When it hits Suga, it's like a punch in the face. Or the chest. Or, really, pretty much anywhere that'll hurt or shock you so much that you lose all your bearings. It's not like he hadn't thought about it for a while now, but he'd always put it off as a joke, or nothing serious, or it was just because he was a teenager and teenagers were like this. He wasn't gay. He couldn't be, could he? No. He'd had a had. Except maybe the first years. He shook his and pushed the remaining strands out of his eyes. And really, his best friend? Could he be more cliché? He groaned. Daichi, of all people. This wasn't fair. What had he done to deserve this. He was always a good person but the world was testing him now. If only he wasn't so nice or reliable or pretty. He was going to work on that last one. At this point Suga just kinda wanted to punch himself in the face too; it would've had the same effect.
Morning practice had finished but Asahi and Daichi had still been getting changed, they'd be at practice after school too. Probably late, if they wanted to get past preliminaries at the final, but things were coming together. Yamaguchi's serves, Kageyama and Hinata's quick. He rested his for head on the cold table. This was going to be a very long day. Or however long this was going to last. Should he talk to Asahi about this? Or Coach Ukai or Sensei? He's pretty sure they'd be fine with it. He trusts they would be. But still, he's known Daichi for three years. He doesn't want to ruin it. If he told Daichi would it bother him? Even if it did, Daichi wouldn't be one to show it. He'd be too nice. Damn Daichi and his kindness. Suga removes the thoughts from his mind. He won't think about it for the rest of the day.
He failed. By the time evening practice rolls around, he can't count how many time he's scolded himself. He's a mess. He's irritated and he can't even toss right. People are going to notice. People are noticing. Suga is going to punch himself in the face. Or he might punch Daichi in the face to make him look less pretty. No, that would be rude, he thinks. And damn it, why did they have to practice in shorts, where you can see legs. Legs and thighs. Was this what it was like to live in hell? He could probably get over this, probably. He did have to obsess over this. This was a natural thing. But how did Kageyama toss so perfectly to Hinata? He was pretty sure they were in love with each other. Not that either of them would admit it. Hinata trusted Kageyama so much he could close his eyes to spike. Neither of them were distracted.
This wasn't fair in the slightest. He sighed, bringing his head back to the game at hand, mumbling a 'what the fuck' to himself.