To say that he was nervous was really an understatement.
His hands, no longer used to sweating, seemed to melt at the slightest touch. He had to adjust his grip on his briefcase, constantly exchanging it between his slippery hands due to his nervousness. The line in which he was patiently waiting advanced cautiously, allowing him to look around the faces of those travelers who had hurried off the plane, those who held their documents in fear, and all those who exchanged messages and announced their arrival with smuggled whispers against their phones.
The screens, always alerting them about the use of phones during customs inspections also welcomed them to a country that could be a home, a stop or an end. A series of cubicles served as a wall between the limbo and the destination of all travelers, with immigration agents stamping passports left and right.
Asahi gulped.
It wasn't his first time abroad, but it was his first time really away from home. The city he grew up in had been left behind, as were his college mates, his friends and his family. Karasuno's court seemed so far away like a nostalgically beautiful memory, but at the same time it was the reason why he had taken a leap of faith, abandoning everything he knew in Japan.
A country that was miles away now, and to which he couldn't return so easily.
The brunette blinked several times when he felt someone touch his shoulder. His mind drifted away and now there was only a couple of people in front of him. He quickly apologized under his breath to the traveler who had brought him out of his reverie and inched forward. The screens welcoming him to that country were blurred amid the battle that was taking place in his mind.
The designer could fear many things, but he would never fear traveling to an unknown place.
Yet what awaited him behind those arrivals doors was what made his body tremble. An unfamiliar sensation but so similar to what he felt when he played on the court. A perfect mix between anxiety, nervousness and peace coexisting harmoniously with the rest of his senses. A feeling that he seemed to have forgotten but that he had emerged from the moment he accepted the ex-libero's request.
How many years had it been?
The traveler from earlier cleared his throat and Asahi advanced. The cubicle in front of him made it impossible to see what was happening, but from the happy faces of those who managed to pass it seemed that no one was having trouble entering the country. Directions about prohibited items and immigration rules blurred as his stomach clenched in anticipation.
Asahi wondered if that was all a dream, if he had once again fantasized about traveling the world to see him, to let him know he was extremely grateful for meeting someone like him. It wouldn't be the first time that Asahi woke up bathed in sweat with his heart shattered and with a stupid lump in his throat that carried all those things that he couldn't say. Feels he didn't have the courage to blurt out despite knowing that it could be his last chance.
"Next."
The officer's voice cut off his thoughts and the spiker almost strode toward the cubicle. A warm smile greeted him from the other side and it took Asahi a moment to realize that they were asking for his passport and customs forms. He cautiously handed them over, trying to avoid the gaze of the agent who had the ultimate decision to let him pass or return him on the first commercial flight to Japan.
"English?" the officer asked. Asahi nodded, startled by the deep but charismatic voice of the man who was reviewing his documents. The computer beeped and it seemed to have synchronized with his phone that was now vibrating in his pocket. He ignored it, keeping his entire concentration on the man scanning the screen. "What is your travel purpose?" he inquired, and the brunette bit his tongue.
He couldn't tell the man that he traveled there on a stupid hunch because a single lock of blonde hair kept bothering him in his dreams.
"I'm visiting a... friend." The words that came out of his mouth echoed strangely against his own ears. He wanted to beat himself up for hesitating but decided to try and be completely honest. "A friend from high school. We played volleyball together. My friend decided to tour around the world and somehow I ended up involved in all of this." He smiled slowly. "I was kinda drunk." He added quickly, ready to hand over any additional documents if needed.
Nishinoya insisted on him arriving without any additional printed documents, really sure about Europeans and their lack of so many formalities. The youngest winced once and made a bet about how Asahi's documents would be turned into stacks and stacks of recycled paper once he got through immigration.
And it turned out to be true.
The customs agent laughed. A big ass laugh actually. Asahi felt panic seize him as he watched in disbelief how the little man stamped his passport, gently shaking his head as he handed over the rest of his documents. "Then don't make him wait any longer." He heard him say, and his cheeks burned after hearing the suggestive intonation in a sentence that sounded extremely innocent. "Welcome to Italy." Waving his hand toward the exit.
Asahi gathered all his belongings quickly, bowing clumsily before disappearing from the officer's sight, his cheeks flushed and his heart skipping a beat. He held the briefcase strongly against his chest, thinking of the inevitable taunts he would receive from Nishinoya for printing his birth certificate. He barely had a chance to look back before feeling the vibration of his phone against his leg.
"Hello?"
His voice, exhausted for fourteen hours on a plane, scared the one on the other end of the line. "Shit, Asahi." The ex-libero's crooning voice flooded his ears, and he was relieved to finally hear it. "I thought you were arrested for trafficking mochis." The designer couldn't help it, and he chuckled. "Where are you? People are starting to line up to see their loved ones and I fear being trapped among all these freaking giants." The younger confessed and Asahi sensed his impatience through the phone.
"I'm waiting for my suitcase." He announced while scanning the conveyor belt where all the bags started to gather. "I just saw it! I'm going to hang up." He heard Nishinoya's laugh briefly as he pushed his way through the crowd. Before the call ended he let his free hand grasp the orange suitcase to extract it from the chaos, managing escape from the suitcases sea.
The designer sighed.
The doors were there, ready to let him pass into a life he hadn't seen in his best dreams. To a life that was so foreigner and distant from his wildest dreams. For Asahi, it was an actual luxury to leave everything and travel without a specific plan. Fear clenched his stomach again, and he considered rushing to the bathroom, exploring all the duty-free shops, coffee spots and waiting lounges to waste time and to avoid facing his fate.
And maybe to avoid him.
He feared that things were different, that everything that had happened in those years of calls in the middle of the night, frustrated texts and postcards were just a hallucination from his mind. He feared that Nishinoya wasn't there, like a cruel joke from his mind. He feared waking up alone with missed chances and missing flights.
Asahi clicked his tongue and followed the people that moved toward the exit, his beating heart being the only perceptible sound against his ears. His phone vibrated again, and Asahi picked it up.
"Nishinoya?"