s never been able to keep his eyes to himself for long. Sachirō is examining him from the corner of his eyes, head slightly cocked, and sure enough his eyebrows are pinched together as he tries to figure out what Kōrai is asking, or maybe he’s trying to figure out his answer. Regardless, he’s thinking and not answering and Kōrai tries to wait in the seemingly never ending silence. He doesn't, however, stop himself just this once, from reaching out and smoothing out the crease. He pretends he doesn’t hear the slight sucking of breath from his friend, instead filling the silence with a better worded question as if nothing had happened.
“Why do you feel small?”
Sachirō’s whole face relaxes at the clarification and Kōrai once again tucks his hand back into his pocket, trying not to dwell on the fading warmth he can still feel burning against his fingertips. The laugh he gets in return almost gets washed away in the sound of someone’s laughter echoing out from the party. It sounds almost like Bokuto’s, and that’s where his bet would lie if it actually mattered, but he can’t focus on that, can’t focus on anyone else. All he lets himself focus on is the man in front of him.
“It’s not that important.”
“If you’re asking, I’d say it is. It obviously means something to you, so tell me. What’s bothering you?”
Sachirō’s face once agains scrunches, but only for a brief moment before it falls into something a little more soft, almost fond as he looks at Kōrai. He has his regular calm smile on his face as he turns around and leans back against the railing to watch their friends mingle about inside. Practically all of them are actually Kōrai’s but Sachirō has never once complained about being brought along as his plus one to all of the volleyball leagues functions and parties. This time is no different. He rather seems to enjoy himself, or at least he has for most of the night tonight, making easy chatter with the others.
“Look at them.” Sachirō speaks his wish and Kōrai listens. They all look happy; that he can’t deny. Kageyama is relaxed as Hinata hangs off of him. Ushijima keeps his eyes glued to Iwaizumi, an easy look of fondness on his face as the other talks to Oikawa. Kōrai can’t see his point though, so he turns his attention back to Sachirō. With the light shining directly on him now, it’s easier for Kōrai to place the look in his eyes. It’s something akin to longing as he watches everyone else and Kōrai craves to know what it is he sees; what he’s longing for. He doesn’t need to ask though as Sachirō begins to speak again.
“They make it look so easy, finding that one person created specifically for you.” Oh. Kōrai can’t pull his eyes away as his best friend speaks, his eyes flittering from couple to couple. He doesn’t seem bitter as he watches them. He genuinely seems to be happy for them if the easy smile on his face is anything to go by, but Kōrai can still see that there’s a part of him wishing that it was him.
“There’s millions of people out there and somehow, they’ve all found their soulmate seemingly right around the corner.” Kōrai can’t help but hear the smallest hint of sadness in Sachirō’s voice as he speaks, almost like he believes he’s never going to find his, like there isn’t the potential that his soulmate isn’t standing right next to him. He finds himself wanting to tell Sachirō that maybe if he looked a little closer, he’d realize that maybe his soulmate was right around the corner from him as well. He chooses to stay silent though as the slight sting in his chest sets in. He does his best not to take it personal though. His chances of actually being Sachirō’s soulmate after all, are, like Sachirō said, about one in millions.
Kōrai watches as Sachirō chews on the inside of his cheek, a nervous tic that he remembers the other having from high school; one that he’s apparently never kicked. He wonders what he’s thinking so hard about and he almost asks, almost reaches out to let him know that he’s right here, but he decides better of it because if Sachirō wants him to know, he’ll tell him. He’s never been one to hold back. This time is different though. Kōrai watches as Sachirō turns his face towards his shoes and shakes his head; the snowflakes that Kōrai had been struggling to not reach out and wipe away all falling to the ground. When Sachirō looks back up again, a small smile is on his face and all the previous nervousness is gone.
“Like I said, it’s not that important.” Kōrai wants to argue, wants to tell him it is important, that his worries are important, that he’s important , but Sachirō doesn’t give him the chance, instead speaking before Kōrai could even get his mouth open. “Come on. It’s getting cold out here and everyone is probably wondering where we ran off to.”
Sachirō takes one step forward, and then two, and Kōrai can’t help but stand staring after him a little dumbfounded by the sudden change. The other stops right before reaching the balcony door and turns back to him, confusion clearly written on his face. He doesn’t need to ask what Kōrai is waiting for as he finally remembers how his feet work and takes the two steps to close the gap quickly. Before Sachirō can get a hold on the handle Kōrai takes one more step and blocks him.
“Are you okay?”
It’s a simple question, really, and yet as it falls from his lips it feels loaded. He wants to know what’s bothering Sachirō; what’s bouncing around in that head of his. He’s giving him one more chance, one that he hopes he takes and runs with to tell him what’s going on; to be honest with Kōrai and himself. Sachirō doesn’t take it though. He just sends Kōrai an easy smile before reaching around him and grabbing the door handle.
“I’m fine, Kōr.” With that Sachirō slides the door open and steps around him and into the apartment, away from the question and away from any semblance of honesty. Kōrai silently follows behind.
The night continues, despite the mood from earlier still weighing on him. He keeps his eyes on Sachirō as he mingles with people, seemingly back to his usual self. Kōrai can’t help but note, though, that it’s all just an elaborate ruse; one so good that no one else seems to even notice that he’s off. Then again, no one knows Sachirō nearly as well as Kōrai does. His smiles are soft and his conversations are light and animated. He stops to talk to anyone who talks to him. He drinks with Atsumu, he partners with his older brother for beer pong, and he shows Suna pictures of his dog. Kōrai still sees the negative thoughts buzzing just under his skin though. So much so that he can almost feel them himself.
When Sachirō is unoccupied by others, Kōrai can still see the longing dancing in his eyes as he watches everyone else. When he talks to couples, he can still hear the slightest tinge of sadness in his voice. No one notices though. No one but Kōrai. As midnight grows closer, the buzz under Kōrai’s skin only grows stronger, the need to know what is going on in Sachirō’s brain growing almost unbearable. He doesn’t want Sachirō going into the new year feeling the way he does. Kōrai doesn’t exactly know what those feelings are, but he can tell it’s not something he should be carrying into what is supposed to be a fresh start. When Kōrai glances at the clock, he realizes he only has a total of twenty minutes to figure out what exactly it is that is wrong with his best friend, and the time is only continuing to tick away. He understands it has something to do with his comment earlier about how everyone made it look so easy to find their soulmate and yet, somehow he still hasn’t found his.
A few more minutes tick by as he waits for Sachirō to finish his conversation with Aran. They feel like they drag on forever but finally , Aran walks away and Kōrai seizes his chance. His feet carry him across the floor, determination coursing through him as he snatches a hold of Sachirō’s wrist and begins dragging him back towards the balcony door. He can hear the confused noise that slips out of Sachirō at the action, but he chooses to ignore it until he slides open the door and pulls the other out after him.
“Talk.” Kōrai turns and finally takes in a very confused Sachirō as he speaks. He once again reaches out and smooths out the crease between his eyebrows before pulling back and crossing his arms over his chest.
“About what?” Sachirō legitimately looks like he doesn’t understand what Kora could possibly be talking about, and he seems even more confused as to why he had to pull him back out into the cold to discuss it. It’s enough for Kōrai’s fiery demeanor to die down just a little bit. He sighs and drops his arms as he glances around. Maybe the answers will be written somewhere in the newly fallen snow.
“About what’s been bothering you all night.”
Kōrai doesn’t need to look at Sachirō to hear him shifting on his feet, snow crunching under his shoes as his weight switches between them repeatedly. Kōrai turns to look back at him again anyways, except it’s Sachirō’s turn to be looking everywhere else. Kōrai is at least a little pleased to know that Sachirō is aware he can’t hide from him, but at the same time, he hates how uncomfortable the other looks because of him. Maybe he should have eased into it a little better? He’s never been one to sugar coat his words though, not even for him.
“Do you just think that there isn’t someone out there for you? Is that it?”
Sachirō’s gaze very quickly snaps to Kōrai’s at the question. He’s surprised the other doesn’t get whiplash from the movement. He’s happy though that he has the other’s attention. Good. Look at me. It’s harder to hide when I can see your eyes. Sachirō doesn’t look offended by the question at least, but he does look taken aback at the bluntness of it.
“Of course I think there’s someone out there for me?” He states it more like a question than a statement, as if even he is unsure of the answer. “I have a mark, don’t I?”
“Then why did you sound so melancholy earlier talking about them?”
Sachirō pauses for a minute and Kōrai can tell he’s fighting with himself. He’s back to chewing on the inside of his cheek and Kōrai wishes he could come up with a way to get him to stop. Instead, all he does is waits, hands clenching at his sides.
“It’s not that I think I don’t have a soulmate. Of course I do. It’s just—” Sachirō pauses, face morphing into something of confusion. “It’s just what if I never find them? I’m twenty-seven, Kōr, and I still haven’t found them.” Kōrai can’t help but detect a hint of a lie, or at least a half truth in the statement and he feels his eyebrows pull together. It’s Sachirō’s turn to reach out and soothe his crease away with a sigh.
“Or maybe I have; I don’t know.” Sachirō walks past Kōrai to once again take post against the railing. He doesn’t seem to be looking anywhere in particular though, eyes set somewhere off in the distance.
“What do you mean?” Kōrai can’t stop the question from slipping out as he comes to stand next to Sachirō. He doesn’t think that if he had actually stopped to think that the outcome would have been any different. No, the outcome would have still been the same, and he still would have asked.
He watches Sachirō wring his hands together a couple of times before sticking them in his pocket while turning to face him as well; his eyes burning with what Kōrai can only think is determination, and maybe a little bit of regret.
“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” Sachirō shrugs as he speaks, as if it would help Kōrai make any sense of what he says. He can’t help but notice Sachirō’s eyes drifting away from his face as he speaks, somewhere lower, his hip maybe? Before it drifts back up to his eyes. It’s quick and Kōrai is certain that if he hadn’t been paying such close attention he probably never would have even seen the look.
“What if I’ve already met my soulmate and I’m just too much of a coward to test my theory?”
And oh. Puzzle pieces slowly start slipping together, or at least he hopes they are. He hopes he’s not connecting dots that aren’t actually there. Kōrai knows his soulmark sits on his right hip, right where he’s pretty sure Sachirō had just looked, and he remembers the small gasp that he had pretended he didn’t hear earlier when he reached out and touched him. The dots are there, but just barely. He can't help but wonder if it’s enough for him to latch onto.
“That’s why I said it isn’t that important; because it’s not.”
“It is.” The words fall rushed from Kōrai’s mouth. Apparently his mouth had decided all on its own that those few dots were enough for him to hold onto, enough to boost his bravery to do something about all the feelings he’s been letting fester inside of him. Sachirō doesn’t look nearly as surprised by his outburst, simply letting his eyebrows raise and his hands slip out of his pockets. It’s enough for Kōrai to continue.
“It’s important because it’s your happiness on the line.” Kōrai feels his feet carry him a step forward and he doesn’t try to stop them. Neither does Sachirō, which helps ease the nerves that are now on fire.
“Why would you think your happiness isn’t important enough to take a chance at fate?” Kōrai tilts his head slightly as he speaks. He doesn’t miss the small twitch in Sachirō’s hands as the gap keeps growing smaller. He knows that twitch all too well. It’s the same one his hands do when he finds himself wanting to reach out and hold Sachirō, and it’s all Kōrai needs to see. It’s enough and now he doesn’t just think anymore. He knows. Those dots aren’t just dots anymore.
“It’s not the end of the world if you’re wrong. Haven’t I already told you before that no one is going to die if you mess up?”
Kōrai watches as Sachirō’s tongue peeks out subconsciously to wet his lips, before the other turns once again looks away, somewhere just over Kōrai’s shoulder. He’s nervous. He’s overthinking.
“I might.” It’s soft and almost disappears in the loud sounds from the apartment behind them and the quiet hum of the street lights. Kōrai can see the fight Sachirō is having within himself so he decides that he should help him fight; do something to help him make up his mind.
“But at least you’ll know.”
Sachirō’s gaze once again locks with his own and he’s searching. Kōrai doesn’t know what he’s looking for but he prays to any god that could be listening that Sachirō finds exactly what he’s searching for. He does his best to leave himself open, not that he really needs to, because much in the same way that Kōrai can read through Sachirō, Sachirō has always been able to see through him. Luckily, Sachirō finds exactly what he needs to, exactly what Kōrai was hoping he’d find.
Sachirō’s lips are hesitant as they meet Kōrai’s, as if he was afraid Kōrai would run the second they met. There isn’t the described fireworks, no electric shock. There isn’t much of anything other than a simple slip together before Sachirō is pulling away. It’s not enough though. Kōrai needs more. He’s finally getting a taste of Sachirō and the chaste kiss isn’t ever going to be enough. Before he can think, he reaches out and catches Sachirō’s face between his hands before he can pull too far away.
Sachirō’s face lights instantly. It’s like he’s looking at Kōrai through new eyes, like he’s the only person that matters. He looks like an entire world has just been opened to him, like the floodgates of heaven have let loose. Before Kōrai can question it, Sachirō’s hands slip under the hem of his jacket and shirt and pull him in by the hips, and as soon as they make contact it is everything. Everything he’s ever wanted and everything he’s ever felt, it’s all confirmed the second Sachirō pulls him close. The “little electric shock” that his parents described is actually not so little.
This time the kiss is world stopping, earth shattering. It’s the moment that Kōrai knows that he’s found the one he’s been waiting his whole life for, the one who he knows is his and his alone. He’d always hoped that Sachirō was his, and the confirmation is thrilling.
Sachirō tastes like a drink of ice water in the heat of summer. He tastes like hot chocolate in the dead of winter. He tastes like everything right, sweeter than the sweetest candy, better than perfection.
Kōrai can tell that his lips are chapped but it’s impossible to even think about as Sachirō kisses him with fervor and desperation and it’s intoxication. Kōrai can faintly hear the shouting, he assumes the new year has officially been wrung in, but he can’t find it in himself to care as he lets his thumb run along Sachirō’s jaw as he tilts his head a little more to deepen the kiss. Sachirō, pressed against him, chases away any of the cold lingering from the New Year’s air surrounding them. The two pull away just in time to hear the glass door slide open, their breath still visibly mixing.
“You guys missed the countdown.”
When Kōrai turns, Fukurō stands looking entirely too smug as he leans against the door frame. There is absolutely no way he can’t tell what they were doing, and he makes it exceptionally obvious as he looks between the two of them and their very obvious hand placements.
“It’s okay. I think it was far more entertaining out here than it was in there.”
Kōrai snorts at Sachirō’s statement as he feels the other squeeze his hip, right over top of his mark. Fukurō’s gaze drops to the movement and his smile widens before he turns his attention back to his brother.
“I’m sure it was. Now come inside before you two get sick.” With that, Fukurō turns to head back into the apartment. Before he takes a step though he gives a small genuine smile over his shoulder, one that reminds Kōrai so much of his brother. “Congrats by the way. It’s about time you two figured your shit out.”
Sachirō drops his forehead to Koari’s as he begins to laugh, Kōrai following shortly after.
“He’s right, you know.” Kōrai tilts his head up slightly as he speaks so he can look in Sachirō’s eyes. “I’ve only been fighting this losing battle for years now.”
Sachirō once again laughs, eyes crinkling, and nose scrunching slightly. I love him. The thought doesn’t startle Kōrai much. He supposes he’s known the entire time, he’s just been too afraid to admit that it was more than simple infatuation. Now he can though. Now he has him. Now he knows Sachirō feels the same.
“We both really are idiots, huh?” Sachirō punctuates the end of his statement with a small kiss to Kōrai’s lips before fully pulling away. “He’s right for more than just that though. It is freezing out here.” With that, Sachirō returns the favor from earlier by grabbing a hold of Kōrai’s wrist and drags him back inside.